#He is just a kid without his best friend! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

headkiss · 2 days ago

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it’s christmas (this is gonna be a nightmare)

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve puts a little too much pressure on himself to make this holiday a magical one. or: 4 times steve messes up your first christmas together, +1 time it's perfect.

word count: 7.4k

content: established relationship, one injury (no blood!), some kisses, a lot of steve's thoughts, and a love confession <3 fluff all around!!!

a/n: a full length fic!! it's a christmas miracle!! thank you to the anon who sent the ask that inspired this fic and to all of u for being here. i love u, happy holidays <3

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Steve Harrington doesn’t know too much about what exactly a perfect Christmas looks like. He has his parents to thank for that.

What he does know is that this year has to be just that: perfect. Because this year he has you.

Though you went to high school together, you and Steve properly met in the summer. Right at the beginning of it, where the evenings still have a chill of wind but the sun cuts through it with welcomed warmth. Robin convinced him to take her to the flower shop just outside of town, and you’d been behind the counter to greet them.

Robin recognized you, and she chatted your ear off while you helped her pick a bouquet with the sweetest smile Steve had ever seen and he felt like an absolute moron for never having noticed you before at school. But he noticed you then.

He’d forced Robin to wait for him in the car while he stayed back, bought you your own bouquet of flowers from the store as if you weren’t the one who’d made them, and asked you on a date. Steve fumbled the whole way through, pricking himself with a rose thorn and cussing mid-sentence, but you still said yes.

You’ve been together ever since, and Steve feels incredibly lucky for it. Lucky for how kind you are, how well you fit in with his friends, how much the kids (Max, especially, though he won’t call her out on it) like you. Lucky for being allowed to grab your hand, to kiss you whenever he wants.

And, on the nights you stay over that grow more frequent with each month, lucky to have you fill the space in the Harrington home that usually feels so cold and empty.

So, maybe the holidays make him extra sentimental, maybe he cares a little too much about making sure it’s the best damn Christmas you could have. Maybe, for once, he’s actually looking forward to it all.

Robin startles him into the present — leaning on the counter at Family Video — with a stiff poke to the cheek. “Dude, I can literally tell you’re thinking about her by the look on your face. It’s kinda gross.”

He scoffs at her, even though he probably was making a face. “Sounds like jealousy to me, Buckley.”

“Shut up, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know each other! I deserve compensation.”

Steve hangs his head dramatically. Robin is never letting that go. Ever.

“My friendship isn’t enough for you?” Steve says, placing a hand over his heart, “You wound me.��

“You annoy me,” she says, flicking his arm.

“Ow- whatever. You’ll be free of me in like five minutes.”

Steve checks his watch just to be sure. Robin’s closing by herself today, and while Steve would normally just stay and bother her anyways, he’s got plans that involve you and takeout and napping together on his couch.

As if the thought conjures it, you walk through the door, the bell jingling cheerily above your head, Steve’s car keys dangling from your fingertips. (Yes, he lets you drive the BMW.)

“Thank God,” Robin says when she sees it’s you. “Please get rid of him, he’s getting on my nerves.”

You smile and walk towards Steve, who immediately tosses an arm over your shoulders and pulls you in close, stamping a kiss to the side of your head.

You turn your head to the side and look at him, “What did you do?”

Steve gasps, “Me? Honey, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

You send him a wink, and Steve grins. He fucking loves having you with him, being able to speak without speaking. Your hand grabbing his and squeezing says I missed you, his squeezing back says me too.

“Okay, please remove your public displays of affection from the store and leave me alone with the overplayed Christmas song radio station, thank you.” Robin announces.

“Don’t miss me too much, Robs. I know it’ll be tough,” Steve says, guiding you forward.

“Good to see you, Robin!” you wave on your way out.

“You too!” And just before the door closes behind you, Robin’s voice rings out; “You’re my favourite half of the relationship!”

Your smile widens. Steve is the best thing that’s happened to you, and his friends becoming yours is one of the greatest bonuses you could ask for. It’s like his life made room for you as simply as the ocean’s tide pulls in and out. Gentle and certain.

He catches the keys when you toss them to him, and Steve’s mood just seems to lift and lift on the drive back to his place with you in the passenger seat, Christmas lights lining the streets glowing on your cheeks.

Yeah, he thinks, this Christmas is going to be perfect.

That weekend Steve calls you and tells you to be ready by noon and to dress warmly. He doesn’t tell you much else besides his usual ‘see you soon, honey’ or ‘miss you’ murmured sweetly through the phone.

As instructed, you’re dressed in a pair of jeans and one of your favourite knitted sweaters, your brown leather jacket overtop and socked feet stuffed into your Doc Martens. Though you feel plenty warm, Steve will probably fuss over you and hold you close for body heat anyways. And, well, you’d never be opposed to that.

Steve’s BMW rolls into your driveway exactly one minute past twelve, and by the time you walk outside to meet him, he’s already standing on the passenger side of the car waiting to open the door for you.

“Always a gentleman,” you say, kissing him quickly on the cheek.

You slide into the seat that’s become yours for the most part, and Steve ducks down to kiss you properly on the mouth before pulling back, “Mm maybe not always.”

He closes your door and you laugh lightly, your face a little warm even though he’s been your boyfriend for months now. You don’t think you’ll ever be unaffected by Steve Harrington’s charm, ever be used to it being aimed at you.

Of course, you knew of him in school, but knowing the real thing, the kind, caring boy who’d been buried under King Steve back then, is probably the greatest gift you’ve ever had.

Steve drives with one hand just above your knee, his thumb running back and forth over the stitching in your jeans. Still, he doesn’t tell you where he’s taking you, his only hint was to “pay attention to the radio station.”

It’s playing Christmas music. Like that narrows things down a whole bunch.

You chat the entire way. Steve asks you how the flower shop is doing (“Poinsettias are flying off the shelves”), you ask him who he got for the group’s secret Santa this year (“Max. I’m going to need your assistance”). It’s so easy to talk to him, to laugh and joke and not have to worry about what you say or how you come off.

You never knew being with someone could be so easy until Steve.

Eventually, he pulls into the long driveway of a farm. A Christmas tree farm, to be exact, if the wooden arch you drive through is to be trusted.

“What are you planning, Harrington?”

He shrugs, his hand squeezing your knee, “Thought we could pick out a tree together. Put it up at the house. My parents aren’t gonna be around — shocker, I know — I figured we’d do it together. Make it our own.”

Steve pats your leg before letting it go and putting the car in park, his palms dragging over his thighs like he’s suddenly nervous.

“Our first Christmas tree,” you say quietly, almost to yourself, a smile creeping onto your face. He really is sweet. “I love it. Let’s go adopt a tree, Stevie.”

He flashes you a smile before getting out and jogging around the hood to open your door for you. You’ve learned to wait for him to do it since you’ve been together. The last time you tried to open your own door he made you close it again just so he could be the one to open it.

Before, you’d never really cared about that sort of thing, but Steve has single-handedly raised your expectations.

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the classic red and white barn, following the signs painted simply with a tree and an arrow pointing you in that direction.

When you turn the corner and see the selection of trees, however, Steve pauses.

There are maybe seven trees left, none of which are very impressive upon first glance. Their branches are skinny and the pine needles leave a lot of space to see through them. It’s safe to say these aren’t the Christmas trees Steve was hoping to surprise you with.

He was sure there’d be something better left, at least. And he’d been wrong. Minus a point on that perfect Christmas, he supposes.

Still, he walks you to the selection, the farm’s employee greeting the two of you as you walk up; “Hey y’all. Good afternoon!”

“Hey man,” Steve starts, “you wouldn’t happen to have any more trees left, would you?”

“Sorry folks, this is all we’ve got. Most people like to get ‘em early.”

Steve’s hope dwindles, and you can see him deflate a little bit.

You, however, don’t mind one bit. You tug on his arm to get his attention, and Steve turns to look at you, brown eyes shining like honey in the sunlight. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “Even the little trees need homes, right?”

He shakes his head with a small smile. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you tend to talk about plants as if they have feelings. You do it when you tell him about the flowers you sell, too.

“Right as usual, honey,” he decides. “Pick your favorites.”

So, you wind up with two small Christmas trees rather than one full one, and there’s a small victory in it when you and Steve strap them both to the top of the BMW without too much of a struggle.

Another victory when you sing along to ‘Last Christmas’ and hold out your fist as if there’s a microphone in your grip to get him to join you. Admittedly, it isn’t a very good rendition, but Steve loves it all the same.

You have a way of turning things around for him, even without knowing it.

When you get back to Steve’s, he brings both of the trees inside and sets them up before bringing down the bins of ornaments and lights from the attic. He only shouted once when a spider crawled over his hand.

Having two trees makes it easy to turn decorating into a lighthearted competition. You both claim one as your own and decorate them with string lights and tinsel and ornaments. Steve’s mom would probably have an aneurysm seeing them used so haphazardly.

Though by the end, your tree is definitely prettier, Steve still feels like he’s won something as you lean your back against his chest and his arms cross over your own, keeping you there.

As a kid, he wasn’t even allowed to do the decorating. Mrs. Harrington had to make everything look picture perfect, and Steve’s hands didn’t help with that. Not according to her.

Today couldn’t feel more different from those memories of his childhood.

“Yours is better,” he tells you, chin perched on your shoulder, his voice low in your ear.

Objectively, it probably is better (your prior experience with arranging plants was an advantage), but you don’t actually care about that.

Today felt like a little glimpse into the future you and Steve could have. It’s easy to picture it: your own apartment, buying decorations you both actually like, setting it all up together every year.

“I think they’re both brilliant,” you say.

And while today wasn’t what he was picturing, wasn’t what he’d hoped for with his ideal holiday in mind, Steve finds that he can certainly live with that. Your adorable little clap when you’d finished decorating was enough to cement it.

It’s only one thing. He’s got plenty of chances to be perfect later, he guesses.

Steve dips his head and kisses the top of your shoulder over your sweater.

You stay over at Steve’s that weekend. You’re both off work, and you find yourself spending your days (and nights) off with Steve more and more.

In the morning, you blink your eyes open slowly, naturally. No alarm set, your boy wrapped around you. It’s how you’ll spend every morning someday.

The sunlight sneaks through a crack in the curtains, cutting a line across Steve’s blue bedding. You squint at it, shifting onto your back gently. Steve’s arm remains slung over your waist as you move, his knee against your leg. You roll your head to the side to look at him, a smile creeping over your mouth at the way his cheek is smushed into the pillow, his lips pouting and hair a mess over his forehead.

Mornings have easily become your favorite time to spend with Steve. He’s cuddling you in some way every single time without fail, even when he wakes up. His voice is all low and gravelly from sleep and it feels like an honor to get to be the one to hear it like that. Usually, you spend an hour in bed with him after waking up. Laying together, talking, kissing. Sometimes (often) more.

You’d stay put right now if you didn’t have to pee so bad.

Slipping out of bed without Steve noticing proves a challenge, his arm tightens over you in his sleep, his brows scrunching. You whisper a soft “I’ll be right back.” He mumbles something incoherent, but his arm relaxes and you’re able to sneak away.

On your way back from the bathroom, you pause and take a peek out the window. You gasp happily at what you see: snow. A bright, white layer blanketing the ground sparkling in the sunlight.

You turn back to the bed and let yourself fall to it with a bounce, earning another grumbled protest from Steve, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep now. You trail a hand up his arm to his shoulder, giving it a small shake, “Stevie, wake up.”

“Hm?” his eyes scrunch before opening. “What happened, honey?”

“It snowed!”

“Yeah?” he huffs a laugh at your excitement, his hand searching for yours in the sheets.

“Yeah, and it’s so pretty. We should go out before it melts.”

“It’s winter, sweetheart. Not gonna melt that fast.”

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” his hand leaves yours in favor of wrapping itself around you again, and he uses it to tug you close again. “Just five more minutes.”

His nose is pressed to the top of your head, and he breathes you in, smiling to himself. Mornings are Steve’s favorite, too. Only when they’re spent with you.

Secretly, he’s also happy about the snow. He was hoping mother nature would be on his side so that he could check yet another holiday item off his list with you. Hopefully one that will turn out nicer than the tiny trees you’d ended up with.

It’s definitely more than five minutes by the time you get Steve to get up and out of bed. You attempt to get him outside right away. He stops you with a: “No snow-related activities on an empty stomach!”

So, it’s a rushed breakfast of bagels and coffee provided by Steve, and then you’re gearing up and heading into the back yard.

The cold bites at your cheeks, and the tip of Steve’s nose is pink within minutes, but you love it.

There’s a snowman built together, snow angels made that get ruined when Steve rolls himself on top of you and steals a kiss or five. Naturally, all there is left to do is have a snowball fight.

You start it when you’re still on the ground, a hand sneaking into the snow to grab a handful and pressing it to the back of Steve’s head. He gasps, and you take the opportunity to push him to the side and get up.

“No fair!” he calls. “I was distracted and you went for the hair.”

“Your fault for not wearing a hat, babe,” you laugh.

“Oh, you won’t be laughing for long, honey. You’re in for it.”

And just like that, you’re running around like kids in a schoolyard, hiding behind trees, slugging snowballs at each other and cheering when you manage to not miss.

Steve silently thanks mother nature or the universe or whatever made it snow for the wide smile on your face, your eyes shining with mirth.

At one point, you’re suddenly distracted by something in the trees, and the snowball is out of Steve’s hand before he sees you start to look towards him again.

It hits you square in the face.

A quick “Ow” comes out of your mouth, though it really doesn’t hurt that bad. Your first reaction is just to let it slip, but Steve’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“Shit, honey.” He runs over to you and cups your face in his hands, his mittens soft against your skin as he brushes the snow from your face. “Fuck. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to get you in the face.”

Minus another point, for sure. Perfect Christmas: -2.

“I know, don’t worry,” you tell him, because he clearly is worrying.

“You okay?” he checks. He literally winces when you sniffle, frowns when he sees the way your eyes water. “Honey. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, Steve, I’m fine,” you reach up and grab his wrists, squeezing them over his jacket. “I’m only crying ‘cause it got my nose. It doesn’t actually hurt.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “Didn’t you used to play sports in school? Thought athletes had better aim.”

“I was a swimmer, baby. No projectiles involved.” He smiles softly when you laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking one more time. “You’re really not hurt?”

“It’s just a bit of snow, Stevie.”

His eyes run over your face anyway before he nods. Then, he dips forwards and lightly kisses your cheek, the other, the tip of your nose, and your mouth.

“Well now I’m certainly all better,” you say against his lips.

Steve pulls back but doesn’t go far. “I think this snowball fight is over.”

“Buzzkill,” you tease.

He bends down and picks up a handful of snow before shoving it in his own face.

“Steve!” you laugh.

“There, now we’re even,” he says, snowflakes clinging to his lashes.

You let him lead you inside after that, his arm draping over your shoulders, yours hugging his middle as you walk across the yard.

Once you’ve both shed your layers of coats and boots and hats and mittens, Steve takes you upstairs and runs you a bath to warm you up. He apologizes another two times when he looks at your face for too long, and you have to kiss him to stop him uttering another ‘sorry.’

Hell, if it’s gonna make him this sweet on you, you’d probably take a snowball to the face any day.

Eventually, when the bathtub is full, a layer of bubbles over the surface, you coax Steve into joining you. He leans against the side with you between his knees, back settling into its home against his chest, his chin resting atop your head.

Steve runs his hands over your shoulders, presses kisses into your hair. All along he’s reminding himself that the next thing will go right. He won’t be throwing anything, at least.

The next weekend Steve calls you again. He asks you to be ready in the evening this time, but still keeps things vague other than the fact that you’ll be outside and need thick socks.

You have a pretty good idea of what he has in mind, but he’d called it a ‘redemption date’ over the phone and even though you truly don’t think he has anything to redeem himself for, you don’t want to spoil his plans, so you play along.

He comes to the front door when he picks you up this time, knocking gently as if you hadn’t been waiting for him by the windows.

“Hi, honey,” he drops a quick kiss to your lips, “had to come and approve your outfit. Don’t want you getting cold and stealing my jacket again.”

He’s lying, really. Steve fucking loves draping his own jacket over your shoulders and seeing you pull it tighter around you. When that happens, he braves the cold, but he figures that probably won’t be smart for spending hours outside.

“Aww, but yours is so much warmer than mine,” you pout jokingly.

Steve simply grabs your thickest jacket from a hook by the door and holds it out for you to slip your arms into.

As suspected, he drives you to a skating rink. He chose one a town over from Hawkins, where they have twinkle lights strung above the rink and rainbow Christmas lights lining the boards. Steve smiles when you gasp lightly in delight at the sight of it. The brightness cutting through the already dark night sky.

Steve guides you over to the skate rental booth first, bumping his hip into yours when you attempt to pay for the rentals. “As if. My idea, my wallet.”

“You don’t even let me pay when it’s my idea, either.”

“Well, that’s just chivalry, babe.”

You roll your eyes at him and thank the man behind the booth when he hands you both your skates. As you walk towards the lockers and cubbies set up nearby, you lean up and kiss Steve’s cheek, his light stubble scratching your lips.

“Thank you for this,” you say.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he tells you. “Though I should warn you that I’m not very good at this.”

“What? You, not good at something? Please.”

“No, seriously. I’m like bambi on ice.”

You laugh and shove his shoulder weakly, “Don’t worry. I’m probably even worse.”

Steve grins. So far, so good. This one will be perfect. Well, as perfect as it can be considering his skating skills.

You sit on one of the benches and Steve puts both of your shoes in one of the cubbies. He ties his own skates first before kneeling in front of you to help you with yours. He knows how to tie them, at the very least.

He helps you slip your feet into the skates first, then tightens the laces on one before peering up at you and checking, “Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s good, Steve. I feel like Cinderella.”

“A perfect fit! She must be the one!”

“Dork.”

“That’s prince dork to you.”

Steve finishes up with your skates, squeezing your ankle before setting your foot down and standing back up.

On the ice, neither of you are very graceful. You hold onto the boards most of the time, and Steve stumbles and nearly falls every few strides, but you’re laughing and having fun, so who cares?

So what if you get lapped by multiple people on the rink, including children? So what if you get some side eyes for being too slow or in the way? Neither of you can bring yourselves to be bothered.

Best of all, Steve keeps a hold on your hand the entire time. He literally saves you from falling with his grip on your hand squeezing and pulling you up straight.

However, your hands being clasped also means that, inevitably, when one of you goes down, you both do.

It happens after a decent amount of laps; your toe pick catches on a dip in the ice and it’s all it takes for you to lose your balance. Steve somehow twists himself to catch the brunt of your fall.

He expected that to come with some pain, a couple bruises, maybe. Instead, his wrist twists painfully against the ice as he falls, as if he’d tried to catch himself with it, and he can’t help the hiss of pain that comes out when he lands.

“You okay, honey?” he asks you.

“Of course I am. I landed on you, Stevie. Are you okay?”

He tests his wrist out by flexing it, wiggling his fingers, and he tries to hide it but he winces when he does, a sharp pain shooting up his arm. “M’fine.”

“Bullshit, I saw that wince, Harrington.” You manage to get back up on your feet and hold out a hand for him to grab, “Up, I’m taking you to the ER.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Steve.”

“Baby.”

“Come on, you don’t want to make it worse, do you?” you urge him. “Plus, I’ll only keep worrying and bugging you about it until you let me take you to the doctor. Your wrist is already swelling, babe.”

Mostly because he doesn’t like the thought of you worrying about him, Steve agrees.

When both of your skates are off (your doing, this time) and given back to the booth, you reach into Steve’s coat pocket and grab the keys to the BMW. He doesn’t protest, and that alone tells you he must be hurting more than he’s letting on. You even manage to open your own door for once.

Steve’s quiet on the drive to the hospital, his hand resting limply on his leg. His brows are furrowed, his eyes squeezing shut every so often when a burst of pain comes. You do your best to avoid any pot holes or bumps along the way.

Once there, you make him sit in one of the waiting room chairs, “I’ll get the check in forms and everything. Stay put, yeah?”

“Your wish is my command,” he says, trying to joke. His voice wobbles a tiny bit, though.

It’s at least an hour of waiting before someone can see him (and that’s including your many pesterings to the front desk). You don’t mean to be a bother, but you’ve never seen Steve injured in any serious capacity, and it’s messing with your head.

He took the weight of that fall to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt. The way he pays attention to things like that is one of the many reasons you love him.

You love him. You haven’t said the words to each other yet, but you’ve felt them for a long time already. It’s hard not to love Steve Harrington.

Finally, the doctor takes him back, and you follow. After an x-ray and some prodding, he determines that it’s a sprained wrist and that he should keep it wrapped for a few weeks to make sure it heals. They give him a prescription for some mild painkillers, too, for the first couple of days.

You breathe a sigh of relief knowing it isn’t broken, but Steve’s shoulders are still slumped.

He’s in pain, sure, his wrist now wrapped up in a tensor bandage, but really he feels defeated at messing yet another thing up. Third strike.

Steve lets you guide him back to the car and drive back to his place. You’ve decided you’re staying the night to take care of him, and as much as he hates looking weak or feeling useless, he’s glad to have you around.

You dote on him back at home, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer after making sure he’s settled on the couch, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, bringing him meds and water.

“Honey, it’s just a sprain. Please stop fussing and sit with me.”

His brown eyes shine a little, and you could never say no to him when he looks at you like that.

You sit beside him and he drops his head to your shoulder, your hand coming up to play with the strands at the nape of his neck, scratching his scalp gently. His uninjured hand rests on your thigh and squeezes.

“Best painkiller ever,” he says.

Steve has convinced himself that nothing could possibly go wrong this time around.

His plans for today involve staying at home, just you and him, no outside forces to deal with or avoid. So much less potential for failure. That’s what he thinks, at least.

Steve knows nearly every piece of you, so, obviously he knows you like to bake. You’d made him a cake for his birthday, and every so often you bring him other treats from home. Naturally, that meant that there was no way he was leaving out Christmas baking.

He’d considered doing gingerbread houses, and then remembered that the last time he tried that in a competition with the kids, his house was nothing more than a messy pile of gingerbread slabs. One with a bite taken out of it.

So, considering his past failures this holiday season, he’d settled on something that he thinks — hopes — is really hard to mess up: sugar cookies.

His mother’s collection of cookbooks had never been used for more than decoration until now. Steve searched through them until he found a recipe, wrote down the ingredients, and bought them at the grocery store to make sure he had everything.

In school, he never did much studying, but he reread the hell out of that recipe in order to get at least this one thing right.

The tensor bandage is still wrapped around his wrist, which is fucking annoying, really. He has to adjust it every day, and it’s hard to do with a single hand. He much prefers when you do it for him, sealing it with a featherlight kiss.

Worse, the thing still hurts, and you refused to let him drive and put more strain on it than necessary, so you took the bus and walked the rest of the way to his house.

He’s got all of the ingredients and tools laid out on the island when you ring the doorbell. “Hurry up, Harrington, it’s freezing!”

Hurry he does. He lets you in and helps you unwrap yourself from your bundle of a scarf and hat and mittens and jacket. Steve dips in to kiss your cheek, your skin cold against his lips. “Wouldn’t have to freeze if you let me come get you.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself for no reason, I’m fine,” you grab his uninjured hand and kiss the pads of his fingers, “and I like these hands.”

