#Thank you so much for the ask!!!! Hi fives you

[headkiss]

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.

-

1.

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.

-

2.

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.

-

3.

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.

-

4.

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.

-

+1

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

[darnell-la]

i love the darkpervy!logan x reader content, pls make more!

summary: logan hated picking y/n up from bars and clubs, especially if her male best friend was there. she never listens to him, and tonight, he could only show her what happens when she gets as drunk as she does in public.

note: I think we’ve made a similar story like this, so we’ll try to make it a bit different.

“She’s drunk, peanut. Go and pick her up for me,” Wade told Logan as his eyes stayed on Vanessa who danced in front of him. “Why would I? She’s old enough to get around herself,” Logan said as he took a sip of his drink.

“It’s not like you’re enjoying this amazing, godsend of a woman dancing in front of us, anyway. Plus, Max is there, and you don’t want him taking her home, right?”

Logan’s fist tightened at the thought of Max being anywhere near y/n. He knew what kind of man that boy was. Logan wouldn’t be able to live in his shared apartment, knowing Max fucked her somewhere in there.

Logan got up without saying a word. “By the way, I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. I’m spending time with my future wife,” Wade shouted as Logan walked out of the bar door.

Logan had been sitting in his car for a while now. Usually, y/n comes right out, but by the videos, her friends are posting online, he knew she was having too much fun there.

Logan groaned as he stepped out of his truck, knowing he’d hate the sight of seeing y/n all over Max like she always is. He hated that thought. There was nothing special about Maximilian in any way.

“I’ll be right back, bub,” Logan told the security guard, so he wouldn’t have his truck removed from in front of the building. “Five minutes,” was all the guard gave him.

Logan quickly made his way to the section y/n and her friends always buy, and with no surprise, Max was all in y/n’s ear. The way she giggled, made Logan’s fists tightened.

“Alright, bub — Time to go home,” Logan spoke as he walked up to the section. “Logan! Have a drink with us,” Y/n offered as she raised her hand to give him her glass, but he didn’t take it.

“I don’t think he wants to drink from you, princess. Let him get his own glass,” Max spoke for Logan, and that was something he wouldn’t allow. Who does this man actually think he is?

Logan took y/n’s glass and chugged the whole thing, knowing he wouldn’t feel anything. All she drank were sweet drinks.

“Happy, princess?” Logan said, claiming her nickname back from Max. “That’s not fair, Lo. You’ve gotta drink more,” y/n said as she grabbed bottles to mix them in a glass.

“We can do that another time, bub, let’s get you home,” Logan said as he pushed past Max and softly grabbed y/n’s hand. Y/n whined as she got up to move past Max with him.

“Next week, same time?” Max asked, and right as y/n opened her mouth, Logan spoke for her. “I’m taking her out with Wade, so, no thank you,” Logan winked at the younger man before dragging y/n towards the exit with him.

“What are we gonna do next weekend?” Y/n asked, very excited, but anyone could tell she was drunk out of her mind. Logan knew once she got in his trust, she’d be passed out in his back seat, and that’s what she was.

“You can’t be drinkin’ like this, y/n. No Uber would actually take you home, seeing you like this,” Logan only told the truth as she whined in the back seat. She could barely understand the man.

“I’ve thought about what I should say to you, on my way here, but no matter what I’ll say, you won’t listen. You probably won’t even remember from how drunk you are,”

Logan pulled into a dark park that was only around the corner from their shared apartment. Wade wasn’t home, and y/n was vulnerable. Only one thing could cross Logan’s mind that he’s been wanting to do, but couldn’t. He never knew how, and when to, but tonight was the night.

“I’m hungry,” y/n struggled to say. Lovna could barely hear her. “I’ll make something at home, but right now, you’re in trouble,” Logan got out of the car as y/n repeatedly asked why.

“You see,” Logan opened the back doors to his truck and hopped in. “You would’ve taken the Uber tonight, right?” Logan asked as he moved y/n so her back was on the seat. “Mhmh,” y/n replied as her head spun.

“Yeah, so let’s see how you’d get through the night in an Uber,” Logan said as he began tugging at her dress, lighting it up until her skin touched his seat. “Huh? What?” Y/n asked, her voice seeming so far away.

“What would you do in this situation? If the Uber didn’t take you right home?” Logan asked as he hooked his fingers around her panties before ripping them clean off of her.

“Hey- Logan?” Y/n didn’t know what to do or say. What was even happening? Y/n couldn’t think straight, and the sight of that angered Logan, yet, turned him on. It’s not like he couldn’t get what he wanted if she was sober. He was stronger than her either way.

“And, this is why you can’t go out drunk. Look at you. You can’t even lift your head to look at me,” Logan said as he unbuckled his pants, feeling how hard his cock rubbed against his fabric. She looked sweeter than ever.

“Lo? What- happening?” Y/n wanted to know what was going on as Logan moved between her legs, always feeling close to the sight of her folds. She looked wet, smooth, and sweet. Just like he’d imagine.

“I’m not Logan, remember? I’m your Uber driver,” Logan said as he pushed at y/n’s entrance. At first, she didn’t feel too much to alarm her, until his tip slipped past her folds.

“Logan- Logan!” Y/n whined loudly as she lifted her arms to push at his chest. “Nah uh, you let me in,” Logan continued painting through her folds as her feet curled and mouth parted.

“N-No,” y/n felt her heart pound, getting scared of what was happening. She knew this was Logan, but she was too drunk tonight. There was too much pressure running through her body.

“Why? Tell me why, baby, and I might stop,” Logan lied. He just wanted to hear her speak. “T-Too big — I-I came breath,” y/n stuttered, and being the asshole Logan was, he lifted y/n’s legs over his shoulder to make her feel more trapped.

“Lo- please! I-I can’t,” y/n begged as her stomach twitched. “Oh, yeah? But, you can fuck Max, huh? You can fuck him at his place, but can’t give me a little attention at home?”

Y/n shook her head as she tried to comprehend what Logan was saying. Why was he bringing up Max? Why did he sound so angry? Why did he speed up his thrust the more she pushed at his lower stomach?

“G-Get up — Please,” y/n begged, feeling the need to pee, which meant she was close to an orgasm. That was too embarrassing for her. She couldn’t cum on Logan’s cock. This was inappropriate.

“Stop trying to push me away, y/n. It’s not gonna fucking work,” growled as he slapped y/n’a hands away. “No! N-No, I won’t,” y/n got fussy with the man as she fought his hands from pushing her away.

“W-We can’t do this!” Y/n tried shouting at Logan, but nothing about her in this situation made him think she’d get out of this. “I don’t care how embarrassed you are, y/n. You’re gonna fucking cum on me like you do to Max,”

Logan’s hands wrapped around y/n’s neck, making her gasp. “Logan, please — I-I’m gonna cum, and- I- Please,” y/n begged the man, but her eyes soon rolled to the back of her head.

“Ah huh,” Logan snapped his hips as his grip pulled her into his thrust. “G-Gonna cum,” y/n cried low as she gushed around the man. Her legs shook and nails dug right into Logan’s wrists.

“That’s it — It feels good, doesn’t it? Better than Max, right? C’mon, baby, tell me,” Logan slowed his strokes down, but made sure to dig deep in her cunt, causing her lower belly to ache.

“P-Please, please,” y/n tried holding it back, but she gushed again, spilling all over his seats with a loud cry. “Oh, yeah — That’s my, girl. Only for me,”

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 13: christmas morning | l.c

a/n: last fic of the series!! i hope you guys liked all the installments <3 thank you for everyone who read the fics!! love you guys, and merry christmas to all who celebrate! i hope you had a great year, and i wish for the next year to be kind to all of you as well <3 last fic, hope you enjoy :)

p.s. i dont think its that easy to get an hermes birkin, BUT WE WILL PRETEND THAT IT IS. its been literally my dream to get one, so i might as well experience it through my writing LMAO

word count: 1.3k contents: chan x fem!reader , established relationship , idol bf!chan , cuddles , domestic fluff , gift exchanging , chan is energetic , reader is sleep deprived , reader gets their dream birkin bag (projecting onto reader big time)

it's christmas eve and you're going to bed alone.

it's not like you're feeling sad about it. you know chan is holed up in the practice room, practicing choreographies over and over again till he satisfies the perfectionist in him, which is why you're okay with the selfie chan sends you as a goodnight.

you've been dating him for five years, and you've been through a lot of long distance with your boyfriend to easily overcome the feeling of sleeping alone in the cold bed.

plus, you're tired to the bone with how much work your boss had dumped on you over the last three weeks, so sleep comes to you easily.

—

you stir awake when cold hands press into the bare skin of your waist from where your sleep shirt had ridden up.

"chan, cold," you mutter under your breath, turning around to face your boyfriend, who had just failed at his attempt to slip into bed without disturbing you.

"sorry for waking you up," he whispers, smoothing your shirt down so that he can hold you without bothering you with his cold hands.

"'s alright," you yawn. "i'm a light sleeper. what's the time?"

"3:15," comes chan's soft voice, and with the way the warmth radiating from his body wraps you up in a soft embrace, you already find yourself dozing off again.

"merry christmas, baby," chan smiles against your skin. you press a kiss to his neck, the closest part of him that you can reach, and whisper a, "merry christmas, channie," before you're falling back asleep.

—

waking up in the morning is not nearly as soft and quiet as the night before. primarily because chan was shaking you awake, yelling in your ear to get you to wake up.

"i thought you said you were a light sleeper!" chan complains when you smack his hands away.

"well it was a lie!" you grumble, turning to your side to try and escape chan's antics. "let me sleep. i'm so tired."

"oh," chan's voice immediately goes soft. "was it your boss again? god, i wish i could just tell him to go screw himself-"

"how about you try saying that to seungcheol's face first?" you tease him. "if you think you can't face your leader, my boss is ten times worse."

chan blinks.

"okay, i may send him an e-mail then," he huffs. "but babe, it's christmas morning. let's at least do the gift exchange and then we can sleep in, hm?"

you sigh at your boyfriend pulling his best puppy eyes, complete with the pout, and you give in easily.

"alright, let's go."

"i love you!" chan beams with joy. he all but drags you off the bed and bundles you up in his hoodie, knowing how cold you got in the mornings. then he pulls you in for a tight hug, kissing the top of your head softly.

"merry christmas, my love."

"merry christmas, chan."

—

"okay, whose present do you wanna start with first?" you ask chan. you're sat on the living room floor, gift boxes strewn around you.

"let me open what your family got me, and then you can open what my family got you," chan suggests, and you agree. he then adds on, "the hyungs got you a gift too, so you can do that next."

the two gift boxes you got for each other lie in the corner, the both of you eyeing them silently, wondering if the other will like their gift.

"okay! me first!" chan announces excitedly. you hand him the delicately wrapped box your mother had dropped off at your house a few weeks prior to christmas for chan.

he opens up the wrapping gently, and gasps when he sees what's inside. curious to see what the gift was, you peek at the box in his lap, and you find a bottle of expensive whisky inside.

"i can't believe my family supports your alcholic tedencies," you roll your eyes affectionately, and chan gives you the look of a wounded puppy.

you laugh at chan's theatrics and reach for the gift his family sent for you. you unwrap the gift, and you're moved by this inexplicable warmth that fills you as soon as the wrapping paper is gone.

the gift is a framed photo of you, chan, his parents and brother, standing together at chan's brother's wedding. it was the day chan's mother had looked at you with tears in her eyes and said, "you make my son so happy, y/n. i hope you stay in his life for a long time."

along with the photo, there's also a perfume that you had mentioned in passing on one of the many dinners you've had with chan's parents.

"this perfume is so expensive," you gasp. "they really shouldn't have-"

"y/n, they're my parents," chan laughs. "of course they're extra. where do you think i get it from?"

