#anyway i was really excited to sit down and write a christmas fic this week and then i was like

[quinn-pop]

merry christmas if you celebrate and happy holidays in general lol

strangely i have 2 somewhat christmas related unfinished animations just sitting around. huh. weird coincidence

[toomuchracket]

all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip! 

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock. 

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet. 

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply. 

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

[putellas11]

A/N:  Merry Christmas everyone! 🎁🎄 So happy to participate in the Christmas Writing Challenge alongside such an amazing group of writers. Thank you to @nytb for putting all this together! Check out @nytb’s fic that was posted earlier as well as @redhairedwolfwitch's fic coming out soon!

Small but Meaningful (Mapi Leon x Reader)

You’re not one to make impulsive decisions. It’s crucial to think things through and carefully consider all the pros and cons before making a final verdict. It doesn’t matter if it's deciding on a new job or a new pair of shoes, the process is the same. 

To you, this is completely normal. It’s the way you’ve always been. To others, however, it’s a little extreme. Everyone in your life, at some point or another, has encouraged you to be more spontaneous. To not think things through so much and to just go with the flow. But, they quickly realize that it’s just not in your nature. 

And yet, you managed to fall in love with one of the most impulsive human beings you’ve ever met. Unlike you, María Pilar León rarely gives more than five minutes of thought to any decision. If her heart calls for it, she will do it. Mapi doesn’t fear consequences. She knows she can handle anything and everything that is thrown her way. And that’s why you love her so much.

Her tattoos are a perfect example of this. One night, the two of you are just lying in bed, scrolling through social media and occasionally showing each other a funny video or meme. 

And then all of the sudden, Mapi sits up with a gasp, “me encanta!” 

On her screen is a tattoo design of a skull with an outline of a light bulb. The moment you see it, you know the two of you will be in a tattoo parlour in less than 24 hours. 

And just as you predicted, you’re now sitting next to Mapi as she discusses a few modifications to the design with the artist. Within seconds, Mapi made a decision that can last forever. She liked it, so she’s getting it. For her, it’s that easy.

You’ve thought about getting a tattoo before. The idea initially excites you, but once you really start thinking about it, you end up talking yourself out of it. Although Mapi’s personality and perspective on life have certainly rubbed off on you a little, just the thought of getting a tattoo gives you a headache. 

With the design finalized, Mapi can barely contain her excitement. “Do you like it?” she asks, looking at you with a sparkle in her eye. 

You may never actually get one yourself, but that doesn’t mean you don’t appreciate the beauty of tattoos. Not to mention how hot they look on your girlfriend. 

“I love it, babe.” 

Mapi, satisfied to hear your answer, leans back to allow the artist to apply the stencil to her skin.

“And when will I have the honor of tattooing you, Y/N?” asks the artist, still focused on her work.

Mapi stifles her laughter. She, of all people, knows the chances of you ever getting a tattoo are slim, if non-existent. 

“Por favor, don’t make me laugh,” Mapi shakes her head, a teasing smile on her lips, “I think her brain would short-circuit trying to pick out a tattoo.” 

You nod, in full agreement with Mapi. “Not an exaggeration.”

“You should have seen her last week trying to pick out a new toothbrush. She had like five tabs opened on her phone, just reading review after review.” 

You squint your eyes at Mapi, giving her a little kick. “Hey! It was a big decision and it didn’t even take me that long to decide, anyway.” 

“Remind me again how long it took you?” 

You look down at the floor, feeling a little warmth creeping up behind your neck, “I don’t know,” you mumble, “like 30 minutes.”

Mapi turns to the artist and gives them a clear and obvious, I told you so, look. “You see what I’m dealing with?” 

“I’ll get one, one day…” you say, trying your best to sound confident. 

“Sure you will, baby. Sure you will.” 

You and Mapi may be two very different people, that doesn’t mean you don’t share a few similarities. Like Mapi, you are very competitive. The very few times in your life when you’ve said, fuck it, without thinking of the consequences, have been for the sake of winning. 

“Go ahead, underestimate me. That’ll be fun.”

Mapi, noticing the change in your tone, blows a kiss in your direction. She loves to tease you, but also knows not to push you too much. Unlike so many others in your past, she never wants to make you feel bad for what some might consider a flaw. 

“You could always just be a little one, y’know,” the artist says, working on the lines of the tattoo “and if it means something to you, even better. Small but meaningful.” 

You remain relatively quiet for the remainder of the session, lost in thought. What the artist said resonated with you. 

Small, but meaningful. 

___________

For the first time in years, you don’t have to stress about what to get Mapi for Christmas. She has loved every gift you’ve given her in the past — no matter how simple or expensive the gift. But still, you agonize for months on what to get her. 

Now, just a few days before Christmas, you’ve never been so calm. Of course, Mapi has noticed how out of the ordinary this is for you. 

“Something’s not right,” she says, standing in front of the TV and blocking your view. 

“What do you mean?” 

Mapi looks you up and down, “you’re acting weird.” 

“How am I acting weird?”

“Two days before Christmas and you’re sitting here, watching TV, calm as a cucumber.”

“And what’s so weird about that?” you try to look past Mapi and at the screen, acting oblivious as to what the big deal is. 

Mapi snaps her fingers at you in an attempt to get your attention, “you should be freaking out!” she exclaims. “This is like the most stressful time of year for you. I mean, did you just decide not to get me a gift this year?”

“I already know what I’m getting you, amor” you tell her, brushing her off.

“You do?” 

“Mhmm.”

Mapi squints her eyes at you, one eyebrow slightly perked in suspicion. She knows you have something up your sleeve, but you know she’ll never be able to guess as to exactly what. 

For the next two days, you find Mapi snooping under the bed, in the closet, in every cabinet and every possible hiding spot in the apartment. If you were able to decide on a gift so quickly, it must be a good one. 

Now, sitting together under the Christmas tree, Mapi’s gift is still nowhere in sight. 

“I can’t take this anymore!” she says, tapping her knees impatiently, “come on, stop messing with me and give me my gift.” 

You’re just as excited to show Mapi her gift as she is to receive it. Her impatience is to be understood. This is the first gift you've given her that did not require any second guessing out of fear that she’ll hate it. 

Wanting to draw out the suspense, your movements are slow. Very carefully you tug up the sleeve of your Christmas sweater. Mapi can’t help but lean forward when she sees the reindeer band-aid on your wrist. 

“What happened?” she asks with concern. The gift is suddenly of no interest to her. 

“Go ahead, take it off,” you encourage her. Now only a few seconds away from the reveal, you can’t help the grin spreading across your face.

Mapi delicately pulls on the end of the band-aid until a small, number 4, can be seen. As soon as she sees it, she leans back. A puzzled look on her face. 

“What is that?” she asks, refusing to believe what she's seeing.  

“What do you think it is?” 

Mapi shakes her head, refusing to even believe the possibility. “No, I don't believe you” she says, leaning in again to get a closer look. “It can’t be real.” She wets her finger and tries to wipe away the number, but there it remains. 

“I know I tend to overthink everything and that it drives you crazy sometimes — even though I know you’ll never admit it,” you tug her chin so she’s looking you in the eyes, “but if there’s one thing, I’m hundred percent certain of, it’s you.” 

Mapi melts under your touch. She’s perfectly aware of how big of a decision this was for you and the fact that she’s the inspiration for your first tattoo makes it all that more special.

“I love it,” Mapi gives you a big smile and leans in to give you a soft and tender kiss, “and I love you,” she says against your lips.

Her reaction is everything you hoped for and more. 

“I have so many cool designs to show you!” she says, shaking you side to side with her hands on your shoulders. 

You put up your hand to stop her, “wait, don't you get too excited now.”

But it's too late. Mapi's already reaching for her phone.  

[imagine-that-100]

I’ve just finished all my finals and I need to immediately came up here and thank you and your AMAZING WRITING for single-handedly carrying me over my multiple real bad moments during the last two weeks. Like you won’t understand how they keep me in company and offer comfort for someone who is struggling with invalidated feelings and purposely isolating herself from everything else…I remember sitting on the toilet crying and then calming down as I read Chicken Shop Date(the fic is SO GOOD) not as unhealthy coping mechanism but like to motivate myself back to studying just so once my break starts I can binge read all your docs again. I completely agree with what another anon said the other day about reading your fic like watching a movie, like I know y/n is reader insert but I just…somehow love your y/n the most you know, I love how I can see her as an individual character and do the reader insert if I want to….(like I aspire to be her not bc she gets all the hot boys hsixhsjodj but because I love her as a character, she’s like so smart and interesting and badass in the best way) I feel like if she’s a real person she’s be the coolest girl ever and I’d want to befriend her (speaking of this, ma’am I’d want to be your friend if I know you irl, I hope this doesn’t come across creepy it’s just I think you’re really cool and people who can write this eloquently is just WOW…ievhxusbhdhsh ahhh I’m so nervous ) Anyway sorry for the rambling I just want to say THANK YOU thank you thank you for existing and for your amazing writing and wish you an early happy holiday :))) <3

Omgggggg, first of all congratulations on finishing everything!!!! I hope you’ve done fantastic!!! And I’m so happy that the fics helped you get through it! If I can’t be there to give you a hug, I’m glad the fics were there for you as one!

Yesssss I feel like that about my yns! No two are the same to me, they all have different personalities and to me they all look different. It’s why I’ll be giving my ocs names in future in my long fics, I’m excited for them!! Also yes the aim is defo to be more like yn ahahaha😂💜

Ahhhhhh thank you! I’ll be besties!! I’m obsessed with the 1975 and am so I’m legit just like I am on here 😂 just message me if you ever want to chat about them! I honestly could for days! And I’m wishing you a Merry Christmas too! Hope you have a great one! Thank you so much for reading 💜

[nottodayjjk]

dirty little secret ~ knj

❆ summary: one fateful night in december, you come to acquire santa's naughty or nice list by accident. together with your neighbour and best friend namjoon you uncover the dirty secrets of your neighbours plunging everything into chaos. bringing mischief about is all fun games, until your own little secret appears on the naughty and nice list.

❆ pairing: namjoon x female reader (minor appearance of other idols)

❆ word count: 10,4k

❆ genre: humor, romance, fluff, smut

❆ fic warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), language

❆ rating: 18+

❆ notes from the author: this fic is part of a hoeliday well spent from the christmas in july collab hosted by @kookdiaries​, @kithtaehyung​ and @xiaokoo​ and is loosely based on the hallmark channel-movie ‘naughty or nice’ (2012). i had a lot of fun writing this! big thank you again to @kookdiaries for creating this incredible banner and for @minigum for being the most wonderful beta reader <3

❆ tag list: @shameless-army​​ @writtenwhalien​​ @shrimpmsg​​ @moonchild1​

In the dark of the night, snow was falling softly and covered the street in peaceful quietness. Christmas decorations and flickering candles adorned the lit windows and lights were beautifully draped around snow-covered bushes. Sparkling reindeers pulled Santa’s carriage and inflated snowmen waved happily at cars driving by. Christmas time had just begun.

A few lamps illuminated the street with their yellow dimmed light as a dark, giant shadow slipped past. Quiet footsteps could be heard in the stillness of the cold winter night, wading through ankle-deep snow in heavy black boots. They were on their way to the sturdy apartment building on the left side of the desolate street, determined to fulfil their quest. They took another look around before they slipped through the glass door, the red fabric of their clothes gleamed under the flickering light of the broken lamp of the entrance lobby. Then, the night was quiet again.

You had been out with your best friend and next-door neighbour Namjoon whom you knew a few years by now. From the first day you had set foot in the small apartment building, he had been a helping hand, mainly through helping you carry a myriad of small boxes and things all the way up to the 6th floor where the both of you lived. The elevator had, of course, been out of order on that day. But he hadn’t complained at all! And because he had gone way out of his way even though he had only met you that same day, you had invited him to a take-away pizza and a bottle of cheap wine from the supermarket right around the corner. You had not expected your first night in your new home to be like this, to be so much fun. He had stayed until the morning, the two of you talking about anything and everything until the birds had chirped good morning outside. And the bond between the two of you had only grown from there on out.

You had visited a local Christmas market together, drinking a whole lot of eggnog and relishing in the joyful spirit of Christmas. You had never been someone to celebrate Christmas before you had met Namjoon. In your first year, he had basically dragged you to the market and filled you up with all kinds of different Christmassy drinks and snacks, bought you several gingerbread hearts, and even got you to ride one of the many attractions with him. The next day had been awful, the hot chocolate with rum had come out the same way that it had gone in. Still, it had been the most joyous Christmas time you had ever had.

Ever since then, he always did something new with you every Christmas. Buying a tree, seeing a Santa Claus show in the city centre, or writing letters with long wish lists to Santa. But it had never come down to actually spending Christmas eve and morning together, to your disappointment. He usually drove to his parents, a three-hour ride from where you lived, leaving you on your own to sulk in loneliness until he came back for New Year’s Eve.

Well, this year he had bugged you until you had agreed to go décor shopping for your apartment with him. It had made him sad to see your living space so empty during a cheery time like this. He got you all the basic things: fairy lights, cute little snowmen that had the friendliest smiles, a whole lot of candlesticks with red candles that smelled like gingerbread and cinnamon, hell, even glitter balls and bows for the small tree he also had gotten you.

After putting all the decorations up and “to celebrate your joyful shopping spree”, as Namjoon had called it, he had once again persuaded you to go to the Christmas market, letting no feeble excuses count. He had been in too good of a mood anyway for you to turn him down. You found it cute when he was all excited and giddy like this.