He smiles at your words, smug, “Yeah, I know you do, honey.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling all the same, “I take it back. Your ego is getting too big.”

“Nooo, it’s just the right size,” he winks.

“Don’t you have plans, Steve?” you ask, changing the subject. “Getting a little off track, aren’t we?”

“Later, then,” he says, taking your hand with his good one and leading you to the kitchen.

You pause at the entryway of the kitchen, scanning over the things on the island, two aprons Steve must’ve dug up from somewhere hanging from the knobs of the cabinets.

“Tada,” he says, “we’re making cookies.”

“This might be my favourite one yet, Stevie.” You walk over and grab one of the aprons, leaving the other (a pink floral number) for Steve. “I’m in charge, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, taking the other apron without a complaint. “This is your kitchen today, chef.”

“Mm. That has a nice ring to it.”

“Chef honey,” he says, planting a kiss where your neck meets your shoulder, breath warm even through your shirt.

You get started after that. Predictably, you make a mess with flour on the island and mixing bowls strewn about the surface. You get distracted with a bit of a flour war somewhere in there, Steve smudging it onto your cheek, you onto the tip of his nose.

When it’s time to roll out the dough and cut out the cookies, Steve grabs a handful of cookie cutters from one of the drawers, setting them onto the counter with a small clang. They’re all holiday themed. Candy canes and snowmen and Christmas trees.

“Someone’s prepared,” you say, bumping your hip against his.

“I run a serious establishment here, baby.”

“I thought I was in charge.”

Soon enough, after sneaking bites of raw cookie dough and cutting out as many cookies as you could manage, they’re placed into the oven, the timer set.

You end up in the living room, a random channel playing on the TV while the cookies bake. It starts innocently enough, just sitting next to each other, shoulders and thighs pressed together.

Then, Steve’s good hand wanders, starting above your knee and moving up and up until he’s squeezing the top of your thigh, tracing patterns with his thumb. When he speaks a husky, “Come closer?” how could you ever say no?

So, somehow, you’ve ended up straddling Steve’s lap, his injured hand resting loosely on your waist, the other pressed in between your shoulder blades to keep you close. Yours are in his hair, running through the strands, tugging even.

It grows heated fast, and all of a sudden you’re making out like a pair of teenagers, Steve urging you to press further down in his lap, to writhe there while his mouth works yours until it’s all you can think about. All you can feel.

The room feels warmer, Steve’s jeans tighter over his lap, your chest bumping against his, hearts racing. Even just kissing him feels better than anything you’ve ever had in the past.

He kisses you like he’s starved everytime, sometimes a ravenous hunger, like now, or, when he’s gentler, something tender and soft. A sweet tooth.

The cookies are long forgotten. The timer sounds and nobody hears it. You would keep going forever, if you could. But then there’s the smell that hits your nostrils. The smell of something burning.

“Steve?” you say against his mouth.

“Uh-huh?” he breathes.

“Do you smell that?”

He pulls back, and it’s immediately after you say the words that the alarm goes off, piercing through the air, killing the mood, much to your dismay. Even more to Steve’s.

“Fuck,” he groans.

You’re both rushing to the kitchen then. You, fumbling off his lap, him beating you to the kitchen and frantically taking the baking sheet out of the oven and turning the thing off. You grab a towel from the counter and start fanning beneath the alarm to get it to go off, and when the cookies are dealt with, Steve joins the efforts.

Eventually the thing stops beeping, and you both rest your arms. The room still looks a little cloudy, the cookies black at the edges.

Steve doesn’t say anything, only rests his elbows on the island and slumps his head, defeated.

He’s so frustrated with himself. Not for kissing you. No, he could never be mad at that, but at the outcome of his final attempt at a holiday date going south again.

You frown at him, walking over and placing a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles. “Steve? You okay?”

“I just- I messed it up again.”

“Hey, I’m as much to blame as you are. It takes two to tango, as they say.”

He huffs a weak laugh, picking his head up and twisting to look at you. Your pretty face, eyes nothing but kind. Fuck, he loves you, and he just wanted to show you that. To make Christmas as magical as it's supposed to be.

“I really wanted it to go well, you know?”

You realize then that he’s not only talking about today. That he’s been putting this pressure on himself all month to make plans and something has happened every time. You don’t blame him for that, if anything, it makes your heart ache with adoration.

“Steve, it doesn’t matter to me. Things happen, it’s okay,” you kiss his bicep lightly. “I’d rather things go a bit wrong with you than to have them go right with someone else. You are the best part.”

“I-” love you, he almost says. But he doesn’t want the first time to be like this, in a room that still stinks. “You’re the best part for me too, honey.”

You decide that next time, it’s your turn to do something for him.

Steve comes home from work on Christmas Eve, eyes tired and feet hurting despite having worn relatively comfortable shoes today.

He’d tried to get the day off, tried to be able to spend it with you in bed for hours and hours and not getting up until the afternoon. Keith had other plans for him.

He even tried to dramatize his wrist injury. Still, he was forced to go in.

Walking up the driveway, Steve sees the glow of lights inside filtering through the curtains. He’s fairly certain he hadn’t left any on, but he also knows he’s often wrong about these things, so he shrugs it off and goes inside.

There’s noise coming from the living room. Crackling of the fireplace that he barely ever uses, music playing quietly, and then he hears you humming along.

“Honey?”

“Yup, it’s me!”

You know where the spare key is, Steve’s the one who told you the information and encouraged you to use it, but you’ve often been too nervous to do so. Not today, it seems.

While Steve was at work, you’d set up your plan for him.

He follows the sound of your voice without much of a thought, a moth drawn to a flame. When he turns into the living room, he stills.

There are strings of warm white Christmas lights hung about, the fireplace is actually housing a fire, and in front of it is a fort made up of red and green and white blankets and pillows. Some plaid, some with snowflakes, all Christmas themed.

“Did you do all of this?” he asks, walking slowly to where you stand by the fort.

“Figured it was my turn to organize a date, don’t you think?”

“Baby. This is all really sweet, but wha-”

You cut him off, “Uh-uh. Let me explain.” You reach for Steve’s hands, and he meets you in the middle willingly. Suddenly nervous, you shift your weight on your feet. “I thought we could do presents a little early.”

His brows scrunch, “But Christmas is tomorrow.”

“Please?” you ask, squeezing his hands once.

And, really, Steve would never say no to you. Especially not when you’re saying ‘please’ all sweet and delicate like that.

“Okay,” he says. “Yours is in my room. I’ll go grab it. And change; I smell like Family Video.”

“‘Kay, Stevie.”

You kiss his cheek before he goes for good measure.

Steve is confused the entire time, wondering what it could be that you’re up to, but he does as he said he would. You’d been wearing a set of pyjamas (one he loves on you; a soft baby blue pair of shorts with a matching sweater), so he goes for one of his pairs of plaid pants and a plain t shirt before grabbing your messily wrapped gift bag from where he’d hidden it under his bed.

Back in the living room, he finds you now settled on the ground of the fort, which you’d lined with fuzzy blankets and the biggest of the pillows. His gift is sat beside you, a gift box wrapped in a lovely bow. Your skills of wrapping bouquets are transferable, he’s learned.

He joins you, sitting across from you, but close enough that your legs tangle and knees bump.

“You go first,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he scratches the back of his neck, handing you the gift bag. “Let me explain it before you say anything.”

That grabs your attention, but your plans aren’t about his present to you, really, and you know you’ll love it no matter what because Steve knows you better than anyone.

You lift out tissue paper first, uncovering multiple different things inside the bag, also wrapped. It pieces together as you go. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hairbrush, your entire skincare routine, a couple of pyjama and underwear sets.

“It’s so you don’t have to bring an overnight bag every time you stay over now. I, um, cleared out a couple of drawers in my dresser and the bathroom.”

“Steve,” you look at him, heart squeezing. It’s so thoughtful, so him, and you surge forward you wrap your arms around his neck and breathe into his skin, “I love it. Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Perfect.

“You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” you sit back into your spot. “You know I hate carrying things.”

“I never let you carry anything, honey.”

“Exactly,” you nod. Now, you hold out his gift for him to take, “Your turn.”

You watch Steve’s hands as he tugs the bow undone, then lifts the lid of the box.

Nestled inside are four delicate ornaments. A Christmas tree, a snowman, an ice skate, and a plate of cookies. One for every date he’d planned for you.

Steve frowns at them, not because he doesn’t like them, but because he doesn’t quite understand where you’re going with this.

“I thought it was time we started collecting our own ornaments. For our place, one day,” you tell him.

“They’re lovely, but honey you- you really wanna remember these things?“ he shakes his head, more at himself than you. “I messed ‘em all up.”

“There’s one more thing in there,” you say quietly.

The thing you're nervous about. A thing you’ve never said out loud before.

Steve finds it beneath one of the ornaments, a small piece of paper folded up. When he opens that, his heart stutters in his chest. Written in your handwriting are three words: I love you.

He blinks away from the paper to look at you, though his thumb continues to trace the words absentmindedly. “Honey-”

“I love you, Steve. Okay?” You shift closer, kneeling at his side, your hands coming up to frame his jaw, your fingers kind against his skin. “I don’t care that things didn’t go how you planned. I mean, I would rather you didn’t require an ER visit, but the point is that I don’t need things to be perfect. And I know you’ve been hard on yourself trying to make them so.”

He lets go of the paper and reaches up to grasp your wrists, his thumb finding your racing pulse. His uninjured hand holds on tighter than the other.

“Thank you for trying for me,” you continue, “for caring. But no matter what happens, things are perfect for me. Because I get to do them with you. Got that, Harrington? You’re perfect, and I love you, and-”

He shuts you up with a kiss. It’s a simple but firm press of his lips against yours, but it says enough.

“I fucking love you too, honey,” he says, his forehead against yours, lips only a breath apart. “You saying all of that it means — you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah, well, I meant it.”

“I know you did,” he nods. Steve pulls back the tiniest bit to be able to see your face fully, his sweet brown eyes locked on yours. “I wanted our first Christmas to be perfect, and I didn’t wanna let you down, but you’re right. They were perfect, because you’re here. And I love you for bein’ here.”

“As long as you’ll have me,” you say. You push his hair off his forehead before letting go of his face and sitting back, “Why don’t you give those ornaments a try?”

“On those trees?” he asks, eyebrows lifted, voice joking.

“Steve.”

”Okay, okay.”

He picks up the skate first. Surprising, considering that one had ended in a physical injury for him, but you say nothing and watch him walk over to your little trees by the window. You join him, sitting on the arm of the couch nearby while he scans over the tree.

“Pick a spot, handsome,” you encourage. “There’s really no wrong answer here.”

He goes to hang the first ornament, hand wavering before setting on a branch.

“Well, maybe not-” Steve tackles you onto the couch before you can finish. You dissolve into giggles as he pokes at your ribs, his head on your chest.

Steve’s done keeping score.

Perfect Christmas. That’s it.

⁺̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇⊛̇̇̇̇⁺̇̇̇◍̇̇̇⁺̇

thank you so much for reading!! if you enjoyed please please consider leaving a comment and/or a reblog and letting me know what you thought! it would mean a bunch of<3

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #steve harrington requests #steve harrington request #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve x reader

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keferon · 3 days ago

Note

Part 3! Ratchet and Deadlock time.

The ray of sunshine has left, leaving us in the cold dark of the angst.

Ratchet works through some stuff.

———————————————————————

Ratchet hadn’t actually meant for the conversation to start with Roddy.

The medic had wanted to fully explain why he’d left the Mecha Program for awhile. His outburst earlier cementing the fact he needed to get it off his chest, or he’d start lashing out at the wrong people.

Again.

The Kid deserved to know what staying with him could drag him into. Ratchet kept his hands busy cleaning his bowl in the shop sink.

Hot Rod, Ratchet realized, was a good enough bridge into the topic. Someone Deadlock could put a face to. Not just nameless pilots upon pilots.

“There’s a condition called Congenital Insensitivity to Pain. CIP for short. The abbreviated explanation is sometimes humans can be born without the ability to feel pain or that the sensation of pain doesn’t translate correctly to the brain. It’s a very dangerous condition to have since it means that the person doesn’t get the usual warning signs that’s something’s wrong.”

The bowl was completely clean but so long as Ratchet didn’t turn around, he could pretend he was just training a med student.

“So that question about “weird pressures”. You were checking for damage Hot Rod doesn’t know he’s sustained due this CIP condition?”

Kid was smarter than he gave himself credit for. Ratchet thought for not the first time. He almost got it right.

“Hot Rod doesn’t have CIP. Not actual CIP.”

Ratchet put the bowl down, his hand not moving from the faucet after turning it off.

“He wasn’t born with it. Because I caused it.”

—————————

“I was so damn proud.” Said Ratchet.

At the time, he was. The integration process for recruits to become pilots was horrific. Excruciatingly painful. And something out of a science fiction movie.

In order to condition the human nervous system to work with the mecha neural interface, it necessitated mapping out every nerve and neuron in the pilots body.

While conscious.

Orion came up with the best analogy for it once: You could create a perfect 3 dimensional map of an entire ant colony’s nest. Provided you poured enough molten lead down the hole.

Ratchet wasn’t one to standby watching friends or strangers suffer, so he rolled up his sleeves and set his mind to fixing the whole damn thing.

On the line between man and machine, Ratchets role in the mecha program was right on the fence.

Specifically, he’d started very close to the fence on the side of the machines, and during the course of the program, picked up enough extra PHD’s to hook a leg over said fence to reach across and start smacking the shit out of some particularly stupid doctors handling the men.

Ratchet worked for years along side Pharma and Shockwave to make the integration process less permanently damaging.

Common long term side effects were: Blurry Vision Jazz, Disassociation Swoop, Memory Loss Sludge, Paralysis Snarl, Nerve Damge Slag, Internal Hemorrhaging Grimlock, Altered Personality Shockwave, and Brain Death Orion.

There were dozens more faces Ratchet could pair with any given symptom.

Eventually, Ratchet got his lucky break. A fresh batch of recruits to try his tweaked integration process on. Hot Rod was one of them.

Ratchet had thought he’d hit a breakthrough. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t publish it yet. Not until he was sure.

Hot Rod aced the physical and mental exam. The rest of his test group did pretty well too. They weren’t cream of the crop. The higher ups didn’t want to risk loosing more valuable pilots to an experiment. When Pharma had already established an “acceptable level of care” that nicely suited them.

Ratchet personally watched the lot of them like a hawk. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn’t come. Hot Rod was fine. The whole group was fine.

He was so damn proud.

The pilots went straight into mecha training and then-

They dropped like flies.

It was on the bad end of the bell curve for pilot fatalities. Ratchet thought it had to be the new series of mecha that had been built at the same time. He’d switched into engineering mode to rectify that. They had glaring safety issues where the flamethrowers and thrusters intersected. Plus, it wasn’t unusual for the mecha program to just have particularly rough seasons. The tentacled fucks were out in swarms. And by god was that a bloody summer for everyone.

It happened three days after the last big fight. Pretty much everyone who came back alive came back with some sort of injury. Except for Hot Rod, who Pharma gave a clean bill of health.

Ratchet was in his corner of the medical wing, looking over his proposal for the new integration method when Jazz dragged Hot Rod into his office.

Red flag number one: Jazz was a nightmare patient who avoided the med wing like a bear trap.

He tried. Goddamn it if Jazz didn’t try, but he was physically incapable of getting through medical procedures without being heavily sedated. The last time Ratchet tried to do minor stitches with only a local anesthetic, Jazz panicked and damn near broke his arm.

Jazz and Hot Rod were both wearing shorts, t-shirts and sneakers. Judging from the smell, they had just gotten here from the rec room. Probably basketball or maybe dodgeball.

Ratchet had gone through a full medical checklist before they finished coming through the door. Neither looked sick or injured. Nothing was obviously wrong beyond the clear look on Jazz’s face that said “Something is actually very wrong.”

Jazz wheeled Hot Rod in front of Ratchet.

“Show him.”

Hot Rod looked more embarrassed than in desperate need of medical attention.

“I’m fine Jazz, I probably just need to stretch.”

Jazz waved his hand cutting him off. Ratchet would usually start telling them off by now but something stopped him.

“Hot Rod raise your arms above your head. Both of them.”

The red headed pilot reluctantly obeyed. His right arm lifted straight up above his body. His left. Hot Rod made a face of concentration, as his left arm refused to go any higher than his head.

Three days.

Hot Rods shoulder had been dislocated for three days and no one fucking noticed.

Ratchet chewed out Jazz at first thinking he’d caused it. Then he chewed out Hot Rod for not coming to medical as soon as he knew about the injury.

And then, something very cold settled into his stomach the more and more Hot Rod swore he didn’t notice. That it didn’t even hurt.

“Ratchet, I’m fine!”

He should have been in pain. In agony after three days.

Later, Ratchet would go through each medical file of every pilot he had been responsible for. They had all had ailments in their files. Minor visible injuries that were all taken care of. Major ones went surprisingly smoothly. Patient notes praising the med staff for keeping them so comfortable. Praising him. Not one pilot had made a single pain med request since going through the integration process. On his files, there was one surviving active duty pilot from the same integration process.

Ratchet’s integration process.

————————

“Hot Rod said he forgave me.” Ratchet laughed. A little too wet and little too rough.

“Just like that.”

When’d he start shaking?

Ratchet still didn’t, couldn’t look the Kid in the eyes. “I left, not long after. There’s so much fucking more that was happening. That was the last straw, because when I told Shockwave and Pharma, those heartless fucks wanted to make it standard across the board. Soldiers that can’t feel pain? Of fucking course they wanted that. Didn’t matter the fatality rate was nine times as high.”

Ratchets voice was getting worse. But he couldn’t stop. “I thought I could fix it all from the inside. I thought as long as I stayed I could be some, fucking moral compass to a bunch of greedy, prideful, fucking deranged people. I was an egotistical IDIOT that thought I could somehow save every doomed kid tricked into walking into that “necessary evil.” I actually believed I could-”

Ratchet was abruptly cut off from his ranting as two massive hands grabbed him around the waist and deposited him on a ledge, at eye level.

“Kid, what-“ Deadlocks eyes looked shiny.

“I-I can’t keep looking down at you.”

The two of them sat in silence.

Neither seemed to know or want to start talking again right away. Ratchet was used to stewing in regrets on occasion. That had felt more like putting those regrets into a blender and then forgetting the lid.

Deadlocks plating was pulled tight. Ratchet had almost forgotten what he looked like when he was stressed. He wanted immediately to take it all back. Make it better. See him laugh drunk and cozy again like yesterday.

“Kid, I’m sorry. That- that was too much to put on you.” Deadlocks hands weren’t gripping him anymore but resting on either side of the ledge. Ratchet pet small circles on a thumb that twitched slightly under his hand.

Deadlock straightened and looked at him with a steely expression, mouth tense, eyes determined.

“You are one of the most intelligent, stubborn, and caring people I’ve ever met. Nope.” Deadlock corrected himself, lifting a hand. “THE most intelligent, stubborn and caring person that exists.” He dragged out the syllables of that last word.

“You!” He poked Ratchet in the chest. “Saved me. And I’m fragging terrible.”

Ratchet took offense to that, “You’re not terrible and you’re worth saving!”

Deadlock grinned, “The worst thing you can possibly say about yourself is that you care too much to put up with some kind of slagged up torture facility. Which, by the way, I am still fully offering to blown up.”

“Still full of innocent people kid.”

“Okay kidnapping then. I say we nab Hot Rod first.”

Ratchet leaned back against the wall and made one of those desperate chuckles you only hear when someone has their face buried in their hands. “Kid. The quintessons.”

That took a little wind out of his sails.

“The system is fucking broken and trust me I want to see it all burn someday. But we’re in a goddamn war. And as much as I hate the mecha program, it’s the best shot at survival we have.” Ratchet watched Deadlocks finales pin back again.

He offered a palm to Ratchet, who after a moment’s consideration, not very gracefully scooted on. Instead of lowering him to the floor, Deadlock brought him to his face. His eyes closed and he gently bumped his medic with his forehelm.

“Whatever you need. Just ask. Please.”

Ratchet sighed and rested his own forehead against the cybertronian. “I want you take care of yourself. I told you all that stuff so you understand why I’m fighting giants here and you can decide to back out. They can hurt you kid. Kill you. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if Shockwave found you instead of me.”

Deadlock snorted, “Please, do you think any of those suits could handle me?”

Ratchet tapped his hand to put him down, which Deadlock obliged. He hummed.

“Well I can think of three candidates off the top of my head, but one got lost in space and the other might technically be a zombie.”

“What’s the third?”

Ratchet started shrugging on a coat, “Hot Rod.”

He smirked a bit as Deadlocks finales snapped up in offense. “What? Absolutely not. No fragging way that little rust spot can beat me in a fight.”

Ratchet began packing a go bag of medical supplies, “Well I was going to keep it to myself, but part of the reason I brought him in was because I asked Hot Rod to look out for you where I can’t.”

He slung the heavy bag over one shoulder. “Plus, I knew Hot Rod was going to love you. He sees the best in people. And kid?” Ratchet paused at the door.

“You’re someone special.”

———————————————————————

It’s always darkest before the dawn. This…has become a four parter. Dang. Good news is the ray of sunshine will return in style next time.

Some extra tid-bits, I got a head canon that the main side effect Jazz got from the integration process (other than PTSD) is blurry vision. He can see fine while hooked into a mech but can’t get his eyes to focus properly as a human. So Ratchet whipped up a visor that tricks his eyes into thinking he’s still looking through a mecha so he can see normally.

Also, a lot of you guys guessed correctly what was going on with Roddy! Good job everyone!

Lastly I have nothing personal against the dinobots if you love them I’m very sorry.

The next (last?) part will be much brighter. Because the suns coming back.

- SSTP

Oh.....oh fuck....wait WAIT THIS HAS SO MUCH MORE LAYERS THAN I WAS EXPECTING OH MY GOD

I was like. Okay huh. So Roddy can't feel pain right? He must be having this rare condition and? I don't really see where this is going? Huh. Guess it's time to find ouUUUUUH FUCK.

Please. Oh my god. The fact that Ratchet was the one who made him to be like that??? This gives both of them and their dynamic more layers than in a freaking onion. And Roddy didn't just suffer from Ratchets actions. He forgave him. Because OF COURSE he did, he's always giving everyone a second chance I LOVE THIS CONCEPT SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

#maccadam #transformers #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha rl writing #mecha dr writing #mecha art #mecha rl art #ratchlock #Hot rod #deadlock #ratchet #Pharma and Shockwave continue to be evil

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hannie-roses · 3 days ago

Text

Am I just a bet to you?

Pairing: mingi x fab¡Reader

Sypnosis: Mingi, the school’s notorious playboy, has charmed every girl except Y/N, the one who won’t give him the time of day. When his friends San and Hongjoong dare him to make her fall for him in two months, he’s confident it’ll be an easy win. But as Y/N proves to be more than a challenge, Mingi starts to question if this bet might cost him more than he bargained for her heart.