"fair point," you laugh, trying to blink the tears away in your eyes. "okay! give me the gift from the boys."

chan passes over another box to you, and you read the gift card stuck on top.

'merry christmas, female dino'

you sigh at their silly joke before unwrapping the gift and bursting into laughter.

"what is it?" chan asks, leaning over to look at the gift.

it's a plain black hoodie inside the box, with a collage of chan's pre-debut pictures printed all over the front. chan groans when you take the hoodie out of the box.

"i bet this was jeonghan-hyung's idea," he mumbles. "i'm gonna kill all of them."

"sure you will, baby," you giggle, kissing his cheek.

then, there's silence.

the only two gifts left to unwrap are the ones you got for each other.

you look at chan, who looks like he's going to throw up any second, and you clear your throat. "should we open the last two together?"

"yeah," chan nods, reaching for his gift, and you take yours.

"alright, three, two, one."

chan claps a mouth over his hand when he unwraps his gift "you- you got me the watch- oh my god, y/n are you crazy? this must have cost a fortune and- shit, i can't even believe that you... y/n?"

caught up in finding the luxury watch he'd been planning to buy for himself for a year inside the box, he totally forgot the gift he got you. you were currently frozen in shock, and chan can only hope it's the good kind.

while chan was freaking out over his gift, you opened the one he got you. you weren't expecting the expensive bag you had on your wish-list for almost your entire life.

it was the Hermès Birkin bag, the one thing you've wanted ever since you were a little girl.

"chan, this is- where did you even-"

"i pulled some strings," chan replies. "do you like it?"

"do i like it?" you ask. "i love it. this is everything i've wanted, i can't believe you got it for me."

"i thought i was everything you ever wanted," chan pouts, and you would shoot him a glare, but you're feeling so grateful for having such a thoughtful and kind boyfriend that you just lean forward to pull him into a tight hug.

"you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," you tell him, and he hugs you by the waist tightly, agreeing with your statement.

"i'm so glad i bumped into you all those years ago," chan says, and you pull away slightly to kiss him, pouring in all the love you felt for the one person who's made you feel more special than anyone else ever could.

(chan remembers how difficult it was to get the bag for you, but for you, he'd tackle the world's greatest challenges.

next christmas, he hopes he can get you something he's wanted ever since you've entered his life; a ring, and hopefully, a family of your own as well.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

main taglist: @min-imum @sousydive @livelaughloveseventeen @unlikelysublimekryptonite @theidontknowmehn

@baseball-dokyeom @t-102 @grapejuicelh @aaa-sia

@cixrosie @4shypotato

series taglist in comments!

head to the series masterlist - here <3

head to the masterlist for more!

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

[azuredawn81]

lemon sorbet with jack <3

hating you for christmas | jack hughes x ex gf!reader

❅ summary: jack gets a christmas card from his ex. he can't get over her.

❅ pairing: jack hughes x reader

❅ content: angst

❅ word count: 1.2k

❅ prompt: hating you for christmas - everclear

❅ warnings: lots of alcohol, car accidents

❅ tags: @tomskookie @dream-girl06 @skepvids @devilinpradaheels @r0wdymaize86 @summert158 @lolatokki @camiesully

❅ note: i hate love and love hate

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙₊⋆ ͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

“jack! mail’s here,” luke called, slamming a stack of envelopes on the coffee table.

“thanks, rusty.”

“let’s see if there’s anything good.”

he started flipping through the pile. bill. bill. card from mom and dad. card from nico. card from fitzgerald. card from quinn. card from cole. card from trevor. card from keefe. junk mail about gutter cleaning.

“hey, this one’s from y/n.”

“gimme that.” jack snatched the envelope from luke, his eyes wide. he tore open the envelope, revealing a cute little christmas card, similar to the one from last year. the one he was on. he stared at the cardstock, with y/n’s smiling face and her stupid boyfriend. the back was just word after word about how her life was happy and perfect and her job was great and her house was grand and her boyfriend was specimen of a man.

the envelope was addressed to luke.

jack ripped the card in half, then in half again, and again, and again. “stupid y/n.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to hear about your new job now

“i just need to finish my business certification, then as soon as i get the money, i’m gonna open the flower shop.”

“gonna make the arrangements for our wedding?”

“of course, jacky,” she said, kissing his cheek. she slid onto his lap and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

I don't want to hear about your new boyfriend

“jack, it’s so beautiful.”

“of course, love. i wanted you to have the best ring.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too, mrs hughes.”

I don't want to hear about it all working out for you

“five more minutes.”

“babe, you have to go to morning skate.”

“but you’re so warm.”

she rolled over so she faced him. he pressed his lips to the tip of her nose. “you’re such a goof.”

No, I don't want to hear it now

jack hughes stuns with girlfriend at devil’s charity gala

devils forward spotted with girlfriend outside bar

jack hughes speaks: 4 nations face off, road to the cup, and his elusive lover

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to hear about your swinging new place

I don't want to hear how everyone thinks it's great

“we should get a house soon.”

“what’s wrong with the apartment?”

“we’re getting married, silly!” she booped his nose. “your mom’s gonna want grandbabies.”

I just want to sit in our apartment and hate you

jack sat on the couch, his head in his hands. y/n had been gone for a week now. he didn’t know how to tell his parents, how to ask luke to let him back in the apartment.

she was gone.

Yes, I will be hating you for Christmas

“you’re never around!”

“you knew that when we got together!”

“if you can't be present now, how can you be present as a dad?”

“i will try.”

“but you can’t try now?”

“i’m sorry.”

she placed her ring on the counter.

────୨ৎ────

You can have the Christmas tree

Remember when we bought it at the store down the street?

“i think that’s gonna be too tall, baby.”

“nah, it’ll work.”

“what if we get this pink one?”

“wait, that’s actually so cute.”

I don't want to think about the lights on your white skin

“thanks for bringing me here, jack. it’s beautiful.”

“you’re beautiful.”

he cupped her face and kissed her, the lights shining onto them. “my pretty girl.”

No, I don't want to think about it

“god, i love you so much.”

“i love you more.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to think about last year at your dad's

“jack, i just want to say, since y/n’s in the kitchen, i think you’re the best boyfriend she’s ever had.”

“about that…”

“what’s up, son?”

jack wiped away a tear as he opened the velvet box. “think she’ll like it?”

he was immediately engulfed in a bear hug by her dad. “you’re a good kid, jack.”

────୨ৎ────

I don't want to think about my face in your soft hair

I will be hating you for Christmas

as soon as jack opened the door and stepped inside, y/n was in his arms.

“missed you so much.”

“i missed you too, baby.”

“hate it when you leave.”

“aw, did my sweet girl miss me?”“your fiancé missed you quite a lot.”

────୨ৎ────

I must be losing my mind

“is there a y/n cloning facility nearby?” luke asked.

“no?” jack answered.

“then how come every girl you bring in looks like her?”

“that is not true.”

“last monday made a convincing twin.”

There's gotta be a better way to deal with the pain

“luke, i’m gonna hurt you if you keep talking.”

“dude, go to therapy or something.”

“i don’t need therapy.”

“right, because hooking up with girls who look like your ex is cheaper and easier.”

“i’m gonna get you scratched.”

“nico only listens to people of sound mind.”

There's gotta be a better way to deal with the hate

“you don’t even know what that means!”

“who here went to college?”

jack picked up the nearest object, a plastic cup, and threw it at luke, who ducked. the cup made a slight dent in the wall.

“now look what you did!”

“no, luke, it’s your fault. you poked the sleeping bear!”

“bears mate for life, jack.”

Wish that I could find some way to make you go away

“you’re on the devils, right?” the blonde said, holding onto his arm.

“god, you’re so hot.” brunette number one said.

the other brunette placed a sloppy drunk kiss on his cheek.

“you’re single, right?”

“no, i’ve got you three.”

“oh, you’re a fox, jack.”

“well, ladies, i try.”

Wish that I could have a drink and make you fade

he couldn’t even count the number of drinks he’d had or the number of girls on his arm. tonight, he was not jack hughes, y/n’s miserable ex. he was jack hughes, first overall pick, new jersey devils star forward and alternate captain. he was a hotshot, the big ticket item, the best looking guy at the club.

except with drink after drink, all he could think was how y/n was at her stupid apartment in the arms of her stupid boyfriend and not a single girl here tonight was her.

I wish that I could have myself a drink and make you fade

so he slammed another shot down. the girls cheered. another shot. another glass. another bar. another club. another bottle. another taxi. another shot.

“ladies,” he began, his speech so slurred and impaired, “tonight, we dance.”

I wish that I could have a drink and make you go away

“let’s go back to my place.”

────୨ৎ────

Wish that I could make you go away

five injured in hockey player’s car crash

jack hughes’ mugshot: click here!

devil’s forward jack hughes dui

jack hughes involved in collision - 6 girls in car

I will be hating you for Christmas

“hughes, those are all from different occasions!”

“i’m aware.”

“what the hell were you thinking?”

“i wasn’t, sir.”

“clearly! jack, if you keep this up, i will not hesitate to scratch you!”

Yeah I will be hating you for Christmas

“like i care!”

“you should.”

“nothing matters!”

────୨ৎ────

he got an envelope from his desk and scribbled her new address on the back. the stamp was placed in the corner with extreme precision. the shredded remains of the card were placed inside, like flowers in a vase, like a body in a coffin. then, a note reading

Thanks for the Christmas card

[ladysharmaa]

Heat

Jay Halstead x pregnant!reader

Summary: When Chicago is in a heat wave, Y/n feels unwell while pregnant, worrying Jay

It was definitely the hottest day of the year. Chicago was going through a heat wave and Y/n had never felt more miserable. It also didn't help that she was seven months pregnant with her husband's baby, Jay Halstead. She could feel the beads of sweat falling from her forehead and her face heating up so much that she must have looked like a walking tomato.

Jay warned her to stay at home and protect herself from the heat, but when the air conditioning broke, Y/n decided to go out to buy a fan. But she didn't know it would be so difficult to walk and even breathe on this hellish day. It seemed like with every breath she took, the air burned her lungs. She walked slowly, one hand on her stomach protectively, trying to at least get to the store that was a few blocks away.

Y/n knew Jay would be so upset if he knew she left the house in this weather. Since she became pregnant, the man has become even more protective than before. However, she knew he was having a busy day and couldn't leave work just because Y/n was hot — although he would do that if Y/n called him and asked to buy a fan.

But everything got worse when Y/n's vision became blurry and a feeling of nausea appeared. Jay's wife leaned against the wall next to her, trying to get some shade to compose herself. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to breathe slowly to calm her heart that was beating rapidly against her chest.

"Miss! Miss, are you okay?" a man appeared in front of her, with a worried look. "Do you need me to call an ambulance?"

"No, it's okay." she managed to whisper. "Could you help me get to Fire Station 51? It's just a two-minute walk." the man, already advanced in age, seemed friendly enough for Y/n to trust him. And the truth was that she had no other option, as it seemed like her legs were going to give out at any moment.

"Sure thing, ma'am. Here, lean on my arm." he agreed with a gentle smile, offering her his arm to help her walk. "In this heat, no one should be walking around. It could be dangerous, especially in your condition."

"I know." Y/n sighed, knowing that beyond this lecture, she was going to hear worse from Jay when he found out. "But I wanted to buy a fan. It wasn't even a five-minute walk."

The man patted her hand in understanding. "I don't judge you, dear. My wife has already had three children, and in all of them, she was very stubborn. I understand that you don't want to be dependent on us, poor husbands, but we just want you to be well."

The woman didn't respond, now feeling even more guilty for not calling Jay to ask for this favor. She didn't want to bother him, but the plan didn't go as expected. The rest of the short walk was done in silence, Y/n's cheeks becoming more flushed, and having difficulty breathing in the hot air.