He had ordered eggnog after eggnog. His infectious enthusiasm had only gone up, not down a tad as you had hoped. But after the third eggnog, you hadn’t minded anymore anyway. Namjoon had entertained you all through the evening, making you laugh and enjoy yourself after a long week of studying and learning. Even though it had just snowed the other day, the eggnog had held you warm through and through, your cheeks feeling hot. Maybe it had also been a little bit because of Namjoon and how he had scooted closer and closer to you throughout the evening, ‘to keep each other warm’ as he had stated.

You had stayed until the booth had closed and the owner had hushed you to finally head home. Given both of your inebriated states, getting home had taken twice as long as it did when you’d left from home to go out.

As you had reached the door, waving a last goodbye to Namjoon who had stumbled clumsily into his own apartment, it had taken you a few minutes until you finally had gotten the key into the hole. You hadn’t even bothered to brush your teeth, only changing into comfy pyjamas – which had been quite the task – and slipping into bed. Dreamland hadn’t waited long to come, and you had fallen sound asleep.

So, to no one’s surprise, you didn’t hear when soft but heavy footsteps approached your apartment in the middle of the night. Didn’t spot the broad shadow that could be seen through the small gap under your door where the light fell in. Didn’t notice when a thick package wrapped with packing paper was pushed through the letter slot of your apartment door.

The package fell to the ground with a gentle thud. The towering figure hummed a merry tune before taking off again. You only turned around in your sleep, mumbling, “No more eggnog, Namjoon”, before it was quiet once more.

The rest of the night went uneventfully, and the package laid peacefully on your door mat until morning came.

A pounding headache. That was what had woken you up. The eggnog hadn’t been a good idea from the start, and you had told Namjoon several times. But even though he had listened to you, he had ignored your reasonable request. He hadn’t really given you a choice to begin with. And you hadn’t wanted to complain. At least he had paid and that was all that had been needed to convince you.

While Namjoon was already producing his own music, you were still a university student majoring in Art. You got by fine with the money your parents sent you and what you earned from your part-time job at the library, but you were still glad for every penny you could keep and save for after university. You dreamed of opening your own business and, heck, you needed a lot of money for that.

When Namjoon had heard of your ideas, he had been in immediately, supporting you in every way possible. Even if it meant paying for your drinks or your museum visits on the weekend. As long as he got to spend time with you, it was worth all his money.

You desperately grabbled for the nightstand. Luckily, you had prepared pain meds and water in advance, even a small piece of toast. Your nights out with Namjoon usually ended like this, so you are accustomed to it.

Sitting up a little, you popped the pills into your mouth first before chucking the water into your throat as if your life depended on it. Once you’d dealt with that, you reached towards the toast, munching on it until it was no more.

You felt better immediately as the medicine worked its way through your system and the toast soaked up the remaining alcohol in your stomach. Slowly the turns in your stomach lessened and until there was one thing overtaking your needs. It was time for coffee.

Slowly, you got up, swaying a little back onto the bed but overall, it was not as bad as you’d had expected. Sure, the eggnog had made your stomach a little weak, but you felt certain it could handle the coffee. Otherwise, you couldn’t make it through the day. Coffee was vital right now.

On the way out of your bedroom, you snatched your long silk gown, putting it on. You headed straight to the coffee machine, pushing the little blinking button so it started grinding the black beans. The soft smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air as you grabbed a big mug from the sink. You sighed and leaned one hip on the counter.

As you waited for the coffee you looked around and your gaze fell onto an exceptionally cheery snowman on your coffee table. You had never been keen on Christmas decorations. They were too bright, too colourful, and too cheesy.

Well, jokes on you. All the things the two of you had bought, the fairy lights, red candles, a few reindeers and snowmen, and some green fir branches, were now spread around your apartment, the small tree chilling next to your TV in the corner. It was hard to say ‘No’ to Namjoon’s puppy eyes. He usually got his way with you.

It had also been his idea to not only put the lights on the curtain rods but to wind them around them, too. 

He had held you safely by your waist as you had stood on the ladder to reach up there. His long, slender hands had felt so warm through your clothes that your heart had stuttered for a second and you had gotten the job done rather quickly to get away from this weird feeling that had erupted in your chest. Because you couldn’t admit it to yourself. You couldn’t admit that Namjoon had become more than a best friend to you over the last few years.

But you had to confess; the lights were very very pretty. You even thought about keeping them up there after Christmas. They brought a soft glow around the room that made it feel unbelievably cosy and romantic.

As you absentmindedly grabbed for your finished cup of coffee you couldn’t help but remember the way Namjoon’s skin had glowed in these lights. How mesmerizing he had looked. How hard you had had to keep yourself from putting a hand up to one of his cheeks and caressing his soft skin.

You lost yourself in the memory for a second before you noticed something very peculiar from the corner of your eye. Something very square and brown. It was a package. On your doormat. ‘What in god’s name,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed it in curious suspicion. The post usually never came that early. Especially not on a Saturday. And why had no one rang the bell? It was odd, to say the least.

You left your coffee on the counter, steam still rising in puffy clouds from the cup. Cautiously, you made your way over to the mysterious package that read your full address, but no sender. It was quite big, now that you had gotten closer, and it had you wondering how it had fit through the narrow letter slot. Maybe Namjoon was pulling a prank on you?

Before you picked up the package, you opened the door and checked the hallway, frantically looking left and right. But no one was there, not even Namjoon to cheekily grin at you.

Closing the door behind you, you took the brown package and laid it down on the counter next to your coffee. You eyed it once more while taking a long sip from the beverage. Should you open it? What if there was something… bad or deadly inside? You had heard of such packages before on the news. People sent them to get revenge on ex-partners or enemies. Well, you had no such things… and Namjoon seemed to be out of the picture as well.

After some more staring, curiosity finally got the best of you, and you carefully ripped open the brown packing paper. It revealed a heavy book that was edged in red velvety fabric that had golden ornaments engraved. Imprinted on it was the lettering “Naughty or Nice”. Wait- what?!

Snorting laughter erupted from your chest. This had to be a prank, right? ‘Namjoon’s good,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Keeps hiding until I actually look at the book. Not a very good prank, but alright…’

As you were about to open it, you could hear a key jingling in front of your door and some mumbled curses. ‘Speaking of the devil.’ Namjoon strode through the door in his pyjama and a long gown, his hair looking dishevelled and eyes still half-closed. He had your spare keys which gave him the possibility to let himself in whenever and you didn’t mind. At this point, it had become commonplace.

You watched with an amused grin as he immediately scuffed over to the coffee machine, grabbing another cup from the sink, and turning it on once more. He inhaled the smell just like you did before he turned around to face you.

“Morning, Y/N,” he hummed, and a lop-sided grin adorned his lips. Hell, how did this sleepy look fit him so well? “How is your stomach?”

You crossed your arms and leant back on the counter. “Better than I thought. You?”

“Same, same. I just really craved your coffee. This machine is a literal angel!” He turned back around to grab his coffee and take a big gulp before letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Very funny, by the way.” You pointed at the book behind you, still laying unopened on your counter. “You never have Christmas-pranked me before so that’s a first. But it isn’t one of your best ideas, if I can be honest with you.”

There was a moment of silence. You had expected him to laugh at you or make a clever remark about how he had gotten you to open it. But… nothing. He just blankly stared at you. “What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Making this book look like Santa’s Naughty or Nice list? Very funny, Namjoon, very funny!” You chuckled a little at him pretending not to know what you were talking about.

He spied over your shoulder, reading the lettering. And shook his head. “Y/N. I… didn’t prank you. This–“ He pointed to the book. “–is nothing I came up with. Though I must say, I think it’s a pretty good idea!” He snickered a little and took another sip of his coffee.

“But–“ You turned around to the book. “–who sent it to me then? I don’t know who else would try and prank me…” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taking another look at the packing paper. Still nothing but your address.

“Have you opened it yet?”

“No, I was just about to when you came through the door.” You put a hand on the binding. The velvet fabric felt soft under your fingertips and the golden lettering glittered in the glim of the fairy lights. It looked so… real.

Carefully, you opened it, coming face to face with a blank page. Maybe the others? You browsed to the next page. And the next. And the next. But they were all blank, not even a tiny little bit of ink to be seen. ‘Weird…’

Skimming through the rest of the book, you looked for anything peculiar. Nothing. “It’s empty,” you told Namjoon, while going back to the first page and leaving it open.

You heard shuffling on the floor and suddenly Namjoon leaned over your shoulder to look at the book. He stretched out his hand to skim through it as well. He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off his body and his breath on your neck as he let out a confused huff.

When he stepped back from you after inspecting the book, you wished him back closer behind you. ‘Stop that,’ you scolded yourself in your head. ‘He is your best friend!’

“Well, it actually looks like someone pulled a prank on you,” Namjoon stated while making himself another cup of coffee. He usually runs on three. On a good day. That you knew his coffee consumption so well said a lot about how regularly he came over in the morning to use your coffee machine.

“Apparently…”

Loud bass suddenly disrupted the morning, booming through the wall to your left. ‘No, not again!’ It was your other neighbour… Jungkook. He kept it down on most days. But he always pulled this on a Saturday morning, and you were sure he was doing it on purpose just to annoy you. You had banged on the wall a few times before. On some days he even turned the music down after your knocking complaint. But today, it was on a whole other level. As if he knew you had been out late and had a mild hangover.

“Ugh, I’ll swear I’ll punch him some day,” you mumbled while pinching your eyebrows in frustration.

Namjoon knew you weren’t kidding. Jungkook had been getting on your nerves ever since he had moved in next door. Before him, there lived a nice and quiet lady who occasionally baked chocolate cookies for the two of you and had always put something nice in front of your door during Christmas time. Now, there was Jungkook. Student, party animal, and the type to listen to music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Namjoon said. “But I also don’t want to have to visit you in prison during Christmas time.” He chuckled lightly, running a hand through his hair before chucking down his coffee.

Suddenly, you heard a rustling noise of paper coming from the counter. The book! It was turning its pages on its own. “Holy-“

You stepped in front of the counter, Namjoon following closely, eyes as wide as the moon. “How is that possible?” he whispered while peering over your shoulder again.

A golden light bloomed from the Naughty or Nice book and the two of you just stared at in great awe as sparkles danced around the room. “I’m usually not one to believe in magic,” Namjoon muttered under his breath. “But this is a whole new thing…”

The turning stopped and the pages gently dropped down. Beautiful, curved letters emerged, writing your neighbour’s name. They shone golden in the light. “What is happening?” you hissed while intently watching the book. Namjoon just shrugged his shoulders, speechless.

 Jeon Jungkook: always leaves his trash in front of Mrs. Kim’s apartment door

Underneath was a moving picture, showing Jungkook looking around frantically before putting his trash bag on Mrs. Kim’s doormat and a more detailed description of what was going on. You gasped out in disbelief. “Mrs. Kim is always so nice! How dare he!?”

Namjoon let out an angry huff. “You’ve got a good point but-“ His forehead crinkled in confusion and scepticism. “How does it do that?”

You shrugged, turning the page to see if it had a built-in display. But… there was nothing. It was just a normal page like any other. You turned back to the picture of Jungkook where he had gotten caught in the act. By whom? You didn’t know, could only guess… But no, this was not possible. Santa didn’t exist. But… an idea came to your head.

“Hmm, let’s put this to a test,” you said as the pounding bass continued to boom through the wall. You left the book open, the image of Jungkook engraved in your head, as you turned on your heels and made your way over to the door.

“You actually gonna go over there?” Namjoon trailed behind you, not sure if this was the right thing to do. You definitely had a reason to be angry at Jungkook. But what if this was all just a scam? Well, it felt far too real for that, but Namjoon wasn’t yet ready to call his beliefs into question. This was insane.

You nodded and opened the door. “He has been getting on my nerves for a few weeks now. It’s time to put this to a stop.” You gave him one last determined book before stepping out into the hallway.

Namjoon shook his head in amusement at your vendetta and stopped at your doorstep, leaning against the frame watching you. This was your fight. He wouldn’t get between the frontlines. He knew your anger all too well.

You rapped viciously on the door; quite sure Jungkook wouldn’t hear any of it. And of course, the door didn’t open and the music blared on. So, you resorted to a more effective method. You pressed the button of the bell and held it down. ‘I will have you answer your door even if it takes the whole freaking day.’

It took a few seconds, but you heard the music fading and someone swearing behind the door. It worked. A malicious smirk adorned your lips. You weren’t even nervous, more excited to try the spicy information you had acquired about him. The keys jingled in the keyhole and an annoyed face appeared in the ajar door. “What is it?”

You crossed your arms and put on your most intimidating look. The secret from the book gave you a hell of a confident boost. “Jungkook,” you started, “I’ve told you many many times to quiet it down.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed. “I know. I’m sorry but-“

You cut him off immediately. “No buts. You’re either gonna tone it down from now on or…”

“Or what? You’re trying to threaten me?” He laughed and threw his head back. “That’s new. Well, you’ve got nothing on me, Y/N.”

You squinted your eyes at him, and a smile grew on your face. “You sure?”

Jungkook leaned against the door frame while looking bored. The arrogant look on his face gave you the rest of the encouragement you needed. “Well,” you swirled one of your hair strands around your finger, “I know you’re putting your trash bags on Mrs. Kim’s doormat, so you don’t have to take it out yourself…”

It took a moment for Jungkook to realise what you just said. But when he finally did, his jaw almost dropped down to his knees. “How-“

“The poor woman. I think she deserves to know…” You turned around, feeling the power pulsating in your hands. It was electrifying! You slowly strode over to your apartment.

“Y/N!” Jungkook called out after you, desperation apparent in his voice. “I-“ He dropped his head in defeat, all pride and arrogance had left his body. “If you don’t tell her, I promise I’m gonna tone it down from now on,” he caved in.