Details: towards the end it gets CRAZY and I mean, slut calling. Hair grabbing, choking, gagging,head pushing, praise, degradation, oral giving and receiving. AFTER CAREER Use of the pet names daddy, princess, sir,good girl. BONDAGE! Dominant¡mingi submissive¡Y/N ROUGH sex. But it will ease into that.

Word count: 24.9k

The cafeteria buzzed with noise as Mingi leaned back in his chair, lazily picking at his fries while San and Hongjoong debated the best ways to sneak out of detention.

“I’m telling you,” San said, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food, “the trick is to fake being sick. Nobody wants to deal with a kid puking in the hallway.”

Hongjoong snorted. “Or you could just not get detention in the first place.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” San shot back, grinning.

Mingi, tuning out their banter, let his gaze wander around the room until it landed on Y/N sitting with her best friend, Chloe, across the cafeteria. Something about her unbothered attitude caught his attention, and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, “I bet I can make that Y/N girl fall in love with me.”

San froze mid-bite, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Mingi. “Nah, no you can’t.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, a slow grin spreading across his face. “If you think you can, prove it. Two months. Make her fall for you.”

Mingi smirked, already accepting the challenge in his mind. “Two months? Easy.”

San shook his head. “You’re gonna crash and burn, man.”

“Watch me,” Mingi said confidently, but as Y/N laughed at something Chloe said across the room, for the first time, he wondered if this might not be as easy as he thought.

“Alright, two months,” Hongjoong said, leaning back with a sly grin. “But let’s make it interesting. If you win, San and I buy your lunch for the rest of the year. If you lose, you’re buying ours.”

“Deal,” Mingi said without hesitation, his smirk unwavering.

San shook his head, clearly unconvinced. “You don’t even know anything about her. She’s not like the other girls you’ve messed with. She’s… I don’t know, different.”

“Different how?” Mingi asked, leaning forward with mock curiosity.

“She’s smart, for one,” San said, emphasizing the word. “And she’s not interested in guys like you. She doesn’t care about status or charm. You’re not her type.”

Mingi scoffed. “Everyone has a type, San. They just don’t know it until I show them.”

Hongjoong laughed, shaking his head. “You’re so full of yourself, it’s almost impressive.”

As they spoke, Y/N got up from her table with Chloe, walking past them on the way to the trash cans. She didn’t spare Mingi a glance, completely unaware of the wager she had just become the centerpiece of.

San nudged Mingi. “There she goes. Better start planning, Casanova.”

Mingi watched her walk away, a challenge flashing in his eyes. “Oh, I don’t need a plan. Just watch she won’t even know what hit her.”

Meanwhile, across the cafeteria, Chloe rolled her eyes as Y/N recounted her frustration with the latest group project in history class.

“He’s so annoying,” Y/N said, dropping her tray into the bin. “It’s like he’s trying to be the loudest person in the room every time we’re in class.”

Chloe followed, smirking. “Let me guess: Mingi?”

Y/N groaned. “Who else? He thinks he’s God’s gift to the school.”

Chloe shrugged. “To be fair, a lot of people seem to agree.”

“Well, not me,” Y/N said firmly. “I can’t stand guys like him.”

Chloe grinned knowingly but said nothing, falling into step beside her. “Let’s see how long that lasts,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” Y/N asked, glancing at her.

“Nothing,” Chloe said with an innocent smile.

After school, Mingi stood by the lockers, scrolling through his phone while waiting for San and Hongjoong. His eyes darted up when he saw Y/N walking down the hallway, books tucked under her arm, Chloe beside her.

“Showtime,” Mingi muttered under his breath.

San and Hongjoong appeared out of nowhere, flanking him like bodyguards. “You’re really going for it now?” San asked, eyeing Y/N warily.

“Why not?” Mingi smirked, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “Time to work my magic.”

As Y/N and Chloe approached, Mingi stepped into their path, his trademark grin firmly in place.

“Y/N, right?” he said casually, leaning against the lockers like he had all the time in the world.

Y/N stopped, her brow furrowing as she glanced at Chloe before looking back at him. “Yeah… and you’re Mingi.”

“Wow, she knows me already,” he teased, his voice dripping with charm. “I’m flattered.”

Y/N’s expression didn’t budge. “You’re loud. It’s hard not to know who you are.”

Chloe snickered softly, trying to hide her amusement.

Mingi’s grin didn’t falter. “Fair enough. But I figured it’s about time we actually talk. You know, get to know each other.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why not?” Mingi shot back smoothly. “You seem interesting. Different.”

Y/N crossed her arms, her tone flat. “I’m not interested in being another girl on your list, if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

The comment caught him off guard for a second, but he quickly recovered, his smirk returning. “Who said you’re on a list? I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Right,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Well, thanks for the… friendly effort, but I’m good.”

With that, she stepped around him, Chloe following closely, though she glanced back at Mingi with an amused look.

San let out a low whistle. “Ouch. That didn’t go as planned.”

Hongjoong clapped Mingi on the back, grinning. “Guess you’re not as smooth as you thought.”

Mingi watched Y/N disappear down the hallway, determination sparking in his eyes. “This is just the beginning,” he said, more to himself than to them. “She’ll come around. They always do.”

Meanwhile, as Y/N and Chloe walked outside, Chloe couldn’t hold back anymore. “That was hilarious. Did you see his face?”

Y/N sighed. “I don’t get why he’s wasting his time on me. He has literally every other girl throwing themselves at him.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he likes the chase. Or maybe he’s just bored.”

“Well, he can stay bored,” Y/N muttered. “I’m not playing his game.”

Chloe smirked, nudging her. “We’ll see about that.”

Y/N and Chloe walked side by side on the way home, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement. Chloe twirled her water bottle idly, breaking the comfortable silence.

“So… what’s your deal with guys?” Chloe asked casually.

Y/N gave her a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, every time a guy so much as says hi to you, you shut him down like they’re trying to sell you something. What’s up with that?” Chloe asked, a playful but curious tone in her voice.

Y/N sighed, shifting her books in her arms. “It’s not like that. I just don’t have the energy for all the drama that comes with it. Guys like Mingi? They’re all the same charming until they get what they want, and then they move on. Why waste my time?”

Chloe raised an eyebrow. “You sound like you’ve been burned before.”

“I’ve seen it happen to too many people,” Y/N replied, her voice firm. “If a guy really wants to know me, he’s going to have to prove he’s not just playing around.”

Chloe nodded slowly. “Fair enough. But what if someone’s actually serious about you? Would you give them a chance?”

Y/N hesitated, her steps slowing. “Maybe. But I’m not holding my breath. It’s easier to focus on things I can control, you know?”

Chloe grinned. “Well, if nothing else, watching you deal with Mingi is going to be my new favorite pastime.”

Y/N groaned. “Don’t encourage him. He’s probably already planning his next move.”

The next day, Y/N walked into school, her earbuds in and her focus on her playlist. She didn’t notice Mingi waiting near her locker until he stepped into her path.

“Morning, sunshine,” Mingi greeted, his grin as bright as ever.

Y/N pulled out an earbud, staring at him. “What do you want now?”

“Just wanted to say hi,” he said, leaning casually against the locker next to hers. “And maybe see if you’d like to grab coffee after school.”

Y/N blinked, genuinely surprised. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. I’m dead serious,” Mingi said, holding a hand to his chest like he was pledging allegiance.

She scoffed, opening her locker. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m persistent?” he offered, his tone light. “And because I’m actually interested in getting to know you.”

Y/N pulled out a notebook and turned to him, unimpressed. “You don’t even know my favorite color.”

Mingi didn’t miss a beat. “Blue. Or maybe green. Something calm, but with a little edge.”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised he’d even try. “Wrong. It’s purple.”

“Noted,” Mingi said, nodding solemnly. “See? I’m learning already.”

“Not fast enough,” Y/N muttered, slamming her locker shut. “Look, Mingi, I don’t know what you think this is, but it’s not going to work. Save yourself the trouble.”

As she walked away, Mingi called after her, “I like a challenge!”

Chloe, who had been watching from nearby, walked up to Mingi, shaking her head with a smirk. “You’re really going all out, aren’t you?”

Mingi shrugged, unbothered. “She’ll come around. They always do.”

Chloe crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. “Y/N’s not like ‘they,’ and you know it. If you really want her to take you seriously, maybe try being genuine for once.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m not?”

Chloe laughed softly. “Because I’ve seen your track record, and so has she. You want advice? Don’t try to outsmart her. She’s smarter than you think.”

With that, Chloe turned and walked toward Y/N, leaving Mingi standing alone by the lockers. For the first time, his confidence wavered just slightly. Maybe Chloe was right maybe he needed to switch up his game.

That evening, Mingi lay sprawled on his bed, the glow of his bedside lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. His phone rested on his chest, notifications piling up from girls who were all too eager to talk to him. Yet, for once, he didn’t care.

His mind was somewhere else on Y/N.

“What’s her deal?” he muttered to himself, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. “She’s not even trying to play hard to get. She just doesn’t care.”

It was… unsettling. He was used to his charm working instantly, but Y/N hadn’t even flinched. In fact, she’d made him feel like the one chasing her and that was new.

Mingi sat up, rubbing the back of his neck as his thoughts spiraled. He replayed every word she’d said earlier: the sharpness in her tone, the way she’d brushed him off like he was nothing. It wasn’t just rejection it was indifference.

“Okay, think,” he said aloud, grabbing a notebook from his desk. “What’s the next move?”

Flipping open the pages, he started jotting down ideas:

1. Find out what she likes – Chloe said she’s smart. Maybe books? Music?

2. Stop being predictable – She clearly sees me as some player. Prove I’m more than that.

3. Show genuine interest – No games, no big gestures. Just… be real?

Mingi stared at the last note, his pen hovering above the page. Be real? He wasn’t sure he even knew how to do that. His whole persona was built on confidence, on knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. Could he really strip all of that away?

He leaned back in his chair, spinning the pen in his fingers. “If she’s different, maybe I have to be different, too.”

For the first time in a long while, Mingi felt a pang of uncertainty. He didn’t know if this was a challenge he could win, but he wasn’t about to back down.

A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Mingi, dinner’s ready,” his mom called from the hallway.

“Coming,” he replied, closing the notebook and tossing it onto his desk.

As he headed downstairs, one thought lingered in his mind: if Y/N wanted him to be real, then real was what she’d get.

The next morning, Mingi arrived at school with a new strategy in mind. He wasn’t going to overwhelm Y/N with grand gestures or cheesy pick-up lines. No, this time he’d take it slow, chip away at her walls bit by bit.

He spotted her at her locker, pulling books out for her first class. As usual, Chloe stood nearby, chatting animatedly. Mingi took a deep breath and approached, plastering on his most casual smile.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

Y/N glanced at him briefly, then returned her attention to her locker. “Hi.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow at Mingi but said nothing, clearly waiting to see what he’d do next.

“Need help carrying those?” he offered, motioning to the stack of books in her arms.

Y/N shut her locker and turned to him with a deadpan look. “No, thanks. I’ve been managing just fine on my own.”

Mingi nodded, undeterred. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d ask. So, what’s on the agenda today? Anything exciting?”

Y/N started walking toward her class, and Mingi fell into step beside her. “Not really. Why do you care?”

He shrugged. “Trying to get to know you. Isn’t that what people do?”

Y/N sighed, clearly exasperated. “Look, Mingi, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you can stop. I’m not interested.”

Chloe trailed behind them, suppressing a grin as Mingi simply smiled and said, “Noted. But I’m still not giving up.”

For the next two weeks, Mingi kept his word. Every day, he found subtle ways to get Y/N’s attention asking her opinion on random topics during lunch, joining her group in gym class, and even sitting near her in the library. He didn’t push too hard, but he was always there, persistent and consistent.

At first, Y/N barely acknowledged him. She rolled her eyes at his jokes, ignored his questions when she could, and even told him outright that he was wasting his time. But Mingi didn’t waver.

One day after school, Y/N sat in the library with Chloe, trying to finish an essay. Mingi wandered in, holding a coffee cup in one hand and a book in the other.

“Hey,” he said, sliding the cup onto the table in front of her.

Y/N looked up, confused. “What’s this?”

“Black coffee,” Mingi replied with a shrug. “Thought you could use it. You look like you’ve been here for hours.”

Chloe stifled a laugh as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “What makes you think I like black coffee?”

“You seem like the no-sugar type,” he said confidently.

Y/N hesitated, then took a tentative sip. It was perfect. She hated that he got it right.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning back to her work.

Mingi didn’t stay, and for the first time, Y/N found herself thinking about him long after he’d left.

By the end of the second week, Y/N finally gave in. As she walked out of school with Chloe, she spotted Mingi leaning against the gate, his usual grin in place.

“What now?” she asked, stopping in front of him.

Mingi held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not here to bother you. Just thought I’d ask if you want to grab some dinner or something. It’s been a couple of weeks, and I’d say we’ve made progress, don’t you think?”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, trying to hide the fact that she was intrigued. “What are you really trying to do, Mingi?”

He shrugged, looking completely at ease. “I’m just trying to get you to see that I’m not like the other guys. Not everyone’s out for something. I just thought maybe you’d give me a chance to prove that.”

Y/N glanced at Chloe, who was quietly watching the interaction with a knowing look in her eyes. Chloe leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for Y/N to hear, “You know, he’s been trying. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give him a shot.”

Y/N hesitated. She hadn’t expected Mingi to be this persistent, or this… genuine, in his own way. The truth was, a part of her was curious.

“Fine,” she said after a long pause. “But only because you’ve been so obnoxious about it for two weeks.”

Mingi’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll pick you up at six.”

As Y/N walked away with Chloe, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of excitement and reluctance. This could end up being one big mistake or maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something unexpected.

That evening, Mingi pulled up to Y/N’s house in his car, his heart beating a little faster than usual. He wasn’t used to feeling this nervous, but this wasn’t like the other dates he’d been on. This wasn’t some game at least, not anymore. He had to prove he was serious.

When Y/N stepped outside, dressed casually but effortlessly put-together, Mingi’s breath caught in his throat. She was different from anyone he’d ever had to chase, and for the first time, he felt unsure of himself.

“Hey,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat, offering a small but genuine smile.

“Hey,” Mingi replied, his voice uncharacteristically softer than usual. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Y/N responded with a slight shrug, settling into the seat. “I’m just hoping this dinner isn’t going to be some disaster.”

Mingi laughed, trying to ease the tension in the air. “I promise it’s not a setup for some awful prank.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” she said dryly, glancing over at him. “I just don’t know why you keep insisting on hanging out. You’ve been pretty persistent.”

“Well,” Mingi said as he started the car, “maybe I like a challenge. And maybe I think you’re… worth the effort.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond. She was still guarded, and Mingi could feel the distance between them, though he was determined to close it.

They arrived at a cozy little café a few minutes later, a place far away from the prying eyes of their schoolmates. It was quiet, with dim lighting and a peaceful atmosphere nothing like the bustling hangout spots Mingi usually frequented.

As they walked inside, Mingi held the door open for her, and they took a seat at a small corner booth. He could feel her watching him, studying him, as if she was waiting for him to slip up.

“So, what made you choose this place?” Y/N asked, looking around the café with a slight tilt of her head.

“I thought you might like something… low-key,” Mingi said, leaning back in his seat. “I’m not all about loud clubs and parties. Sometimes I want a little peace and quiet too.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by his honesty. “Huh. Guess I didn’t expect that from you.”

“I guess that’s the point,” he said with a slight smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

They fell into an easy silence as the waitress came to take their orders. Once she left, Y/N leaned forward slightly, her curiosity piqued.

“So, what’s the deal with you, Mingi? You’re like… the guy everyone knows but no one really knows, you know?”

Mingi paused, the question catching him off guard. For a moment, he wondered if this was just a roundabout way of asking about his past relationships.

“I guess I’m just… living in the moment,” he said after a beat, looking down at his hands. “Not really thinking too much about the future.”

Y/N watched him carefully. “And do you ever think about the future? Or is it just one person after another?”

Mingi looked up at her, his expression slightly more serious than before. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe I’ve been trying to keep things light because I’m not sure how to handle real feelings. I know it’s easier to just keep moving than to deal with the mess that is emotions.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his vulnerability. She had expected him to brush it off, but there he was, opening up to her in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

“I get that,” she said softly. “Sometimes it’s easier to stay detached. But eventually, that catches up with you, right?”

Mingi nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess it does.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, letting the conversation settle before their food arrived. Mingi tried to keep the mood light as they ate, cracking jokes here and there, but he noticed Y/N’s walls slowly coming down. She was still guarded, but she wasn’t shutting him out as much as she had before.

After a while, Y/N looked at him with a small smile. “You know, I didn’t think I’d actually have a good time tonight.”

Mingi’s heart skipped a beat. “So, does this mean I’ve earned a little bit of your trust?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe. You’ve been surprising me, Mingi. I didn’t think you could actually have a conversation without it feeling like some game.”

“Well, I can be serious when I want to be,” Mingi said, leaning in slightly. “And I’m starting to think I might want to be serious with you.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes searching his face for any signs of his usual arrogance or playboy charm. But all she saw was sincerity, and for the first time, she allowed herself to soften.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause, her voice quieter now. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect this from you. But… I’m still not convinced this is all real.”

Mingi reached across the table, gently brushing his fingers against hers. “Give me a chance to prove it.”

Y/N looked down at their hands, the gesture surprisingly gentle. She had always thought of Mingi as someone who only cared about getting what he wanted, but now she wasn’t so sure.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, looking back up at him. “But you’re not getting off that easy.”

Mingi grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they finished their meal, the air between them had shifted. It was no longer about playing games or pretending. For the first time, they were both being honest with each other and that felt like the beginning of something real.

Two weeks had passed since Mingi’s dinner with Y/N, and things were… different. A lot had changed, but not in the way he’d expected. Sure, he was still pursuing her, but now it wasn’t just about winning the bet. There was something more to it, something that made his usual confidence feel more like a subtle uncertainty. He’d actually begun to care about what Y/N thought.

But tonight, Mingi sat with San and Hongjoong, the two of them eagerly waiting to hear about his progress. It was time to talk about the bet.

“So, how’s it going, bro?” Hongjoong asked, a teasing glint in his eye. “You sure you’ve got this in the bag?”

Mingi leaned back in his chair, his usual cocky smile making a reappearance. “Oh, yeah. It’s going smoothly. She’s softening up. She’s definitely starting to like meprobably more than she realizes.”

San raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’re sure? You’re not, like, falling for her or anything, right? Because I remember you saying it was just a bet.”

Mingi paused at San’s words, a strange discomfort settling in his chest. He quickly shook it off. “Nah, I’m not falling for her. It’s all part of the plan. She’s just… getting used to me. And I’m playing it smart. It’s not like I’m putting all my eggs in one basket.”

Hongjoong leaned in, smirking. “You’re starting to sound a little defensive. You sure you’re not starting to care?”

Mingi’s gaze flickered for a moment, his thoughts betraying him. He quickly cleared his throat and forced a laugh. “Nah, you guys know I’m all about winning. I just like to keep things interesting, you know?”

San and Hongjoong exchanged a look, both silently processing what they’d just heard.

“So, what’s the plan now?” Hongjoong asked, eager to hear what Mingi would do next.

Mingi grinned, tapping his fingers on the table. “Next step? I’m taking her out again this weekend. I’ve been keeping things casual no pressure, just a little fun. She’s definitely starting to let her guard down. The more time I spend with her, the more she opens up.”

San leaned back, looking skeptical. “Just be careful, Mingi. You’re playing a dangerous game. You can’t mess around with someone like Y/N for too long without catching feelings.”

Mingi’s eyes narrowed. “I told you, I’m not falling for her. I’ve got this under control. Just watch.”

Hongjoong gave a knowing smile. “Well, if you say so. But don’t forget, a bet’s a bet. You better be careful not to get too caught up in the process. You’ll end up playing yourself.”

Mingi grinned, though it was a little more strained than usual. “Nah, trust me. I know what I’m doing. This is just a game, and I’m always winning.”

Over the next few days, Mingi’s interactions with Y/N grew increasingly familiar. They started talking more, spending time together in and out of school sometimes at the café, sometimes just hanging out at the park. Every conversation felt easier, more comfortable. And yet, with each passing day, Mingi found himself questioning how much of it was part of the plan and how much was because he genuinely wanted to be around her.

As much as he told himself he was just playing the game, there was something about the way Y/N smiled when they talked, the way her eyes softened when she spoke to him, that made his heart beat a little faster. And for the first time, Mingi wasn’t sure if he was winning the bet or if he was just losing himself in the process.

But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside. The bet was still on. And in his mind, winning was all that mattered.

It had been one month and two weeks since Mingi and Y/N started hanging out, and the connection between them had evolved in ways neither of them expected. Their usual banter was still there, but now it was accompanied by something deeper something unspoken but undeniable.

This time, Mingi had invited Y/N to a cherry blossom field, the perfect place for a quiet afternoon picnic away from the noise of school and the eyes of others. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden light over the sea of pink petals that surrounded them. The air smelled fresh, and the gentle breeze made the blossoms sway, scattering petals like confetti around them.

They were seated on a blanket, surrounded by sandwiches, fruit, and iced tea, but neither of them were really paying attention to the food. Instead, they were lost in conversation genuine, easy, and comfortable in a way neither of them had anticipated.

“So, tell me,” Y/N said, a playful glint in her eyes, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done to impress someone?”

Mingi laughed, leaning back on his hands. “Oh, that’s a long list. Probably the time I spent a ridiculous amount of money on a concert ticket just to impress some girl who didn’t even end up going.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Lesson learned don’t try too hard.”

Y/N smirked. “Seems like you’ve learned a few things the hard way, huh?”

Mingi grinned, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment. “Yeah, but I think that’s how you get better at this whole… ‘life’ thing.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics favorite books, weird childhood stories, random facts they’d both learned. Each topic was a little more personal, a little more revealing. Y/N found herself laughing more than she had in a while, and Mingi couldn’t help but admire the way she smiled, the way she made everything feel so natural.

At some point, the chatter died down, and they both sat in a comfortable silence, watching the petals float through the air. The sun was setting now, casting a soft glow over everything, and the world felt as if it had slowed down just for them.

Without realizing it, they had shifted closer to each other on the blanket. Y/N was now sitting with her legs crossed, facing Mingi, their knees almost touching. The closeness felt different from anything they had shared before, and for a brief moment, Mingi’s heart raced in a way it never had during their hangouts. He had spent so much time trying to impress her, trying to win her over, but now, in this quiet, peaceful space, he realized he didn’t need to do anything.

Y/N, too, noticed the change in the air between them. Her pulse quickened as she met his gaze, the space between them closing slowly, almost naturally. For a moment, she thought about pulling away, about asking if this was a bad idea but something in Mingi’s eyes told her he was just as unsure, just as tentative.

Then, without thinking, she reached out, gently brushing her hand against his. It was a subtle gesture, but the impact was immediate. Mingi’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to where their hands were connected, and then slowly, he met her eyes again.

The world seemed to blur around them, the noise of everything else fading away. It was just the two of them, the cherry blossoms, and the beating of their hearts.