When they finally saw the fire station, Jay's wife couldn't be more relieved. Gabby and Brett, who were getting out of the ambulance, having just arrived from a call, noticed Y/n's tired form and immediately took hurried steps towards her, helping to carry her and him into the shade.

"Y/n? What happened? Are you feeling okay?" Gabby asked worriedly, helping her into the back of the ambulance. Y/n sat down, one hand on her stomach and the other on her back, closing her eyes as she started to feel dizzy.

"I'll call Jay." she managed to hear Brett say, but she was more focused on not throwing up than responding to the paramedics.

Thankfully, the man who helped her took charge of explaining what had happened. Y/n had the strength to open her eyes and thank him deeply for his help, asking if she could do anything to repay him, but he just shook his head and smiled. Then he left, as Y/n was now with people who could help her medically.

"What are your symptoms, Y/n?"

"I don't feel well, Gabby." her voice shook, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm sick, dizzy, and a headache is forming."

After leaving the phone call, Brett began taking her vitals, while Gabby applied a cold compress to her forehead. "You're most likely dehydrated, we have to go to the hospital to put you on an IV and check the baby."

"But he's fine, right?" Y/n sobbed scared, clutching her belly as she looked at her friends with a frown.

"Yes, he seems fine. But just to be sure." Gabby comforted, starting to help Y/n lay down on the stretcher.

"What did Jay say?"

"Well, he—" the blonde paramedic started to say, but was interrupted by the sirens of a police car, getting closer and closer. "I guess that's your answer."

"How did he get here so fast?" Y/n thought out loud as he watched the police officer get out of the still moving car. He immediately looked around for his wife. When he saw them, he quickly broke into a run, his eyes wide in panic. Hailey got out of the driver's seat, right behind Jay.

"I'm really sorry."

"What, baby? You don't have to apologize." Jay knelt down next to Y/n, gently cupping her face with his hands so he could assess her condition. Unconsciously, his hand slid down to her round belly, finally managing to take a deep breath when he felt a light kick against his touch. "I shouldn't have left you alone in this weather. You're okay, baby."

When Brett called him to explain the situation, he felt a sense of fear like he had never felt before. Not even when he had been shot at, kidnapped or beaten. The most important people in his life being in danger was his worst nightmare.

Luckily, they were in the neighborhood and managed to get to the fire station in record time thanks to Hailey's driving. Over time, Y/n and the blonde had become very close, often ganging up together against Jay. Not that he minded, since hearing his wife's giggles and knowing she was more relaxed when Jay was working as she trusted his partner to protect him.

"We need to get them to the hospital. Y/n is showing signs of dehydration and the baby needs to be checked." Jay's head turned unusually quickly to Gabby in concern. She hurried to add, "They both seem to be fine, but I want to make sure."

"I'll go back to the police station and let Voight know you won't be working anymore this week." Hailey offered. "I hope you're okay, Y/n. I'll stop at the hospital to check on you."

"Thank you, Hails." Y/n smiled weakly.

"Let's go." The man nodded, kissing Y/n's forehead comfortingly. He climbed into the back of the ambulance with her and held her hand the whole way while Gabby got into the driver's seat and Brett checked some vital signs.

The ride was relatively calm, but Y/n was getting paler and sicker by the minute. Jay mumbled words in an attempt to calm her down, but inside, he felt like he couldn't breathe. They should have called two ambulances because he was close to passing out.

Finally, they arrived at the hospital where Maggie and Will were waiting for them at the entrance. In no time, she was already settled in and several doctors were checking everything they could. Jay stayed by her side the whole time, answering some questions from the doctors when necessary.

The fluorescent lights of the hospital were harsh against Y/n’s already sensitive eyes as she waited for someone to tell her what was going on. Jay never let go of her hand, his grip firm but gentle, his thumb softly brushing against her knuckles in a silent attempt to comfort her. Her heart was pounding, but the cool sheets of the hospital bed and his touch gave her some relief.

Will Halstead, dressed in his white coat and looking every bit the composed doctor he was, entered the room, clipboard in hand. His face softened the moment he saw Y/n and Jay.

"Hey," Will greeted, his tone warm yet professional. "How are we doing here?"

"Not great, Will," Y/n admitted, her voice weak as she tried to give him a small smile. "I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck."

Jay immediately turned to his brother. "What’s going on? Is she okay? Is the baby okay?" His words came out in a rush, and it was clear he was doing everything he could to keep his composure.

Will raised a hand to calm his younger brother. "Take a breath, Jay," he said, flipping through the chart. "We ran some tests and monitored Y/n’s vitals. She’s severely dehydrated, which is why she felt dizzy and nauseous. Her blood pressure dropped, but thankfully, the baby is doing great. The ultrasound shows a strong heartbeat."

Y/n let out a shaky breath of relief, her free hand instinctively moving to her belly. Jay visibly relaxed beside her, the tension in his shoulders easing.

"So, she’s okay? The baby’s okay?" Jay asked again, needing to hear it one more time to truly believe it.

"Yes," Will assured them with a kind smile. "We’re giving her IV fluids to rehydrate her, and she should start feeling better soon. I do want her to stay overnight for observation, just to be safe, but I’m confident she and the baby will be fine."

"Thank you, Will," Y/n said, her voice cracking slightly as tears of relief welled in her eyes.

Will reached out to pat her head. "No need to thank me, Y/n. Just promise me you’ll stay out of this heat, okay?"

She nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and gratitude. "I’ll try," she murmured, glancing at Jay.

Jay turned to Will. "Thanks, man."

"Anything for my sister-and-law and nephew." He winked at her before stepping back. "I’ll check on you in a bit, but for now, just rest."

As Will left, the room fell quiet, except for the soft beep of the monitors and the rhythmic drip of the IV. Jay pulled a chair close to the bed, sinking into it as he brought Y/n’s hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her fingers.

"You scared me today," he said softly, his eyes glistening as they locked onto hers. "Don’t ever do that again, Y/n. Please."

"I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t mean to worry you. I just... I didn’t want to bother you at work."

Jay let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Bother me? Y/n, you and this baby are the most important things in my life. I’d drop everything in a heartbeat if you needed me."

Her lips trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. It was just a fan."

He leaned forward, cupping her face with both hands, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. "Listen to me," he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Nothing is ‘just’ when it comes to you or our family. You’re my world. Promise me, no more trying to do everything on your own. I’m here for you. Always. Ask me to buy you a fan, food, a house, I don't care, I'll do it in a heartbeat."

She nodded, fresh tears streaming down her face. "I promise," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jay leaned in, pressing a kiss to her forehead before resting his against hers. For a moment, they stayed like that, their breaths mingling as the world outside the hospital room faded away.

"I love you," she said softly, her hand finding its way to his cheek.

"I love you more," he replied, his voice low and full of sincerity. He placed a hand on her belly, feeling the soft flutter of movement beneath his palm. "And I love you, little one. But you’ve gotta cut your mom some slack, okay? No more giving her a hard time."

Y/n laughed weakly, the sound light and sweet. "Hear that?" she said, looking down at her bump. "You are already giving Daddy white hairs."

As the IV continued to drip and the monitors beeped steadily, the weight of the day began to lift. They were together and okay. That was all that they needed.

[uhhlifeig]

Cozy - Dec. 25th - word count: 348 - @wolfstarmicrofic - (happy holidays!!)

It was snowing outside, making the land look like a scene straight from a postcard.

Sirius and Remus were inside, cuddling in one of the squashy couches in the Gryffindor common room. 

Remus was nestled into Sirius’s chest, arms around his boyfriend but somehow still managing to read a book. Meanwhile, Sirius held onto Remus tightly and watched the snow gently drift down from the heavens.

“Hey, Re,” Sirius said after a while of silence. “What do you think you’re gonna do after Hogwarts?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Remus answered, voice a little muffled because of the way he was tucked into Sirius. “I mean, no Wizarding places would want me, because- well, you know. I might be able to get a Muggle job, though.”

“But what if you didn’t have a furry little problem? What would you want to do?” Sirius asked.

“Ooh, well, er. I’d love to be a teacher, y’know, of magical subjects. It would be a lot of fun, and quite a few people have told me that I’m a good teacher.” Remus chuckled softly. “Dunno why, though. I’ve swore like a sailor at tutoring sessions before.” 

Then, taking his head off of Sirius’s chest and looking up at him, Remus asked, “What would you want to do?”

“Ooh, tough question, Moons.” Sirius thought for a little while before responding. “If it weren’t for all of this war stuff happening, I’d want to be a Healer. Maybe Auror though, because it sounds awesome,” he smiled.

“Yeah, that does sound awesome. Say, where would you wanna go after Hogwarts? Places to live and stuff, I mean.” Remus fiddled with Sirius’s jumper absentmindedly, waiting for a response.

“I’d maybe get us a seaside cottage, and then connect the fireplace to the Floo so that James and Pete can come over, and then we can spend holidays together like we’re doing now,” Sirius smiled. 

“Sounds cozy,” Remus replied drowsily. “Can’t wait to unwrap presents with you and the boys while you act like five-year-olds.”

“Oi! That’s not nice. I’m a very esteemed seven-year-old, thank you very much.”

[marsmaximoff]

🎄; 25th of december ❄︎⋆˚⊹☃︎

content warning: fem!reader. pure fluff. many curses. reader is 20 and calls him “dym” as a short name, he calls her “love, darling and my love”. they’re dating. let me know if i missed something.

word count: 732 ❣️

author’s note: i wasn’t planning on posting anything for Christmas, but i got this idea and i had to write it. so, i apologize if the quality is not that good, as i usually spend days on my writings while this was all done on a matter of hours. also, english is my third language, so i’m sorry for the mistakes. constructive criticism is welcomed as always. thank you so much for the support on my last post, and merry christmas everybody! 🤍 happy hanukkah, kwanzaa, diwali or any other celebrations too 🫶🏻 and if you don’t celebrate anything, have a happy end of the year ✨ p.s.: god im in love with dmitri and almost no one is posting anything, i’ll probably post more of him. anyways, enjoy!! <3

the silk grazes my fingertips as i stretch my arm. i tentatively palm the bed looking for some warmth, for him. but the sheets and pillows are the only things left around me.

the screen of my phone clears up as i blink. 11:28 a.m. with a bit more of focus, the notifications slowly reveal themselves and my eyes travel through them searching for his name. nothing. he’d have texted me if something had requested his presence back at the office. although, he couldn’t have business to deal with on Christmas, right? not this soon, at least.

the pearly white snow greets me through the window making me stand up with a smile. how gorgeous. i make my way to the kitchen to grab something to drink while knotting my robe, and the shiny decor welcomes me effusively. i don’t realize at first, but a big and unfamiliar shadow catches my attention from the corner of my eye while i open the carton of juice.

“holy fuck. dym?”

our christmas tree, stunning as always, lays now almost drowned in presents. in fact, the stack is such, that i can’t even make out the floor for a good four-five steps. some light chuckles behind my back fill the room with the warmth i’ve been craving since i woke up. “beautiful, isn’t it?”

i turn around to dmitri sitting on the couch, staring at me with a huge grin. as if that number of gifts was the most normal sight in the world. “what the hell?” “you’ve had me waiting, darling. did you sleep good?” he asks affectionately.

“what are you, on your Santa Claus era?” i say looking at the presents again. he grants me that laugh that i adore so much as i try to give them a quick count, but after the twentieth, it starts to feel simply bonkers. they’re not even small ‘little treats’, oh no. there’s large boxes and bags everywhere.

“seriously, are you giving gifts to your whole fucking building? or is every one of your men getting one?”