“You better,” you just answered and walked away, leaving a speechless Jungkook by his door.

Namjoon snickered as you entered your apartment again, finding the whole situation very amusing. “Have you seen his face? He was so stunned!” Both of you burst out into a fit of laughter, needing a few seconds to calm yourselves down again.

You went back to the still open book. “So it tells the truth…” you stated while tracing the letters with your fingers when they suddenly started to disappear. “Oh! They’re vanishing!”

“Probably because you called him out on that,” Namjoon assumed, looking at the now empty page and then at you. “You know what that means… right?”

You turned it over in your head for a few seconds before you answered Namjoon’s gaze with a mischievous smile. “Let’s discover some secrets this Christmas!”

And so, the two of you went on to discover the hidden secrets and misdeeds of all of your neighbours. The book was never wrong. Not when it told you that Mrs. Kim had a secret fling with Mr. Sung from floor 5 and they were acting like giddy teenagers, that Mrs. Lee let her dog pee on Mrs. Park’s door mat once in a while because they couldn’t stand each other, that Soonyoung from second floor liked to bathe in pure milk occasionally, that Yeji from first floor stole Mr. Chew’s newspaper now and then because he was rude to basically everyone in the building, that Taehyung from fourth floor had sang Christmas carols in the middle of the night for Yeji because he had been out to drink, and many many more.

Some of them you used for your amusement, but most of them were kept between the both of you. You felt closer to Namjoon than ever before. Sharing and keeping secrets about your neighbours bound you together. And Christmas time was a blast, for the both of you! You went out once in a while to the Christmas market again but usually you kept your noses in the Naughty or Nice book, awaiting the next secret to appear. So, Christmas time went by in a happy blur.

After coming home from another one of your merry adventures, you began to realise that this might all be over soon. Actually, Christmas evening was tomorrow already and Namjoon would probably be off to his parents. You didn’t want to stop discovering all these secrets with Namjoon. You had spent a lot of time together; it had been so much fun. And you liked being around him, you knew that. You weren’t ready to admit it, but you had fallen in love with him even more by now. Even after all these years, his way of living and his wisdom still amazed you to no end.

Your thoughts were suddenly disrupted by Namjoon as the both of you reached your apartment door. “Y/N?”

“Yes,” you answered, shaking yourself out of your thoughts. Namjoon stood in front of you, nervously wrenching his hands. You had never seen him skittish before. Had something happened?

He took a deep breath before he began to speak. “I was… wondering if you wanted to spent Christmas together?” Namjoon nervously scratched his head. “I-“ he stumbled over his own words for a moment. “I don’t want you to be alone for Christmas. And my parents won’t be at home anyway. So, I was wondering- I mean-“ He rambled on and gestured wildly between the both of you.

To stop him, you gently put your hand on his arm. “Yes,” you answered simply and smiled at him happily, not able to contain your excitement at his request. Your heart was beating in your chest. Spending Christmas with Namjoon was a dream come true.

“I... would love to.” You rubbed your arm awkwardly while not being able to meet his eyes. You were sure he would be able to read your confused feelings for him right there.

He let out a small huff of relief. “Good, good… We can go grocery shopping together tomorrow if you want. So we can pick something to eat that we both like.”

“That sounds like a great idea. Meet in the morning as usual?” you asked, fidgeting with your jacket sleeve.

Namjoon nodded. “I will cook of course. You will be my guest! Also, your cooking skills might be a little insufficient for Christmas…” Mischievousness gleamed in his eyes and you just shook your head, laughing a little.

“I think my cooking skills are fine as they are. It’s not my fault you don’t like the food that I cook!” you exclaimed and hit his shoulder playfully. “Also, your food might taste better than mine. But you’re definitely more chaotic than I am!”

“Okay, okay,” he put his hands up in defeat. “You’ve got a point. I’m still cooking though.” He took off his beanie to run a hand through his hair. He stretched his arms out, motioning for you to give him a goodbye-hug.

Your skin tingled as you obliged. His hands rested on your back as he tugged you close. “Good night, Y/N,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a shiver running down your back. Gosh, his voice and his soft lips were hovering right next to your ear. It created images in your head you shouldn’t be thinking about in the proximity of your best friend, but you couldn’t help yourself.

You swallowed a big lump in your throat. “Good night to you too,” you whispered back with a hoarse voice, heart still fluttering. He could hear the rapid beating for sure.

Both of you stayed in the hug longer than necessary, thinking about what would become of your adventures once Christmas was over. You were sure the book would disappear, that its owner would come to get it.

You sighed before stepping away from Namjoon, giving him a small smile before pulling out your keys. He went over to his door, a jingling noise reaching your ears. You looked over your shoulder before entering your apartment.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” Namjoon called over in a hushed voice before he disappeared behind his own door. Little did you and he know what effect these last few words would have on you…

Wanton sounds escaped your mouth as your hands grasped fiercely for your sheets. Waves of pleasure rolled through your body as you felt a desperate mouth latching onto your clit, tongue poking out to gratify your little bundle of nerves. Your eyes rolled back into your head. It felt… overwhelming.

You couldn’t hold in a lewd moan as the tongue worked magic on you. “Please–“ You couldn’t form a whole sentence without being interrupted by your own moans.

You felt a hand softly caressing your thigh. “Y/N,” a familiar voice reached your ear, making you perk up. Was this… real? You lifted yourself on your elbows to see if you were right with your guess.

Looking up from between your legs was a tousled Namjoon, cheeks red and lips glistening in the light of your fairy lights. He looked like an angel with his skin glowing golden and his hair illuminated.

It felt like a dream come true…

It wasn’t the morning light waking you up nor the loud traffic noise from the street in front of your apartment building. No. What woke you up was the growing wetness between your legs. Your heart beat loudly in your chest, a light film of sweat covered your forehead. Well, that had been… hot.

You had had dreams of Namjoon before. Funny ones, sad ones, even ones where the two of you had been dating. But with things like this, you had only been daydreaming about thus far. It had you all riled up, a little embarrassed, but first and foremost horny.

His head between your legs and his tongue on your clit had felt so real. Oh, what you’d give to actually get to feel that. But you were sure that it would remain something that stayed in your daydreams, when you had to release some friction behind your bedroom doors.

You sighed, pushing the thick blanket to the side. You had to take care of the mess between your legs and there was only one place that always helped: the shower. You had to get this dream out of your head before Namjoon would come over. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to look into his eyes without thinking of the sinful scene that repeated itself again and again in your head.

‘Let’s get this over with,’ you pushed yourself to get out of bed and into the shower. As if you didn’t enjoy this…

As you sat down by the book again with a big cup of fresh coffee, you were actually wondering if you’d ever appear on the list. Or Namjoon. And which secret of yours it would be. So far, it hadn’t spilled any of yours. But it would be merely a matter of time until the pages would reveal what you had kept from one another. Even though there were barely any secrets between the two of you. Only this… this was kind of a major one.

Absent-mindedly, you browsed through the book again. What secret would reveal itself today? Maybe about this dude all up on floor 7 that was always wearing a beanie and sunglasses or that girl from over the street that was walking her dog up and down the street.

Someone was entering the apartment. Namjoon rounded the corner and came into your view. He was also still in his morning clothes, his feet hidden beneath two slippers. Your gazes met shortly, a quick nod exchanged and gentle smiles, before he made a turn.

“And?” He strolled over to the coffee machine, slippers scratching on the floor. “Anything new?” He nodded towards the book sprawled out in front of you.

“I haven’t really checked yet, give me a second.” You concentrated back on the book, pages sliding through your fingers as you looked for a new secret until you found it. You didn’t really pay any attention at first. But then you read your name in big, curved letters. A quiet gasp slipped past your lips.

Checking to see if Namjoon was still making coffee, you hoped he was not aware of your little slip up. He happily worked away, putting coffee beans into the machine, whistling ‘Jingle Bells Rock’ to the puckering sound of the milk frother.

Then, you turned your attention back to the book. When you read Has naughty dreams of their best friend in small letters, your heart sped up and your breathing got ragged. Underneath it was, like it had always been the case before, a more detailed description of what had happened. And a picture of you writhing and moaning beneath the sheets. No, why today?!

The words in front of you blurred as you tried to fathom the consequences if Namjoon came to read this. Your friendship would be over. He would never speak to you again. Hell, what would he think of you?!

You couldn’t let that happen. He was the only thing in your life that kept you sane. That could not all be thrown away. You quickly closed the book, thinking of something to distract Namjoon.

Unfortunately, the loud thump startled Namjoon. He turned around as he heard the sudden noise. He eyed you for a second and then noticed the closed book under your hands. He put down the coffee spoon he was holding. “Uhm… Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Your eyes are like… this wide.” He put a fair distance between his thumb and his pointer finger.

Quickly shaking your head, you scrambled for words. “It’s nothing. I-I thought I…” Yeah, what did you think? It was hard to lie when Namjoon looked at you like that. Your brain couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, you just gulped heavily.

Namjoon’s coffee was now forgotten, its owner too curious about what you had read and seen. He had, of course, noticed your nervous behaviour, growing suspicious of what you were trying to do. His slippers scraped along the floor again as he casually made his way over to you. With his gaze never leaving your face, he followed your every move.

Clambering for the book, you secured it in your arms before Namjoon could reach for it. He couldn’t find out. Not about the dream. Not about the feelings you held for him. But especially not about the dream. The sinful scenes replayed themselves in your head again and you felt your cheeks heating up once more. “There is nothing in there,” you exclaimed, trying to sound as convincing as possible. But there was a crack in your voice. And you could see it in his eyes. He knew.

Scrambling to sit up right on the couch, you shook your head ‘No’, keeping the book tight in your clutches. Over your dead body would it fall into his hands.

“If there is nothing to see, why are you keeping it from me?” He tried to reason with you, stretching out a hand towards the book that you kept clutched in front of your chest, your arms wrapped around it like it was the most precious treasure you had ever possessed.

Namjoon was not one to accept a ‘No’, you knew that. You could spot the determined look in his eyes already. There was nothing that would keep him from finding out. And that had you scared like hell.

You could only stare at him, not having an answer for his very true and logical question. He would always catch you with his well thought-out reasoning. It made you want to tear your hair out every time. Right now, though, you were paralysed by fear.

“Well, you leave me no choice,” he approached you slowly, trying to read you, trying to calculate which escape route you would take. Because whatever stood in that book, had you all jittery and he had to know why. Though he knew that you would never show him voluntarily.

Panic, your brain screamed. And your body scrambled up from the couch, trying to get away from Namjoon. You still clutched the book in front of your chest with both hands.

“No, no, no!” he lunged forward, reaching for you. “You’re not getting away!” He got your left foot before you could escape safely from the couch. Your body fell back onto the cushions, knocking the breath out of your lungs. But you didn’t let go of the book, no matter the pain it would cost.

In his haste to prevent your escape, he knocked down a few wooden reindeers and snowmen from the coffee table. Luckily, there was no glass there. You had told him right in the store that you would not be buying any glass decorations if he would be around. With his clumsiness, he would knock them down within mere seconds. Hell, he had almost dropped something right then and there in the shop. But you both had other things to worry about right now than your Christmas decorations.

“Namjoon,” you shout out anxiously. “Let go of me!” But his grip on you didn’t ease up.

“Not before you show me the freaking book, Y/N!” And he kept his word, his hands desperately trying to seize the book from your tight grip. But you wouldn’t give up so easily. You once more tried to get away from him, grasping for the armrest and pulling like your life depended on it. But he was just too strong, with one hand grabbling for the book and the other holding down your legs.

While fighting him off, you didn’t notice how he’d crawled up your body, getting in nearer reach of the book. And suddenly he was way too close to your face, hovering above you in such an intimate way he never had before.

There had been moments of course. Where he had caged you in a little at your door, when he had leaned in too close, when he had pulled you into his warm embrace… But that had been something different.

Now he laid on top of you, covering your body with his. His chest heaved against yours as he tried to catch his breath from fighting with you. His grey-dyed hair fell in streaks into his eyes and once more his skin glowed in the warm fuzzy light of the fairy lights that framed his head. For a second, the both of you just... stopped.

He looked deeply into your eyes; his pupils overshadowed with an emotion you couldn’t grasp. Your heart beat even faster and your brain felt like it would explode any minute. Your senses were heightened, and you could feel his skin burning on yours. It was… ravishing. Your body couldn’t get enough of it already.

Suddenly, he snapped the book out of your hand, forcing an evil laughter out of his mouth and the moment was gone. He had shamelessly used your messed up state to his advantage and now the book was in his hands.

He scrambled back up from his position on top of you, quickly getting away from you and taking the book with him so you wouldn’t come up with the idea of snatching it back from him. Well, you had resigned already anyway. There was no way you could stop the inevitable from happening now. You said your last goodbye to your friendship. He took one last look at your dishevelled and defeated state before he plopped down on the armchair.

Thump, thump, thump. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears like the drums of that one Christmas song that they always played on the radio, and your stomach took a heavy leap. No, you couldn’t watch this. It was just too much to handle. You grabbed for the plush Santa Namjoon had gotten you as a joke last year, and hid your face in the red fabric of his cloak. You peeked out anxiously, watching Namjoon.

Pages rustled as Namjoon slowly opened the book. His heart beat just as fast as yours as he searched for the right page. Not because he was anxious, but because of his excitement as to what he would get to read on that page. And then he finally found it.

He was not surprised that it was about you. He had actually predicted that. Why else would you react that way if this didn’t reveal something about you? But the content had him gasping out in astonishment.