Mingi leaned in first, drawn by something he couldn’t name, something that had been building between them for weeks. Y/N’s breath caught as their faces grew closer, the tension thickening. There was no going back now.

And then, without a word, their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. It was slow at first, gentle, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile moment they had created. Mingi’s hand moved to cup her face, his thumb brushing her cheek as he deepened the kiss just slightly, testing the waters.

Y/N responded in kind, her hand moving to his chest as the kiss grew more urgent, more needy. Her heart raced as the feeling of Mingi’s lips on hers felt so right, so real, and yet so unexpected.

When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting against each other, eyes closed as they tried to collect themselves.

“I didn’t plan on that,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaking slightly, the words feeling like an admission of something she hadn’t fully realized until now.

Mingi’s lips quirked into a small, soft smile, his thumb still brushing her cheek. “Me neither,” he murmured, his voice low and sincere.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The moment felt too precious, too delicate to break with words. They were still so close, the space between them charged with something neither of them could deny anymore.

“I think I should take you out more often,” Mingi said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching hers.

Y/N chuckled, though it was a little nervous, her heart still pounding in her chest. “Yeah, I think you should.”

And for the first time, there were no games, no pretense. Only the two of them, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the cherry blossoms, and a kiss that neither of them would ever forget.

After the kiss, the world around them felt suspended in time. Neither of them rushed to speak, neither of them pulled away. Instead, they simply existed in the moment, their breaths steady and soft as they let the stillness of the cherry blossom field surround them.

Y/N shifted slightly, tilting her head until it gently rested against Mingi’s shoulder. He tensed for a brief second, but then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he relaxed and let her settle closer to him. Her hair was soft against his arm, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just the two of them, a peaceful calm settling over them both.

The sun hung low in the sky, its warm golden light casting a soft glow over the field. The cherry blossoms swayed in the breeze, their petals drifting lazily to the ground, like a slow, natural dance. The sound of distant birds and the rustling of leaves in the wind filled the silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, that told them everything didn’t have to be said out loud to feel real.

Mingi glanced down at Y/N, her eyes closed as she leaned against him, her face soft and peaceful. He felt something stir inside him something that wasn’t just the thrill of the bet or the challenge anymore. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but there was a warmth in his chest that made him want to protect this moment, to keep it frozen in time.

For a while, they just watched the sunset together, neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence with words. The sky had turned from soft orange to pink, and then to a deep purple as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. It was beautiful quiet, simple, and perfect in a way that neither of them had anticipated.

“This is nice,” Y/N murmured, breaking the stillness just enough for Mingi to hear her. Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to disturb the peace they’d found.

Mingi smiled, his gaze still on the sunset. “Yeah, it is.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m glad you came with me today.”

Y/N smiled to herself, not opening her eyes, but feeling the sincerity in his words. “I’m glad I came too.”

They fell silent again, the gentle evening breeze wrapping around them, the air cool but not uncomfortable. As the last rays of sunlight disappeared behind the horizon, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of contentment.

For so long, he’d lived his life in motion, always chasing the next thing, the next thrill, the next conquest. But here, with Y/N’s head on his shoulder and the world quietly fading into night, he felt… at peace.

And for once, he didn’t feel the need to chase anything.

“I think I could get used to this,” Mingi said quietly, his words almost to himself, but loud enough for Y/N to hear.

Y/N’s lips curved into a soft smile, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Me too.”

The night stretched on, but neither of them moved. They stayed there, watching the sky turn darker, the stars beginning to appear, their breaths in sync. And for the first time in a long time, Mingi didn’t feel the pressure of the bet, the weight of the game he was playing. He just felt… here. With her.

And in that moment, that was enough.

The next day at school, Mingi leaned casually against the lockers, a smug grin spread across his face as he recounted the events of the previous evening to San and Hongjoong. The hallway was busy with students heading to class, the usual noise and chatter filling the air, but Mingi’s voice carried just enough to be heard over the commotion.

“And then, we kissed,” Mingi said, his tone confident. “I told you guys I’d get her to fall for me. She’s hooked now. Guess that means I win the bet.”

San raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, so you really pulled it off, huh?”

Hongjoong nodded, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think you’d make it, honestly. Two months is a long time to stay focused on one girl.”

Mingi shrugged, trying to play it cool, though there was a flicker of something uneasy in his chest. “What can I say? I’m just that good.”

Unbeknownst to them, Y/N had stopped just around the corner, her heart sinking as she heard every word. She had been on her way to meet Chloe, but the sound of Mingi’s voice caught her attention, and curiosity had gotten the better of her. Now, she wished she hadn’t listened.

Her chest tightened, and her throat felt dry as the reality of what she was hearing hit her like a ton of bricks. The past few weeks the laughter, the conversations, the kiss under the cherry blossoms it had all been part of a game. A bet.

Her hands clenched into fists as she stepped out from behind the wall.

the corner, her eyes burning with unshed tears. The hallway noise seemed to dull around her, and all she could focus on was Mingi’s smug expression as he laughed with his friends.

“Really?” Y/N’s voice rang out, sharp and trembling with hurt.

Mingi froze mid laugh, his eyes snapping to her. The color drained from his face as he realized she’d heard everything. “Y/N…”

San and Hongjoong exchanged uneasy glances, both taking a cautious step back as Y/N approached. Her gaze was icy, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling in her eyes.

“So, this was all just a bet?” Y/N’s voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t falter. “Everything the texts, the hangouts, the cherry blossom field it was all just some stupid game to you?”

Mingi opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him.

“I can’t believe I actually thought you were different,” Y/N continued, her voice growing louder. “I thought you’d changed, that maybe you actually cared about me. But I was wrong.”

“Wait, Y/N, let me explain—” Mingi started, stepping toward her, but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“Explain what?” she snapped, her voice trembling with emotion. “That you tricked me? That you pretended to like me just so you could win a bet? There’s nothing to explain, Mingi. I get it now.”

The hallway had grown quieter, students slowing down to watch the scene unfold. Y/N’s chest heaved as she tried to keep her composure, but the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over.

Mingi’s heart sank as he saw the pain in her eyes. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Somewhere along the way, he had stopped thinking about the bet. Somewhere along the way, he had started to care about her really care.

“Y/N, it’s not like that,” Mingi said, his voice softer now, desperate. “I—”

“It’s exactly like that,” Y/N interrupted, her voice breaking. “You lied to me, Mingi. You made me believe you actually cared, but you don’t. You never did.”

She turned on her heel, storming away before he could say another word. Mingi reached out instinctively, but San grabbed his arm, stopping him.

“Let her go, man,” San said quietly.

Mingi stood there, frozen, watching Y/N disappear down the hallway. The weight of what had just happened hit him like a punch to the gut. He had hurt her badly. And for what? A stupid bet?

Hongjoong let out a low whistle, breaking the tense silence. “Well, that just blew up in your face.”

Mingi shot him a glare but didn’t say anything. His mind was racing, replaying every moment he’d spent with Y/N over the past few weeks. The sound of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved, the feeling of her head resting on his shoulder under the cherry blossoms.

He didn’t just like her. He was in love with her. And now, because of his own stupidity, he’d ruined everything.

“What are you gonna do now?” San asked, his voice low, almost cautious.

Mingi ran a hand through his hair, frustration and regret etched across his face. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I have to fix this. Somehow.”

For the first time in his life, Mingi wasn’t thinking about winning. He wasn’t thinking about the bet, or his pride, or his reputation. All he could think about was Y/N and how he might have lost the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Y/N sat on her bed that evening, staring blankly at the wall. Her chest felt heavy, her mind replaying Mingi’s words from earlier that day like a broken record. “I told you guys I’d get her to fall for me. She’s hooked now. Guess that means I win the bet.”

Her stomach churned every time she thought about it. How could she have been so naive? So foolish to think someone like Mingi could genuinely care for her? All those moments they shared, the laughs, the kiss it was all fake. A game to him.

Tears slid down her cheeks, hot and relentless. She thought back to the way Mingi had looked at her yesterday in the cherry blossom field, the way he smiled, the softness in his voice. It all felt so real. But it wasn’t. It was a lie.

A soft knock on her bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts. Chloe stepped in, her expression cautious as she held a tray with tea and cookies. “Hey,” she said gently, setting the tray on Y/N’s nightstand. “I thought you might need this.”

Y/N gave her a weak smile, wiping her face. “Thanks.”

Chloe sat beside her, her tone careful. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I’m here if you need me.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t respond. Then, her voice came out in a whisper. “I really thought he cared, Chloe. I thought he was different.”

Chloe’s jaw tightened. “Mingi’s an idiot,” she said firmly. “And if he thinks he can just waltz back in and fix this, he’s got another thing coming.”

Y/N nodded, her resolve hardening. She wasn’t going to let him hurt her again.

The next day at school, Mingi tried to approach her, but Y/N ignored him completely. She walked past him in the hallway as if he didn’t exist. When he called out her name, she kept walking, refusing to even glance in his direction.

“Y/N, wait! Please, just hear me out!” Mingi pleaded, but she acted as though she couldn’t hear him.

This pattern continued for days. No matter where he tried to catch her in the hallways, at lunch, after class she refused to engage. Mingi’s usual confidence was nowhere to be found. His friends noticed it too.

“You look like a lost puppy,” San said one afternoon, watching Mingi slump into his seat.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think apologizing once was going to fix this? You humiliated her, man. You’ve got work to do.”

Mingi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. I just… I didn’t think it’d be this hard to get her to listen to me.”

That evening, Mingi stood outside Y/N’s house with a bouquet of her favorite flowers in hand. He had been there every night since the incident, each time hoping she might open the door. But each time, she didn’t.

He knocked softly, his heart pounding in his chest. When the door opened, his hopes lifted only to see Chloe standing there, arms crossed, glaring at him.

“What do you want, Mingi?” she asked flatly.

“Is Y/N home?” he asked, his voice almost pleading. “I just want to talk to her. Please.”

“She doesn’t want to see you,” Chloe said firmly, stepping closer as if to block his view inside. “And honestly, can you blame her?”

Mingi’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t leave. “I know I messed up,” he admitted. “I was an idiot, okay? But I… I care about her. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And I need her to know that.”

Chloe’s expression softened slightly, but she didn’t move. “She’s hurt, Mingi. You need to give her time.”

With that, she closed the door, leaving Mingi standing on the porch, clutching the flowers in defeat.

Days turned into weeks, but Mingi didn’t stop trying. Every day, he brought flowers to Y/N’s house. Every day, he tried to catch her at school. And every day, she ignored him.

One afternoon, as Y/N was walking home, she noticed Mingi waiting for her at the corner of her street. She sighed, her resolve starting to waver as she saw the flowers.

determination in his eyes. He looked tired, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something softer something more vulnerable. In his hands, he held yet another bouquet of flowers, slightly wilted from being carried around all day.

“Y/N,” Mingi called out gently, stepping toward her. “Please. Just give me five minutes.”

She stopped walking, crossing her arms as she stared at him, her gaze guarded. “Why? So you can feed me more lies?”

“No,” he said quickly, his voice almost breaking. “I just… I need to explain. I know I don’t deserve for you to hear me out, but I’m begging you.”

Y/N hesitated. Part of her wanted to turn around and leave, to keep the walls she’d built intact. But another part of her the part that remembered the Mingi who sat with her under the cherry blossoms wanted to hear him out.

She sighed and finally said, “You have five minutes.”

Mingi’s shoulders sagged with relief as he stepped closer, careful not to overstep her boundaries. “Thank you,” he murmured. He took a deep breath, then began.

“When this all started, I was stupid. I thought it was just a game a challenge. I didn’t think about how it might hurt you because I wasn’t thinking at all. And I know that makes me a jerk, but somewhere along the way, everything changed.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, but she didn’t interrupt.

Mingi looked down at the flowers in his hands, his voice quieter now. “Spending time with you, getting to know you… it stopped being about the bet. I started looking forward to seeing you every day, hearing your voice, learning all the little things that make you… you.”

He met her eyes then, his own filled with an earnestness she hadn’t seen before. “I fell for you, Y/N. And not because of some stupid bet. I fell for you because you’re amazing. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I wanted you to know the truth. I’m not that guy anymore. Not because I decided to change, but because you made me want to be better.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She could see the sincerity in his expression, the raw honesty in his voice. But the hurt was still there, lingering like a shadow over everything.

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “How do I know this isn’t just another part of your game?”

Mingi took a step closer, holding out the flowers to her. “Because I’m still here. I’ve been here every day, trying to fix what I broke. I don’t care about the bet, Y/N. I care about you. And I’ll keep proving it, no matter how long it takes.”

For a long moment, Y/N just looked at him, her emotions warring inside her. She wanted to trust him, to believe that he had changed, but the fear of being hurt again held her back.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need time, Mingi. I don’t know if I can forgive you yet.”

Mingi nodded, a small, sad smile on his face. “I understand. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

He handed her the flowers, and for the first time in weeks, Y/N accepted them. She didn’t say anything else as she turned and walked away, but Mingi stood there, watching her until she disappeared into her house.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt a sliver of hope. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him going.

That night, Y/N sat on her bed, the bouquet of flowers resting on her nightstand. She stared at them, the faint scent of roses filling the air. Her emotions were a tangled mess—anger, sadness, confusion, and something she didn’t want to admit: a lingering flicker of hope.

She wanted to hate Mingi, wanted to hold on to the pain he caused her. But the way he had looked at her today, the vulnerability in his voice, made her question everything. Was he really different? Had he truly fallen for her, or was it just another ploy?

She sighed, leaning back against her pillows. As much as she tried to push the thought away, the truth was clear: she still cared about him. But caring about him didn’t erase the hurt. It didn’t undo the betrayal.

Over the next few days, Mingi continued to prove his sincerity. He didn’t push her for more time or overwhelm her with grand gestures. Instead, he found small ways to show her he was still there.

When she walked into school one morning, she found a note tucked into her locker:

I’m sorry for everything. I’m not giving up on us, no matter how long it takes. – M

When she went to her favorite café with Chloe, the barista handed her a drink with a sticky note attached:

I saw you order this once. Thought you could use a pick me up. – M

Each little act chipped away at her defenses. She couldn’t ignore the effort he was putting in, but she also couldn’t let her guard down entirely. Not yet.

One evening, a week after their conversation, Y/N was sitting on the steps outside her house when she saw Mingi approaching. He wasn’t holding flowers this time, just his hands in his pockets and an uncertain look on his face.

“Hey,” he said softly, stopping a few feet away.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone cautious but not cold.

“Can I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the step beside her.

She hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

Mingi sat down, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. He looked at her for a long moment before speaking. “I wanted to say something. Something I should have said a long time ago.”

Y/N turned to him, her heart racing. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I know I’ve done everything to mess this up, and I don’t deserve you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I love you.”

Her breath hitched as his words sank in. She searched his face, looking for any sign of insincerity, but all she saw was raw, unfiltered truth.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Mingi’s heart pounded as he waited, the seconds feeling like hours.

Then, finally, she spoke. “I…” She paused, her eyes softening. “I love you too, Mingi.”

His eyes widened in surprise and relief, a smile breaking across his face. “You do?”

She nodded, a small smile of her own forming. “I do. But this doesn’t mean everything is fixed. I still need time to trust you again.”

Mingi reached for her hand, his touch gentle. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I promise.”

Y/N felt a glimmer of hope not just for Mingi, but for them.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N and Mingi slowly began to rebuild what had been broken. It wasn’t easy there were moments when doubt crept in, when Y/N’s walls went back up, or when Mingi questioned whether he could ever fully make up for his mistakes. But through it all, they found ways to meet in the middle.

Mingi was patient, careful not to push her too far. He started showing up for her in ways that felt genuine offering to walk her home from school, helping her carry her books, and being a constant presence in her life. When they talked, he listened, really listened, and Y/N found herself opening up to him in ways she hadn’t expected.

One afternoon, they found themselves at the park where they had shared their first kiss. The cherry blossoms were long gone, replaced by vibrant green leaves, but the memory lingered. They sat under the same tree, Mingi leaning against the trunk while Y/N stretched out on the grass beside him.

“You know,” she said, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers, “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look at you without feeling angry.”

Mingi turned to her, his expression soft. “And now?”

“Now,” she said, glancing at him with a small smile, “I’m starting to feel like I can trust you again.”

He smiled, relief washing over him. “That means more to me than you know.”

Days turned into weeks, and their connection only grew stronger. Mingi wasn’t just a part of her life now he was a constant. They studied together, laughed together, and even shared secrets under the stars.

One evening, after a particularly long day of classes, Mingi and Y/N found themselves at her favorite café. The place was quiet, the soft hum of conversation filling the air as they sat by the window.

Y/N was sipping her drink when she noticed Mingi fidgeting. He kept glancing at her, then at his hands, like he was trying to muster the courage to say something.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mingi chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Okay…” she prompted, leaning forward slightly.

He took a deep breath, his eyes meeting hers. “I know I’ve said this before, but I need you to know how much you mean to me. These past few weeks, rebuilding things with you it’s been everything to me. You’re everything to me, Y/N.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her drink, a smile tugging at her lips. “Mingi…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I’ve spent so much of my life running from things, from feelings, from anything real. But with you… I don’t want to run anymore. I want to be better, not just for you but for myself too. And I want to do it with you by my side.”

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping a beat as his words sank in. She hadn’t expected this not now, not tonight but as she looked into his eyes, she saw the sincerity, the hope, and the love he had for her.

“Yes,” she said softly, her smile widening. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Mingi’s face lit up, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “You won’t regret it,” he said, squeezing her hand gently.

“I know I won’t,” Y/N replied, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

The next day at school, Mingi couldn’t stop smiling. His usual confident swagger was there, but it felt different now lighter, more genuine. His friends, San and Hongjoong, were quick to notice as they sat at their usual spot on the bleachers during lunch.

“You’re practically glowing,” San teased, nudging Mingi with his elbow. “What’s going on? Did Y/N finally agree to hang out with you again or something?”

Mingi grinned, unable to hold it in any longer. “Actually… she said yes.”

Hongjoong furrowed his brow. “Yes to what?”

“To being my girlfriend,” Mingi said, his smile growing even wider.

San’s jaw dropped, and Hongjoong let out a low whistle. “No way,” San said, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me Y/N the girl who doesn’t give anyone the time of day actually agreed to date you?”

“Yep,” Mingi said, leaning back with a satisfied look. “And I didn’t even have to bribe her or anything.”

Hongjoong laughed, clapping him on the back. “Well, I’ll admit, I didn’t think you had it in you. But I’ve got to say, I’m happy for you, man. You’ve been different lately. Better.”

San nodded, his expression turning more serious. “Yeah, for real. I mean, I know we teased you a lot, but I can tell you actually care about her. Don’t mess this up.”

“I won’t,” Mingi promised, his tone firm. “She means too much to me.”

Meanwhile, Y/N was sitting with Chloe in their favorite spot in the courtyard, sipping on iced tea and enjoying the warm afternoon sun. Chloe had been unusually quiet, and Y/N finally spoke up.

“Okay, spill it. I know you have something to say,” Y/N said, setting her drink down and giving Chloe a pointed look.

Chloe sighed, leaning back against the bench. “I just… I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really, I am. I’ve never seen you this happy before.”

“But?” Y/N prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“But,” Chloe continued, “I also know how much you’ve been hurt before. I just want to make sure you’re being careful. Mingi’s great and all, but he’s… well, he’s Mingi. You know what I mean.”

Y/N nodded, her smile softening. “I know. And trust me, I’ve thought about it. But he’s been different lately, Chloe. He’s really trying, and I can see it. I’m not saying I’m throwing caution to the wind, but… I think he’s worth taking a chance on.”

Chloe studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Okay. If you believe in him, then I’ll believe in him too. Just know I’ve got your back if he ever messes up.”

“I know,” Y/N said with a laugh, reaching out to squeeze her friend’s hand. “Thanks, Chloe. That means a lot.”

“And for the record,” Chloe added with a smirk, “I never thought I’d see the day where you started dating someone. Mingi must be some kind of miracle worker.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. “Yeah, well, he’s definitely something.”

Over the next few weeks, Mingi and Y/N’s relationship blossomed. They spent every spare moment together, from quiet study sessions in the library to playful banter during lunch. Y/N found herself smiling more than ever, and Mingi’s friends could see how much she had softened him.

Even Chloe, who had been skeptical at first, started warming up to the idea of them being together. She’d catch glimpses of how Mingi looked at Y/N when he thought no one else was watching like she was the only thing that mattered in the world and it was hard not to root for them.

It had been a couple of months since Y/N and Mingi officially started dating, and everything was going better than Y/N could have imagined. He had proven himself over and over again not just to her, but to Chloe, her family, and even his own friends. Mingi’s playful charm had melted into something deeper and more genuine, and Y/N couldn’t deny how much she’d come to trust him.

Tonight, they were at his house. The usual sounds of his family bustling around were absent, and the house felt unusually quiet. Mingi’s mom had gone out for the evening, leaving the two of them alone.

In his room, they were sprawled across his bed, a bowl of popcorn between them as a movie played on the screen. The soft glow of fairy lights he’d strung up around his room gave the space a cozy warmth.

Y/N popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, giggling as a particularly ridiculous scene unfolded on the screen. “Okay, this might be the worst movie you’ve ever made me watch,” she said, glancing over at him.

Mingi grinned, leaning back against the headboard. “Excuse me, this is a cult classic,” he said, feigning offense. “You just don’t appreciate the art of bad action movies.”

“Oh, I appreciate it, all right,” she teased. “I just don’t know why the hero needs to somersault every five seconds.”

“It’s called flair,” Mingi shot back, tossing a piece of popcorn at her.

Y/N laughed, dodging it easily. “Flair, my foot. It’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

He smirked, setting the bowl of popcorn aside and turning to face her fully. “Ridiculous? You want to talk about ridiculous? You’re the one who cried during that cartoon about a dog the other day.”

Her mouth fell open in mock outrage. “That was emotional, and you know it!”

Mingi chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “Okay, okay, I’ll give you that one.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the movie playing in the background forgotten. Mingi reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really cute when you’re all worked up, you know that?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat under his gaze. “Stop,” she said with a shy smile, swatting at his arm.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re… amazing, Y/N.”

The sincerity in his tone made her heart skip a beat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and saw nothing but warmth and affection.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mingi,” she replied softly.

He smiled, leaning closer, his hand resting gently on her cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she nodded, her heart racing. “Yeah,” she whispered back.

Mingi closed the gap between them, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was slow and sweet, filled with all the emotions neither of them could put into words.

When they pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his, a small smile playing on her lips. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“Good at what?” he asked, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Making me fall for you,” she said softly.

Mingi’s heart swelled at her words, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her close as the movie continued in the background.

In that moment, nothing else mattered just the two of them, wrapped up in each other, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

As the movie droned on in the background, neither of them paid it any attention anymore. Mingi’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along Y/N’s arm, and she found herself leaning into his touch. Their faces were close again, and it wasn’t long before his lips found hers once more, the kiss deeper this time, more deliberate.

Her hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping his shirt lightly as he shifted closer. The bowl of popcorn tumbled onto the floor, but neither of them noticed. All that mattered in that moment was each other.