“wrong. and. wrong” he says proudly, and once he’s in front of me, he just smiles. there are obvious love and joy in his eyes, which sends a cute fluttery feeling to my heart. “dmitri-“ his lips seal my words with a gentle kiss. “merry christmas, love”. a sparkle makes space on his gaze that could so easily compete with the star of the tree itself. wait. oh. oh. there’s no way.

his hands take mine and softly walk me towards the swimming pool of gifts. then, he sits close by and points at them with his head. “come on, darling. you’ve had me feeling all impatient”. he looks so excited. so cheerful. but i can’t help the slight guilt that takes over me. “dym, you’re crazy. tell me these are not only for me. you can’t- god do you even have an idea of how many there are?!” “40”. he doesn’t even take a single second to think about it. seriously, what the actual fuck? “two for every christmas i couldn’t spoil you in” this has to be a damn dream. “we’ve been friends since school!” i say grinning. “but we weren’t dating. so it doesn’t count. i wanted to make it special.” “you really didn’t have to” i refute. “i wanted to. please don’t make me wait anymore i need to see your reactions”. with a final glance, i turn around and grab the first one. “ohhh you’ll love that one!”

how can he be so cute? he wasn’t wrong, tho. it was a special edition of one of my favorite books. during the next hours, i go one by one, filling the room with gasps, yells, curses and many “oh my good”s and “thank you so much”s.

by the end of it, i’ve got clothes, books, headphones, plushies, a phone, jewelry, plane tickets, merchandising, signed stuff from famous people i love, and the cherry on top; a new car.

“you are mad. i love you so much but you’re mad” i say hugging him still shocked. “madly in love with you, you mean” he answers pulling back. “you liked them, then?” “loved them” he gives me another kiss, longer this time. “good. merry christmas, my love. i love you” he adds.

he can only hope i’ll love the ring just as much.

[serenity-ren-bliss]

A single splash of blood can kill an Angel

Fandom: Gladiator II

Prompt(s)/Premise: Emperor Geta x fem!hemophobic!Reader

Translations (Latin):

Carissima = dearest

Amor = love

Mea Columba = my dove

TW: Mention of blood, fainting

____________________________________

When Geta first set eyes on you, a lowly seamstress’s daughter, he knew immediately you had to be his. When you heard of his wish for your hand, you had no choice but too accept. He was the emperor, you found yourself too scared to say no to him.

He moved you into the palace, gave you a room across his for the six months before your wedding. He showered you with gifts; gold and jewels and silks. He spent all of his free time at your side, asking you all kinds of questions, and the two of you quickly grew endeared.

But there was one big secret you kept from him: you are afraid of blood. It’s no secret your soon-to-be husband loved the games, he loved the fighting, the bloodshed, and the violence. He was ruthless like that.

However you hated it all. Even the smell of blood was enough to make you gag. The sight of it? It would make you faint. But you never told him, if you didn’t he would surely scoff in your face and call you pathetic. He would call of the marriage, which as time goes on is becoming a worse and worse fate for you as you grew to love the ruthless king.

You came up with every excuse you could think off to not accompany him to the games. You would tell him you were sick, busy, not feeling it, wanted to sleep in, everything. But now, after five months of this, you’ve run clean out of lies.

So now here you are. Sitting on a golden throne, your emperor to your right, and you could feel the eyes on you, even as the games are about to begin. He could see your trembling and reached out to hold your hand. He didn’t say anything, just held it.

Then the fighting started. It wasn’t too bad at first, there was more yelling then you’re normally comfortable with, but you were okay. Then the first hit was landed. Then the second. The smell of blood permeated the air and dark red liquid spills all over the floors. You feel sick.

Geta doesn’t notice at first, too caught up in the games. Good, you don’t want him too. You don’t want to spoil his fun. You know any minute now he’ll notice. He’ll force you to admit it. And then-

There was a loud scream, accompanied by the loud squelch of a particularly nasty stab. The scent got stronger and then it all went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t know how long you were out. You awoke in a soft bed, something warm wrapped around your hand. As you came too a little more, you recognized your emperor’s face looking up at you.

“Carissima!” He spoke with relief, “Thanks the gods you’re awake!” His free hand went to cup your face, tilting it so you would sit up. “What happened back there?”

“Geta, I…” You were silent for a moment, considering your words. Should you lie? He’d see right through you. “I was just a little sick, Amor. You do not need worry.”

He shook his head. “Do not lie to me, mea columba. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” You looked away, unable to look him in the eye when the words started spilling out of you.

You told him everything. How you fainted because the smell and sight of blood makes you sick, how you didn’t alert him because he was having fun, how you didn’t want to tell him about your fear because you were worried he’d find you pathetic and call off the marriage.

“And I’m sorry that I lied and I tricked you and I understand if you’re mad and if you really want to-“ You were interrupted by a soft hand on your cheek yanking your head to face him. He looked pissed. Not the fiery kind of pissed like he was about to yell at you. His gaze was cold, calculating, and that was so much scarier. You gulped, bracing yourself for the worst.

“Tell me, Carissima, who clothes you in silks and adorned you with gold?”

“Y-you do, my emperor” You barely heard your own voice, shaky and unsure.

“Who brought you to this palace, gave you everything you can ever imagine, made sure you slept on the softest sheets?”

“You did, my emperor”

“Who makes sure you eat the finest, freshes food, whenever you require?”

“You do… my emperor.”

“Then tell me, Amor, why you think so low of me. Why you’d think I’d consider, for a second, leaving you over something so petty.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Geta’s reputation precedes him, but when it comes to how he treats you… he’s rarely that violent.

“I…” He looked at you expectantly. You tried to avoid his gaze. He didn’t like that. “Look at me.” He yelled. You jumped.

“You should not think even for a moment that I’d leave you. For any reason. You are my wife, Columba! Not some girl I keep just because. I’m not going anywhere! Neither are you. Do you understand?!”

You were still trembling from his screaming. He seemed to notice, calming down just a little. He pulled you into a tight embrace. “I’m not leaving you, Mae Columba. I need you to tell me when you’re ill. I am not going to be mad at you. You’re safety is more important than the games. Do you understand?”

You took a deep breath, you’re voice still shaky. “I-I understand.”

He sighs. “We’ll find other things to do. I will not be taking you to the games anymore. You need rest.”

You slumped back on the bed. “Cuddle me?” He chuckled, sitting on the bed and letting you rest your head on his chest.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part two

I'm bored so [smashes plate] ANOTHER! I've been writing this faster than I thought I would 🤭 Hope everyone is having lovely and relaxing holidays xx

Warnings: just angst and the case progressing! Hotch is kinda an asshole but it's just how they show their love to each other xoxo

“You and Hotch still got it, huh?” Morgan teases, leaning his head over to grin at you. Part of you missed car rides with Derek, and the other part of you remembers just how much of a little shit he can be.

“Shut up and look at the road,” you mutter, pushing his face away from you.

“I’m looking, I’m looking,” Derek taps the wheel, shaking his head to get your hand off him. “What is it with you two, anyway?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “We’ve never gotten along, you know that. You were there when we met.”

“Uh, yeah, I remember being glad Hotch got all the heat instead of me,” Derek chuckles. “You’re intimidating when you’re pissed off.”

“Good,” you say, smirking. “That’s the point.”

“Alright,” Derek says, letting the topic go. For now. “We’ve got five minutes ‘til we reach her house. What are we telling her?”

“Well, I want to take a look around, if you’d like to talk.”

��I can stall,” Derek nods.

“Five bucks says there will be no pictures of the father in the house, at least not in the living area or hallway, where family photos most commonly are.”

“You sound like Reid,” Morgan quips.

“Our IQ’s are really close,” you remind him. “I just don’t have a damn eidetic memory. That shit is insane. I don’t envy him there.”

“Me either,” Derek shakes his head. “I remember things plenty without a magic memory.”

“I hear that.”

Derek turns into the driveway of Lila’s home. One car is in the driveway, a silver Ford. Her mom’s car.

“Ready?” Derek asks.

“Never,” you reply, opening your door. “But it’s our job.”

Derek knocks on the front door, but stands back so you’re the first face the mom will see. Given who her ex-husband is, you suspect she might be distrustful of all men, regardless of whether or not they’re here to help.

As expected, the mom eyes Morgan’s badge more closely than yours.

“May we come inside?” you ask.

“Yes,” she says, pulling the door open to let you both inside. 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Morgan says politely.

After shutting the door, the mom begins talking — rambling incoherently, more like.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, dropping her off at school this morning. I knew something felt off when I woke up, it just— I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Ma’am,” Derek says. “Please, sit down.”

“I can’t,” she says, waving both of her hands like windshield wipers in front of her body. “I need to pace. Helps me think better.”

Derek looks at you, and you shrug. She’s obviously too wound up to sit down. Which is a good sign. If she was indifferent or resigned, there would be a bigger issue at hand. Clearly, she had no idea this would happen, so she definitely wasn’t in on it.

You take a look around the living room while Derek calms the mother down, mostly just letting her ramble, and take mental notes of what to ask her about later.

As you predicted, there are no photos with the father in the picture. All of them are the mother and Lila, mostly baby photos. Lila is a pre-teen, she clearly doesn’t want her photo taken. There is one where Lila looks older, but she’s not happy.

You take a closer look. She’s really unhappy.

“Mrs. Monroe?” You turn toward her, a sympathetic smile on your lips. “Has Lila been depressed lately?”

Her mom nods. “She’s been struggling ever since uhm— Ever since her father left. I’ve had her in therapy every week, but her therapist says she’s not really opening up. She might later, but right now she just doesn’t talk at all. She doesn’t want to.”

“I understand,” you murmur. “You’ve done the right thing by getting her help. Even if it doesn’t seem like it right now.”

“She still ran away!” Mrs. Monroe cries.

“Please,” you move toward her, resting your hand on her arm. “Let’s sit. Can Agent Morgan get you a glass of water?”

She nods, looking up at Morgan. “Thank you.”

Derek disappears into the kitchen.

“What makes you think Lila ran away? Other than her mood, were there any other signs?”

Mrs. Monroe shakes her head. “She’s talked about it before, told me she wanted to run away and that she hated me. I thought therapy would help with that, but it hasn’t.”

“Would her father help her at all? Run away, I mean.”

“Richard?” Mrs. Monroe asks. Derek reappears with a glass of water, handing it to her. “Thank you. No, he wouldn’t, he— She doesn’t even know what he’s done. I’ve never told her.”

“Would she be capable of finding out?” Derek asks. He takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you, resting his elbows on his knees.

“No,” Mrs. Monroe shakes her head. “I monitor all of her Internet searches, who she texts, who she emails, everything. She thinks I drove him away. That I didn’t love him anymore and told him to get out. She doesn’t know that it was because I caught him burying a body.” She sobs into her hand, her words barely decipherable now. “And now she’s gone and she hates me and I don’t even know where she’d go— it’s like I don’t even know my own daughter.”

You take the glass from her hand and allow her to sob into your shoulder. You know what this is like. Because you were once Lila, a runaway who left her mother in pieces until she returned home. Your circumstances were different, but not by much at all.

“We will bring her home, I promise,” you say, despite yourself. Despite not knowing what the rest of this case will entail, what else you’ll uncover. “Did Lila have any friends that you didn’t approve of?”

Mrs. Monroe shakes her head again. “She doesn’t have many friends, but she talks to one girl, Marie, almost every day.”

“Where is Marie right now?”

“At school,” Mrs. Monroe says, sniffling. “I called her mom right away. My mind went to the worst case scenario, you know, I thought Lila would grab Marie and convince her to go with her—”

“Convince?” you question. 

Derek hears you and asks the next question you have on your mind. “Does Lila ‘convince’ Marie to do things she doesn’t want to do often?”

“Sometimes,” Mrs. Monroe admits, beginning to sob again. “Oh, God.”

You share a look with Derek, not liking where this is going, but you don’t know if you’ll get much else out of her right now.

“What things would Lila convince Marie to do?” you ask.

“Just small things, I don’t know,” Mrs. Monroe replies. She’s shutting down. “I don’t know why I said that, I—”

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” you try to calm her down. “Do you mind if Agent Morgan and I take a look in Lila’s room?”