To actually believe it, he had to read it more than once. It beat all of his wildest dreams. Not only had you caught feelings for him, but he had of course caught feelings for you as well. And quite some time ago too. He had wanted to confess more than once but he hadn’t had the guts. He was very afraid of losing you as well so this came as a very pleasant surprise to him.

Unable to help it, he read the passage once more and let his gaze on the image of you linger a little longer, feeling arousal crawl up his body. He had caught you staring at him here and there, when going for a swim in the summer or when he read a book, when you didn’t think he would notice. He had never given much thought to it though. He would have never guessed that you had thought about him, dreamed about him.

He needed a few to gather himself, to brace himself for what was to come. He couldn’t let this slide just like that now that he knew that you felt the same for him. Now that he knew what you were craving. And he wanted to give you exactly that. All night if you wanted to. He wanted to give you the pleasure that you deserved, see you writhing underneath his fingers, calling out his name so that everyone could hear what he did to you.

A mischievous grin passed over his face. He would take care of that wish of yours, as a Christmas gift. That he promised to himself and gathered all of his confidence for. His heartbeat was going through the roof but he didn’t want you to know, and tried to keep a calm face.

You peeked out once more as he closed the book. You tried to read his face, but there was nothing to work with. Had your friendship been ruined already? Would he just leave and never say a word to you ever again? You expected the worst, already feeling tears prick in your eyes.

Namjoon slowly got up from the armchair and now you were sure he would leave the apartment. You felt embarrassment, shame, and regret overwhelm you. But there was something in you that fought back. Your eyes grew big, you couldn’t just let him go like this. “Namjoon, I-“

But he cut you off mid-sentence. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N.” He shook his head, putting the book down on the table and shoved it over towards you. Your gaze fell back to the image of you, a moaning mess in the bed. You couldn’t handle looking at it and instead gazed up at Namjoon and being met with an expression that you hadn’t expected at all.

He looked like a boy who had gotten the biggest present for Christmas, but there was also something a lot less innocent in his eyes. Holding your gaze, he came back over to the couch and crouched in front of you.

“You’ve been –“ He swallowed visibly, nervousness getting the best of him for a second, before he proceeded with confidence “–a very naughty girl, Y/N, haven’t you?” He cocked an eyebrow while putting both of his hands next to your legs that rested on the edge of the couch.

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Never had you imagined that Namjoon would speak like this to you. You could not say much, your throat going dry, and just slowly nodded your head.

“Hmm, thought so,” he answered while letting his gaze wander over your form. “Well, what do we do about that? Naughty girls need to be punished, right?” His eyes drifted back to your face, satisfied he took notice of the effect he had on you. How your legs unconsciously rubbed together at his every movement.

With the heat rising from you, he felt drawn to you.

“But I think you’ve been pretty nice this year. I think we leave the punishment for another day and instead–“ He nodded towards the book, referring to the description of your dream under the picture. “– keep working on this.” He turned back towards you. “What do you think, Y/N?”

His words were music in your ears. This was more than you could wish for. You pinched yourself for a second, making sure it wasn’t another dream of yours, that you hadn’t just fallen asleep again in your bed. But it was as real as it could get. Arousal is already pooling in your panties, Namjoon’s deep voice resounding in your head.

By now, he was drawing small, soft circles on the skin of your thigh, patiently waiting for your answer. He wouldn’t do anything about it as long as you hadn’t given your consent. There was still a little voice inside of him that wasn’t sure if you really felt the same. He had no time to think too much about it though.

You cleared your throat, the effect he had on you clear as day. “I’d… love that.” You shyly answered, carefully putting a hand on Namjoon’s cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, closing his eyes for a second to enjoy the feeling of the gentle action.

He pushed himself up a little, his face hovering in front of yours. You held your breath, excited for what was to come. He was even closer than before. You could feel puffs of his hot breath gently caressing your lips. His eyes kept yours caged, his pupils blown looking like black holes that swallowed you to take you to another dimension.

With his hand moving up to the side of your neck, it gingerly brushed against the skin and he left it at the nape of your neck. His face inched closer, barely any space left between your lips now. Your thumb grazed over his cheek, the skin underneath warm and tender. You could stay like this forever.

“May… may I kiss you?” Namjoon asked, gaze drifting between your shining eyes and your tempting lips. You took his breath away, making him weak in the knees. Why hadn’t he confessed to you sooner? He could have had it all already. You had both missed out on so much. But there was still so much time to make up for it all.

It took all of your willpower to not kiss him right then and there, but to answer his question first. You looked deep into his eyes, “Yes, I beg you to.”

And that was all that was needed for Namjoon to desperately press his lips against yours without hesitating for even a second. Both of you closed your eyes, relishing in the moment of the first kiss shared between the two of you. It was not at all how you had expected it to feel but so much more. Your heart took a leap at his soft lips that moved so lovingly against yours while his thumb stroked your neck, goosebumps rising on your skin.

Namjoon had to take a break to catch his breath, soft laughter escaping his lips. His hand remained at the back of your neck and so did yours on his cheek. But this break didn’t last long because both of you were already hungry for more. Your other hand went into his hair while your mouth landed back on his.

Tugging a little at the strands, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet moan, his lips opening to the kiss. His tongue darted out, tapping against your lower lip and begging for entrance. You let him stew a little until both of your tongues met in a heated battle.

Slowly, Namjoon could feel himself getting hard. Your sweet lips got the best of him and he couldn’t do anything against it when his mind imagined them wrapped around his cock. He could feel it twitch in his pyjama pants, begging for attention. But Namjoon wanted for you to cum first. The outlook of getting to taste you with his tongue between your folds was too promising.

In fact, he didn’t want to wait any longer. As much as he enjoyed making out with you, he wanted to dig into the real fun. He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead softly against yours. This time you had to catch your breath.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?” Namjoon whispered softly, asking for your permission to go on.

You pecked his lips adoringly. “I mean I’ve been dreaming about it.” Both of you chuckled lightly, caressing each other’s skin. “I couldn’t wish for more this Christmas.” You had to stifle a laugh. This was the most interesting Christmas you had ever had. And you loved it.

Namjoon made his way over to your ear with featherlight kisses to nibble on your earlobe before he hushed into your ear, making you shiver at the nickname he used for you, “I want you to tell me if you feel uncomfortable, baby girl.”

“I will,” you breathed back, enjoying the shivers that ran down your spine as Namjoon’s breath tickled your skin. You buzzed with excitement, awaiting his treatment.

“Okay, baby girl,” he moved down from your ear to your neck, nipping at the skin and grazing his teeth over your shoulder a little. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

While your breathing got heavier at these few words already, he gently pushed your thighs apart with his hands, his upper body moving in the space in between to have better access to your neck. His hands wandered over your inner thighs, setting your skin on fire and your blood boiling.

Another quiet moan escaped your mouth. It all felt just too heavenly. And it made Namjoon proud to know he was making you feel good. You deserved it and he was ready to give it to you for the rest of your life if it meant he would hear your sweet little moans.

As he nibbled lightly on your neck, his hands crawled up your shirt, pushing it up over your chest. His mouth unlatched to attach itself again to one of your nipples immediately, drawing sloppy circles around it. While one of his hands held up the shirt, the other sweetly caressed your other breast, brushing against the sensitive bud and making it stand up, aroused.

Throwing your head back, you pushed your upper body into Namjoon’s face. The treatment he blessed you with was paradisiac. If it was up to you, he could do that for the rest of eternity. Still, there was one place where you needed him a lot more…

“Joonie.” His nickname left your lips in a faint, breathless hush. He let out a breathy moan against your nipple. God, now his mind would forever replay this moment and your needy plea whenever someone would call him by this nickname. You were his rise and his fall.

He pecked your nipple one last time before looking up from in between your breasts with hooded eyes. “Yes, baby girl?”

“I need you,” you breathed out, hands still playing with his soft hair.

He cocked his head, one of his eyebrows rising. “Need me how?”

You let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He knew exactly how, teasing you in a vulnerable moment. With your cheeks heating up, you looked away for a second. This was still very unchartered territory to you.

Feeling one of his hands back on your cheek, he tilted your head to look at him. Eyes full of genuity, he softly told you, “You don’t need to be ashamed when you’re with me. You can freely tell me what you want because I want to make you feel good.” He took your hand and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, softly muttering against your skin, “I want you to feel safe with me.”

It was easy to tell he was being serious and honest. How did you deserve this man? You mouthed a quiet ‘thank you’ to him, feeling more at ease now. And it gave you the confidence to state your desire.

“Joonie… I need your mouth on me and your tongue in me, please,” you begged as you didn’t break off the eye contact. His eyes lit up at your words and he nodded eagerly, pressing one more kiss on your knuckles before he let your hand go.

“If you need something to hold onto, my hair is as good as anything else,” Namjoon told you, winking at you saucily before levelling his head with your clothed core. You held in a breath as he put a featherlight kiss to your inner thigh before nipping on the smooth skin.

His hands wandered over your lower legs towards your waist where they played with the hem of your pyjama shorts, ghosting over your skin. He could smell your wetness and it drove him crazy. He was just as riled up as you were.

He looked up from between your legs, giving you a very similar view as your dream had. You still couldn’t believe that this was all actually happening.

“Baby girl? Could you do me a favor?” His hands slipped back under your shirt for a second, drawing soft circles on your lower back.

You nodded eagerly, willing to do anything as long as he’d continue his exploration down your pants.

“Could you lift your hips for me a little?” He nodded towards your hips. “We need to get these out of the way.”

You obeyed his request, leaning back while lifting up your hips from the couch. All you wanted was his mouth on you.

Namjoon sucked in a breath, preparing himself for the view he was about to get. He had dreamed of that moment many, many times. In the shower when the thoughts of you got over his head, in bed when he had had another vivid dream of you in his arms.

He gently pulled down both your pyjama shorts and your panties, dragging them slowly over your legs to fully enjoy this moment. The clothing items in question hit one of the snowmen in the face as Namjoon carelessly threw them over his shoulder.

You felt the cold air hit your sensitive skin, dragging in a breath as it came in contact with the rough material of the couch. You needed release desperately right now, even little things like these throwing you off. You sank back into the couch a little.

Heartbeat strumming in his ears, Namjoon’s gaze wandered between your legs, laying eyes on your glistening folds for the first time. It was a sight to behold, at least for him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, dragging one hand through his hair while lowering back down between your legs.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered while pushing his arms under your legs and pulling them up on his shoulders so he could get better access. You relaxed your upper body on the backrest while shifting your hips up to the edge of the couch so that not only you were comfortable, but it would also be easier for Namjoon.

He gave you one last smile before pressing his head between your legs, his hair pleasantly tickling the inner skin of your thighs. You could feel hot puffs of breath hitting your sensitive folds, making you shiver around him. He hummed lightly, pleased at your reaction.

With his hands gently holding down your thighs, he pressed soft kisses around your pussy, nipping at the skin here and there and biting down softly. He closed his eyes, savoring the last moment before he would get to taste you.

With one hand holding you up, you entangled the other back into his hair, threading through the strands. Your soft gasps filled the air, encouraging Namjoon on.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, dropping a sloppy kiss onto your pussy. Tongue darting out between his lips, he took a long lick along your glistening folds. You tasted so good, he was glad that you would be the first meal of his day besides the coffee.

A strangled moan reached his hair and he opened his eyes to watch you throw your head back in pleasure. You looked like a goddess in the dim light of the morning and the fairy lights, the sinful image burned into his mind forever.

One of his hands reached around your leg to spread your folds for him, your clit coming into view. He latched his mouth onto it, sucking it in like a starved man.

Waves of pleasure rolled over you, feet pressing down on Namjoon’s back. If he kept this up, you would be falling apart in mere minutes. Your hands tugged on his hair, urging him to continue his treatment of your pussy. “Don’t stop,” you breathed out.

He replaced his lips with his thumb, caressing your bundle of nerves while his mouth moved further down. His tongue hungrily lapped at your walls, desperate to catch every taste it could get.

Your hips moved on your own as they pressed themselves against his face willingly, desperate for a release. You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching as Namjoon worked his magic on you.

As his tongue found your entrance, he slowly pushed it inside, before swirling it around a little. You gasped for air as you could feel it massaging your walls, back arching up from the couch. After letting you adjust to the feeling of his tongue inside you, he started darting it in and out at a rapid pace, thumb still fumbling your clit.

His nickname fell from your lips like a waterfall, wonderful music to his ears. You begged him not to stop, promises of you being close spurred him on, going down on you even faster. He could feel his rock-hard cock straining against his pyjama pants, begging to be released. But it was not yet the time.

He needed you to cum all over his tongue first and, hell, he would make sure of that. Feeling your walls contracting around his tongue, he put a little more pressure on your clit, circling and rubbing it gently with his fingers, trying to take you over the edge. You were almost there, he could feel it.

“Joonie, fuck, I am-” The sentence got lost between a heavy mess of moans and whimpers as you finally came with one last stroke around Namjoon’s tongue. You closed your eyes, orgasm blazing through your body in pleasurable waves.

Namjoon lapped up everything he could get, guiding you through your orgasm. As the moans and the whimpers lessened, his mouth, albeit grudgingly, detached from your folds, pressing one last kiss to your inner thigh before he looked up about you through his lashes.

As you looked down, you were met with a very vivid image of your last night’s dream as Namjoon’s skin glowed from your juices that were smeared all around his mouth. His hair had fallen into his eyes, not able to hide the playful glint in his eyes. His cheeks were a flushed red, chest heaving for air.

“That was… amazing,” you whispered as you cupped his cheek, thumb caressing the hot skin. You leaned over him, stealing a kiss and tasting yourself on his tongue. “Thank you.”