Mingi pulled away just enough to catch his breath, his gaze locking with hers. His eyes searched her face, as if asking for silent permission to take things a step further. When she gave a slight nod, he leaned back in, capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss grew more intense, and before Y/N knew it, she was on her back, Mingi hovering over her. His hands braced on either side of her, keeping his weight off her, but the closeness between them was undeniable.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and full of emotion.

Her heart raced as she looked up at him, her hands finding their way to his hair. She tugged him back down for another kiss, and he didn’t hesitate to oblige, leaning in fully now as the space between them disappeared completely.

Mingi’s kisses deepened, his lips moving from hers to her jawline and down to the sensitive spot just below her ear. Y/N shivered beneath him, her hands tangling in his hair as his touch became bolder. His fingertips trailed lightly down her sides, sending a wave of warmth through her.

“Tell me if I should stop,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with sincerity.

Y/N shook her head slightly, her breath hitching as his lips moved lower. “Don’t stop,” she murmured, her voice barely audible but filled with certainty.

Taking her response as reassurance, Mingi’s hands began to explore more freely, gliding over the curves of her body with a tenderness that made her heart race. His lips found hers again, the kiss slow but filled with an unspoken intensity.

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing against her skin, and he paused, looking into her eyes for any sign of hesitation. When she nodded, he continued, his hands lifting the fabric slowly, giving her time to adjust with each inch.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his forehead resting against hers as he gently pulled the shirt over her head, his gaze filled with awe and affection.

Mingi then fully pulled her shirt over her head and threw it onto the ground before, unbuckling her bra and tossing that to the ground as well.

Mingi hovered over Y/N, his hands planted on either side of her head as he looked down at her. He took a moment to admire the sight of her beneath him, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath.

He leaned down, capturing one of her nipples between his lips. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud, eliciting a soft moan from her.

He could feel her body responding to his touch, her back arching off the bed as she pressed herself closer to him. He smiled against her skin, his free hand moving to the other breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers.

Y/N writhed beneath him, her body writhing with pleasure as he teased her nipples. She let out a series of soft gasps and moans, her hands tangling in his hair as she clung to him.

"Mingi..." she breathed, her voice laced with need. "Please..."

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at her. "Please what, princess?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"I need you," she whimpered, her hips bucking up against him. "I need you to touch me."

Mingi chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, I will, princess," he said, his hand trailing down her body. "But I'm going to take my time with you. I want to make you beg for it."

He continued to tease her, his lips and hands exploring every inch of her body. He knew all the spots that made her shiver and gasp, and he used that knowledge to his advantage.

He kissed his way down her neck, leaving a trail of marks in his wake. He nipped at her collarbone, his teeth scraping against her skin.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against her skin. "All spread out for me, desperate for my touch."

Mingi moved lower, his lips and tongue tracing a path down her stomach. He paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers hooking under the fabric.

He looked up at her, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Lift your hips for me, princess," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/N obeyed, lifting her hips off the bed as he pulled her panties down, exposing her to him completely. He settled between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her in place.

Mingi gazed at her for a moment, taking in the sight of her spread out before him. She was a vision of beauty, her skin flushed and her eyes dark with desire.

He lowered his head, his breath hot against her center. He pressed a soft kiss to her inner thigh, his lips trailing closer and closer to where she needed him most.

He could smell her arousal, could see the evidence of her desire glistening on her skin. He teased her with his fingers, lightly brushing against her folds before withdrawing.

Mingi finally gave in to her need, his tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe up her slit. She cried out, her body arching off the bed at the sensation.

He chuckled against her, the sound vibrating through her body. He lapped at her, his tongue exploring every inch of her folds with a skillful precision.

He found her clit, flicking his tongue against it in a steady rhythm that had her moaning and writhing beneath him. He knew just how to push her buttons, how to drive her wild with pleasure.

Mingi alternated between sucking and licking her clit, his hands holding her hips in place as he worked. He could feel her getting closer to the edge, her thighs trembling around his head.

He looked up at her, his eyes locking onto hers as he continued to devour her. He loved watching her come undone, loved seeing the look of pure ecstasy on her face.

He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside her.

Mingi continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, his tongue never leaving her clit. He could feel her walls fluttering around his fingers, a sure sign that she was close.

He quickened his pace, his fingers moving faster and harder as he brought her closer to her release. He knew she was on the brink, could feel her body tensing up beneath him.

Mingi doubled his efforts, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to push her over the edge. He sucked hard on her clit, his free hand moving to pinch her nipple.

Y/N cried out, her body shaking with pleasure. She was completely lost in the sensations, unable to form coherent words as she neared her peak.

Her moans grew louder, a mix of curses and pleas falling from her lips. She could feel the heat building low in her belly, her muscles tightening with each thrust of his fingers.

Mingi could feel her getting tighter around his fingers, her walls clenching desperately as she approached her orgasm. He knew she was right on the edge, knew that all it would take was one final push to send her over.

He curled his fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot with unerring accuracy. At the same time, he bit down on her clit, a sharp jolt of pain that sent her hurtling into ecstasy.

Y/N screamed his name as she came, “ah mingi~” her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She writhed beneath him, her walls spasming around his fingers as he worked her through her orgasm.

Mingi pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with her arousal. He sat back on his heels, his eyes raking over her flushed and trembling body.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a satisfied smirk on his face. "You taste so good, princess," he said, his voice low and husky.

He reached down, pulling off his sweatpants and boxers in one swift motion. His cock sprang free, already hard and straining for release.

He leaned back against the headboard, his eyes fixed on her. "Come here," he said, beckoning her towards him.

Y/N crawled over to him, her body still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm. She settled between his legs, her eyes fixed on his hard cock.

She looked up at him, her gaze filled with a mixture of desire and submission.

Mingi smirked, his fingers threading through her hair as he guided her closer to his cock. "Open your mouth, princess," he commanded, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/N obeyed, her lips parting as she looked up at him. She knew what he wanted, knew exactly how to please him.

He guided her head down, his cock sliding past her lips and into her warm, wet mouth. He let out a low groan, his grip on her hair tightening slightly.

Mingi's grip on her hair tightened as she took him deeper into her mouth. He groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as pleasure coursed through his body.

"Fuck, princess," he growled, his hips bucking up slightly. "Your mouth feels so good."

Y/N gagged as he hit the back of her throat, but she didn't pull back. She looked up at him through watery eyes, her hands bracing herself against his thighs.

Mingi could feel her throat constricting around him, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. He tightened his grip on her hair, using it to guide her movements as he pushed her head down further.

Y/N gagged again, her throat convulsing around Mingi's cock. The sensation was almost too much for him, the tight, wet heat of her mouth driving him wild.

He loved watching her struggle to take him, loved seeing the way her eyes watered and her cheeks hollowed out as she tried to breathe around him.

"You're doing so well, princess," he murmured, his voice strained. "Taking my cock so deep in your throat like a good girl."

Mingi continued to guide her head up and down his length, his hips moving in time with her movements. He could feel his orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in his gut.

He looked down at her, taking in the sight of her kneeling between his legs, her lips stretched around his cock. She looked so beautiful like this, so completely submissive and willing to please him.

He tightened his grip on her hair again, pushing her head down further than before. "I'm close, princess," he grunted, his voice rough with need.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her tongue swirling around the tip of Mingi's cock. She lapped at the sensitive head, swirling her tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles.

Mingi groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as pleasure shot through him. "Just like that, princess," he panted, his fingers tightening in her hair.

He could feel his release building, the tension in his body reaching its peak. He bucked his hips up, his cock hitting the back of her throat once more.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice strained. "Swallow it all, princess. Be a good girl for me."

Y/N continued to suck and lick him, her movements becoming more desperate as she sensed his impending orgasm. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and obedience.

Mingi's body tensed, his muscles coiling tightly as he reached the edge. He let out a strangled cry, his hips jerking as he spilled himself into her mouth.

Y/N swallowed obediently, taking every drop of his cum without hesitation. She continued to suckle at his cock, milking him for all he was worth.

Mingi groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as he came down from his high. "Good girl," he panted, his fingers loosening their grip on her hair. "Such a good girl for me."

Mingi took a moment to catch his breath, his chest heaving as he looked down at Y/N.

He reached out, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Lay down on your stomach, princess," he said, his voice low and commanding.

"Yes, sir," Y/N replied, her voice soft and obedient.

She did as she was told, rolling onto her stomach and pillowing her head on her arms. She felt vulnerable in this position, exposed and at his mercy.

Mingi moved behind her, his hands trailing over her back and down to her hips. He positioned himself between her legs, his cock resting against her entrance.

Mingi ran his hands over her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he admired her body. He loved the way she looked like this, spread out beneath him and completely at his mercy.

He teased her with the tip of his cock, running it up and down her folds without actually entering her. He could feel her growing wetter with each pass, her body aching for him to fill her.

Mingi leaned over to the bedside table, opening the drawer and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. He held them up for Y/N to see, a smirk on his face.

"You know what these are for, princess?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her heart rate picking up at the sight of the handcuffs. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, sir."

Mingi fastened the handcuffs around her wrists, securing them tightly so that she was effectively bound and at his mercy.

He ran his hands up her arms, his fingers tracing the smooth skin of her back. "You look so good like this, princess," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "Helpless and restrained, all mine to do with as I please."

Mingi grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back roughly. He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

“Such a good little slut for me," he growled, his grip on her hair tightening. "You're mine to use and abuse, aren't you?"

Y/N moaned, her body arching into his touch as he spoke. "Yes, Daddy," she gasped, her voice filled with need. "I'm all yours, to do whatever you want."

Mingi chuckled, his hand still tangled in her hair as he leaned back. He admired the sight of her bound and submissive beneath him, her body trembling with anticipation.

"That's right, princess," he said, his voice rough with desire. "You belong to me, and I'm going to use you however I see fit."

He shifted his position, positioning himself at her entrance. He teased her for a moment longer, rubbing the head of his cock against her folds before finally pushing inside.

Y/N moaned softly as he entered her, the feeling of being filled by him both pleasurable and overwhelming. She was completely at his mercy, her body and pleasure entirely in his control.

Mingi groaned, his grip on her hair tightening as he sank into her fully. "You're so tight, princess," he grunted, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

He leaned forward, his chest pressed against her back as he began to move inside her. He continued to pull her hair, forcing her head back at an uncomfortable angle.

"Look at you," he growled, his voice low and degrading. "Bound and helpless beneath me, taking my cock like the little good girl you are."

Y/N whimpered, her body writhing beneath him as he spoke. His words were like a drug, sending shivers of pleasure and shame coursing through her veins.

"P-Please," she gasped, her voice strained and stuttering. "Please, Daddy, harder."

Mingi chuckled darkly, his hips snapping forward with renewed force. "Such a needy little thing," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "Begging for more like the desperate little slut you are."

Mingi grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back so hard that it almost hurt. He pulled her up onto her knees, forcing her back to arch and her body to bend to his will.

"Is this what you want, princess?" he growled, his breath hot against her ear. "You want it rough and merciless, huh? You want me to use you like a toy?"

Y/N's eyes widened, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through her as he pulled her hair. She could barely speak, her voice coming out in stutters and gasps.

"Y-yes, Daddy," she managed to gasp, her body trembling with need. "P-please, be rough with me. Use me however you want."

Mingi flipped her over, easily maneuvering her onto her back despite her bound wrists. He knelt between her legs, his eyes raking over her flushed and trembling body.

he thrust back into her.He wrapped his hand around her throat, his fingers pressing lightly against her skin.

"You look so beautiful like this, princess," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Helpless and at my mercy, completely under my control."

Mingi continued to pound into her, his hips snapping forward with each thrust. His hand around her throat tightened slightly, not enough to cut off her air but enough to send a thrill of danger coursing through her veins.

“You're mine, princess," he growled, his eyes locked on hers. "Your body, your pleasure, everything belongs to me. And I'm going to take it all."

Y/N moaned and writhed beneath him, her body arching into his touch as he took her roughly. The feeling of his hand around her throat and the sound of his grunts were driving her wild, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

Mingi continued to pound into her, his grunts growing louder and more frequent as he approached his own release.

"You're so good for me, princess," he panted, his voice rough with exertion. "Taking my cock so well, so perfect for me."

Y/N's voice was barely coherent, her words coming out in a stream of gasps and moans.

"D-daddy," she managed to stutter, her body trembling with pleasure. "Please, I'm so close."

Mingi's grip on her wrists and throat tightened, his movements becoming more urgent and frantic as he chased his own release.

"I know you are, princess," he grunted, his voice strained. "Cum for me, let go and give me everything you have."

Y/N's body tensed, her back arching off the bed as her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. “Ah~ daddy..”, her voice hoarse and broken as she clenched around him.

Mingi continued to thrust into her, riding out her orgasm as he chased his own release. The feeling of her tightening around him was too much to bear, and he soon followed her over the edge. “fuck princess..” mingi grunts out.

He groaned, burying himself deep inside her as he spilled himself inside her. His body shuddered with the force of his orgasm, his grip on her throat loosening slightly.

Mingi collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He released her throat, his hands coming to rest on her hips instead.

He remained inside her for a few moments, savoring the feeling of her body beneath him. He could feel the sweat cooling on their skin, their bodies slick with a mixture of sweat and cum.

He lifted his head, looking down at her with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. "You did so well, princess," he murmured, his voice still rough from exertion.

Mingi carefully pulled out of her, his body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter. He rolled onto his side, gently helping her to sit up and remove the handcuffs.

He massaged her wrists, checking to make sure they weren't too sore or bruised from being restrained. Once he was satisfied that she was okay, he leaned in and kissed her forehead softly.

"Come on, princess," he said, standing up and holding out a hand to her. "Let's go get cleaned up."

Y/N took his hand, her legs still a bit shaky as she stood up. She leaned against him for support, feeling both exhausted and satisfied after their intense session.

Mingi wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her towards the bathroom. He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature until it was just right before stepping inside with her.

He pulled her under the warm spray, letting the water wash away the sweat and other fluids from their bodies. He took his time cleaning her, gently running his hands over her skin and washing away any evidence of their previous activities.

Once they were both clean and dry, Mingi led Y/N back to the bed. He pulled back the covers, letting her climb in before sliding in beside her.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tightly as they settled into the bed.

"I love you, princess," he murmured, his voice soft and affectionate. "You were amazing tonight."

Y/n softly says “I love you too mingi”

They both eventually drift off to sleep.

The next morning, sunlight streamed softly through the window, casting a warm glow over Mingi’s room. The world outside seemed quiet, and for once, everything felt still. Y/N lay nestled against Mingi’s chest, her head resting against his shoulder, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air. She felt peaceful, safe, and content.

Mingi shifted slightly, his deep morning voice filling the quiet room. “I think I’m still half asleep,” he mumbled, his words slow and groggy, but it only made Y/N smile.

“You definitely sound it,” she teased softly, raising her head slightly to meet his sleepy eyes.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before pulling her back into his embrace. “I’m not a morning person… but I’ll make an exception for you.”

Y/N laughed, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “Well, lucky for you, I’m also not a morning person,” she said, a hint of humor in her voice.

They both fell into a comfortable silence, just lying there together, basking in the simple joy of being close. After a moment, Mingi broke the quiet again, his voice teasing. “Do you remember how you tried to steal all the blankets last night in your sleep?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. “I wasn’t trying to steal them! You were hogging them all!”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Mingi grinned, pulling her even closer. “You just can’t resist my charm.”

She snorted. “It’s not your charm. It’s your body heat.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “Either way, you were still stuck with me.”

Y/N sighed contentedly, her hand resting against his chest. “I can’t believe how much I love this. Just… being here with you, in this moment.”

Mingi’s smile softened, his thumb gently tracing circles on her back. “Same here. I’ve never felt anything like this before, Y/N. You make everything feel… right.”

Y/N paused, lifting her head slightly to look at him. The warmth in his eyes made her heart swell. “Mingi…”

He gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin as his voice grew sincere. “I love you. I love you so much, Y/N.”

Y/N felt a rush of emotion flood through her. She had never been this sure of anything in her life. “I love you too, Mingi,” she whispered, her voice filled with the depth of everything she had been feeling.

Mingi’s smile widened, and he kissed her forehead gently. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to have you,” Y/N replied, her heart full as she snuggled into him, both of them wrapped in the quiet of their own little world, where nothing else mattered except each other.

410 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 2 days ago

Text

A Leash, a Van, and a Christmas Plan

steddie | rated teen | 3.7k | tags: Christmas fluff, Nurse Steve, meet-cute, Bear the dog | Read on AO3

Steve had always wanted a dog—ever since he could remember. As a kid, he would beg his parents endlessly, swearing up and down that he’d take care of it. He’d walk it, feed it, clean up after it.

Despite all his promises, a dog remained one of the few things he didn’t get as a child, right alongside the attention and affection he truly craved.

So, the moment he could afford his own flat, he knew exactly what to do. Together with his best friend Robin, he made his way to the local shelter in search of a furry companion. Robin, a self-proclaimed cat person, indulged him in this quest to fulfill his childhood dream.

They wandered the shelter for what felt like hours. Even Robin started to joke that they should just take all the dogs home. Steve, however, found the decision nearly impossible. How could he pick just one? They all deserved to feel safe and loved.

Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Anyway, just as they were about to give up, they passed what looked like an empty kennel. A faint growl stopped Steve in his tracks. Curious, he stepped closer and found a small black bundle cowering in the far corner. The dog was young, terrified, and yet somehow still looked like it was ready to take on the entire world.

“Robin!” Steve called over his shoulder. His friend was busy fussing over a golden retriever a few kennels ahead. “Can you get someone from the staff?”

A week later, after passing all the background checks and paperwork, Steve brought Cerberus home.

The name wasn’t his idea. That credit went to Dustin, one of the kids who worked at the shelter. Dustin had taken one look at the little dog and declared that it would grow into a huge, black monster, making “Cerberus” the perfect name. Steve hated it—but he liked the kid enough to keep it.

Besides, they ended up calling him Bear anyway.

That had been three years ago. Since then, Bear had grown into the huge, black monster Dustin had predicted—well, minus the monster part. Unless, of course, you counted being a total cuddle monster.

Still, Bear was a big guy, and his size alone was enough to make most people wary. It didn’t help that he was fiercely protective of Steve, growling at anyone who dared to come too close. He always needed time to warm up to new people, but once you were accepted as part of his pack, you had a loyal friend for life.

Steve didn’t mind Bear’s intimidating presence, though. If anything, it made him feel safer. As a nurse at the local hospital, his unpredictable shifts meant late-night walks were a regular part of their routine. Bear’s size and low, rumbling growl made it easy for Steve to wander through quiet streets at night without a second thought.

It was on one of those walks—a bitterly cold December night, just two days before Christmas—that everything changed.

Months of working with Chrissy, his dog trainer, had paid off in more ways than one. Steve ended up with a kind-of-well-behaved-but-stubborn dog willing to (mostly) cooperate, and Robin got herself a girlfriend who was every bit as amazing as she deserved. Even if it meant that Steve would have to spend Christmas alone this year, while Robin took Chrissy home to her parents for the first time.

Usually, walking Bear was uneventful—a blessing, considering Steve, despite being fit and regularly working out at the hospital gym, was no match for 145 pounds of determined dog. Bear stayed close to Steve’s side, happy to keep watch, growling menacingly at any perceived threats but always trusting Steve to handle things.

That’s why Steve wasn’t gripping the leash as tightly as he should have been. His thoughts were far away, preoccupied with a little boy he’d been tending to—a boy stuck in the hospital over Christmas and heartbreakingly sad about it. Steve was busy planning ways to make the holiday festive for the kids in his ward when it happened: a sudden, sharp tug on the leash.

The leash slipped from his fingers before he could react.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, his voice cracking with shock and just a little more panic than he’d like. “Come!”

Bear, however, had other ideas. He bolted, disappearing into the dense trees at the edge of the park.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Steve swore as he took off after him, already regretting not listening to Robin when she suggested a cat. A cat, after all, wouldn’t have him tripping through brambles and stumbling over undergrowth, with only his runner’s light bouncing wildly to guide him.

Finding a black dog in the pitch-dark night was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Impossible.

“Bear!” Steve called again, cupping his hands around his mouth to carry his voice further. “Come here, buddy!”

He stopped, straining to hear anything—a rustle, a bark, a clue—but all he got in return was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. The silence felt louder somehow, now that one of his senses was compromised.

The realization crept in slowly, chilling him even more than the night air: he was alone, in the dark, with his dog gone and no one else around.

His breath came in visible puffs, clouds of mist dissipating into the cold. A shiver ran through him, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was from the cold or the unsettling weight of his surroundings. The trees loomed, their shadows stretching longer than they should, and everything felt just a little off.

He was on the verge of giving up—tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, frustration mixing with fear—when a loud snap echoed through the stillness.

Steve flinched, his heart leaping into his throat.

Then, a deep, rumbling growl broke through the stillness, followed by a sharp bark.

“Bear!” Steve shouted, bolting toward the sound. More barks followed, their tone higher and lighter—not aggressive, but curious.

“Good boy,” a voice called out, shaky but trying for calm. “Or—uh—good girl? I don’t want to assume, man. Or… woman. Shit. Please don’t eat me?”

The voice sounded young, male and unmistakably terrified. Steve couldn’t blame him. Anyone would panic if they were cornered by 145 pounds of black fur and sharp teeth.

Forcing his legs to move faster and silently praying he wouldn’t trip over a stray root or branch, Steve barreled toward the commotion, his heart pounding in his chest. Bear was obviously holding someone hostage, and Steve had no idea what he was about to find.

He burst through the trees and stumbled into a clearing. There, parked at the edge, was an old van—and standing on top of it was a man.

The guy had his hands raised in a desperate, placating gesture, his voice trembling as he pleaded with Steve’s dog.

“Easy, big guy. Good boy. Or girl. Seriously, no need for violence here—”

Steve couldn’t tell you why, but the whole thing was so absurd, so completely surreal. Bear, massive and proud, sitting at the base of the van like some four-legged guardian, and the poor guy perched on the roof like he’d been treed by a bear. The adrenaline coursing through Steve’s veins, paired with the overwhelming relief that Bear was safe—and that no one appeared to be bleeding—hit him all at once.

Steve doubled over, hands on his knees, laughing in near hysteria.

Both Bear and the guy turned toward Steve’s laughter. Bear let out a low whuff, the canine equivalent of “Look what I found!” Meanwhile, the guy, clearly panicked, shouted at him.

“Run! There’s a wild beast—it’ll tear you apart if you don’t move! Hurry! I can try to distract it, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

Another wave of laughter threatened to bubble up, but Steve managed to swallow it down. The poor guy was terrified, and yet he was still trying to save Steve. It was kind of adorable, in a completely ridiculous way.

Instead of laughing more, Steve decided to end the guy’s suffering. He walked toward them, shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” the guy yelled, eyes wide. “Don’t come closer! I—I don’t think I can stop it!”

Steve smiled up at him, though in the dim light—provided by the van’s headlights and his bouncing runner’s light—he doubted the guy could see it. He kept walking until he was right beside Bear, the dog’s massive head level with his waist.