“How will that help?”

“We might be able to find something that could tell us where Lila might have gone,” Morgan explains. “Sometimes kids leave clues. We might be able to find them.”

Mrs. Monroe nods. “Okay. Can I— Is it alright if I lay down while you do that?”

“Of course,” you smile. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

You help her stand and walk back toward her bedroom, getting her inside. She lays down on top of the covers and shuts her eyes.

You close her door and meet Morgan back in the living room, his phone pressed to his ear.

“Y/N’s back, you’re on speaker, Hotch.”

You roll your eyes involuntarily. Hotch couldn’t leave the two of you — mainly you — alone, could he? 

“Alright, I want the two of you to stay there and go through Lila’s room. Tell us anything you find. The school has given Garcia their security camera footage; she’s going through it now. It’s like she’s disappeared into thin air and that is not good.”

“We’ll find her, Hotch,” Morgan says.

Hotch is quiet.

“Mrs. Monroe doesn’t think Richard had anything to do with this. She says Lila doesn’t even know—”

“Morgan told me,” Hotch says. “Call me back when you have something new.” He hangs up and you roll your eyes again.

“I’m gonna keep a tally of how many times you do that,” Morgan teases.

“Be my guest,” you reply. “And keep me updated. I bet it’ll be in the hundreds by the time this case is over.”

Lila’s room is everything you’d expect from a regular pre-teen girl. And reminds you too much of your room when you were her age.

It’s almost like she’s too open. Posters are everywhere. Her favorite movies, actors, and bands. Her bed is made. Her closet is neat. The desk is covered in schoolbooks, yet also clean. 

“Morgan, I know this room.”

He turns around. “What?”

“We can know everything about her from one glance. She’s organized. She loves English, hates science, but is very good at math. She likes alternative music, not boybands,” you point to the posters. “Fantasy movies only. Her closet is too neat. It’s like she’s not even living here.”

“I’m not following.”

“I think she’s been planning her escape for a long time,” you say. “Which makes me think she had help.”

“Okay,” Morgan goes with it. “From who? You heard her mom, she watches everything Lila does.”

My mom did too, you think to yourself as you pull out your phone. You already have Garcia on speed dial, something she suggested for you.

“What can I do for you, my new angel?” 

Morgan chuckles while you answer Garcia. “Can you possibly see the search history after it’s been deleted?”

“Duh,” Garcia says. “Give me the IP address and I can show you all the dirty, dirty secrets on there.”

“Perfect, I’m going now,” you leave Lila’s room, peeking in Mrs. Monroe’s room to be sure she’s still resting. She is. 

You head to the living room where you saw Mrs. Monroe’s computer. Thankfully, after wiggling the mouse, it comes right up. No password or anything.

“Okay, she must really watch what Lila does,” you mumble. As in, Mrs. Monroe must stand over her daughter’s shoulder before even letting her turn the computer on. “How do I…?”

Garcia laughs and tells you what to click to pull up the information she needs. You recite it to her and she quickly works her magic.

“Oh, no.”

“Garcia,” you reply warily. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Morgan hears you and comes into the living room. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” you glance at him. “Garcia, what is it?”

“I’m going to need a minute to go through everything but…”

“Garcia, spit it out,” you put her on speaker, lowering the volume so only you and Morgan can hear her. “Garcia?”

“I don’t know for sure, but at first glance, this looks…it looks like she wanted to go with this person.”

“Shit,” you mutter. “Okay. We’ll call Hotch, you keep digging.”

“Aye, aye.”

You turn the computer off and pocket your phone. “We need to go back to the precinct. I don’t want to risk her overhearing.”

“Okay. Good call.”

“I’m gonna let her know we’re leaving,” you say. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

You wake Mrs. Monroe briefly to let her know you and Agent Morgan are leaving. You assure her that you’re going to bring Lila home, but that you’re needed at the precinct right now, and don’t want to disturb her rest. You hand her your card, telling her the number is the same, even though it doesn’t have BAU yet on it. 

Morgan is leaning against the car when you emerge outside, sick to your stomach.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just hate lying to mothers.”

+++

You and Morgan decide to wait until you’re at the precinct to tell everyone what Garcia found. Better to break this news quietly in person than on the phone.

Hotch is speaking to a deputy when you walk in, but you flag him down with a nod, hoping he won’t take it personally. You’re too on edge right now to bother being irritated with him.

Once everyone is in the conference room, you shut the door.

“Garcia should be calling any minute,” you begin. “She’s going through Mrs. Monroe’s computer. Mrs. Monroe said she watches everything Lila does, but clearly not close enough, because Lila was on a popular chatting site talking with someone regularly.”

“Right she was,” Garcia joins in, having been listening on the nearby computer. Her smile is sad. “And it does not look good. I’m still digging, but a Rich34 was in constant contact with her. I’m talking every single night for hours. Mostly from 1am to 4am, while I’m assuming her mother was sleeping.”

“What do the chats say, Garcia?” Emily asks.

“Nothing more than small talk right now, but I’m digging. It’ll take a while though, sir, I’m afraid they’ve been talking for months. Almost a year, I think.”

“Dammit,” you mutter. “I was afraid of that.”

Morgan sends you a sympathetic look.

“Garcia, see if you can track Rich’s identity in any way possible. It could be her father,” Hotch says.

“Or someone posing as her father,” you suggest, earning a glare from Hotch.

“Hey Garcia, send over all the chats, I can help you look through them,” Spencer offers.

“Alright kiddo, PG out.” The line clicks.

“Reid, look for anything relating to Richard Monroe’s history, or maybe Lila’s mother. Lila and her mother haven’t been getting along, and Rich might’ve used that to get Lila away,” Hotch instructs. 

Reid nods, already leaning over to grab the chat messages off the fax machine. Garcia knows him so well; she sent over hardcopies instead of electronic.

“Do we think it’s Richard Monroe in the chat room?” Emily asks.

“I’m not convinced,” Rossi says with a small shake of his head.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “The username is too obvious.”

“He could be taunting us by using an obvious screen name,” Hotch counters. “He’s evaded us for this long. Why would he bother hiding now?”

“Yes, but I don’t think Richard Monroe is behind this,” you argue. “Murder in cold blood is his thing. So why wouldn’t he just go grab her from the house? Why is he playing the long game like this? Why form this emotional connection if he’s just going to kill her?”

“Because he’s a murderer with no regard for anyone’s emotions other than his own,” Hotch fires back. “And because he likely holds a grudge against his ex-wife for divorcing him and taking Lila away.”

Now all eyes of the team are on the two of you, going back and forth like a tennis match.

“He murders women his own age. Lila is barely thirteen. If he wanted her so badly, he could have easily grabbed her by now and killed her. Why wait almost a year?”

“Her mother is watching her closely, and he—”

“Oh now you agree that her mother is overbearing.”

“Yes, because you met with her and confirmed it with actual evidence,” Hotch snaps. He pauses, staring at you. “We cannot rule out Richard Monroe.”

“We’ll be wasting our time if we don’t.”

“Why are you so insistent?”

“Call it a gut feeling.”

“You haven’t been doing this job long enough to have a trustworthy gut feeling,” Hotch says coldly. “Now, if you want to continue arguing, I suggest you do so with the wall. Otherwise, we have a young girl to find and her father is a priority suspect. Am I clear?”

“As river water,” you mutter. “Excuse me.” You push past your new boss, hating that he’s already gotten so deep under your skin. Again.

[taojjang]

𐙚 christmas morning with riize .ᐟ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ advent calendar, day twenty-five: the finale! pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: fluff! warnings: SO MUCH LOVE </33

synopsis: how riize would make your christmas feel extra special!

a/n: merry christmas my briize friends! i hope all of you guys had an amazing christmas! the advent calendar is coming to a close, so i wanted to show my appreciation for everyone who showed support! i had so much fun writing these holiday fics and i'm glad so many of you enjoyed them <3 i still have five (and maybe a bonus winkwink) fics that i'll be posting to make up for my mini hiatus, so this will not be the last. again. thank you so much ! 🧡

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

✩ shotaro ⸝⸝

shotaro is the sweetest boy in the world, so of course christmas morning would be like a dream come true! the night prior, taro snuggled up with you and stroked your hair until you fell asleep. but the second he heard your light snores, he cautiously snuck off to the living room and began his christmas magic. he grabs a huge bag of gifts he's hidden in the basement and begins wrapping all of them by the christmas tree, ensuring not to exceed the squeak of a mouse.

the next morning, you shake taro awake and press frantic kisses on his face, desperate to open the gifts you've been waiting weeks for. but once the two of you reach the living room, your excitement melts into a puddle of pure astonishment and adoration for your sweet bf :(

"surprise! merry christmas, honey!"

✩ eunseok ⸝⸝

eunseok can't help but smile every time you go on and on about how excited you are for christmas. he loves seeing that silly little grin every time he brings up the holidays so much to the point where he mentions christmas almost every few hours. your jittery anticipation is just so cute <3

but that does not mean he's nice! even though you woke up so much earlier than usual and begged him to get up and open gifts, he would shake his head and say you're not allowed to open gifts until you eat :( so he cooks this luxurious and well-balanced breakfast so good you forget all about being upset! he buys you tons and tons of clothing and jewelry so you can always think of him when you wear the pretty clothes he picked out for you <3

"you would look so pretty in this dress, darling."

✩ sungchan ⸝⸝

no matter the time of year, sungchan is always spoiling the hell out of you. you tell him about a pretty necklace you want and its at your doorstep within days. he never lets his pretty princess miss out on all the fancy things she deserves. so of course he goes all out for christmas!

when you send him your christmas wishlist, he makes sure to buy every. single. item. there is nothing he wouldn't buy you. even if you wish for a unicorn and a gun he WILL get that horse armed with the meanest glock you've ever seen. the only issue is... he's a bit of a procrastinator. after you open all of your gifts on christmas, he'll keep his head low and giggle in shame, admitting he ordered your gifts a bit late and they won't be here until mid january. but you can't even be mad at him because that silly bf of yours is the best gift you could ever ask for :(

"i'm sorry princess... i swear i got everything on your list!"

✩ wonbin ⸝⸝

wonbin being the sweet little perfectionist he is, he'll be up all night worrying if you'll like your gifts or not :( he's lying beside you, biting his nails and fretting if he got everything on your wishlist while you're out cold. but the next morning, you couldn't understand what he was worried about.

everything was like a dream. all of your gifts were wrapped in the fanciest shiny wrapping paper and even decorated with pretty silk ribbons on each box. he even put together multiple gift baskets for you, filled with all of your favorite snacks and even cute photos of the both of you :( how could he ever doubt himself when he's the best boyfriend in the world?

"did i get everything you wanted, baby? if there's anything i missed, just let me know."

✩ seunghan ⸝⸝

seunghan just can't contain his excitement! he wakes you up a little earlier than planned with dozens of kisses peppered all over your face because he's just so eager to give you your gifts :( you're a bit cranky from being woken up an hour earlier than necessary but once you begin opening his gifts, you forget every complaint you've ever had.

all of his gifts would be packed with so much love and consideration. everything was wrapped in your favorite color and even had small cards inside every single box. every gift would have a little note attached to it, telling you the silly stories of the troubles he's endured to get you that gift. some gifts would even have cute blurbs about how cute you'd look using the gift :(

"i'm sorry for waking you up early, angel... i hope these make up for it!"