Namjoon chuckled lightly, taking pride in making you feel so good. He nuzzled his face in your neck, breathing in your delicate scent. “I think we both actually have someone else to thank.” Both of your gazes fell onto the book that still laid open on the coffee table.

You grinned from ear to ear at his words. “Well, thank you, Santa, I guess then? For helping us idiots?” Both of you couldn’t hold in your laughter at the situation. What a naughty Christmas it had been for sure!

Quietness settled over the two of you for a minute as you enjoyed each other’s company. As Namjoon slowly got up from his kneeling position, you noticed his hard manhood through his pants. Licking your lips, you felt yourself getting wet again. Your hunger for Namjoon had only just awakened.

“How about… a shower?” you proposed, cocking a head at Namjoon. “I think it’s time I’ll take care of you.” Pushing yourself up from the couch, you let your hands roam freely over his upper body.

Namjoon snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you against him. “As if I could say no to that.” You could feel his cock through the soft fabric of his pants pressing against your thigh. Namjoon leaned down, his lips against your ear.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he whispered as he softly started kissing you again under the shining lights of the fairy lights and a mistletoe magically grew down from the ceiling. Santa has his way in fulfilling wishes…

© nottodayjjk 2021 - all rights reserved.

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GHOSTS | Julie and the Phantoms - Part One

not my gif!

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Author’s Note: Gah… I'm such a procrastinating butterfly. I should be writing my Billy Russo series which I'm so excited about, but I just want to be able to read it already instead of having to write first + I'm currently writing each and every chapter instead of the next one (struggles of a fanfiction writer - am I right?). So, what do I do instead? I flew from one of my obsessions to another and got inspired by this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt. 

Anyways... This fic will be a little to late for some of you guys, but still: Merry Christmas everyone! And if you do not celebrate Christmas I still hope you have a wonderful day and a rest of the year filled with love and happiness. You did it, you fought through it. I’m sure you had your own pair of himbo ghosts taking care of you.

word count: ~ 1k

summary (and basically background info): Y/N is Julie's & Flynn's friend who doesn’t know about the ghosts (let’s just say she believes that they’re holograms). The boys become attached to Y/N due to her kindness and positivity and do everything in their (ghostly) powers to keep her days sunny and bright, especially in winter.  Or: Two times Y/N is oblivious to the boys 'paranormal' activities and the one time she notices it

prompt: Comfort in the Cold by @flashfictionfridayofficial​

warnings: english is not my first language, therefore, typos

| Part Two | Part Three |

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#1: Luke

Slowly and quietly you made your way down the stairs of the Molina household, leaving Julie's and Flynn's sleeping forms behind. Even though you had just watched multiple Christmas movies and probably eaten double your weight in popcorn, your stomach was still asking for more. As Julie knew about your habits of needing a midnight snack and since Ray repeatedly told you to make yourself at home you weren't feeling bad about stealing some small bits and pieces out of their fridge or cupboards.

Which is why you were straining your ears to hear any sounds that might indicate that you had woken up either Carlos or Ray, but you were only met with silence. Releasing the breath you were holding you hastily hopped down the last few steps down to the living room, grabbed the stair railing and used the momentum of your movement to swiftly swing yourself in the direction of the kitchen, freezing at the sight that greeted you.

A quick glance at the clock told you it was 2 a.m. and the continuous silence indicated that nobody except you was awake and around. Yet, as you hesitantly took a view steps towards the kitchen counter, pulling your blanket like a shield tighter around your body, there was a perfectly fine peanut-butter/jelly sandwich waiting for you, a smiley made out of Nutella painted onto it. Your favourite midnight snack.

A small note peaked out from under the plate and it took you some time to decipher the chicken scratch. Can't have our favourite groupie going to bed hungry! 

Smiling and shaking your head, thinking that either Julie or Flynn must have sneaked out of the room sometime earlier to make you this sandwich you happily bit into it. 

If you'd known that there was a brown-haired ghost with hazel eyes sitting opposite to you and watching you with a smile, the sandwich would have probably gotten stuck in your throat.

#2: Alex 

Doing multiple Christmas movie marathons would be fun they said. No need to worry they said. Only Christmas cheer and joy they said. Well… long story short, even fun movies can make you bawl like a baby! 

A few days after the midnight snack incident, which you completely forgot about, you were once again sitting on Julie's bed. With her and Flynn to your left and right, you had been watching different movies on her computer. Currently, however, you were only trying. Tears were blurring your vision and your sniffles were the only sounds reaching your ear. 

Pressing the plushy's soul that Flynn had won you at a fair out of its body and sobbing into it, you felt Julie shift beside you and lay her head in your lap and mumbling something while Flynn was searching for a handkerchief.

"Whose idea was it again to watch this movie?" you tried to ask, but your voice came out all thick and full of emotion, so you weren't sure if they understood or heard you at all.

What you didn't know was that the boys were watching the movie, and now mostly you, with big eyes.

"Remember the day when Julie was crying in the garage and then Flynn came in crying too? Remember how I said that two girls crying are worse than one girl crying? This… this is way worse!" Luke pointed exaggeratedly at every single one of you and moved quickly out of Flynn's way when she left the room to get a box of tissues. 

"Dude… they're not actually crying crying. It's just a really sad movie," Alex said and sighed quietly when he heard Reggie whisper, "Do you think that's what Willie meant when he said Caleb floods the place during movie night?"

"That's... no, okay." Shaking his head Alex moved towards the bed and sat carefully at Flynn's place to not alert you of the shift beside you. Then he gently took a paw of the plushy that you weren't currently pressing into an embrace and lifted it to wipe away your tears and free your sight. 

You sniffled, too confused and full of emotion to realize what just happened and that it couldn't possibly have been Julie or Flynn, and whispered a small, "Thank you". 

Alex smiled, proud of his action.

#3: Reggie

You didn't even bother to take off your shoes or wipe away the residual snow still sticking to your hair as you flopped yourself down onto your bed, groaning into your pillow. Everything was already grey, wet or at least soggy anyway. To say your day had been bad was an understatement.

It's the most wonderful time of the year With the kids jingle belling And everyone telling you be of good cheer It's the most wonderful time of the year

Confused you lifted your head and starred at your computer who apparently decided to become sentient and cheer you up.

It's the hap-happiest season of all With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings When friends come to call It's the hap-happiest season of all

The next thing that happened would forever be burned into your brain. Your favourite pen suddenly lifted itself up into the air and started to scribble down onto a nearby paper. Slowly and unsure you stood up and inched closer to your desk, but as soon as you were able to sneak a peak onto the paper the pen stopped and fell down.

Shaking your head you rubbed your eyes and turned back to your bed. "This is the weirdest lucid dream I ever had." The moment you flopped back down onto your bed you heard the familiar scratching of pen on paper again. Turning your head there it was again - the floating pen. "What?"

However, once again, as soon as you reached the desk the pen fell down, lifeless. “Alright... alright. I understand! Don’t worry, I won’t sneak a peak.”

"I am dreaming... right?" You weren't. Pinching yourself hurt, trying to breathe through a closed nose didn't work and your pointer finger would not move through the palm of your hand.

Shakily, yet weirdly motivated by the happy Christmas music still playing in the background, you picked up the note laying beside the now still pen. "Merry Christmas Y/N! Lots of love from Reggie, Alex and… Who?" 

"It told you, Luke… I should just have signed for us all."

"Shut it Reg, I know my handwriting sucks."

[usmsgutterson]

Yellow- Pin Hawthorne

OKAY, YES-- I’ve wanted to write for Pin Hawthorne since having finished the show, and I’ve decided to do it, because I simply can’t resist and Pin is my favorite moody horseboi, plus, this blurb (imagine? I don’t know how long it’s gonna go yet!) is entirely inspired by the songs Yellow and Sparks by Coldplay, because the show is modern and the songs were released W A Y before the years that show is set in, so yay! 

Pins aged up in this, as well. In the show he’s around 16-17? In this, he and the reader are both 20!

I might have Pins characterization a little off because I’ve only watched the show once (I’m gonna rewatch it before I do a shadow and bone rewatch,, moody pin is just a bit too endearing) but other than that, lets do it!

The reader is American for this, and I did mostly keep it gender neutral, aside from an outfit description! Even then, though, I did try to keep it androgynous

Fic type- fluff

Warnings-none

It took a ton of convincing on Pins part to get his dad to let him use the castle for something that, to anyone else, might’ve seemed small. He’d known it might’ve, and started the process a good month before the event was even to happen. A decision that he’d made that wound up working in his favor. 

“You really love them, don’t you?” His father asked, pressing the keys into his palm as Pin gave a nod. “Even with all the stupid nicknames?” Pin grimaced, but nodded again. 

“Even the stupid nicknames, Dad,” he assured. “All of them.” His father broke out into a smile, pulling Pin in for a hug as he tucked the key away into his jacket pocket.

“Well then, happy anniversary,” his father mumbled. “Five years? Gotta admit, I had faith, but I didn’t think you’d make it this far. Not with someone like them.”

“I know,” Pin retorted. “I’m pretty lucky.” Pin knew that ‘pretty lucky’ might as well have been understatement of the year, but went along with it anyway, pulling away from his father and slowly approaching Elvis, patting his side a few times before climbing onto the saddle and riding down to the castle that he, as the duke, could technically call home. 

The castle was big and at times, tough to get around, but he made his way just fine, letting Elvis move at a slow gallop rather than a run, figuring that he had the time, considering you’d agreed to meet at 8 and it was barely 7:15.

When he arrived, he put Elvis away safely, and made his way through the entrance and up to the outdoor balcony, which had a view outlooking the expansive land on which the castle was built, and the trees that went around the outerrim of the space.

He grabbed his bag off the chair on which he’d had his butler leave it the day previous, almost grinning to himself as he sat at the glass table, rummaging through the bag for everything that he’d put in it.

A bottle of wine, because why not, several sweets, a ton of the polaroids you’d taken in the seven years you’d known each other, some fairy lights that he’d hang up so that you weren’t totally and completely in the dark, and a bluetooth speaker that Becky had gotten him that Christmas; one that he’d still not bothered to use, despite the fact that it was almost June. 

“Can I get you anything sir?” Arthur poked his head through the balcony door way, and Pin found himself startled. 

“Uh, yes please. Wine glasses,” Arthur gave a single, solitary nod.

“The dinner that you requested will be here by the time you requested for it,” he responded. “Though, are you really sure fast food is what you want? It doesn’t seem right to celebrate an anniversary with fast food.” Pin forced his gaze to his lap so that Arthur wouldn’t glimpse his smile. 

You’d come from America, just like Zoe had, but you’d moved with your family to the island when you were eleven. You’d met Pin when you were thirteen. 

One summer, Pins father was insistent that he get away from the stables, spend some time somewhere he’d not gone before, travel a little, and your family had agreed to let him spend the eight weeks of summer with you in the united states. 

You’d had your first date in a McDonalds that same summer, when you and Pin were fifteen. He’d felt weirded out, at first. The fact that he’d never eaten from a McDonalds, despite there having been a couple on the island, almost made him confused. You’d gotten chicken nuggets to split and a couple of the pastries to count as a desert of sorts, and thus sparked the relationship.

“No reason,” Pin murmured. “It’s quick. It’s easy, and the last meal that they ate was lunch.” Arthur gave another nod, and Pin began fiddling with the speaker as he heard Arthurs footsteps grow farther and farther away. 

It was a speaker that was almost the size of his hand and designed to look like a vintage radio. Forest green was the color, and the dial on the right side would control volume. The three buttons below the dial were the power button, the on/off button, and the skip button. Pin turned it on, checking the sound quality by playing two MCR songs, silently bopping his head as Arthur returned, the supplies that Pin had asked Arthur to gather in a bag perched neatly on his arm.

Arthur placed the bag on the table wordlessly, leaving Pin to do his thing as he stopped using the speaker,  deciding that the sounds of nature; the river, the rustling of trees and the beautiful view of the sky as the sun grew closer and closer to setting was much better company than Gerard Way scream-singing his lungs out. 

He’d spent the remainder of the time he had working on your gift. At the end of it, he felt proud of himself, even despite how dumb he’d thought the idea was at first.

It was all of his favorite photos of you--polaroids he’d taken via polaroid camera and polaroids that became polaroids when he’d used a polaroid printer alike-- neatly put into a big picture frame, plus a couple of his sweaters that you liked to steal, some of your favorite sweets, and a journal he knew you’d been eyeing at one of the shops. 

Arthur put the McDonalds onto the table in the last ten minutes before eight, putting the wine glasses beside the bag. “I’ll send them here when they’ve arrived,” he murmured, shooting Pin a smile as he turned and walked away. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Pin had the dinner mostly set up, the chicken nuggets at the center of the table, fries on either side, wine glasses filled the appropriate amount. 

“You’re lucky I love you, Hawthorne,” Pin was almost breathless as he glanced over to you, putting the bag that he’d put your gift in on the ground to his right. “If you were anyone else, I’d not have waited so long to eat dinner.” You’d worn a simple pair of black jeans, with a black turtleneck and a dark gray blazer overtop. You styled your hair like you always did, and your smile was bright, eyes warm as you looked at him.

“McDonalds and wine,” you sat, putting the gift you’d gotten Pin on the ground to your left, reaching across the table and taking his hand in yours. “The perfect way to a persons heart.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, gesturing to the fairy lights Arthur must’ve put up while he was busy in the world of gift making. They weren’t lit yet, as the sun had barely begun to dip over the horizon, but he’d light them once it grew darker. You nodded.

“It’s absolutely lovely,” you responded. “I didn’t think you’d put this much effort in, to be totally honest.” You were poking at him, pricking gently at his work ethic in the hopes of getting a kiss across the table. 