Calmly, he reached down to scratch behind Bear’s ears and said, loud enough for the guy to hear, “What do you think you’re doing, huh? We talked about this. No running away, and definitely no hunting down poor, innocent people.”

Bear responded with another satisfied whuff, his tail wagging furiously despite the fact that he was still sitting.

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.” The voice from above sounded incredulous. “Are you some kind of dog whisperer or that your beast?”

Steve looked up at Bear’s hostage, and upon realizing that his runner’s light was blinding him, turned it off. He could still see well enough with the headlights casting a warm light close by after his eyes had adjusted. The first thing he noticed were the guy’s eyes. They were huge and almost black in the low light, sitting atop full lips on a pale face framed by dark curls. He was adorable and hot.

“Sorry,” Steve began, running a hand through his hair. “Not a dog whisperer, or this big guy wouldn’t have bolted the second I got distracted and loosened my grip on the leash. In my defense, though, he’s never done that before. You must smell pretty incredible for him to chase you all the way down here.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Steve wanted to slap himself. Once upon a time, he had game. Real game. But apparently, those days were long gone, and now he was reduced to this—word vomiting as soon as he came face-to-face with a hot guy.

The guy—whom Steve had silently dubbed Bambi because of those wide, enchanting doe eyes—blinked at him, utterly speechless. Steve dared to hope he was overwhelmed by Steve’s suave charm, but that hope was dashed by the guy’s next words.

“Are you for real? You’re telling me it’s my fault for smelling like dog food that your… your beast chased me down?”

Something about the incredulous tone, coupled with the faint tremor in his voice that betrayed more lingering embarrassment than true anger, lit a spark of mischief in Steve. He wanted to make the guy laugh, to banish the last traces of fear, and—let’s be honest—to see how those full lips would look wrapped around a smile.

“Not dog food, no,” Steve said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Bear here is a professionally trained drug detection dog. So he must’ve picked up something really interesting to go off the rails like that.”

It was meant as a joke—obviously, Bear was no such thing as a professionally trained anything. But at Steve’s words, Bambi’s eyes widened to cartoonish proportions. Before Steve could assure him he was kidding, the guy scrambled to climb down the other side of the van, his movements jerky with panic.

“Whoa, hey—wait!” Steve called out, stepping forward, but it was too late.

There was a sharp slip, followed by a dull thud and a pained groan.

Steve hurried toward the spot where Bambi had hit the ground with an alarming thud, but Bear was faster.

“Please make it quick, big guy. Haven’t I suffered enough already?” came a slightly wheezing voice, followed by another soft whuff.

When Steve rounded the corner of the van, he stopped dead in his tracks, the scene before him equal parts surreal and hilarious.

Bambi was sprawled on the ground, spread-eagled, his head tilted to one side. Bear sat beside him, their faces mere inches apart. Bear’s loose fur and skin hung comically, his head tilted in a way that screamed curiosity, as if he were silently asking, “What are you doing down there?”

Steve considered taking a picture. Robin and Chrissy would never believe this otherwise. But a low groan from Bambi snapped him out of it.

“Shit. Are you okay?” Steve asked, quickly crossing the remaining distance. He dropped to his knees on Bambi’s other side, mirroring Bear’s concerned expression as he leaned over him.

“This is hell,” Bambi muttered, his voice heavy with dramatic despair. “The hellhound Cerberus has chased me to my demise, and now Charon’s coming to ferry my soul to Tartarus.”

Steve blinked. Was this guy serious? A concussion seemed likely at this point. But it was hard to ignore the weird coincidence that Bambi knew Bear’s namesake.

“I’m so sorry, man,” Steve said, raking a hand through his hair. “It was just a joke—I didn’t think you’d believe me. Robin’s right. I’m hopeless.” He let out a frustrated groan. “I mean, who almost gets someone killed trying to make them laugh?”

To Steve’s surprise, a hand reached out and found his, squeezing it once.

“You wanted to make me laugh?” Bambi asked, his voice soft.

“That’s what you’re focusing on? Not the ‘almost got you killed’ part?” Steve sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah. You looked so scared and embarrassed. I just wanted to see you smile. So I made a dumb joke… and ended up getting you hurt instead.”

Bambi—he needed to find out the guy’s name, Steve reminded himself—hummed softly, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “So, just to be clear: You’re not a cop, and he—” he gestured toward Bear, still sitting like this was all a casual hangout in the park—“is not a drug detection dog?”

Steve let out a rueful laugh, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as warmth crept up his cheeks. “Nope. Not a cop. Not a drug detection dog. Just a pediatric nurse with a terrible sense of humor and a dog who’s usually better behaved.”

Eddie’s tentative smile grew into something full and radiant, so dazzling that Steve momentarily lost track of everything else. It was the kind of smile that made you think cheesy things, like comparing it to the sunrise—hopeful and brilliant, warming something deep in Steve’s chest.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked, shaking himself back to reality. “I keep calling you Bambi in my head, and I’m pretty sure that’s not it.”

That did it. Eddie burst into surprised laughter, his head tipping back as his eyes crinkled at the corners, the sound bright and unrestrained. It sent a wave of smug satisfaction through Steve, though it didn’t last long. The laughter soon faded into a low groan, Eddie wincing as the movement jostled whatever injury he’d sustained.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve blurted, words tumbling out as his concern surged. “Are you okay? God, I didn’t mean—”

Eddie’s hand found Steve’s again, squeezing it firmly. “Shhh,” he soothed, his voice low and warm. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. I mean, your sense of humor might be the death of me, but what a way to go, huh?”

Steve barked a startled laugh at that, though it quickly gave way to a more serious tone. “I’d really prefer you don’t die on me,” he said, pausing deliberately for the guy to fill in the gap.

“Eddie,” came the soft reply.

Steve smiled, relief and something else he couldn’t quite name washing over him. “I’d rather you don’t die on me, Eddie.”

They were both smiling at each other, the night cold and silent around them, as if the world had paused just for this moment. And then, as if the universe wanted to underscore how surreal and cinematic everything felt, it started to snow.

Big, soft flakes drifted down, landing on Eddie’s long eyelashes and melting on his nose and cheeks. Eddie’s smile widened, his expression pure delight as he laughed softly, tilting his face up to the sky. Without hesitation, he stuck out his tongue to catch a few flakes, his laughter bubbling up again at the absurdity of it.

In that instant, Steve felt very much like one of those snowflakes—falling, utterly and irrevocably.

“So, Nurse—” Eddie’s voice broke through the quiet, pulling Steve from his rose-tinted thoughts.

“Huh?” Steve blinked, realizing he’d been staring.

Eddie grinned, a hint of mischief lighting his face. “I was being sneaky, trying to find out your name,” he explained, “while also asking for a little help here. As much as I’m enjoying the view, it’s getting kind of cold down here.” He shifted slightly, wincing before adding with a smirk, “I thought I’d be clever and ask Nurse Prince Charming—that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head since we cleared up the Charon situation—to help his patient off the ground.”

Steve threw his head back and laughed, the sound warm and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but feel charmed by Eddie’s offbeat but endearing mannerisms. In all his life, he couldn’t remember meeting anyone quite like him—and they’d only known each other for a few minutes.

“It’s Steve,” he said finally, his smile lingering. “And I’d prefer to check you out real quick—” he paused, realizing how that sounded, and tried to recover, “—to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself too badly before helping you up. That okay?”

Eddie’s grin turned sly. “Oh, darling, you can check me out as much as you want,” he replied, tongue-in-cheek.

Heat flooded Steve’s cheeks at the innuendo, even as he tried to stay professional. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, though he couldn’t deny that having an excuse to touch Eddie wasn’t exactly the worst thing in the world.

“I think it’s safe to say it’s nothing life-threatening if you can joke around like that,” Steve said, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Eddie snorted—a sound that shouldn’t have been cute but somehow was—while Steve carefully began to palpate his ribs.

“My uncle always said my last words would be a joke,” Eddie mused, wincing slightly as Steve pressed on a tender spot. “Probably after my big mouth got me into trouble.”

Steve chuckled softly, trying to keep the mood light as he continued his examination. “Well, I’m not letting you test that theory tonight, so sit tight.”

Eddie’s ribs were bruised, and he’d probably be sore for a few days, but thankfully, there was no serious injury. Steve helped him up carefully, Bear trailing close, unusually subdued but steadfast. The dog stuck by their sides as Steve walked Eddie around the van to its rear. Following Eddie’s quiet instructions, Steve opened the door and helped him settle inside.

The interior was cramped but functional. A mattress with a thick sleeping bag was tucked in the back, surrounded by scattered clothes, empty bottles, a bong, a pizza box, and an acoustic guitar propped against the passenger seat. The van had the unmistakable feel of a makeshift home, and Steve’s heart sank.

Eddie caught him staring, and a nervous laugh bubbled out as he rushed to explain. “It’s not what it looks like... God, I can’t believe I just said that. Jeez—” He cut himself off with a sharp breath, grimacing from the strain. After a moment, he added, quieter, “I know it looks bad, okay? But it’s just for a few days. Until I get back on my feet. It’s fine. Just a hiccup.”

The words were defensive, but the shame lurking beneath them hit Steve like a punch to the gut. Eddie was trying to downplay it, but the tightness in his voice gave him away. Steve wanted to say something, anything, but before he could, Bear whined softly, breaking the silence. The big dog nudged Eddie’s thigh with his muzzle, his soulful brown eyes a perfect mirror of Eddie’s own.

Eddie, who’d been so terrified of Bear earlier, now reached out instinctively, stroking the thick fur of his head and neck. His fingers found the sweet spot behind Bear’s ears, and the dog leaned into the touch, letting out a contented huff.

“You were planning to sleep here tonight?” Steve asked softly, the question heavy with concern.

Eddie didn’t look up. He just nodded, his hand still moving absently through Bear’s fur.

Steve cursed silently. The thought of Eddie spending the night in this van, in freezing temperatures, sent a chill down his spine. Even if he kept the engine running, the risks—carbon monoxide poisoning, frostbite, worse—were too high. Steve couldn’t stomach the idea.

“Come home with us,” he said, the words tumbling out before the thought had fully formed. He just knew he couldn’t leave Eddie here.

“What?” Eddie blinked, his hand pausing mid-stroke. Bear, displeased by the interruption, let out a soft, insistent whuff and nudged Eddie’s hand again.

Steve forced a smile, trying to sound casual. “Bear and I both want you to come home with us. I can bandage your ribs properly, and you can keep petting Bear. Clearly, he’s touch-starved and desperately needs some affection.”

Once again, Steve was not projecting. Okay?

Eddie raised an eyebrow, scanning his face carefully. "Oh, so Bear needs some affection, huh?”

Steve rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating. “Look, are you coming or not? Because I’m not leaving until you agree, and I’ll have you know Bear can be very persuasive.”

At that, Bear whuffed again, his tail thumping lightly against the van floor, as if to second Steve’s statement.

Eddie’s lips twitched, and for a moment, Steve thought he might actually laugh. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

“Not really,” Steve admitted, his tone softening. “But seriously, Eddie. Let us take care of you. Just for tonight.”

Eddie hesitated, his gaze dropping to Bear, who was still gazing up at him with unrelenting devotion. Finally, he sighed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. But only because your dog’s giving me the eyes.”

Steve grinned, relief flooding through him. “Smart choice. Bear’s impossible to say no to.”

Bear, as if understanding, let out a low, approving bark.

As Eddie took the hand Steve offered, his fingers cold but steady, Steve felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the touch itself. It was the kind of warmth that came with hope—the quiet, surprising hope that maybe neither of them would have to spend Christmas alone this year.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie au #stranger things fanfiction #my writing

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dreamsteddie · 2 days ago

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Steve and Eddie childhood friends au where Eddie's mom, Elizabeth Munson, is hired on as Steve's nanny when Steve turns four.

Elizabeth may not have the best reputation in town, but she went to school with Linda Harrington before she threw her life and money away on Al. She was young and foolish and thought he loved her like she loved him. It hurt to be proven wrong, that he loved her modest saving account more than he could ever love her, but at the end of the day, he gave her Eddie, so she carries on.

Linda had known her from before she met Al. They weren't ever friends, but Elizabeth was from a nice lower middle-class family and had long black curls that the other girls could admire. Not popular by any means, but someone who could be partnered up with Queen Linda for a history project without heads turning. Linda also knew from health class that Elizabeth was good with kids, so it's not a complete surprise when she gets a call asking if she'd like to nanny her 4-year-old son, Steve, for the foreseeable future so she can return to work with her husband.

The Harrintons are a wealthy couple, for Hawkins Indiana at least. In the grand scheme of things Richard's position as one of many property realtors in a major corporation keeps them comfortably in the upper middle classes, but the dollar stretches almost twice as far in the sleepy parts of Indiana.

Still, to Elizabeth who has never known more than a modest three bedroom and little Eddie who has never lived outside the tin walls of the trailer park, the Harrington home seems like a mansion fit for a king.

Or in this case, a little prince.

Steve is a sweet little boy, if a little bratty the first few times Elizabeth has to tell him no. When she first comes to the house to be briefed on all Steve's needs and how the house runs, he clings to his mother's perfectly pressed skirts and looks up at him with big brown eyes that remind her so much of Eddie's, full of barely contained curiosity. It doesn't take long after she introduces himself to him, stooping down to say hi and shake his little hand, for him to lose all that shyness and start, trying, to ask her questions. He's not at a place where he can use full sentences, but he makes do with pointing and the words he does have.

It's easy to see that Linda doesn't know how to interact with Steve, telling him more than once to let the grownups talk and to stop holding her skirt. Elizabeth doesn't say anything though, it's not her place and she could really use the job. Edde is sprouting up like a weed, and her previous income from the diner wasn't enough to get him all the things he needed. The Harringtons, for all their faults, are offering her more than a fair salary to look after their son.

The next week, she brings her and Eddie bright and early to make sure they get there just as the Harringtons head off to work. Elizabeth knows Richard wasn't keen on Eddie coming with her, probably not wanting his son to associate with a child he sees as lesser, but Elizabeth quickly realized that matters of the home like childcare were left to Linda's discretion, and she hadn't seen a problem with it.

Steve is waiting for his mother on the front porch, clutching her hand as hard as he can. When Linda pries his hand away he starts to snivel and cry, but to Elizaeth's surprise, he doesn't start to wail and scream. The first time she had to leave for work Eddie just about had a complete meltdown, not understanding where his mom was going or why he had to stay with his Uncle Wayne. Steve stays quiet, muffing his cries in a way that tugs at her heartstrings.

She takes his hand and guides him inside, holding back from scooping him up in her arms like she would Eddie to sing him a song and dry his tears. Something tells him the Harringtons wouldn't appreciate that.

So he waits, watches their car depart from the open doorway, and once she's sure they're completely out of sight she swoops down to hold him in her arms. The act opens the floodgates. Steve starts really crying and wailing into her arms, asking for his mama and clutching hard at the sleeves of Elizabeth's blouse.

That's when Eddie steps in, placing his hand on Steve's shirt and rubbing clumsy circles on the younger boy's shoulder. Eddie's not five quite yet, has about four more moths to go, but he's talking much more than Steve is and seems to relish in the use of his voice. Right now he's using it to soothe Steve, telling him it's going to be ok and his mama will come back and that they can share his mama until she does.

Then he does the damnedest thing.

He starts singing.

It's the same thing she's always done for him. Every time Al comes home and leaves again, when he falls off the jungle gym at the park, when one of the kids in town points out that his shoes have holes in them and that he must be poor. She holds him close, rubs his tiny shoulder, and sings her favorite Patsy Cline song into his ear.

The three of them stay in the Harrington's entryway for as long as it takes for Steve's tears to dry out, starting this new phase of their lives to the tune of Sweet Dreams.

#steddie #fanfiction #stranger thiings #eddie munson #steve harrington #childhood friends au #or the begining of one at least #this has been sitting in my drafts for weeks #it was time to finish it #idk I just think Steve deserves a mom who cares #even if it's not the one who birthed him #also #i think Steve is a little odd #and he deserves a parental figure that will foster that #weird kids are the best #dreamer speaks #will make edits later

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hhmnya · 3 days ago

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ㅤ ꢾ꣒ㅤㅤ SECRET SANTA──PSH.

resumen ｡｡ he gives you a second gift.

( 성훈 ) femreader ㅤㅤ✦ㅤㅤ 619wc implied friends to lovers ㅤ──ㅤ w not proofread

you step outside of jake's apartment building, pulling your coat tighter around you once the cold air hits your face. you stand on the curb, waiting for your uber as you stare up at the sky.

secret santa: a classic christmas game, one that your friends decided to do before you all left to your hometowns. you had gotten yeojin, buying her a weighted blanket. eventually you were the last one without torn up wrapping paper around your area and the only person yet to give a gift was sunghoon.

he handed you a small box, wrapped so pretty that you almost didn't want to tear the paper. you did, though, and inside was a bracelet. which you immediately recognized as an expensive necklace, definitely not within the fifty dollar budget the group had decided on.

a smile takes over your face when you remember the shy look sunghoon had given you, his cheeks flushed red while your friends scolded him for buying something out of budget.

"you're not cold?" you turn towards the voice, flinching out of surprise. you glance up and glare at the man standing next to you.

"oh my god, you scared the fuck out of me," he laughs, backing away as you hit his shoulder. regretting the action, you stuff your hands back into your coat pockets to warm them up and mumble quietly, "you're actually awful, sunghoon."

"i'm not that bad. i spoiled you today."

you tilt your head in confusion before you smile in realization, "oh, you did. it's pretty, by the way. thank you."

he hums, letting the conversation die out. the two of you stand silently in the cold, but it's not uncomfortable. that's what you like about sunghoon—he's the kind of person you don't have to be constantly talking to, he provides you with the kind of comfort that hot chocolate does on a snowy day.

"there's a second part to your gift," he says, breaking the silence. he kicks at the ground roughly, avoiding your gaze.

"what do you mean?"

"the necklace isn't the only thing i'm giving you."

"wait—hello? how much did you spend on me?"

"i only spent money on the necklace."

you don’t follow, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. maybe you’re just oblivious, but you have no idea what he's talking about. he's giving you two gifts, but one of them was free? that makes zero sense in your mind.

"i like you," he says it with so much confidence, like it was the most simple and obvious thing in the world. it makes you feel like you should've known this whole time.

you're in a daze and by the time you get a hold of yourself, your uber pulls up, a notification going off on your phone to alert you.

you don't notice—too distracted—when sunghoon glances at the license plate, storing it away in his mind just in case.

"you should go, it's late," he guides you to the car, opening it for you.

well that's just unfair—he's pushing you away, clearly avoiding your reply to his confession. his confidence was obviously an act he put up.

rolling your eyes, you lean up and place a kiss on his cheek. courtesy of the streetlights, you can see sunghoon's cheeks turning redder with every passing second.

"i'll see you next week. maybe we can hang out?" you shift nervously, looking up at him expectantly.

he nods immediately, the biggest grin you've ever seen spreading across his face—he looks like a kid who's just gotten his dream gift.

"yeah, yeah. definitely."

when your uber drives away, you freak out in the most discreet way possible. this was genuinely the best christmas you've had in a long time.

anna's note. happy holidays guys ily all and i especially love hoon :3

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ click4more.

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starboye · 1 day ago

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fuckboy!chris who watches shy!reader from across the party as you get looser and looser from the drinks you had, a little to loose though as you start making your way to him, straddling his lap on the couch in the middle of the living room

"kid what the fuck are you doing" he asks as if this wasn't turning him on, usually it was him who always had to initiate the sex because you were to shy to do it but with that alcohol coursing through your body it seems you were a little more open

listening to you incoherent mumbles about how you wanted him right then and there, slipping your hands past his waistband making him jump a little, tightly grabbing your wrists quickly

"uh uh not here" he sternly said but immediately was rethinking his words when he saw your little pout, watching as you slur your words trying to explain how you'll be so sneaky, usually he would say no and call it a night but he was in fact needy to

you biting you lip as you very sneakily pulled his hoggers down and pulled his cock out, no one was looking your way so it was okay, spitting on your fingers and rubbing it on his tip before sliding him in you and just cock warming him

it felt so good feeling you tightly snug around him, not moving was the worst part of it at best but another part of it was having to act like he was all they wag in you when his homeboys came over to him, sitting down next to him and asking how things have been

most of his friends never talked to you because they knew you were chris' but seems now you were way more talkative, slurring your words as you asked them random questions, bucking your hips back and forth out of pure subconscious of not knowing how to stay still

chris was trying his hardest not to react but it was hard not to when he had you sat on him, taking him so well, usually it was always he could have you cock warming him without any problems because you were usually the shy one who didn't move but with you drunk you were all over the place

tightening yourself around him just enough to make him cum, having to choke back moans and hide his face in the crook of your neck to not moan out like a slut in front of his friends

#fuckboy!chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x male reader #x male reader #x male y/n #gay smut #x male smut #x male #gay #male reader #bottom male reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #shy!reader

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gotta-winwin · 2 days ago

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(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air.

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003:

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground.

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?”

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised.

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word.

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.”

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.”

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.”

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met.

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.”

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene.

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister.

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?”

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.”

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.”

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while.

“I arrived just last night.”

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one.

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.”

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.”

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses.

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.”

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.”

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over.

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away.

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her a cup of mystery liquid.

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up?

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.”

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.”

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.”

She looked up.

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate.

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.”

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all.

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight.

“Y/N!”

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out.

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving.

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.”

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.”

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug.

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room.

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night.

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having.

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.”

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well.

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways.

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality.

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship.

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan.

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?”

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.”

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.”

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!”

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game.

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners.

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry.

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction.

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.”

Her voice felt like coming home.

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.”

“You said that last time too.”

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago.

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine.

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.”

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words.

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things.

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her.

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door.

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy.

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.”

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air.

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him.

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018:

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger.

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.”

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.”

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it.

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.”

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him.

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.”

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life.

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need.

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation.

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago.

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well.

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too.

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.”

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.”

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him.

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach.

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him.

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time.

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.”

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer.

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.”

He shook his head. “You hated me.”

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.”

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment.

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her.

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me?

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him.

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.”

“Oh.”

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.”

“I loved you too, y’know.”

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?”

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.”

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen christmas #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt vernon #vernon x you #vernon x reader #seventeen vernon #vernon

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ikkyfics · 22 hours ago

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Home Charm

James Potter x reader

Summary: James Potter, the devoted and loving father, transforms every moment into magic and love with his enchanted family.

Warnings: none

A/N: anon, hope you like it <333

Masterlist

• James loves making you laugh and uses every opportunity to tease you in a cute way. He might steal a kiss in the middle of an argument or tickle you until you beg for mercy. Life with him is always light and fun.

• He deeply values your partnership. For any important decision, he always checks with you first, making it clear that your opinion is the most important to him.

• James never misses a chance to steal a kiss. Whether you’re in the middle of a sentence, distracted with a book, or even complaining about something, he simply can’t resist. “You had that irresistible look, love, I had to do it,” he says with a mischievous smile, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

• James is such a soft dad that just hearing the kids say “daddy” for the first time made him emotional. He tells everyone about it — Sirius had lost count of how many times he’d heard the same story. “My kid said I’m the best dad in the world yesterday. I’m not saying it’s true, but I’m not denying it either,” he jokes with a smile that lights up his entire face.