✩ sohee ⸝⸝

this little sohee guy is silly alright. no matter the occasion, sohee is always gonna find a way to make you either laugh until your stomach hurts or massage your temples in frustration. he loves messing with you, so of course he had to buy an elf on the shelf this christmas. every day since december first, that elf has been nothing but a menace. some mornings he'd kindly leave a bunch of hershey kisses on the kitchen counter for you, yet other mornings he'd trash your entire room with toilet paper and call it a snowstorm.

if you didn't have a headache already, there was no way the elf would leave you alone on christmas. on christmas morning, sohee would wake you up with this silly grin on his face telling you to get ready quickly so he can show you your "gifts." but of course the frickin elf made a huge igloo out of the gift boxes, leaving it in the center of the living room and sitting on top of it with that smug smirk on his face. you couldn't lie, it was quite impressive.

"WOAH!!! HE GIFTED YOU A NEW HOUSE!!!"

(ps. you saw him on the doggy monitor getting up at 4am to make the gift igloo, but you couldn't get enough of his proud little smile so you kept quiet!)

✩ anton ⸝⸝

your baby anton is so stupidly in love with you :( he'd spend months in advance searching for the perfect gifts for you, buying everything you mention wanting. you knew about this after seeing a note on his phone with all of the items you've spoken about, but you didn't expect this christmas to be even more exciting than you'd concluded.

he would be super duper excited to give you the gifts he prepared because they're just so heartwarming </3 anton would handcraft those mementos of his favorite photos of you and your favorite flowers. everything would even be wrapped in your favorite color with silly little stickers all over them :( anton never misses even the smallest details about you. he does all of this for you but even if you got him just a simple hoodie, he'd probably tear up (yes he's a loser for you).

"you deserve even more than this, my love."

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ tag list! (ask or comment to be added!)

@endtostartbreathin @gacktsa @hanninova @ramyeonzprincess @taroddori

[tsukuhoe]

13. who's the boy with the white sweatshirt

the coffee shop buzzed with its usual morning rush, the scent of espresso mingling in the air. you stepped inside the coffee shop, your sundress swayed lightly with the movement. a soft white rosalia midi sundress dotted with a yellow floral print seemed to carry a piece of summer into the shop. you glanced at your watch— enough time before the table read started. 

you walked up to the register, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you studied the menu. 

“good morning!” the barista greeted you. “what can i get for you?” 

“hmm,” you murmured, your voice soft but thoughtful. “a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso and a rose cold foam, please.” 

“right. your order will be soon! love your dress by the way, has anyone told you that you look a lot like y/n l/n?” 

“yes...! i get that a lot! thank you.” 

as you waited, your eyes wandered, taking in the shop's interior. your gaze brushed over a familiar-looking raven-haired man with multiple facial piercings and gauges. his hair was tied ​​half up and for a brief moment, your eyes met. you smiled, the kind of small, polite smile you give a stranger, but it felt like a spark anyway. 

when your drink was ready, you picked it up, fingers curling delicately around the cup. as you turned toward the door, your shoulder collided with someone. the next thing you knew, your latte was splashed across the floor and the person’s white sweatshirt. 

“fuck, i’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, panicking at the mess you made. looking up to see the guy you spilt your latte on. his purple eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you forgot about the sticky, rapidly cooling liquid soaking into his clothes. 

“no, it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the words came out more irritated than he intended. “i wasn’t paying attention.” 

“neither was i,” you admitted, setting your cup down on a nearby table. “here, let me help.” you grabbed a stack of napkins from the counter and handed him a few, keeping the rest to blot the floor. 

he stood and ran a hand through his messy dark hair as you got on your knees, trying to wipe the hem on his sweatshirt, hoping it wouldn’t stain the white. his face flushing, then turning it away from your downward view. your sundress’s cleavage gave an invasive view from the angle and the position you were in didn’t help his mind to not lead to sexual thoughts. 

“i feel terrible. how much was this sweater? i’ll pay for it.” you asked, still focused on the stain. 

“you know, normally, people would ask for an autograph instead of offering money.” he chuckled, grabbing your arm and picking you up to look at him. 

“huh? i’m sorry, i don’t quite understand...." he smirked. then it clicked. you realized who you were looking at. "wait, are you suguru geto?” 

“the one and only,” he nodded with a sweet smile on his face. “and you’re y/n l/n, right? i’ve seen you a few times on the news and radio.” 

you eagerly nodded back. this was the suguru geto. the one that played a huge part in the indie music industry. the one that went on an indefinite hiatus five years ago. 

“can i buy you another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your shocked state. you hesitated, glancing at your watch. you were going to be late if you waited any longer. fuck. “i don’t really have time—”

“or,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “you could take this.” the raven-haired slid a sleek, black stainless steel tumbler across the counter towards you.

you frowned. “what’s this?”

“my coffee. black, no sugar,” he said, a sheepish grin tugging at his pierced lips. “i’m a little obsessed with punctuality, so i always leave early. you, on the other hand, seem like you’re cutting it close.”

you stared at him, a mix of gratitude and disbelief swirling in her chest. “you’re just… giving me your coffee?”

“think of it as an apology.”

you accepted the tumbler reluctantly. “okay, but only if you let me pay you back for that sweater.”

“deal,” he said, slipping a card out of his wallet and scribbling something on the back with a pen from his pocket. “here’s my number. text me when you’ve got time, and we’ll call it even.”

album bonus tracks: — SUGURU !!! — i have this huge hc of suguru having facial piercings n tats — he has an eyebrow piercing, snake bites, labret piercing, industrial, helix (and tits!) pierced! — and tats are placed on his upper left arm to neck <33 (idk if u can tell but i love body decor) — also on the topic of piercings n tats, choso has SO MANY (which we'll talk about some other time) — excited to update more (if u couldn't tell by my little spree lately) ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

. ꒷ TAG LIST .ᐟ.ᐟ [CLOSED 50/50] @celloccino @shokosbunny @nymphsdomain @alpha-mommy69 @soulairess @poopooindamouf @reyna-isabellaa @justamina-blog @koreluvsspring @mayhemfellasleep @clamousera @roxy776699 @l-ilysm @ayla-1605 @kaemaybae @starmapz @gigiiiiislife @puppyminnnie @desideityy @yuhig-blog @kaiiibxby @ami20019 @kentochronicles @missthatgirl @lauuriiiz @emi311 @lunavelha @coffeeisbehindyou @freakadelick @theclassbookworm @ladytamayolover @tojirin @fuckisthatahotghost @odxrilove @perqbeth @rxi-n-lyche3 @sugoroo @mentallyunpresent @naviaberries @wil10wthetree @thesharkcollector @harryzcherry @ghost-buddies @tearshedder @mourn1ng-dov3 @hellokittyish @good-mourning0 @shoma-nom @elegancefr @norikuna

[felidthing]

mutual 1: anon: what are your thoughts on [random mentioned detail from incredibly specific iteration of a franchise]? mutual 1: OH MY GOD thank you SO MUCH for asking. so basically [five paragraphs of information]

mutual 2: [aesthetic photo] [aesthetic photo] im so alone [aesthetic photo] two hours later [aesthetic photo] [aesthetic photo] i love you guys

mutual 3: i think we should all roll around like puppydogs mayhaps

mutual 4: [blocked tag] [blocked tag] [blocked tag] [blocked tag] [blocked tag]

mutual 5: [reblogs seven posts and disappears for another month]

mutual 6: iconic when blorbolius used the Fragment Of Chaos And Doom And Dying on srunkgo tbh

mutual 7: [photo of a shirtless fat hairy man] #he needs his ass eaten so bad

mutual 8: they killed my fucking meow meow

mutual 9: [zoomed in photo of gerard way's crotch] i post from here

mutual 10: this edible aint shit

mutual 11: me and mutual 10 are zonked out of our fucking minds rn

mutual 12: this time im really gonna do it

mutual 13: man i cant believe my manager at Killing And Evil Torture Inc. wont let me take any breaks longer than 2 minutes

[reyesstrand]

wip wednesday

thanks for the tags @paperstorm @carlossreaders @literateowl @nisbanisba @strandnreyes @everlastingday @whatsintheboxmh @ironheartwriter @laelipoo @tellmegoodbye @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses and happy holidays! here’s a little something from my posted secret santa fic before i run off to work :’(

“Yeah,” TK says, his voice rough as he stifles another groan. His hand curls around the back of Carlos’ head, fingers scratching through his hair, his thumb brushing the shell of his ear. “Mmph. Love you.”

It’s a quick peak after that, the two of them coming undone a breath apart. They curl around each other and slump over to the middle of the bed, stretching their legs out and murmuring their morning I love yous. The digital alarm clock across the room blinks 7:17 in faded green neon, a pressing reminder that they only have so much time tucked away in their own space.

“So, your dad’s at five?” Carlos asks, even as TK wiggles against his side and tries to nudge him to turn over. “Hey, I’m cuddling you here, dude.”

“Let me hold you,” TK says, sliding his arms around Carlos’ middle. “Come on, you had all of last night.”

“Babe, Jonah’s gonna be up in like, ten minutes,” Carlos laughs, even as he happily gives in to his husband’s whims and pout and turns over to his right side. “We should be up before then. You know he has no problems just busting in here.”

“Gimme five minutes,” TK says, properly spooning up against Carlos’ back and nuzzling his face against his throat. “M’kay, what were you saying? Dad’s at five?”

“That’s what he told you, right?” Carlos asks, tracing mindless shapes over TK’s forearm with his index finger. His blunt fingernail follows the lines of the honeybee, something he’s found himself able to do without even looking.

no pressure tagging @butchreyes @liminalmemories21 @theghostofashton @emsprovisions @alrightbuckaroo @pelorsdyke @captain-gillian @nancys-braids @heartstringsduet @bonheur-cafe @never-blooms @freneticfloetry @goodways & open tag!!

[ink-stainedkiss]

This isn't necessarily a request (unless you like the idea😍) but i am WEAK for saiki kusuo being happy and laughing, as ooc as it sounds IDC HES MY BABY AND HES HUMAN THEREOFRE I CONCLUDE THIS BOY CAN HAVE HIS DAILY DOSE OF GIGGLES.

Like, i read the fic you made on saiki finding readers thoughts funny, and i BAJDJSJAJDBS I SQUEALED.

Just imagining him breaking character, or AUDIBLY laughing, is so so sweet bro im not even joking. He'd only ever be comfortable doing it infront of his mom probably, or his close friends. EVEN SO.

Just needed to get it off my chest. 🙂 if you ever make more fics with happy/giggly saiki i might actually marry you. 🙂🙂🙂

This one goes specifically to you queen😍 and No. I’m going to marry you🫵😼

Missing You

Synopsis: Saiki starts to feel a bit weird when you are out and he realizes he misses you. Now to find a way to get you home faster…

Merry Christmas for those who celebrate! I hope you all had a great time because I sure did. Sorry my activity has been a little slow these past days have been busier than expected, so this one’s going to be a bit short. Also thank you all for the likes on my later posts! It feels so amazing to see you guys enjoying my other works. Anyways, please enjoy this tooth-rotting fluff of our beloved Saiki💕

“You on the phone”

“Saiki on the phone”

*Saiki is wearing his telepathy blocking ring in this, so he's speaking normally*

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.2k

Everyone knew that Saiki was not a dependent person. He was the furthest thing from it. He loved his alone time- actually scratch that. He craved alone time. It was just his luck that he was always surrounded by people that caused him so much mental pain. To Saiki’s surprise, he had found someone he tolerated. Well it was more than that, but you guys were just friends, so he couldn’t say anything. He realized you were the only one that didn’t put Saiki through a problem which he had to solve. There were no long adventures when you talked to him in the halls. No using his powers to fix something you had done. He was able to act perfectly normal around you. Which is why he grew such an affection toward you. He grew so comfortable that he told you about his abilities and like he expected you took it well.