“I’d have been fine just cuddling the day away,” you admitted. “And I know you would’ve, but thank you. For everything.” He smiled, feeling grateful for Zoe’s suggestion that he use the castles balcony to his advantage when he’d brought his plans up to her and Marcus. 

“You’re welcome,” he responded. 

After that, you lapsed into a comfortable silence, making occasional conversation as you ate and drank. You let Pin ramble about the sick horses at Bright Fields and made a mental note to visit the hospital part of the stables, see how they were doing and make sure they knew that they were loved. As you cleaned up, putting your garbage back into the McDonalds bag, you gave Pin updates on some of the horses around the stables and the wild horses that you and Jade had been tracking. 

“There’s a foal, too!” Pin loved seeing you get so excited, and that was no exception. “I know that we shouldn’t name the wild horses, but I couldn’t help myself, so I named the horse November.”

“Why November?”

“The foals coat is white. Snow is white, and snow happens in November. It just seemed fitting!” You grabbed the bag, going inside only briefly to put it into the nearest trash bin before walking back out and sitting back down. 

Pin grabbed the bag with your gift in it at the same time you grabbed the bag with his. He slid yours to you with a bright smile, and you slid his to him with the same.

You opened yours first. “Your hoodies!” You yelled out, smile turning into a full on beam, “Pin, you know that we’re moving in together in the fall, right? You’re just gonna get these back!” Pin shrugged.

“You get them until the fall, I’ll wash them, wear them a couple of times, and then they’re yours again. I get to see you in my clothes and you get to be warm and comfortable constantly! I call it a win-win situation!” 

“Can’t disagree with that!” You put the sweaters back in the bag, grabbing the photo frame next. 

You sighed, feeling your legs turn to jello as your heart melted. You looked up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you did. “Five years of polaroids,” you whispered. “And you’re giving them back to me?” Pin just shrugged, feeling tempted to round the table, crouch next to you and kiss you senseless, but he resisted. 

“I took photos of them,” he responded, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket and waving it around. “I can always get more copies from the polaroid printer.” You laughed lightly.

“Thank you, Pin, so much.” You’d never stop saying it. You had so much to thank him for. Every smile, every laugh, every dinner date, every ride out into the countryside and every kiss. 

“You don’t need to thank me, love,” he responded. “Theres one more thing in there for you.” He gestured to the bag as you put the photo frame back into it, pulling out the journal you’d been eying a moment later. 

“No fucking way!” You cursed, turning it over in your hands. Pin leaned back into his chair, shrugging while he nodded. 

It was a simple journal: a brown leather bound thing that was the same color as Elvis’s fur, but it had pages that were suitable for practically anything.

“I know you’ve wanted it for a while, and, well, I figured you could use it for just about anything. Sketches, diary entries, even putting bank statements in the thing would make a good use for it,” You slightly stood, planting a kiss to his nose across the table. 

You put the journal back into the bag and gestured to the bag he’d put in his lap. “It’s your turn, duke.”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. He narrowed his eyes at you, but the smirk that followed after told you he’d not been serious. 

The first thing he’d pulled out was a scrapbook of the years that you’d spent together. From photos like the victory one that Ted had taken after you’d completed riding lessons, Pin doing a thumbs up on the right side of your horse while you sat on it still, throwing a peace sign and smiling, to random photos you’d taken together. 

Blurry ones that’d been taken with the timer feature. You flipping off the camera while Pin flopped back onto his bed. One from when you were both sixteen, in the middle of turning around, his arms snaked around your waist and yours resting on his shoulders as you kissed, the screen blurred but not so blurred that you couldn’t tell what was happening. 

A couple that Zoe, Jade, Becky and Marcus had taken. You, exhausted, with your head in Pins lap as he fiddled with a camera, curled up and almost hidden from sight in the haybales. You and Pin at the pony prom, slow dancing, looking at each other with nothing but love in your eyes. A shot taken as you and Pin left the stables, backs to the camera, hands interlocked. A photo of you and Pin in the haybales again, you with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, hay in your hair. A laptop sat discarded beside Pins sleeping body, playing old episodes of Criminal Minds. Both of you had sleepy smiles on your faces. 

Pin laughed as he saw more than one picture of you two asleep in the haybales, some taken by Jade, most taken by Zoe, though there were a few shots that’d been taken by his father. 

“I love this,” he glanced up at you, then to the speaker that sat on the edge of the table. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, horse-boy!” He snorted, putting the scrapbook on the table and grabbing the next thing in the bag.

It was a sweater; one that he’d not seen since before his eighteenth birthday. “Thief,” he murmured, folding the sweater and putting it atop the scrapbook. 

“You’re my favorite person,” was your lovestruck retort. He blushed as he grabbed the last thing in the bag.

It was a camera; a polaroid to replace the one that’d been broken in the months before, and it was vintage. 

“You didn’t,” he looks up at you, face showing disbelief as clearly as his voice did. In response, you just shrugged.

“We’ve taken a lot of photos, and you loved the polaroid camera. I used a connection or two that I have and I grabbed it for you.”

“How much was it?” He asked. “We had a limit! No more than fifty pounds!” 

“It was forty nine pounds, and the taming of a wild horse found just outside the coast of Maine. She comes in a couple of days, by the way.” Pin put the things back in the bag and stood, grabbing the speaker and turning it on, connecting his phone to it a minute later.

“You love chaos,” he teased. “But I love you, so I love it by association.” He held his hand out to you, and you took it, giggling as he pulled you in close, bringing you into a passionate kiss that lingered on your lips even after it’d ended. 

He paused only to have Yellow by Coldplay stream through the speaker, putting his phone on the table next to it.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, emphasizing more on his accent in a silly way to get you to laugh. It worked, to his delight, as you nodded, cheeks flushing bright red.

“You may have every dance, if you so wish it,” he felt his cheeks heat up as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead and gently swaying with you as your arms moved to rest at his shoulders and his moved to your waist, wrapping around it, his hands meeting and folding at the small of your back. ‘

He’d found a way to loop the song so that it played a couple of times back to back, but you didn’t mind. You had Pin. You had Pin and his sarcasm, his smiles, his voice, still drenched with sleep in the mornings and his peaceful face while he slept. You had tea in the mornings, quiet afternoons spent riding or in helping horses, and evenings laughing with your friends, Pin at your side. 

You’d known Pin for seven years, and you’d been dating him for five. He was like the lgiht at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel, and he embraced you tightly as you finally escaped it. 

“What makes you happy?” he asked you absentmindedly, just to get to hear the melodic sound of your voice again. You laughed, meeting his gaze with a smile. 

“You, Pin,” you responded. “You make me happy.” He stared at you for a long moment, wishing that he had what he’d kept in his sock drawer since Christmas. 

“What makes you happy?” You repeated.

“You, Y/N. Always you,” you leaned up, pressing your lips to his without so much as thinking twice.

The kiss was messy, and you stumbled backward a little, but you giggled as you did. When you pulled away, you were delighted to find that Pins cheeks were burning as bright as yours, the same red that coated some parts the sky as the sun dipped down the horizon. 

“You’re the love of my life,” Pin was almost in awe at how easily you said it, like you’d been reading off a grocery list or ingredients for a recipe. Pin had wanted to say it since he’d bought the thing that sat in that pathetic little sock drawer, but he’d still not figured out how to say it and make it worthwhile.

“Do you want forever?” The closest he’d get, but he was fine with that, and relieved as you’d nodded. “I promise you forever then, Y/N.”

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part III

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader

Warnings: a lot of feelings, handcuffs, testosterone, quite a bit of sex, one surprise kiss (cause Erwin is a privileged dick), parents, domesticity A/N: I apparently did not write an author’s note for this originally, but uh, this is one of my favorite sections of the whole fic, so. 

Mike uses the rest of the break to relax, to get his head on straight so that when he gets back on campus he won’t be overbearing. He knows that’s the last thing you want from him.

 You text back and forth a few times a day, but most of it is dumb shit, and the conversation dies off pretty quickly—either Mike not knowing how to respond or you just growing bored. 

 He busies himself by spending time with his parents and playing with Scout who eats up all the attention. Family comes over for Christmas, and his mom and aunt get into an argument. It’s nothing new.

 He’s happy to get back to the school and back in classes just to stimulate his brain. More than that, he’s happy to see you again. Even if it means the two of you go back to friend-only status. 

 Things are awkward between him and Erwin, though. It isn’t the first time they’ve had a hiccup in their friendship, but this one has really rubbed Mike the wrong way. Erwin tries to apologize a few more times, but every time he does, all Mike can manage is an unconvincing, “It’s fine,” which the other man obviously doesn’t buy. 

 He tries not to be possessive when you start coming to the house again, but it’s fucking hard whenever he has to watch you and Erwin talk and joke around. Mike figured you’d be at least a little annoyed that he’d just walked in on the two of you like that, but you act like it never happened.

 Eventually, Mike has to ask about it, just can’t help himself. “Aren’t you, like, even a little mad that he did that? Don’t you think it was fucked up?”

 You’re sitting on Mike’s bed, a controller in your hand as you play Mario Kart, sound a little distracted when you respond, “I mean, yeah, it was fucked up, but I never really expected anything more from him.”

 “What do you mean?”

 You look at him from the corner of your eyes before staring at the screen again. “Erwin is a cocky motherfucker. I’ve seen the way he gets the girls on campus, probably thinks he can charm all of them which means he probably thinks he’s entitled to all of them. Us.”

 “Are you calling him a predator?”

 You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think he’d ever, like, rape anyone. He at least has enough class and common sense not to do that. But I think… He doesn’t care who he goes after. Single girls, girls in relationships, happy girls, damaged girls. He just has a one track mind when it comes to sex. That’s what I’ve gathered anyway.”

 Laying back on his bed, Mike laces his fingers behind his head and thinks on what you’ve said. “That just sounds like a drawn out way of saying he’s a flirt.”

 “A massive flirt. Without any real care about whose feelings he hurts in the process.”

 “Sounds about right.”

 “I don’t appreciate it,” you sigh, “But he’s your best friend, so I’m willing to put up with some shit from him.”

 “Even him perving on you?”

 “Not the first time it’s happened to me, probably won’t be the last. He’s curious, I can tell.”

 Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he is.”

 You stay quiet for several seconds, toggling over to another track on the game, then ask, “That make you uncomfortable?”

 Blinking up at the ceiling, Mike wonders what the right answer to this is. He doesn’t want to scare you away, but he doubts he’ll be able to act as aloof as you do. 

 “A little.”

 You hum, nodding in a thoughtful manner before suggesting, “I think we can keep hooking up through this semester.”

 Mike sits up on his elbow, looks at you with high eyebrows. “Wait, really?” He sounds too excited, he knows.

 “Yeah. I have mostly easy classes, or really, I have interesting ones which makes studying for them easier. Plus, it might teach Erwin a lesson.”

 He falls back flat, scoffing. “I don’t want you to fuck me to prove a point to Erwin. I want you to fuck me because you want to.”

 The game music stops when you pause it, and then you’re straddling Mike, hands on his chest as you smirk at him. 

 “Don’t let this go to your head, Zacharias, but no one has ever fucked me the way you do.”

 Mike tries not to grin, triumph blooming inside of him, and he grips your hips a little too tightly. “Oh, that’s definitely going to my head.” 

 You grind your covered pussy over his denim-clad cock, and Mike feels all his blood flow south.

 Laughing, you lean down to ghost your lips over his and murmur, “Both heads, apparently.”

 That day, the two of you start a routine that leaves Mike falling harder and harder with every passing day.

 *

 “Come on, please just be my date,” Mike begs, thinks about getting to his knees if it’ll help convince you.

 “Why?” You ask, looking up from your textbook.

 You and Mike are sitting in the library—you studying, him bothering you. “I’m honestly so tired of parties at this point.

 “It’s not like the big parties we throw, though,” he tells you. “It’s just the brothers and their girlfriends.”

 “That makes it even worse,” you push one little laugh through your nose. “What makes you think I wanna spend an entire night with a bunch of frat boys and their matching sorority girls?”

 Mike rolls his eyes. “They’re not all sorority girls, just like, eighty-five percent of them.”

 Your head lolls, an expression that reads nothing but apathy aimed at Mike, and he gives you a hopeful smile and adds, “On the bright side, we get to stay together all night…?”

 “Oh god, it's a cuff party, isn't it?" 

 All he can do at this point is beg because the more he explains it, the more he realizes how not appealing this is to you. “Please.”

 Sitting back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest and puff your cheeks out as you exhale heavily. “What’s in it for me?”

 Fuck yes. Half the battle is won. 

 “Uhh,” obviously sex is the first thing that comes to Mike’s mind, so the first offer he makes is, “I’ll go down on you ‘til you cry.”

 You snort. “Try again.”

 “Fuck you ‘til you pass out?”

 “Jesus—why do you want to hurt me? Try again. Third time’s a charm.”

 Mike brainstorms for a solid thirty seconds, thinks about what you’ve mentioned to him over the past couple of weeks, sex and school and—

 “I’ll help you study for your geochemistry exam.”

 You finally look interested. “I’d actually really appreciate that. You took the course?”

 “Yeah, environmental geochemistry was sort of my jam last year. Final grade was a ninety-seven.”

 “Holy shit.”

 Mike shoots you a satisfied smile, but before you can tell him to wipe it from his face, he asks, “So, you’re in?”

 “I guess.”

 This is how you both end up in the frat house handcuffed together. No one seems to be surprised at the fact that you’ve come with him, all the brothers used to you hanging around the frat house.