• If one of the kids mentions liking something, even if it’s a small detail, James jumps into action. “You like chocolate frogs? Great, now we have an entire collection.” He fills the shopping cart with anything he thinks the kids will love, only realizing the excess when you laugh while trying to find space in the house to store everything.

• For James, physical touch is a form of love. He wraps his arm around your waist whenever you’re together, as if he needs to make sure you’re there. When you’re cooking, he leans against the counter just to watch, but never without first running his hands over your shoulders or waist. He pulls you close with the excuse of “needing to taste something” you’re making, but in reality, he just wants you in his arms.

• He has the habit of complimenting you out of nowhere, especially in public, as if he can’t hold back how he feels. “Are you all seeing this? How did I marry the most beautiful woman in the world?” he jokes with his friends, but his look is completely serious. You might roll your eyes, but the sparkle in his smile always melts you.

• James has a smile unlike any other, one he reserves only for you. It’s the kind of smile that makes it feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters, full of tenderness and adoration.

• Even without music, James finds an excuse to make you twirl around the room. Whether it’s after a long day or just because he thinks you need a smile, he takes your hand and leads you in an exaggerated way, as if you’re the stars of a ballroom. When you protest, he just laughs and insists, saying, “You know I won’t stop until I get a smile, right?”

• He has the habit of pulling you into a long kiss, especially when you’re in a rush to leave. “Just one more, please,” he asks, pressing his forehead against yours after, still a little out of breath and with shiny lips. Of course, this results in you both being late more often than you’d like, but who can resist him?

• He loves it when you wear his clothes, especially his sweaters and shirts. When he notices you’re cold, he doesn’t wait for you to ask — he just wraps you in one of his huge coats and puts his arms around you like a human blanket. “Much better this way, don’t you think?” he whispers in your ear, though it doesn’t take long before he removes his clothes from you.

• The king of excuses to hug you. “You don’t look comfortable in that chair,” he comments, pulling you onto his lap with ease. “You know what would be better? Sitting here.” He does this anywhere: in the living room, the backyard, showering your neck with kisses that fluster you.

• James knows exactly how to make you laugh, even on the toughest days. He might mimic voices, make faces, or even create hilarious imaginary scenes with objects around. His goal, he swears, is always to hear you laugh, because “if you’re laughing, I’m winning at life.”

• When you’re sick or tired, James becomes your loving caretaker. He brings tea, makes soup, and wraps you in blankets. “You just need to tell me what you want, my love, and I’ll do it,” he insists, even if his soup attempt ends up being more funny than delicious.

• James loves telling the story of the day he met you. He does it with such enthusiasm that it feels like he’s reliving the moment every time, emphasizing how you captivated him right away. “I knew from that instant I was lost,” he confesses, while you roll your eyes, but your heart races anyway.

• No matter how tired he is, James never forgets to give you a kiss before bed. He pulls you close, whispers something sweet or funny, and kisses your forehead, cheek, and finally your lips. “Good night, my life,” he says with so much affection that it feels like you’re in the arms of the whole world.

• When the kids scribble on the house walls, you try to be firm about the rules, but James shows up with a mischievous look. “You know, they were just expressing their creativity,” he argues while trying to scrub the marks. In the end, he ends up sitting in time-out with them, admitting that “he was an accomplice to the art.”

• During your pregnancy, James had the habit of lying next to you and talking to the baby, even when it seemed silly. He would talk about how excited he was to meet the baby, or make up funny stories about teaching the baby to fly. When he felt the baby move, his eyes would shine in a way that made you fall even more in love.

• Before bed, James turns simple stories into epic adventures. He does all the voices for the characters, makes exaggerated gestures, and even creates a soundtrack with light spells. Even if the kids are exhausted, they always ask for “just one more story, daddy.”

• When you say no to something the kids want, James does his best to negotiate on their behalf. “Love, they just want to build a fort in the middle of the living room. And look, they’ve already assigned me as the troll guarding the entrance. I can’t disappoint my adventurers,” he says with an irresistible look.

• Even on days when the kids make a mess or are in a bad mood, James stays calm. He believes every behavior has a reason and prefers to resolve things with conversations and playfulness rather than scolding. When one of the kids cries, he immediately sits next to them, saying, “It’s okay, champ. What’s wrong? Daddy’s here.”

• James never misses a chance to shower the kids with affection. He hugs them, kisses their cheeks, and messes up their hair. “You know I love you, right?” he says daily, because he believes it’s important for them to grow up knowing how adored they are.

• James loves creating little traditions. Every Friday night, he organizes “pajama parties” in the living room, where you watch Muggle movies (courtesy of Remus) and eat enchanted popcorn that changes flavor. At Christmas, he always dresses up as Santa, even though the kids already know it’s him.

• He completely surrenders to playtime. If that means getting covered in paint or glitter, James doesn’t mind. To him, the kids’ laughter is worth any effort. Later, he makes sure to help them clean up, singing made-up songs to make the moment fun.

• James makes sure to emphasize how amazing the kids are. “Did you know you’re the smartest wizard that ever existed?” or “That was the most impressive defense I’ve ever seen in a Quidditch match! And trust me, I’ve seen a lot of Quidditch.” He believes every day is a new chance to make the kids feel special.

• James makes sure to show you how much he loves you in front of the kids. He says “I love your mom” whenever he can, believing this will teach them what a healthy relationship looks like. He believes raising kids in a home full of love and laughter is the greatest gift he can give them.

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rocknrollsalad · 2 days ago

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rating: gen cw: Steve Harrington has bad parents, holiday celebrations, period typical homophobia, show typical trauma tags: it's the 90s y'all, older steddie, established steddie, stancy is mentioned, reclaiming holidays word count: 728

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt "stocking" and the @steddiemas prompt "surprise"

Christmas had never been Steve’s favorite holiday. He was more of a Thanksgiving guy. A big meal, friends and family, and a little bit of football? It was exactly how Steve would describe the perfect day.

Not to mention Thanksgiving was more relaxed than Christmas. There was a certain pressure around Christmas time that Steve swears he’d call one of his earliest memories. Life had moved on a long, long way from trying to eat the lights on the tree but the pressure to be well-behaved and happy was the same.

However, finding his own little community did help some. Not that any of them were any more Christmas people than Steve. Chrissy was the closest, she liked to entertain so any excuse. Nancy and Jonathan had a kid now so they had to celebrate but other than that, they were all fine to let the day come and go. It was an obligation best spent with friends who were suffering the same way.

This year was a little different. For the first time in Steve’s life, he had his own place to celebrate. Not an apartment he and Eddie shared with Robin and Chrissy, not his family home that he was allowed to stay in, this was his. And Eddie’s. Mostly his though.

A modest little home just outside suburbia with a lawn and a two-car garage, Steve loved the place. He’d spent the last nine months fixing all the things that needed repaired and updated which only made him love it more. This was where he was going to spend the rest of his life.

It was that ownership, that security of something for forever, that had him buying a Christmas tree a little early this year. Not out of obligation but because there was a perfect spot in the living room for it. Right in front of the window yet not in the way. It wouldn't take up the only communal space and no one would tell him how to decorate it, so why not?

They gave it a few simple decorations and a new string of lights, Steve wasn’t going crazy here. He still didn’t care about Christmas, but this symbolized so much more. Something that became more and more obvious with each new bit of seasonal decor that found it's way up. What really cinched it was the stockings, though. Something about really said "Christmas" to Steve.

One for him and one for Eddie. Their stockings hung in their home as they would be for the rest of their lives. It probably shouldn’t have made Steve as emotional as it did. He couldn’t stop looking at them. All that they’d fought to be alive, everything they went through, made this feel like a luxury. One Steve couldn’t believe he’d earned.

But he had. There were scars, nightmares, and weekly trips to the therapist to prove it. Whether he’d ever feel like they were safe or that he could fully let his guard down, time would still tell, but Steve was starting to feel worthy of more than just existing.

And there was one more thing this picture-perfect life needed.

It wasn’t exactly possible but times had changed enough that Steve and Eddie could live together and even if it raised a few eyebrows, people kept quiet. It wasn’t enough but it was something. Still, Steve knew. He knew there wasn’t anyone else on this planet for him and the only reason he wasn’t married to Eddie was because it wasn’t legal.

So with a bit of scrambling and all the romantic creativity in his body, Steve bought a ring and wrote a little speech. He sat on both for almost a week without saying anything so that he could pull off the surprise a moment like this was worth.

When Christmas morning rolled around, Steve’s stocking was overflowing with trinkets, candies, and other little goodies but Eddie’s sat looking practically empty. Steve rooted around through his and tried to not watch a very disappointed man dig down to the toe of his monogrammed stocking, chasing the only thing in it.

By the time he’d succeeded, Steve had ditched his candy and was waiting on one knee. This was the last thing he needed to make this the life he’d always dreamt of and maybe the first step in making Christmas something truly magical.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #written for: steddie holiday drabbles 2024 #written for: steddiemas 2024

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charlietheepicwriter7 · 1 day ago

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Teen Villain Alliance

Chapter 7

Jazz had been against the Teen Villain Alliance.

As proud as she felt for Danny creating a safe place for meta teens to go, it… it was still villainy. These were still kids, broken, strong, powerful kids, and the fact that so many of them fall into lives of crime was a tragedy. So the fact that Danny was explicitly allowing and even teaching these children to commit crimes… Words had been said. Loud, angry words that shook the walls with their rage.

Words that their parents didn’t hear all the way in the basement. As always too busy with their work to pay attention to their children–

Well. At the very least she made her feelings known.

Armed with her best psychology textbooks and two years of Stanford classes, Jazz prepared for her greatest challenge yet: infiltrating a criminal organization. Run by her baby brother.

It hadn’t been easy. After their argument, Danny had been keen to keep her away from his “project.” And Jazz couldn’t just suddenly pretend to be onboard with crime. Despite his low self-esteem, Danny was smart and definitely would figure out that she was faking. With Danny gray-rocking her and the mental health of all the children he could help at stake, Jazz did something drastic, something no one would ever expect of her and something that would horrify Danny.

She transferred to Amity Park Community College and moved back home.

Stanford hadn’t understood. Her new friends didn’t understand. Danny, spitting mad and accusing her of spying on him, didn’t understand. But with her less strenuous classes, and extra income from online counseling sessions, Jazz was able to track down their meeting places and help set up the Teen Villain Alliance.

It had taken a long time to convince Danny that she wasn’t going to turn them in to the Justice League. That was her fault; she’d reacted viscerally to Danny’s pitch for the TVA and broken his trust. For someone already as untrusting as Danny, the fact that she even had it was the result of years of being there for him instead of their parents.

Now, she was older. She’d gone back to Stanford after the TVA took off and started making a profit and gotten her degree. She spent days in the Ghost Zone looking after the kids that ran through the halls of her brother’s haunt. She held regular individual and group therapy session and was in charge of a whole slew of children who didn’t want to commit crimes–there weren’t many, but kids often took long breaks in between missions and she chose to count them among her number.

It wasn’t an ideal life, nor was it one she could have prepared for, but it was hers.

Returning to her warm and inviting office in Phantom’s Haunt, Jazz checked her itinerary. She had an interview with a new teacher: Red Hood, set to teach riflery. She checked his file; there hadn’t been many interactions between the Alliance and the rogue, but most of them were neutral, and his open desire to protect children made him a shoo in for the position. Damian had brought him to her attention when discussing potential allies with Danny, and Danny had handed the list off to her without a second thought.

Her office, designed to look like the old-timey library of her dreams, lit up red as the clock struck 3 (in the afternoon, she wasn’t a heathen) and the automatic summoning circle flared to life. A rush of light spun around the interior of the circle, spinning and flickering until it fell back down, revealing… a normal man holding groceries. He promptly dropped them and pulled a gun on her, pointing it at Jazz’s head as he demanded to know where he was.

Jazz frowned. She suppose it made sense that Red Hood wouldn’t be in uniform 24/7, but she’d hoped to catch him while ‘on the clock.’ Oh well. “You’re in my office, Mr. Red Hood. Please don’t try to shoot me; the ecto-barrier will hold, and I’d rather not replace the carpet again.”

“The fuck are you talking about!?” Red Hood barked. He didn’t lower his weapon. Jazz made a note of it on her chart. “Who are you? How did you kidnap me!?”

“I’m Jasmine, human resources director of the Teen Villain Alliance. I’ve summoned you for an interview today.”

He looked out of his depth. Jazz could understand; most of the human instructors she hired were (and one had been enraged by the idea that a villain organization had a human resources department). “Summoned? I’m not a fucking demon! What the hell are you even interviewing me for?”

“Field teacher on projectile weapons and pyrotechnics, Mr. Al Ghul. We need more teachers who can take the kids out to the human world, and–”

“What did you just call me?” Now he looked disturbed.

“Mr. Al Ghul? Your name?” Jazz checked her documentation again. Jason Al Ghul was listed at the top under Name. “Your younger brother, Damian Al Ghul has recently joined our organization and recommended you… Are you not the Red Hood?” She reached under her desk where she kept an ectogun charged.

The man tucked away his gun and held up his hands, eyes locked where Jazz’s hand held her pistol. “...Yeah, that’s me. So this is where Damian ran off to?” Jazz relaxed and let go of the ectogun. Red Hood tried to walk out of the summoning circle, only to bounce off an invisible wall. “What the hell?”

“Sorry, but I’ve had interviewees try to attack me before. It’s safer to keep you in the circle until an agreement has been reached.” Jazz turned to her interview questions. “Now, before we begin, do you have any questions for me? I’m sure this has been very confusing for you.”

“Yeah. What does a villain organization need teachers for anyways?” His eyes narrowed. “Thought all of your kids were already villains.”

“Most are, but most teens… well, they end up caught quickly unless an older villain teaches them. And those villains aren’t exactly someone we’d trust not to hurt them in a training environment. Our school–”

“You have a school? Why the fuck do you have a school!?”

She sighed. “Mr. Al Ghul. If you label a child a villain and give them no way to prove otherwise, no way to grow or change, what do you think they’ll become?”

“Lady, you’re literally trying to recruit me to teach kids to shoot people. Don’t you fucking try to convince me you’re trying to help them.”

“I learned to shoot when I was 4, long before anyone called me a villain.” Admittingly, she wasn’t, and still wasn’t, a good shot, but he didn’t need to know that. “Most of our students didn’t wake up one day and decide, ‘I want to be a villain.’ They were labeled that way by society, their families, even the heroes they tried to stand up to. Here, at least, they have a place to belong.”

“Where they’re committing crimes on Phantom’s orders!”

“Less than 10% of the Alliance actively commits crimes at any given moment.” Red Hood paused. “Of those, we only take volunteers, and only those who are physically and mentally capable end up in the field. Most of the teens just live here, go to school here, recover here. It’s a safe place.”

“...Kids shouldn’t be committing crimes.”

“Kids also shouldn’t be stopping them.” His fist clenched. “Labels like 'villain' and 'hero' are meaningless when you’re dealing with teenagers who’ve already been written off by society. The TVA isn’t about teaching kids to rob banks or take over the world. It’s about giving them a place where they can survive—and maybe even thrive—without being hunted or killed for the circumstances they were born into.”

“And you’re putting ‘em in school.” He huffed a laugh. “You really think algebra and english class are gonna help them? Fix them? Put ‘em back together after the heroes shat all over ‘em?”

She shook her head. “It’s not about fixing them. It’s about giving them a second chance, and, for many? The first safe home they’ve ever had. Now–” She straightened her papers. “If you’ll content to an interview, we can get started. But if you’ve already decided to reject our job offer…”

He studied her with his narrowed green eyes and scoffed. He sounded just like Damian. “Ask your questions,” he spat. “Get ‘em over with quick, I got perishables over here.”

Jazz smiled, fangs peeking out past her lower lip.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #c: jazz fenton #c: jason todd #c: damian wayne #teen villain alliance #tva #Also #if anyone follows my Get in the Water AU #I'm planning to update it before the livestream tonight!

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translatemunson · 3 days ago

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can i have a cuddle, please?

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader blurb cw: i believe it can be read as gn!reader, but it was written with a female reader in mind (since i mention reader being smaller than rooster and wearing his clothes); overall fluff, a bit of sadness (but nothing major); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve been quiet. Ever since you arrived from your job, you haven't said much. A “hello” when you walked in, a “sure” when Bradley asked if you wanted pizza for dinner, a “thank you” when he served you a slice, and a “be right back” when your best friend called you in the middle of your Footloose rewatch.

He made himself comfortable, because, by the tone of your voice, it was gonna take a while. And he wasn’t gonna finish Footloose without you. So he reached for his phone, laid on the couch — taking the whole thing for himself —, checked the group chat with the Daggers, and started scrolling on social media. Ten minutes went by before you said your goodbyes to your friend, but it took you longer to come back to the living room. He picked up the book he was reading for a few weeks now — something about productivity or whatever coaching talk was there.

At one point, you were back. You looked so small wearing sweatpants and a sweater that was definitely his. Your shoulders were slumped forward, and your face was so blank he was wondering if there was some kind of soulsucking monster wandering around in the dark. It wasn’t like you to be this quiet, this distant.

“Hi, there.” He set the book aside.

“Can I have a cuddle, please?”

“Sure. Let’s make sure you are comfortable,” he said as you reached for him, throwing your legs over his, and laying on top of him. There was enough space for the two of you on the couch, but you still found him more comfortable than any pillow.

Bradley made sure his arms held you steady, one hand resting on your lower back, another one caressing your face. He could hold your weight, your sadness, your silence, because for him, you were everything. His everything. You nestled your head on the curve of his neck, low enough to hear his heartbeat.

“Do you wanna watch something else?” He pulled you closer, adjusting himself under you. Every little movement, and you clinged to his side more and more. “We can play the version where you always say one of the actors looks like me. Hm?”

He tried to get a reply. He gently removed the hair from your face, but your position made it harder for him to see if you’re paying attention.

“Are you asleep, kid?” You hid deeper into his body. “How did you fall asleep so fast? I swear, the only time I pass out this quickly is when I come back from a deployment and all I wanna do is be with you.”

He checked the time, just a little past eight. You looked so comfortable he was afraid the simple motion to move you to the bed would disrupt your peace. “You’re really sleeping, aren’t you?”

Bradley stretched his arm and got hold of his phone. His right hand held you firmly by your waist, feeling you pushing your legs higher. “Wanna go to bed? Make any sound and I’ll take you there.”

You were silent as you’ve been since you got home. He kissed your forehead, and promised “Thirty minutes. After that, I’m waking you up and we are finishing the movie.” He proceeded to spend his time on his phone, texting Nat to check if she knew what caused your bad mood, and then having to deal with the group chat making plans for the weekend. If things stayed the same, he was definitely taking the rain check because you would require his full attention.

“Roo? Bradley?” The words were rolling out of your tongue just like you were leaving a deep state of sleep, slowly.

“Hey.” He pressed his lips on your temple. “Feeling better?”

“A little. What time is it?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Really?” You rubbed your eyes. “Did you—”

“Waiting for you, kid.” He didn’t want to let you go from his reach, but you seemed better after a power cuddle.

You stood up and stretched out your limbs, yawning loudly. Bradley sat down, putting his arms around your middle and resting his chin against you, looking up. “Wanna finish the movie?”

“Yeah, just gonna brush my teeth and get us some blankets.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “Need something?”

“Just for you to feel better.”

“I’ll tell you about it in the morning, ok?”

“Ok.”

Bradley had a feeling you weren’t gonna finish the movie. You came back from your room with blankets and pillows, and you snugged your way into his arms again, covering you both with the biggest blanket. Even if you knew Bradley ran hot, you wanted extra comfort. He pressed play, and while he ran his fingers through your hair, he could tell you were falling asleep again. Slowly rolling into the deep state of resting.

He held the promise you would tell him everything in the morning. He would do anything to make you feel better.

Not much later, he was also asleep on the couch. Footloose playing in the background until the end credits. Somewhere into the night, you woke up, but seeing Bradley peacefully sleeping, you just decided the couch and his body were more comfortable than the bed.

a/n: the people voted, and they shall recieve! small blurb inspired by a tiktok @live-love-be-unique sent me a few weeks ago. i have an ongoing bradley bradshaw x reader fic, it's called death defying acts and you can read it HERE. hope you liked this blurb! i'll post the other blurb/oneshot before the new year! see ya soon

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick series #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley brawshaw x female!reader #bradley brawshaw x you #bradley brawshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #rooster x reader

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thezombieprostitute · 1 day ago

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Second Chances

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

A/N2: A follow up to Everyone Leaves.

Warnings: Alcoholism, Angst. Please let me know if I missed any!

"Merry Christmas to me," you sarcastically grumble as your car fails to start up.

It's been the year from hell. You've been hounded by the loan sharks that call themselves banks, asking after your student loans. Your dad's health got so much worse, which is why you're stuck in the hospital parking lot. Oh, and your increasingly distant boyfriend refused to change his ways and you had to leave him.

Part of you had hoped he'd stop you. Apologize. Anything, really, to show he actually cared about you. But clearly that was asking too much of Curtis "always alone" Everett. Then again, considering he got fired soon after for showing up to work drunk, maybe it was for the best that you parted ways. You had enough on your plate without taking care of him as well.

You try the engine one more time and still get nothing. You want to take some time to just cry but the snow is piling up and you can't stay at the hospital. Sighing you call for a tow truck. You'll use the time between the call and the truck's arrival to let your tears out.

When the tow truck pulls up you quickly wipe away your tears. You're sure whoever is driving has seen plenty of people crying in frustration, if not outright raging, but you still don't want your own tears to be seen. You step out to greet the driver and you both stop in your tracks. It's Curtis.

Curtis looks at you, his face contorted into an expression of pain, sadness. He looks like he wants to say something but is scared to. You're sure you don't look any better. You both start and stop a few times before you shake your head and point to your car. "Engine won't start" is all you say but Curtis nods, and gets to work.

As he starts hooking up your car he points to the cab of his truck. "It's nice and warm in there. You go ahead and settle in, keep warm?" You nod with a little "thanks" and head into the passenger side of the truck.

Settling in, you didn't realize how cold you'd been. It seems like your shivers were both from crying and the cold. The truck is delightfully warm and you let yourself relax a little. You're genuinely happy Curtis seems to have landed on his feet. If anything, you're surprised he was so expressive with you. He was never the type to really show what he was feeling, just locking it up behind his stoic facade.

When he climbs into the driver's side you do your best to clam up. He was the one who pushed you away, he can put in the work to try to draw you back. If that's what he even wants. And if he doesn't, well, it's on him, not you.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place before or after taking the car to garage?" he asks. His voice is shakier than you've ever heard it.

"Probably after," you reply. "Make sure the garage has my details and contact info."

He nods. "Just gotta be careful. The snow's getting worse and I don't want you stranded there."

"I understand. But you know I like my records and receipts."

He nods and sets to driving.

The drive is quiet but the tension in the air is heavy. You want to say something, anything, but you hold firm. He drove the wedge between you, he can be the one to remove it.