Today was one of his favorite days. Where he was able to hang around your home without a care in the world. Whatever his friends were up to outside of your house was not Saiki’s business, nor did he care about it. He had developed a routine when you text him to come over. He would arrive at your house, wear his germanium ring and let his worries wash away. It was the closest thing he could get to being a normal teenager and he was damn sure going to use his time wisely. Whenever Saiki stayed at your home, you would ask to do something, nothing crazy. Something simple like baking a batch of cookies, watching a movie on the couch, or if you were very bored, you would ask to do Saiki’s hair, which he never denied. Because, well, it was you. How could he say no?

Today was a bit different. You had mentioned you needed to run some errands and you promised you would back around noon. Saiki was fine with this since it meant he would have the house to himself. You trusted him greatly so you didn’t mind if he stuck around while you were out. When you left he gave a small nod and then the house was silent. Today was very different because something felt off. He had been reading a book on your shelf out of interest, but for the past five minutes, he had been rereading the same sentence over and over. Something was tugging in his head, but he wasn’t sure what was wrong.

Today was different because he felt so off without you in the same room as him. He checked the clock, realizing I had only been an hour and a half since you left. You wouldn’t be back until later, so Saiki had to find something to distract himself. Today was different because tried to cure his “boredom” with his powers. He turned on your kitchen sink, watching blankly as he made shapes and animals out of the liquid. When that didn’t stop the tugging, he moved onto your room. He felt slightly better resting on your bed and he played it off as being tired, but no. When he kept checking the clock to see if it was any closer to noon, he came to the horrifying conclusion that he missed you.

It was such a foreign feeling. Saiki? Wanting someone to be around him? Well that’s what happens when you sneak your way into his heart. The psychic couldn’t stand it anymore and grabbed his phone, clicking on your contact and placing the device to his ear. The small buzzing reached his ear and he felt a small fragment of relief when you answered after the second ring.

“Hey Saiki, what’s up?”

He sighed, a bit humiliated he felt this way.

“Nothing.”

“Then did you need something?”

“When are you going to be home?”

He said home like he lived here with you, but if you minded, you didn’t make it obvious.

“I should be there in maybe three hours.”

That did not help.

“Can you get here sooner?”

“Why? Is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

Might as well since there isn’t anything else getting you here faster. Saiki thought.

A small gasp sounded through the speaker, “I thought you said nothing was happening?”

“Just get here fast.”

And with that he hung up the phone.

—

You raced to your house, hoping you wouldn’t find it in ashes or hit by a tornado. Maybe you were being dramatic, but why would Saiki call you and tell you to come home quickly? It was shocking that you didn’t get pulled over at the pace you were driving home. When you pulled onto your street, you were thankful to not see any smoke, but that didn’t make you slow down. You slammed to a stop in your driveway, panic flooding your veins. You unlocked your door at lightning speed and the second it was open, you called out,”I’m here! What happened?!”

You shut the door behind you, scanning for some sort of danger, but you find your house was still intact. You were so confused. You were expecting some sort of freak accident with Saiki’s powers, but everything was in place.

“Nothing wrong.”

You whipped around, finding Saiki had teleported behind you. You blinked in confusion,”What are you talking about? You told me to get here quick and I-“ “I lied.” Your arms dropped at your side in defeat,”Then why am I here right now?” He gave you an emotionless stare,”Because I wanted you to be.”

Still in shock, you looked around, finding a scattered book on your couch. It was odd because Saiki is always the one to be neat. You turned to the boy, noticing how he was hardly making eye contact with you and he clearly wanted to say more. You recalled his words over the phone, then it all clicked.

“Saiki,” your words were barely above a whisper,”Did you miss me?”

The things that happened next were a blur. In the blink of an eye two arms were wrapping around you and you could feel Saiki’s head in the crook of your neck. He didn’t respond to your question, but this was enough to answer it. Honestly, you were a bit nervous. Was this really the same Saiki? The one who barely let people stand close to him, was holding onto you like a lifeline. You felt a long sigh escape his lips and instinctively you reached one hand up to rest in his pink hair and the other embracing him over his shoulder.

“I didn’t know how else to get you here.” He confessed gently, making your heart melt,”You could have just asked, Kusuo.” He tucked himself more into your neck, almost hiding his face from you,”But you were busy.” You rolled your eyes, “It was just getting groceries, I would have dropped everything if I knew you wanted me here.”

Saiki didn’t know how to respond, instead he used his teleportation to take you both to your room. You let out a grunt as you back hit your mattress, but your attention changed to the boy resting on you. He looked so at peace and you couldn’t believe this was still the same person. (It’s not like you were complaining.) As you softly played with his pink hair, a small idea popped into your head. Maybe I should go out more often if this is what I get to come home too…

[ash5monster01]

A Dead Poet’s Holiday

Warnings: fluff, alive Neil, minor mentions of past trauma, comfort, lots of teasing, mentions of drinking

Summary: Every year the boys make sure to get together for Christmas. After ten years they discover some things can’t always stay the same.

word count: 4.2k

Masterlist

1969

Charlie has never sprinted faster in his life, an older woman cursing him when he bumps her a little too hard on his way along the platform. He couldn’t afford to be late, if he was he’d never hear the end of it. So with his unbuttoned coat flying behind him and the briefcase along with presents spilling from his arms he makes it in the Subway doors just in time. Shutting closed and allowing himself to finally breathe as he rides uptown. 

The same went for Meeks and Pitts who had just made their train from Connecticut to the Big Apple. Already craving the comfort of Neil and Todd’s Upper West Side Apartment. It didn’t matter that they all had to squish on air mattresses in the already too small living room and share one bathroom. Anything was better than this train. Especially for Pitts whose neck already hurt from trying to catch some sleep against Meeks' much lower shoulder. 

For Knox it was a bit easier, opting to drive himself this year, and even if it was a five hour trek he figured there was no timeline when he was in charge of his travel. As usual all the boys were making the journey to get together for the Holidays. It was important for them to see each other around Christmas, remind themselves how lucky they were to have each other. They all had survived a soul crushing experience together and they were lucky to be out in the world and living it as best they can. 

Which was why even Cameron was included, him taking the first flight out to New York City and so grateful he had kept all his friends. Charlie wasn’t entirely fond of this but it didn’t matter. Whatever Neil wanted he got and Charlie would never dare try and say no. So he put on a happy face even though he often wanted to slap one off of Cameron’s. It was Christmas after all, a time to be with the people you love and celebrate with each other. Cameron may be a fink but he also understood them, came from the same roots they did, and for that it was enough to be included.

“Sorry I’m late, why does it smell like that-.” Charlie stops in his tracks. He had just barely made it through the doorway. He eyes Todd at his desk in the corner of the living room, typing feverishly away on who knows what. That’s when an apron wearing Neil stumbles out of the kitchen with a sheepish look on his face and a cloud of smoke pillowing behind him.

“So I have good news and bad news.” He grins as if this sight shouldn’t be concerning. What concerned Charlie more was that Todd was too distracted to even notice the chaos behind him. Had the apartment burned down he’d be partly to blame. 

“What’s that?” Charlie asks, dumping his items down on the second hand couch he not so long ago helped them haul up all these flights of stairs. He didn’t often like babying Neil but sometimes it just came out of him. To think he somehow became the responsible one. 

“Good news is our fire extinguisher works, bad news is that I burned the turkey. Anyone feeling pizza?” And Charlie can only shake his head as Todd rolls his eyes at the boy. Charlie is already walking towards the phone to place the order. 

“I can grab it when I pick up Meeks and Pitts from the train station.” Todd offers and Charlie nods as the line connects with the young girl unfortunate enough to work the weekend before Christmas. He could only imagine the hoards of people last minute Christmas shopping and stopping in for a quick slice. Getting frustrated when they realized everyone else had the same idea. 

“Thanks Charlie.” Neil is quick to say when he hangs up the phone and Charlie just laughs before pulling him into a hug.

“That apron makes you look really domestic by the way.” And it’s meant to be teasing but Neil only grins because he liked his little life. Domestic and all. He spent his days running between auditions and performing in small plays all before coming home to curl up with Todd on the couch. It was all he ever dreamed of and he was so thankful to have it. One of these days he’d finally land that big role and he and Todd wouldn’t have to pull together scraps for this apartment way too nice for them. 

“The briefcase makes you look professional.” He counters back and Charlie only nods because he had to agree. The honest truth was there wasn’t much in it except for some quick paperwork and snacks. He still wasn’t quite sure what everyone else on Wall Street had in theirs. 

“I’ll be back, be good.” Todd calls and both boys wave as they settle on the couch and watch the blonde boy rush out the apartment. 

“So tell me about work?” And that’s how the old best friends get into deep conversation over their life and endeavors. Sharing the good and the bad and the details about the pretty brunette girl Charlie met in a bar last week. It’s as if nothing had ever changed but also everything had. At least they still had each other. 

“Hey, anybody home!” The familiar shout of Knox comes muffled through the door, followed by his hand slapping against the wood. Neil hops up quickly to let them in and both Knox and Cameron laugh at the sight of the apron tied around his waist. 

“Sorry we’re late for dinner Mom.” Cameron grins and Neil glares as he helps take some of the presents out of Knox’s hands. They all filter in, looking just as scrambled and worn from travel as Charlie did a half hour ago. 

“Gentleman, Merry Christmas.” Charlie says from his place on the couch as they all get settled in. Cameron is quick to tug the striped scarf off his neck and eye the apartment that was decorated to the best of Neil and Todd’s abilities. A tree too small for the space tucked away in a corner and covered in homemade paper ornaments. Hung over the windowsills was string popcorn, desperate to make the space more lively even though it was probably made from some meant to be Neil and Todd’s dinner one night. 

“Seems you’ve made yourself at home Nuwanda.” Knox grins at him, moving to shake his hand once all the items are free from his arms. Neil neatly stacking the presents everyone brought under the tree. By the time everyone got here the stack of presents would be taller than the tree itself but it didn’t matter. At least they were together. 

“Considering I’m here getting roped into things all the time it makes sense.” Charlie says, having spent more time in this apartment than his own since living in New York. Really it was just a short subway ride away. 

“Where’s Todd hiding?” Cameron asks as he takes both him and Knox’s coats to hang by the door. Neil chuckles as he finally unties the apron from around his waist, already over the harassment that had been coming from his friends. 

��I had an accident with dinner so he’s picking up a replacement. Oh and Meeks and Pitts.” Neil tells them and they nod knowingly like this wasn’t surprising at all. After all they were all prep school kids, no one taught them how to cook. It was a miracle any of them had survived without the school or their mothers cooking for them. 

“So Charlie, how’s the big job?” Knox asks, settling onto the couch beside him. Sometimes he regretted staying back in Vermont, especially when he saw his friend’s lives here. Yet he’d never change what he ended up with. 

“Me? What about you Mr. Big Time, head of his own firm. Congratulations” Knox’s cheeks tint red in the colored lights of the small tree beside him. About a month ago he had been promoted, more than likely courtesy of his father but from all his hard work too. It was also about work life balance, the only thing keeping him sane was the poetry class he taught after hours at the public school and his lovely wife. 

“Thanks yeah, it’s a lot but it’s nice. I make good money and now I’m just looking forward to settling down.” Everyone chuckles at the ever romantic boy in front of them. It was no surprise to any of them that Knox was just ready to build a real home with his wife Chris who was stupid enough to marry him. How he ever convinced her in the first place was beyond all of them. 

“What about Cameron, working towards being Mayor. Very noble” Knox directs the attention from him as he lightly applauds the red headed boy. Yet his hair wasn’t as dark anymore, already fading with age. The curse of politics. 

“Kiss ass” Charlie pretends to cough into his sleeve and Cameron glares at the boy he couldn’t believe he was still stuck with. Dorming with him all those years had to be torture enough. 

“I’ll have you know Nuwanda, that the citizens love me.” He states with a hand on his chest, no interest in his teasing or dissecting of his life and job. So what he was a rule follower, why would he need to cause trouble when he had Charlie for that. 

“Oh I’m sure.” Charlie agrees with that tone of his, always making Cameron question if it was genuine or not. More than likely not. 