 Most couples are walking around holding hands just because it takes some of the pressure off of everyone's wrists, but Mike doesn't dare try it with you. Too cute. Too comfortable. 

 These types of get togethers are Mike's favorite, though, always more relaxed than the open parties. There’s still drinking and music, but the energy is different since it’s a tighter knit group. 

 It takes about an hour for Erwin and his date to approach the two of you, fingers laced together, drinks in their free hands. 

 “Looking good,” Erwin greets with a smile. "Very… trapped." 

 “Yeah, you too,” Mike says, trying to ignore the subtext of Erwin's comment.  

 Blue eyes flick to you, and you’re questioned, “How’d he end up talking you into this?”

 You don’t miss a beat as you reply cooly, “Bribed me with sex and study help.”

 “Ah, of course he did.”

 Mike’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t say anything, just reaches his pinky out to link with yours, a subtle claim. When you rest your head on his arm, he looks down at you and smirks. 

 “Anyway,” Erwin pushes on. “You remember Maddie, don’t you?”

 Mike lies, “Yeah. How are you?”

 The girl’s voice reminds him of who she is, “Well. How are you, Mike?” It’s a little high pitched and nasally with a northern accent. He especially remembers what she sounded like moaning for Erwin through the wall, obnoxious but Mike can’t really judge since he’s subjected the rest of the house to the same thing once or twice (or a dozen times) before.  

 “Glad to hear it.”

 The group stands together for a few more awkward seconds before Erwin clears his throat and asks his date, “Another drink?” then makes his exit. 

 “You have got to get over this grudge, dude,” you take your head from his shoulder, and Mike immediately misses the warmth. “Like, it’s cute that you’re trying to defend my honor or whatever, but it’s time to move on. You guys are friends. Just talk it out.”

 He sucks his teeth, almost tells you about the way he and Erwin had nearly thrown punches at the ranch house, the way the blond had basically admitted to wanting to try you out, but Mike decides against it, doesn’t want to talk too much shit only to end up making up with him.

 “Guys don’t really talk it out. We usually fight it out.”

 “That’s fucking primitive. You should learn to communicate like mature humans.”

 “Probably,” Mike hums. “But not right now.”

 Being connected to each other means every activity is a partner activity. The most interesting is playing beer pong against Nile and his on-again off-again girlfriend, Marie, house rule for the night being whoever is throwing has to use their cuffed hand. It’s like a twisted three-legged race and requires an amount of teamwork and coordination Mike has never had to deal with before. 

 It’s also the first time he manages to beat Nile. Mike had no doubt that the other man would have crushed you by himself, but it turns out the actual couple does not work together very well. All their shots are clumsy, and Nile gets frustrated right off the bat which only makes things worse. Meanwhile, you and Mike come up with a strategy after the first terrible throw and use it for the rest of the game. 

 You’re both challenged by a few other teams and end up winning every time which has Mike feeling smug about the victories and giddy at how in-tune the two of you are. Gelgar even tells you both, “You guys are good together,” which makes Mike cough as you wave him off.

 You drink a little more, converse a little more, and then—as always—end up in Mike’s bedroom. 

 “You want me to get the key and take these off?” He asks between kisses.

 You smile into him, let out a little laugh and play, “You don’t think it’d be kinda fun to fuck with ‘em on?”

 “It’ll be harder,” Mike snorts. “But, we can. Won’t be able to take shirts off, though.”

 “Good thing we just need to take our pants off.”

 It’s clumsy and silly, and you both tug in opposite directions more than a few times. Mike laces his fingers with yours when he goes down on you, relishing in the way you arch off his bed and squeeze his hand. On the floor, you give him head in the same fashion, and fuck, Mike can hardly focus on you sucking him off while your fingers are woven together, even if it is just for the sake of convenience. 

 He fucks you from behind that night, your face buried in his pillow as he’s buried in you. Both of your arms are stretched behind your back, held at the wrists by Mike’s much, much larger hand. He uses his free one to grip your hip, pushing and pulling you on his cock to his heart’s desire. 

 You’re so pretty, damp with sweat and moaning his name when your head is turned only to shove it back into his pillow when he makes you scream. Your dripping cunt opens up for him perfectly, making Mike feel more inebriated than alcohol ever could, but as his balls tighten and that warmth spreads in his gut, he has a single moment of clarity, assess the position he has you in and pants, “Shit, I can’t pull out.” Not without ripping your god damn arm out of socket or fracturing his dick. 

 “Mmm—fuck, just come inside, come inside me, Mike.”

 That alone makes him lose it, shooting a fucking copious amount of cum into your pussy, so much that it drips from your hole and runs down your thighs. 

 “Fucking C-Christ,” he laughs a little hysterically, gathering thick white and slipping it back inside you. Transfixed by the way his added finger pushes more of his cum out of you, he asks in a daze, “You on birth control?”

 “Yeah,” you answer in a breathy voice.

 Mike hums. “Good. Just gonna sit here for a while then.”

 You let out a whimper that turns to a whine when he rubs his slick finger over your clit. Twitching around him, you tease, “F-finger painting again?”

 He chuckles, “You know it.” 

 Honestly, if he could cover you in cum, he would—admire your body painted in white strings, watch it drip down your ribs and thighs. If Mike hadn’t just gotten off, he would be hard again at the mere thought, but for now his focus is rubbing your little clit. Still face down, you spread your legs more and more, and Mike has to curl over you, breathing heavily on your neck as you wriggle and buck, overstimulating him as he keeps his cock nestled inside of you.

 He groans just as loud as you do as you start pulsing around him, pussy clenching in a way that actually pulls a few more drops of cum from Mike, then you both pant for a little while until Mike straightens up and pulls you with him, your back to his chest as you hang your head. 

 “You good?” He questions, brushing his lips over your neck as lightly as possible.

 “Yeah,” you tell him. “Just… Full.”

 Mike’s body heats all over again as he rests his forehead on your uppermost vertebrae. “Can’t just say stuff like that,” he warns, sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

 “Hmm.” He can see the little smile on your face without even looking up. “You did offer to fuck me until I pass out.”

 “I have a refractory period, you know.”

 You glance over your shoulder, and now Mike gets a good look at your smirk and twinkling eyes. “I can wait.”

 Both of you emerge from the room in the early hours of the morning, still stuck together as you quietly make your way downstairs to find the key to the handcuffs. You’re wearing a pair of Mike’s gym shorts, the mesh falling far past your knees and barely staying up around your waist. He knows you’re still messy and can tell by the way you’re walking that you’re sore, but he has every intention of cleaning you up and taking care of all your aches and pains in the shower. 

 *

It’s party after god damn party with classes and studying and fucking in between. You have never had this much sex in your life, but you’re not complaining. It takes the edge off, and Mike isn’t the worst company. Far from it, actually. The more you get to know him, the more he falls into what you think is his real personality. 

 The brash frat boy is a front, you come to find out, a mask to fit in with everyone else, one he wears very well. 

 But, when it’s just the two of you in his room playing video games or watching TV, he actually relaxes, gets quieter and much more reflective. The pastels and khakis and Hawaiian shirts stay hung up in his closet, both of you lounging in t-shirts and joggers more often than not.

 He more or less tutors you in geochemistry, and between that and all the nerd shit in his room, you realize… Mike is kind of extremely smart. And, it’s kind of extremely hot.

 “I still don’t understand why you hide it,” you tell him one afternoon as you watch him play Ocarina of Time. 

 He shrugs, green eyes wide and focused on the screen, gives you the same answer he did last semester when you’d asked a similar question: “People are more interested in other things.”

 “So you adopted the obnoxious frat boy persona?”

 “I guess. It makes the college experience a lot easier.”

 You cock your head to the side, genuinely curious when you ask, “Doesn’t it wear you out? Seems like you’re just an introvert in hiding.”

 Mike laughs, pauses the game, and looks at you. “It used to. Some days it still does. But, it’s easier than taking shit from the guys.”

 Squinting at him, you mumble, “I will beat up anyone who gives you shit about being a nerd.”

 It makes him laugh. Loudly. And, you see a certain curiosity glimmering in his eyes, unasked questions—probably something along the lines of when you started caring and getting protective over him. 

 You’re not. Not exactly. You just don’t like the idea of anyone giving him a hard time. 

 “No offense, babe, but I don’t know how much damage you could inflict on anyone. You’re, like, two feet tall.”

 You straighten up, chest puffing up as you pull your fists up to your chin and rock back and forth like a Street Fighter character. “You wanna fuckin’ go, Zacharias? I’ll show you how much damage I can inflict.”

 He grins in that boyish way that always makes you look away. It’s too cute and too charming and makes you feel too many things. 

 Mike hangs his long legs over the side of the bed and pulls you on top of him with no problem whatsoever. You’re eye level with him now, heart beating too fast as you hold his shoulders, eyes flicking to his lips. 

 “We can go if you want. We can do whatever you want.”

 He has feelings for you. You know he does, can see it in his eyes, can feel it in the way he fucks you, and you really should cut things off, but… You don’t want to. He’s the most tolerable person you’ve met on campus, much less annoying than Hitch. You have things in common and joke around until you’re both rolling in laughter. And, of course, the sex is incredible. 

 It’s just casual, you keep telling yourself. Mike is smart enough not to push things. He knows better, knows you’ll just turn him down, and though it’s hard to admit, that wouldn’t just hurt him; it’d hurt you too.

 In his lap now, you don’t encourage him to take things further, mostly because you’re still sore from the night before, and he understands that. Instead, you lock your arms around his neck and change the subject to something that’s still bothering you even after several weeks.

 “Have you and Erwin made up yet?”

 Mike makes a face, answers, “Not exactly.”

 “The hell does that mean?”

 “It means we’re talking a little more, but it’s always short conversations and the problem still hasn’t been addressed.”

 You let out a little, “Ugh,” then state, “You guys are impossible.”

 It really doesn’t make sense that he’s so upset about it, especially since you’ve gotten over it. It was a shitty thing for Erwin to do—walking in like that—but you don’t think it’s anything to end a friendship over.

 And, with that thought in mind, you spend the rest of the afternoon devising a plan. It’s not in your nature to meddle, but it seems, in this case, you’re gonna have to.

 *

 Mike is in his fancy ecology class when you walk into the Pike house, nodding at everyone in the den as you step further inside. You learned a few months ago that it’s much safer to keep your shoes on, less jarring to step on a sticky floor the first years didn’t do a good job cleaning. 

 Nile is reclining sideways on the couch with Marie between his legs, an action movie playing on the ridiculously big TV mounted on the wall. 

 “Is Erwin here?” You ask.

 Nile looks at you with a frown, one that’s completely warranted since you’ve literally never asked this before. 

 “Uh, yeah.” He points up at the ceiling. “In his room.”

 “Cool, thanks.”

 “You know which one it is?”

 Squeezing one eye shut, you’re honest when you tell him, “I think so.”

 The way Marie is quick to pipe up, “Second furthest to the left, right next to the bathroom,” is very amusing, especially when Nile clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

 You make your way upstairs, following Marie’s directions, then take a deep breath before knocking on Erwin’s door, clueless as to what his lock code might be.

 It takes a few seconds, but the door opens, revealing a very tired-looking Erwin. His eyes widen a bit when he sees you, craning his neck back like he’s shocked that you’re standing outside of his room. That’s fair.

 “Uh, hey?”

 “Hey,” you greet shortly. “Can we talk for a sec?”

 Erwin blinks a few times then steps to the side, murmuring, “Yeah, of course.”

 His space is very different from Mike’s, more organized, framed pictures, bed completely made. Even his desk is clean, papers and books all stacked neatly on one side of his open laptop.

 “Studying?” You question.

 “Yeah. Would you like to sit down?” His voice is deep—not as deep as Mike’s—and always so proper, like he spent his childhood in country clubs (he did). 

 “Not really,” you answer without any hesitation.

 Unsurprisingly, Erwin leans against his desk instead of taking a seat himself, arms on either side, fingers hanging off the edge of the polished wood. It makes the muscles in his forearms become more prominent, veins popping against his skin. You have to give it to him, it’s a good move. 

 “So, what’s going on?”

 Running your tongue over your teeth, you recall what you planned to say—cut to the chase, stay firm, don’t get caught up in any of his tricks. 

 “You need to make up with Mike.”

 Erwin immediately snorts. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

 “Half-assed apologies aren’t gonna work, dude. Actually sit down with him and hash things out.”

 “Yeeeah,” he drawls. “That didn’t work very well the first time.”

 “Maybe try again? You guys are, like, best friends.”

 “Levi is my best friend,” Erwin corrects, “And, I’m pretty sure that you’re Mike’s at this point.”

 “Don’t say that.”

 “It’s true,” he smirks.

 You wave him off, getting back to your original point. “At the very least, you guys should make up just because you have to live in the same house.”

 Erwin crosses his arms over his chest, blue eyes deviating upward as if he’s thinking hard. You doubt he is.

 “So, you’re not mad about what happened?” He asks after a few seconds. 

 You're blunt when you respond, “It was a shitty thing to do. Wouldn’t advise trying it with anyone else, but honestly, I’m not super surprised you’d pull something like that.”

 His facial expression turns to one of true offense, blond eyebrows furrowing enough for a little wrinkle to form between them. “Excuse me?”

 You take a step toward him, almost jab a finger in his chest but resist. “No no no. You don’t get to be pissed. You’re the one who fucked up here. I’m just telling you the truth.”

 Eyes narrowing, he pushes himself off the desk, standing to his full height to loom over you. It’s obviously an intimidation tactic, one he’s probably used before on many people, and it makes your blood boil. 