When you get to the garage Curtis helps you out of the truck and introduces you to his new buddy, Edgar, before going to the back room.

You and Edgar get to talking, he's a nice kid. Lots of energy and a warm smile. You wonder allowed how he and Curtis became friends.

"Oh, we met in AA," Edgar tells you. "I'm actually his sponsor."

"He's in AA? I knew he was drunk at work once, I didn't think that was worth signing up to Alcoholics Anonymous."

Edgar hesitates, "it's not my place to tell you the whole story, but he ended up in the hospital."

Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp. Sure, Curtis wasn't one to turn up a drink when you were together, but to go that far? "Well, I'm glad he's got you to help him out," you nod.

"Do you mind me asking how you know him?"

"We used to date."

Edgar's eyes widen at that. "You're the one who got away!"

You give him a pained expression as you hear Curtis growl from the doorway, "now's not the time, Edgar."

"Sure thing, old man," Edgar rolls his eyes, making you smile. "Let's go ahead and get your information so you can get home before the roads get too messed up to drive."

When you get the paperwork taken care of Curtis steps up, "can I drive you home? I'd...I'd feel better if...if you took my truck and not some dinky uber or lyft car."

Your heart clenches. You can see he's trying so you agree. Plus, he's not wrong about his truck being safer. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you get in before climbing into the driver's seat.

After a few minutes, Curtis breaks the tension. "I'm guessing your dad's not doing too well?"

"Nope," you shake your head. "The cold seems to just make things worse." Curtis nods.

The rest of your trip is spent in silence.

When Curtis pulls up to your building you're ready jump out of the truck to escape the tension. But when you go to unbuckle he says, "can we talk?"

"Yes." That's all you'll give him, if only to protect yourself.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I'm sorry for everything. For how I treated you. I...I thought I was protecting myself by keeping distant. But when you left I...it hurt so much more than I ever could've expected."

You look at him and see tears forming in his eyes.

"I... I genuinely thought it was just how things work," he continues. "But you left, when I drove you away, I couldn't...I just ended up drinking until I blacked out. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. No job. No friends." He lets out a sob. "I knew, laying there in that bed, that if I hadn't...if I'd treated you better, I wouldn't be so alone and miserable."

Tears are now streaming from your own eyes.

"I've been getting help since then. Been trying to change for the better." He turns to face you, "I've hurt you and I'll never ask you to take me back. But is there any chance, any at all, that you'd let me back into your life? Even just as a friend?"

You sit for a few minutes, but you don't leave and Curtis starts to hope.

When you finally speak you tell him, "the best apology is changed behavior. And you have definitely changed. For the better."

Curtis's breath hitches.

You continue, "you hurt me more than I think you know. But you've clearly been doing some introspection, getting some help, and that speaks volumes to your willingness to make amends. You've got a long road to redemption with me, but you've made some good strides."

Taking his hand in yours you look him in the eyes, "we can start again as friends."

Curtis's shoulders sag as he starts crying tears of relief. You can't help yourself and wrap him in a hug, letting your own tears fall freely. He's repeatedly whispering "thank you," and "I'll do better. I promise."

When you break the hug, he doesn't fight you but you know it's because he's being respectful rather than a sign of his disinterest. You open the passenger door and turn back to him with a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, Curtis."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

Also tagging @brandycranby as she was the one sent the original ask.

#curtis everett #curtis everett angst #curtis everett imagine #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x gn!reader

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lizzie-boo · 15 hours ago

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Christmas Party

Steve Harrington x Reader

Ficmas Day 9

Summary: When your best friend Steve overhears you joking with Nancy it changes the course of your friendship forever.

Words: 1.2k

A/N: Happy last day of ficmas. I wanted to write 12 stories but that never happened. Honestly, though, I'm really happy with writing 9 becuase I never intended to do ficmas at all this year. Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Are we sure this is a good idea, what if someone calls the cops?” You ask, still not fully onboard with the idea of throwing a Christmas party.

“Don’t worry it’s just for our group of friends plus if the cops get called we’re fine. Remember Chief Hopper is Jonathan and Will’s stepdad and he’d never bust them for having a party,” Steve reassures you as he hands you another box of decorations.

Removing the lid from the box you grab out a couple strands of garland and begin to place them around the living room. Steve follows behind you stringing up lights as he goes.

“You’re sure we won’t get in trouble?”

“It’s just a casual Christmas party, not a rager I promise. Plus half the people coming are practically children. It’s just gonna be us hanging out and eating snacks for a few hours.”

You knew Steve put his old habits behind him years ago but you were always nervous he would revert to his old ways. That this party would snap him back to who he used to be and what would start as an innocent group hang out would spiral into the party of the century. The fears that if he went back to his old ways he would drop you and you would be without a best friend once more rattled around your brain. As his words finally sink in you let your shoulders relax.

“Plus, Dustin is bringing Suzie and I don’t want to scare her off. He seems to really like her so as surrogate mom I need to make a good impression,” Steve jokes and the last of your reservations disappear.

You continue to joke and talk as you finish putting up the last of the decorations. Every so often stopping to sneak a glance at your best friend wondering if there would ever be a chance for the two of you to be more.

The doorbell rings right at seven and you make your way to the entryway. You open the door for Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin ushering them in from the cold. Nancy pulls you into a quick hug as Jonathan offers a quiet hello.

“So where is the dingus?” Robin asks as she wiggles her eyebrows at you.

Pushing her shoulder lightly you respond, “He’s in the kitchen finishing up getting snacks ready.”

“I’ll go help him,” Robin announces before rushing off to the kitchen.

“I’m guessing this means you haven’t talked to him about how you feel yet,” Nancy says as she loops her arm with yours and pulls you into the living room leaving Jonathan to get the door for the kids.

You take a seat next to her on the couch. “I don’t wanna screw up what we have. He’s my best friend. Why risk losing him when I can just stay his friend forever and at least have him in my life.”

Nancy pats your arm giving you the same sad look her and Robin use everytime they bring up the topic and you and Steve being something more. You reach out and tap her nose breaking the awkward tension forming. Just then the kids, Jonathan, and Eddie file into the living room taking up all the available seats.

Glancing over your shoulder you look for any sign of Steve or Robin, wondering what is taking them so long. Turning your attention back to the room you smile at Eddie as he tries to mediate a fight between Lucas and Dustin about what Christmas movie everyone should watch.

Steve and Robin make their way toward the living room right as Nancy leans over, “Maybe some alone time with Eddie could help you forget about your feelings for Steve,” she jokes.

“I don’t doubt that, he could probably make me forget my own name,” you joke back, bumping your shoulder into hers and you both laugh.

Behind you Steve shoves the tray of snacks he’s holding into Robin’s hands and rushes back into the kitchen needing some time to think. Robin takes it in stride and sets it on the coffee table with a loud thud.

“I think I hurt my wrist carrying the tray. Do you think you can go help Steve with the rest?” Robin asks as she plops down on the couch between you and Nancy. Before you can even answer her and Nancy are already chatting away about something one of the kids said.

Pushing off the couch you make your way into the kitchen to find Steve with his palms pushed against the countertop. His head hangs and his eyes are screwed shut. The sight of him sends a pang of panic to your chest.

“What’s wrong?” you ask as you place a hand on his back.

“Do you actually wanna fuck Munson?” he bites out as he curls a hand into a fist.

Your hand drops to your side as quickly as your mouth falls open. You hadn’t realized that he heard your joke. If you knew he was standing there you never would have said anything.

You take a moment to assess the situation before settling on your response, “It was just a dumb joke between me and Nancy. Plus I never said that I wanted to fuck him, just that he would probably be good at it.”

“So you don’t wanna get under him?” His tone is gentler this time as he turns to look at you.

“No, never. It was just a joke.” You run a hand along his arm hoping to calm him down so you can head back to the party in the other room.

His hand reaches out and grabs your free hand holding you in place. “So do you still want to forget about your feelings for me?” His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to figure out what you are going to say.

“Only if you want me to,” you whisper, now realizing the space between you had lessened.

He drops your hand, stepping in to cup your cheek. “That’s the last thing I want baby” he mumbles before crashing his lips to yours. Your hands tangle in his hair as your lips move in sync. Taking a step back he presses you into the counter. The cool press against your back sends a shiver down your spine and you tug at his hair in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

He pulls back and you drop your hands to his shoulders. You both take a moment to catch your breaths. He shoots you a smile before hoisting you onto the counter. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and he wastes no time diving back in for another kiss.

This time when he pulls away it’s to trail a line of kisses down your neck. He works his way back up and gently nips at your earlobe causing you to let out a moan that you try to muffle with your hand. His lips press against your ear and he whispers, “The only one who is allowed to make you forget your name from now on is me.” You pull him back into another searing kiss completely forgetting about the party in the other room.

#stranger things imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #reader insert #x reader #reader #ficmas #lizzieboosficmas #ficmas day 9

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vitalverstappen · 2 days ago

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Snowed In - L. Sargeant

summary: being stranded in the airport is never ideal... and you're stuck on Christmas Eve... with Logan.

pairing: Logan Sargeant x ex!reader

warnings: being alone on Christmas Eve? Unexpectedly seeing your ex?

word count: 3.3k

a/n: Merry Christmas Eve/Merry Christmas depending on where in the world you are! Hope you guys all have a great day!

masterlist

“You’ve got to be kidding me” you muttered as you stared at the screen. Every single flight going out of Heathrow had been either yellowed with “delayed” or completely red with “cancelled.”

You let out a long, frustrated sigh as you ran a hand through your hair, shoulders slumped in the middle of the airport. The clock on the wall seemed to mock you, ticking steadily as if time wasn’t moving at a snail’s pace. Christmas Eve, and you were stuck in the middle of Heathrow Airport, thousands of miles away from your family.

You’d been looking forward to this moment for months - coming home to your parents, reconnecting with old friends, and of course, celebrating the holidays with the traditions you had done since you were a child. But now, it seemed like the snowstorm outside had other plans for you.

A blank expression was on your face as you stared at the board again, willing one of the flights to magically be changed to the green “on time”, but the board remained unchanged. Every flight, one by one, flashed red or yellow, like some twisted game of “guess who’s not going anywhere.” The snowstorm outside had wrapped Heathrow in a thick blanket of ice and chaos, and your hopes of making it home for Christmas were quickly melting away.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes. You checked your phone again, but there was no update on your flight. No apology. No comforting message to reassure you that the airline was doing its best to get you home. Just silence.

You glanced around the terminal, taking in the sea of people who looked as defeated as you felt. Some were huddled in family groups, others pacing with their phones pressed to their ears, desperately trying to figure out their next move. There was no warmth to the place, just cold metal chairs and a sense of resignation hanging in the air. Everyone was stuck in this mess together.

You sank into one of the nearby seats, trying to take a deep breath. The reality of being away from your family on Christmas was starting to hit harder than the cold air from the open doors leading to the runway.

As you stared blankly at the flight board in the distance, the familiar, rhythmic sound of a suitcase being wheeled across the floor caught your attention. Without even thinking, you glanced up, your eyes locking onto a figure pushing his suitcase through the terminal.

Of all the people you could have looked at, of course it had to be him.

Logan Sargeant.

You froze. The last person you ever expected to see at Heathrow, much less on Christmas Eve. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, it felt like the world was spinning around you. He hadn’t changed much - still that easy smile, the same messy hair, and those soft blue-green eyes that had once made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

He paused, his suitcase coming to a halt as he noticed you sitting there, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. His brows furrowed for a second, but then his lips quirked into that signature grin, the one that made you weak in the knees years ago.

“Y/n?” he asked, his voice laced with a mix of surprise and amusement.

Your pulse quickened. What were the odds? You hadn’t seen him in years, since he broke up with you to move from Fort Lauderdale to race in F1. You had kept up with his career occasionally since he moved, but hadn’t come across anything pertaining to him in the past few months. But there he was, standing a few feet away, in the same airport, on the same night, with the same flight delays.

You swallowed hard, trying to muster up some composure. “What are you doing here?” You hated how defensive your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. You were just as surprised to see him as you were frustrated about everything else.

“I could ask you the same thing.” he replied with a playful tilt of his head. “Seems like the snowstorm is messing with everyone’s plans.”

You nodded stiffly. “Yeah, guess so.”

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between you two, both of you awkwardly avoiding eye contact. The tension was thick - he had always known how to make you feel things, even after everything that had happened. After all these years, you still hadn’t figured out what to say to him, or if you ever would.

“So, uh, how’s everything been?” Logan asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he shifted his weight, clearly as unsure of what to say as you were. His voice was quieter now, a little more guarded than it had been in the past.

You tried to keep your cool, glancing back at the flight board as if it might hold the answers to your growing confusion. “It’s… been good.” you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral, though it felt forced. You cleared your throat. “I mean, life, you know? Busy. Same as everyone else, I guess. I got relocated here for work a few months ago.”

Logan gave a small, knowing smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He seemed to be measuring his next words carefully. “So you moved out of Fort Lauderdale? I guess that explains why you’re flying out of here tonight. Though knowing you, I’m surprised you didn’t get an earlier flight home.”

The mention of “home” hit you harder than expected. You suddenly realized just how much you’d been hoping for a connection this Christmas - any connection at all. You hadn’t expected it to come in the form of Logan, of all people.

“Yeah, well…” you began, but the words came out flat, stuck somewhere between old memories and present circumstances. You shrugged. “Things don’t always go as planned.”

Logan nodded, a soft chuckle escaping him. “I think that’s the understatement of the year. What do they say - ‘plan for the best, expect the worst?’”

“Something like that,” you muttered. A deep breath followed, and you realized you hadn’t taken in much air since you’d first spotted him. Your eyes glanced down to his suitcase, where the letters “FLL” were displayed in bold lettering on a tag. He was on his way to Fort Lauderdale too. You could feel your heart in your throat as you realized that you would have crossed paths with him regardless.

“So… you’re still with Williams?” The question came out in an almost accusatory tone, even if you hadn’t meant it to. You were just trying to fill the silence, trying to make some sense of why he was standing in front of you, of all places, on Christmas Eve of all days.

His face softened at the mention of his racing career, but there was a shift in his posture, like he was bracing himself for something. “Not anymore.” he said, the words flat, almost matter-of-fact.

You blinked, surprised. “I-I didn’t know you were done.” You swallowed thickly. You weren’t sure why it felt like such a punch to the gut. Maybe it was the fact that so much had changed - your lives, your relationship - and yet, standing there, it was as if time never moved forward at all.

He leaned against the pillar near you, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah, I got dropped from Williams a few months ago - right after the Dutch Grand Prix.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, the words coming out a little more quietly than you intended. It was hard to imagine how much of a blow that must have been for him. His entire career had been built around getting into Formula 1, and now… it was like everything had crumbled.

Logan shrugged, trying to play it off, but you could see the frustration still lingering beneath the surface. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not what I imagined when I first got into it. But yeah, you get used to the ups and downs in this business.”

A quiet pause followed, neither of you quite knowing how to continue. The sound of the airport buzzed around you, a stark contrast to the quiet tension between you. After all these years, there were so many things you still didn’t understand about him. So many things left unsaid.

“So,” Logan spoke up again, clearing his throat, “what about you? Settling in okay over here? It’s been what-” he glanced up at the clock briefly, as if checking the time. “-a few months now, you said?”

You nodded, not sure if you were ready to talk about everything that had led you to this moment. “Yeah, work’s been busy. Getting used to the change, the pace. It’s been a lot, honestly.” You hesitated, then added. “It’s not Fort Lauderdale, though.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I don’t think anything can replace home.” His voice was light, but there was something in the way he said it - something nostalgic, something lost.

The ache of that place tugged at you too. Fort Lauderdale had been home, the place where so much of your life had been mapped out. The place where you and Logan had planned a future - your future together. But that was before everything had changed. Before he had changed.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I miss it too.”

Another silence fell between you two, as if you both were processing what you had just said. You silently hoped he didn’t pick up on what you had accidentally implied. You missed Florida, sure, but Fort Lauderdale wouldn’t have any meaning to you if it weren’t for the people who made the town so special.

“So what now?” you asked finally, the question more out of instinct than curiosity. “What’s next for you?”

“I’ll be in France next season, I signed a contract with IDEC to race for them in ELMS.” he said, a hint of a smile coming to his face as he brought up the news.

“ELMS?” you asked, your head tilting slightly as you did so.

“European Le Mans Series” he explained, quickly remembering you had limited knowledge of motorsports. “It’s endurance racing.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing the shift in his career path the best you could. “That’s… that’s awesome. Really.” you said, trying to sound encouraging. The truth was, you weren’t sure how to feel. Even as a kid, F1 was such a part of Logan’s life, and to hear that he was now moving to a different league caused a mix of admiration and sadness to bubble within.

“You think so?” Logan asked, his eyes lighting up for the first time since the conversation began. “It’s not F1, but I’m excited. It’s a different kind of challenge.”

You could hear the passion in his voice, the same fire you’d known when he first started talking about racing all those years ago. It was almost like hearing him talk about his dreams as if no time had passed at all.

“I’m genuinely happy for you, Logan. You deserve it.” you smiled, the words feeling authentic, even if the ache in your chest didn’t fully go away.

Logan shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing back at the departure board that was still covered in red and yellow before turning his attention back to you. “Thanks. That means a lot hearing that from you.” He hesitated, then added. “Would you wanna maybe go get a bite to eat? I think we still have some time to kill.”

You blinked, the question catching you off guard. The idea of sharing a meal with Logan seemed strange, but at the same time, almost comforting. The thought of sitting down, away from the chaos of the people shouting at the airline workers, and just… talking, felt like a small refuge from the stress of everything else.

You glanced at your phone again, checking the time and seeing no updates on your flight. “Sure,” you finally said, nodding “Why not?”

Logan smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as his relief was evident. “Great. There’s a cafe around the corner. Not much, but at least it’s warm.”

You stood up, your legs a little stiff from sitting for too long. Logan shifted his suitcase slightly, guiding you through the crowded terminal toward the small cafe he mentioned. The snowstorm was still visible through the large windows, swirling around the airplanes parked in their aprons, and it only made the warmth inside seem more inviting.

As you approached the cafe, you felt the tension from earlier starting to melt away, replaced by a quiet kind of ease. The cafe was tucked away near the back of the terminal, and as you entered, the cozy, dimly lit space felt like a world apart from the frenzied hustle of the airport. A low hum of quiet conversation filled the air, and you could already smell the rich scent of coffee, baked goods, and overall comfort - something you’d been craving since you got the flight news.

Logan led the way to a small table near the window, where a couple people were already huddled in quiet conversation, nursing steaming cups of coffee. You slid into the chair across from him, feeling a little self-conscious but surprisingly at ease in his presence. It had been so long, yet it felt like a small part of you had never really left him.

As Logan settled into his seat, a soft chuckle escaped him, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. “I can’t believe this is how we’re reconnecting.” he mused, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes softened as he looked at you, a subtle warmth radiating from him despite the coolness of the airport surrounding you both.

You smiled faintly, leaning back into your chair, the soft clink of cups and the low hum of airport conversation in the background. “Yeah, of all the places. If you’d told me a year ago I’d be stuck here with you on Christmas Eve, I’d have laughed in your place.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into that familiar smile that used to make your heart race. “You were always the cynic, weren’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, but still felt a tug at your heart at the sound of his teasing. “Someone had to keep you grounded. You were always so caught up in your own head. I used to think you’d get lost in your own race car if you could.”

Logan’s chuckle echoed in the small cafe, and he leaned back in his chair, looking at you with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Yeah, well, I did spend most of my time racing around tracks. I was so focused on getting to the top that I… missed out on a lot of things.”

The shift in his voice was subtle but undeniable. It was as if the facade he’d worn when you first saw him was melting away, replaced by a more reflective version of the Logan you used to know. The same Logan, but somehow changed.

“You always were single minded when it came to racing.” you remarked, trying to keep the tone light, though the words carried more weight than you intended. The memories of you together, back in Fort Lauderdale, flooded your mind - the long days spent at the beach, laughing in the sun, the plans you made, the future you had imagined.

His gaze softened at your words, and for a moment, he seemed far away, lost in the same memories. “Yeah” he muttered. “I was always thinking about what came next, but never really took the time to look around and realize what I was leaving behind.” He paused, his voice dropping a little. “I think I always thought I’d have time for everything… until I didn’t.”

The nostalgia in his voice was tangible. You could hear the regret in his words, but also kind of resignation, like he was finally coming to terms with how much had slipped through his fingers. How much had changed.

You leaned forward slightly, meeting his eyes. “I get it. You wanted the career. You were so driven. I don’t blame you for that.” You hesitated, biting your lip as you tried to articulate what you’d been feeling all this time. “I think I just… wanted to be a part of that. I wanted to be a part of your life, but you were always so focused on the next race, the next move. And I just ended up… waiting.”

There was a long pause as the weight of your words hung in the air, thicker than the coffee around you. Logan looked at you, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he said, “I never meant to make you feel like that. I never meant to make you wait.”

His words, though simple, were sincere, and they hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. Maybe you hadn’t realized just how much you’d been holding onto that unspoken feeling - the feeling of being forgotten, of being the second choice.

A small, wistful smile crossed your lips. “I know you didn’t. But… we were both so young. We had those big dreams, and I think we thought we could have it all.” You paused, staring down at the table for a moment before looking back up at him. “And I guess sometimes you can’t have it all.”

Logan’s gaze softened even further, and for the first time in years, there was a warmth between you, something that had been missing for so long. “I guess not. But if I could go back, I’d do things differently. I’d make sure you knew how much you mattered to me.” He let out a breath, a little shaky, as if the admission was harder than he anticipated. “I was so focused on my career, on proving myself, that I forgot to prove to you that you were important too.”

You swallowed, the ache in your chest making it difficult to speak. But you managed, your voice quiet. “I think we both got lost in everything. In life. In who we were supposed to be.”

Logan nodded, his hand running through his hair, the familiar motion pulling at the memories of late-night drives and quiet conversations between you two. “Yeah. I guess we did.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of everything said and unsaid hanging between you. The past was never easy to confront, and yet, somehow, it felt good to talk about it, to acknowledge the things that had always been left unspoken.

Logan broke the silence with a soft chuckle. “Remember when we used to drive around, listening to music, pretending we had it all figured out?”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. “How could I forget? We were both going to go to UMiami and graduate before moving in together. We thought we had all the time in the world to figure everything else out.”

“And then life happened.” Logan added, his voice laced with a mix of ruefulness and nostalgia. “And suddenly, it felt like we were running out of time.”

You smiled softly, the old ache still there but now softened by the familiarity of the moment. “Yeah. But I don’t think I ever really stopped caring about you, Logan. Not completely.”

His eyes flickered with something unreadable, but there was no mistaking the tenderness in his gaze. “I didn’t either. Even when I tried to push it away, I couldn’t. I never really got over it.”

You both sat there for a while longer, lost in the quiet hum of the airport cafe, the past lingering around you like a shadow. Maybe the story wasn’t over. Maybe you’d never fully understand why things had ended the way they did in your teens. But as you shared that moment, that space between words, you couldn’t help but feel like you were both starting to find your way back - slowly, cautiously, but undeniably home.

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