“Still cool you’re doing it Cameron, maybe one day there will be Governor and even President in your future.” Neil encourages, intervening before Cameron started to take Charlie’s teasing too seriously. Some things would never change. 

“Oh please let me die by then.” Charlie mutters as he looks up to the ceiling, hands clasped together like a prayer and that earns him a glare from both Neil and Cameron. 

“Thanks Neil, it’s pretty cool. They gave me an office in the town hall and everything.” Charlie really wants to laugh, tease him considering he had his own office on the 27th floor with a view, but he knew to let Cameron have his moment. After all, he did grow from constantly harassing the kid.                                                                                     

“Look at all of us, another prized graduating class of Welton’s elite.” Knox grins and that makes all of them laugh, basking in the absurdity of it all. Especially since back then they would’ve done everything to fight it. Now they were all contributing members of the working class and somehow managing it too. 

“Hey, what's so funny?” A somehow even taller Pitts asks, a frizzy haired Meeks behind him holding a stack of four large pizzas. After the familiar click of the door Todd joins them and they are officially all together for the Holidays. 

“Hey, how was the train?” Neil excitedly asks as he stands to join them and free up their arms. Forever a good host. Yet the roll of both boys' eyes shows the train was as it always is. Boring and uncomfortable. 

“It got us here, how’s Broadway?” Meeks asks as Todd takes the pizzas from him. Neil grins like the cat that caught the canary. See it didn’t matter if he hadn’t made it big yet, he was doing what he loved and that was something so truly special. Maybe he had been cut off, hadn’t heard from his family in years, but at least he got his greatest wish. Plus he still had his friends.

“Magical.” Is Neil’s only response and Meeks somehow understands before helping organize the presents he and Pitts had brought. 

“We better eat before the food gets cold, help yourselves.” Todd grins as he gestures to the table with the stack of pizzas and now the added paper plates and plastic silverware. The boys don’t need to be told twice, having traveled all day and desperate for some sustenance. 

Their chatter is quickly replaced by the pop of champagne, Charlie grinning as he holds the bottle up like a trophy. The sight is followed by cheers from each of the boys as they get settled and Charlie pours a healthy amount into plastic cups for them each. Christmas as how it should be. Good pizza, lukewarm champagne, glowy Christmas lights, and all of them together. It didn’t matter that the streets of New York were bitterly cold and most of them lived hundreds of miles apart. They’d always have each other, understand one another, and live life the Dead Poets way. 

“Okay, updates people. Let’s hear em!” Charlie says after a while of small talk and making all the food disappear. They’re dispersed around the living room, no one with a proper seat, but it’s the most comfortable any of them have ever been. 

“Um well me and Meeks landed our first job.” Pitts offers, the two of them having been trying to navigate their engineering degrees in the city of their alma mater. They didn’t want to return to Vermont and New York just seemed too big so they stayed put. 

“Hey that’s great you guys.” Cameron grins and that brings a smile to both the boys faces. It was hard starting from the bottom of the ladder but pretty soon they’d get somewhere. Just like Charlie. Somehow the most rambunctious of them all ended up the most successful in a life he didn’t want. It was weird how the world worked. 

“I meet with a publisher after the holidays.” Todd nearly whispers and shocked faces fill the room before each of the boys clap and cheer. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about Todd, we knew you could do it” Charlie says, reaching over and patting his back and a heavy blush covers his cheeks from embarrassment. 

“I’m not published yet.” He reminds them but it doesn’t matter because his friends are excited. Besides who wouldn’t publish Todd Anderson. 

“Believe it or not but I met a girl.” Cameron offers to bring the attention off of Todd. He wasn’t nearly as shy anymore but he still struggled with so much attention on him at once. After all they had been through Cameron was happy to pull their focus away. Even if it was embarrassing for him.

“Have you talked to her yet?” Pitts asked and Cameron’s glare made everyone laugh, Cameron being the biggest victim to how sheltered they were growing up. He just gaped at women like a fish until he was twenty five and even after that it was only proper conversation he was able to make with no eye contact. 

“Yes, her name is Lisa. She’s a secretary and we met at the local bar. Didn’t give me much of a choice, just sat down and said I was buying. Who was I to say no?” And the boys all chuckle at this admission, of course Cameron would fall for a girl who bossed him around. That might be the only thing to make sense in the world. 

“No shit.” Knox grins and Cameron realizes the teasing has passed when all his friends look genuinely happy for him. 

“I have an audition for a lead part next week. I probably won’t get it but if I do you’ll all receive opening night tickets.” Neil tells the group with a smile he can’t suppress covering his entire face. Yes he was broke, scraping by to live this life, yet right now with his home full of love he couldn’t be any happier. Hope was something he wasn’t yet used to. 

“We’ll all be here.” Meeks confirms as if it was no doubt Neil would get the role. The confidence in his ability makes Neil feel on top of the world, or it could be the two glasses of champagne. He wasn’t complaining either way. 

“I’m going to be a Dad.” Knox drops his bomb, a soft smile on his lips, and the admission stuns everyone silent. They all eye one of their eldest friends, trying to imagine him as a father, raising a child that could go through all the same things they did. 

“Not a chance.” Todd is the first to say and the boy laughs, shaking his head at his blonde friend before taking another long sip of his champagne. 

“We found out a week ago, I was freaked out obviously but we’ve been married a year and I have a good job. It’s the right time and she’s really excited.” The look on his face is one of contentment, happy with the cards he had been dealt. Yeah he did end up working in law like his father but he also filled all the other empty spaces with the things that would make him happy. That’s what was important. Balance. 

“Knox, that's amazing! Congratulations!” Neil cheers, hopping up to pull him in a hug and Knox accepts it. He held all the same fears for his future child as the other boys did but at least they could support each other. He knew his child would have six really great Uncles. 

When Neil lets him go the other boys follow suit, muttering congratulations and embracing him with love and support. Life was changing and they were getting older, even the world was progressing, growing and accepting everyday. Yet what needed to stay the same did, which is why Charlie is quick to pour another round of drinks before holding his cup in the air with that same confident smile he’d worn his entire life.

“To the Dead Poets and the future class.” Charlie says, shooting a wink at Knox. The boys all repeat the words, hitting the plastic cups together before putting back more of the champagne. 

With Charlie’s encouragement and enforcement, it’s not long until each of the poets are feeling the alcohol. Cheeks warm in the same apartment and eyeing the soft snow that’s beginning to flutter to the ground. The Bing Crosby vinyl Neil put on an hour ago spinning with no sound as the Holiday surrounds them. It was so much more magical than any winter spent at Welton. It was the kind of night meant to be enjoyed, embraced. 

“Let’s go ice skating.” Todd breaks the silence, head turning to him quickly. Todd spots each of their confused faces before rolling his eyes. “Come on, it’s a gorgeous night and I bet the tree looks amazing right now. What do we have to lose?”

“I’m in.” Charlie tips his glass in his direction and Todd grins as each of the boys consider. After all, the alcohol would keep them warm, and a little field trip never hurt anybody. No sneaking out is required these days. 

“Let’s do it, I’ve never seen the Rockefeller tree anyway.” Cameron is the next to agree and that shocks everyone on an entirely different level. Yet his agreement is what gives the rest of them the push, all of them collecting their coats, and excited to take on this next adventure.

All with refreshed drinks they hit the town, snow falling around them, and slush soaking the bottoms of their pant legs. They walk arm in arm, chattering about nothing as they make their way to the nearest Subway. This is Christmas, carefree and full of love. It doesn’t matter that Charlie keeps trying to steal Cameron’s hat and that people give them weird looks when Meeks jumps onto Pitts' back for a piggy back ride. Right now it felt like they were seventeen again, carefree and happy. That’s what was important, nothing else. 

“Now that's a Goddamn tree.” Knox is the first to say when exit the subway station and starts to blend in with the large crowd. Tourists and locals all enjoy the weekend before Christmas with one of the most beautiful sights in the world. 

“Wow.” Cameron mutters and Pitts and Meeks nod in agreement behind him. The tree is as bright as the sun, a rainbow of Christmas cheer and beauty. It’s the distraction they all need as Charlie slips to pay the attendant for all of them to skate. 

“You didn't have to do that.” Neil scolds and he shrugs, happy to provide for all his friends. Lucky they got to do this all together.

“I don't mind, come pick out your skates guys.” And the boys shuffle over, yelling sizes as they all receive a pair. None of them have ever actually skated before. Skiing was big at Welton but that was an entirely different world. 

That’s how they all end up like Bambi, trying their best not to fall as they glide out into the crowds of people skating underneath the giant tree. It’s Christmas bottled up in a moment, even when Pitts wipes out and brings Todd down with him. Knox laughs so hard he has to stop or he’ll fall himself. It’s then Charlie decides to bump Cameron who does everything not to fall. Legs spinning like Roadrunner beneath him. It’s Meeks who grabs his back and steadies him, allowing him to glare at Charlie who’s being punched in the arm by Neil for shoving Cameron in the first place. 

“I’d say this is much better than the old Indian Cave.” Neil says once they all find their footing and start lapping the rink like everyone else. It’s the most fun he’d ever had during Christmas, not a chance they could top next year. 

“Just as crowded though.” Meeks jokes and the boys all laugh, having stuffed themselves in that cave and hit their heads enough times for it to be true. There was no doubt New York City was full of people, especially during Christmas. A night like this was worth facing the crowds if they all got to be together. 

“At least we’re together, it's going to get harder and harder every year.” Todd points out and they all collectively nod, knowing life will keep going and more things will start to happen. A weekend near the Holiday’s will be harder and harder to accomplish, even with all the distance between them. 

“Yeah especially now that Knox is going to have a kid.” Pitts points out and all eyes catch Knox again, still processing this milestone and what it’ll mean for them. When that kid was born they’d no longer be the current generation, everything could change. Even the dynamics of the group. 

“I’m going to do my best.” Knox says but they know now to maybe not expect him next year, or maybe they’d return to Vermont for the Holidays. It’s not that it wasn’t exciting, in fact it was some of the best news any of them heard. What was scary is knowing this kid could go through the things they had endured and have to bear the weight of soul crushing guilt. Have the world expect something of them when they're only just a child. It made them want to protect but that was a good thing. It meant this kid was already loved more than ever and would have a support system that defied all odds. 

“We’re not worried about that Knoxious, we always make things work.” Charlie encourages, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder and he smiles as they each top directly in front of the tree. Looking up for what felt like miles as the dazzling Christmas lights twinkled in their eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re the Dead Poets Society after all, we live deliberately.” Todd reminds them and they all smile, memorizing this feeling of all being together just as they once were knowing change was just around the corner. Visits will become less and less but the love would always be there, no matter what milestone each of them faced. 

It’s the Christmas that changes everything, a new decade upon them. Within the next year Knox would have a little girl, eyes identical to his and bright blonde hair just like Chris’. Todd’s book will get published, hitting shelves by the summer and sky rocketing his career. Cameron gets engaged, a shock to even himself, but happier than he’s ever been. Meeks and Pitts business will take off, designing some of the largest and most intricate structures Connecticut has ever seen. Charlie will fall hopelessly and desperately in love, leaving the bachelor lifestyle behind, and eloping with the girl of his dreams. Then there was Neil, who nailed his audition just as each of the Poet’s thought. He makes it big on Broadway, and just as promised, each of them are there to see. It’s like deja vu sitting in the crowd, just as they once had a decade ago. When the curtains close they start the standing ovation, cheering loud enough to burst their lungs, knowing this time when they meet Neil outside the night will go the way it should have ten years ago. A celebration of love and togetherness like it was always meant to be. 

Finally having contributed their verse. 

a/n: I had wrote this as a Secret Santa gift for the lovely @happiness-runs but I figured you all would enjoy too. Merry Christmas ❤️