 In a futile attempt to make yourself look bigger, you straighten your spine and tilt your head to look up at him, lips pursed, eyes narrow. You remember what Mike said about you being too small to hurt anyone, but you can be scrappy. You’re not above slapping a face or kneeing someone in the balls. 

 Erwin peers down at you, jaw setting for a moment as he really studies you, then breaks into an infuriating smile. 

 “You’re cute, you know that?” He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but you swat his hand away. 

 “Jesus, what is wrong with you?”

 This close to him, seeing the way he acts behind closed doors, you wonder how Mike ever even got close with him. They’re so incredibly different. For the last semester and a half, you've only known Erwin as Mike's somewhat obnoxious, spoiled friend. Now, it seems he's showing his true colors.

 “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, I’m feeling pretty great right now.”

 Oh, you wanna hit him. You wanna hit him so badly, but honestly, Erwin kind of seems like the type to call the fucking police if you did. 

 “You don’t have any reason whatsoever to be feeling good.”

 He’s still grinning, eyes bright and wide as his pupils dilate. 

 Are you calling him a predator?

 He sure looks like one now, a lion with his sights set on an antelope, and as you stare at him, it dawns on you that this was a bad idea. 

 “You know what? Nevermind,” you shake your head. “You don’t deserve to be Mike’s friend anyway.”

 The laugh that pours from his lips is not at all humorous. His voice drops when he challenges, “You think so?”

 You need to leave, need to get out of here before this argument goes any further, but as you make a move toward the closed door, he slides in front of you. You shouldn’t have walked so far into his room.

 “Erwin,” you grit through your teeth. “Don’t do this.”

 “Just tell me—because I need to know—” he breathes, still staring down at you with that unnerving gaze. “What does Mike have that you like so much?”

 Both your hands flex by your sides. There are so many ways to answer this question, all of which will evoke a different response. 

 But being who you are, you speak before you think, spitting the first thing that comes to mind: "You want me to make you a list, Smith? 'Cause I sure fucking can."

 He makes a little circle with his hand, a 'go on' motion, and prompts, "Please, enlighten me."

 And, so you do. 

 "Warmth, sincerity, class, depth, understanding—"

 "So, it isn't just about the sex," he cuts you off, sounding more sure than curious. 

 You pinch the bridge of your nose, tired of these god damn frat boys and their obsession with getting their dicks wet.  

 "I mean, it started out that way—not that it's any of your business."

 "I can give you more, you know. Satisfy you better—"

 "Please shut the fuck up," you beg, getting madder by the second. The confidence, the entitlement, is making you sick. 

 "You don't believe me?" He steps toward you again, and you back up. 

 "No, I don't." Because how could he? Whether it's stimulating conversation or sex, there's no way Erwin could compare. 

 And now you realize just how much you appreciate Mike. 

 Erwin is closing the distance between you, moving slowly but purposefully. "This is how it started with you and him, right? You made him chase you?" 

 "Get out of my way," you demand, trying to shoulder past him—

 And, you should have seen it coming, should have been prepared for the way he grabs you, strong hand closing around your upper arm to pull you to his body. Thick fingers tangle in your hair to pull your head back, face tilted up, and all you can really do is shove at his chest with your free hand, growling in your throat as Erwin crushes his lips against yours. 

 Adrenaline courses through your body. You try to shake the hand on your head, try to jerk your arm from his grip, but he's too fucking strong, and it terrifies you. 

 Your voice is muffled as you plead, "Er—mmf—shtp—"

 You lift your hand higher and manage to hit him just beside his eye with the side of your palm, and it makes him break the "kiss" (you refuse to actually call it that).

 He breathes a heavy, "Just let me—"

 "No." You push his chest again, and he lets go of your arm. Quickly wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you tell him, "You're a shitty friend and a little fucked in the head, but you're not low enough to force yourself on someone," you pant, shaking with nerves and rage, "So don't."

 Hopefully, you're not giving him too much credit. Despite the overflowing fury and fear, you still think there's a little hope for him. Not with you, of course, just in general.

 He stares at you, expression changing from confusion to understanding to regret, and before you know it, he's scrubbing his hands down his face and muttering, "Fuck, I'm sorry. You're right I—I got carried away. I've been jealous of Mike and curious and—"

 "Why?" You blurt because you do not get it. "Both of you are, like, top athletes and in a fraternity, could get literally anyone you wanted, so what is it? Is it because I'm a nobody? Because you're bored of the sorority girls? Am I the one chick on your list you haven't screwed?" 

 "I… I don't know. You just—"

 "Is it because Mike has a toy he doesn't wanna share?"

 "Maybe." Erwin is frowning again, like he's stumped. He doesn't even know what he's feeling. It's honestly a little pathetic. 

 "Well, pick someone else. I know you have Maddie wrapped around your finger, so take advantage of that or whatever. Just leave me out of it."

 Ocean eyes are wide and troubled. He really does look remorseful, but that doesn't change what he just fucking did. God, you're disgusted. And a little hurt. 

 "Don't ever try that shit on me again—or anyone else—'cause I swear to God, I will break your fucking nose."

 "Yeah, okay," he nods.

 You go to walk past him again, voice loud and unforgiving when you tell him, "Move," and then you're out of his room, slamming the door, and getting as far from Pike house as possible.

 That did not go the way you had planned it to, but you should have been ready for the worst case scenario. That's on you, you guess. 

 Because Erwin Smith may not be a predator by definition, but he's certainly something—something you want to stay away from. 

*

"Why are you acting weird?" Mike's voice pulls you from your empty head, and you take your eyes off the loose string of your hoodie—his hoodie—and look up at him. 

 "What are you talking about? 'm not acting weird."

 He moves from his place at the edge of his bed and crawls to prop himself up next to you on his pillows. 

 "Uh, yeah you are. Have been for the past week or so."

 He isn't wrong. You've kept to yourself a little more since your "conversation" with Erwin. It had just been so uncomfortable and jarring, and you don't want to tell Mike because you know he'll just get pissed all over again which would be very annoying since he and Erwin finally made up. Just like you wanted them to. 

 Except now you know Erwin a little better, and you're not sure you want him having any more influence over Mike. 

 Rubbing your face, you shrug and easily lie, "I've just been tired."

 And, of course, Mike is too smart for that. 

 "Tired? That's the go-to answer for anyone who actually feels shitty."

 "I mean, yeah, but I'm actually tired in this case." It isn't a complete lie considering how fucking late he kept you up last night. 

 Mike hums. "Wanna take a nap before the party?" 

 The acid in your stomach churns. The party. The one you do not have any desire to go to. The one that will push you over the ledge of annoyance and into the realm of genuine discomfort. You don't want to go. You don't want to hang out. You don't want to see Erwin. 

 Sliding your legs under the covers, you lay down in Mike's bed, turning on your side so that your back is facing him. You've told him on numerous occasions that you don't have any interest in certain events, but he always talks you into going to them anyway. So, what'll be different this time? You're just gonna end up downstairs huddled in a corner refusing to drink as your eyes scan over everyone, ready to make a quick exit if you have to. 

 Mike settles in closer behind you, the heat of his chest pouring across your back, and you can feel the pillow dip when he rests his head on it. He waits for a while before letting his arm fall over your waist. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut, makes something crawl into your throat, trying to scratch its way out. 

 "I really don't wanna go tonight," you murmur.

 You expect some form of protest, a convincing argument in the form of a well thought out fucking speech while he kisses down the back of your neck, but instead, a low rumble of, "Okay," spills from his mouth, and you hate how it makes you feel—how grateful you are for him. 

 He's getting to know you. Has gotten to know you after spending so much time together. He can read your ups and downs now, can tell when you're joking or serious, take the hint when you want him with a single look (that one might be the most irritating), but it just goes to show how perceptive he is, how much of himself he's been hiding while in college. 

 The shallow jock you thought you knew is no comparison for this. 

 "Spring break's coming up," he speaks into your hair, inhaling deeply and whispering to himself, "Citrus kills me," like you can't hear him. 

 You pretend not to because it's soft and personal and would probably make him adorably self-conscious, and you can't deal with Mike blushing. 

  "Yeah, it is. Couple more weeks." 

 "What're your plans?" 

 You shrug against him, trying not to get too wrapped up in the way his body feels over yours, longer legs tangling between yours, his draped hand nearly covering your entire stomach, his stubble scratching your neck and cheek. 

 When did you get this close? When did you decide it was okay to be this intimate? This is what couples do. This is comfort. 

 And, you didn't think you needed it, but fuck—

 "Nothing, really. Go see Mom, I guess."

 "Come stay with me," he says quickly. "Just for a few days."

 You wriggle to turn on your back and frown up at him as a myriad of questions fill your mind. 

 Mike takes a deep breath, somehow reading every one of them. 

 "I know that sounds like a 'come meet my parents' thing, but I promise it's not. I just thought it'd be cool to hang out not at school and not at a party. Plus," he shows a broad grin. "You can meet Scout."

 "Mm, tempting," you laugh. "I do like dogs."

 "And, you'll love her! She's so sweet and so goofy and—"

 "I'll think about it," you stop him. 

 Mike bites his lip, looking hopeful, but tries to play it off with a, "Okay, cool," then leans down to kiss you as if you've already said yes. 

 Honestly, you have, just not out loud. He had you at 'hanging out'. 

 *

Studying sucks. Midterms suck. Avoiding parties, however, does not suck. Mike still goes to most of them, kind of has to considering they're usually thrown at the PKA house, but sometimes he just shows his face then comes to your dorm. You try to convince him to stay, hang out with his friends, but he usually just shrugs and digs through your stash of movies until he finds something he wants to watch. 

 It's fine with you, makes passing geochem a lot fucking easier, but it also means little sleep and a perpetual soreness between your legs. 

 You just… Can't get enough of each other. And, you think that's how it's always been since that first party. Afterward, you had denied him in the courtyard and then broke as soon as he got into your room to get his stupid shirt. Denied him at the bar then broke as soon as he leaned over you at the pool table. Denied him at the after-game party and broke after… Seeing his room? Watching movies? Acting like friends for the first time? Whatever it is, you're always falling into bed together, some kind of unstoppable force against your obviously very movable object. 

 It's something you think about too much now, always somewhere in the back of your head. At this point, you should probably just be with him, don't know who you're kidding with that lie about focusing on school (your grades have never been better actually), but you're scared. That's really what's been hard to admit to yourself, not the fact that you're attracted to him or the fact that your irritation has bloomed into genuine fondness and admiration. It's that's you're fucking terrified. You can feel it in your bones. 

 Don't get too attached because people leave. All the time. People let you down. People disappoint. 

 You don't want Mike to disappoint you, so you won't give him the chance to. 

 Of course, all of that is easier said than done as you look over at him in the Wrangler, one huge hand pn the wheel as his other arm hangs out of the open window, catching the wind that batters against it like he's trying to push back. You hate it when he does that, too many horror stories of car crashes that end in traumatic amputations, but it's one of Mike's strange simple pleasures, makes him grin as if it's his head hanging out instead. At his core, Mike Zacharias is just a huge fucking puppy dog. 

 A dubstep song from too long ago is blasting through his speakers, the vibrations hitting you square in the chest as you bounce your leg and bob your head. It's beautiful outside, winter's bite melting away into sunny springtime days. Some of them still bring a chill to the air, but it doesn't matter since you basically live in one of Mike's hoodies, dark green with the school's lacrosse logo stamped in the middle. It's faded and worn out and far too big on you, but it's quite possibly the most comfortable article of clothing you've acquired. 

 The drive to his parents' house is a good three hours, but between the playlist he's made (stellar, not that you'd admit it), the road games you play, and the road head you give him ("Oh, Jesus Christ, this isn't safe—this isn't safe—fuck—") you make it there in one piece and in good spirits, though you have take a few drinks of the soda you got at the convenience store to wash the residue of cum out of your mouth before meeting his god damn family. 

 He grabs both your bags from the backseat, slinging them over his shoulders, then starts up the path to a… surprisingly small home. It isn't a shack by any means, but after what you saw of Erwin's stupid ranch house and some of the pictures and stories Nile and Gelgar have subjected you to, you just kind of figured all of them had ridiculous amounts of money. 

 Then again, you know Mike got a full ride to college with a sports scholarship, and he rarely talks about his family and their lifestyle aside from Scout and little tales from his childhood—trips to the zoo, the one time he rode a dirt bike and broke his collarbone, he and his dad rescuing an injured bunny from the park. 

 You should've known back then that you'd get in too deep. 

 The small garden that lines the house is well-kempt and full of blooming flowers, and the porch is home to a wire table and matching chairs with an unsavory gnome sitting on top.  

 "What in the world…"

 Mike doesn't even glance to see what you're looking at, just opens the screen door and informs you, "That's Leonidas," so casually that it makes you snort and push him into his own house. 

 It opens up to a living room, long couch, recliner, coffee table and all. A TV sits right in the middle of a beige entertainment center, DVDs stacked on one side, blu-ray discs on the other. It smells clean—like the lemon wipes you use in your dorm—but even stronger than that is the smell of food. 

 "Must already be cooking," Mike muses, then calls out in a different fucking language that has you turning to him in confusion. 

 Before you can ask about it, a plump woman a couple inches taller than you comes rushing out of what you assume to be the kitchen. Her graying hair is tied into a loose bun, cheeks rosy from the heat, and she's still in her apron and a single oven mitt. 

 "Miche, γλυκό μου αγόρι!" 

 She stops in front of him and reaches up to grab his face, peppering it with little kisses and babbling words you do not understand in the slightest. 

 Mike is laughing, speaking to her in the same fashion, possibly answering questions or defending himself judging by the way he holds his hands up. You think you have an inkling about why when his mother turns to you, puts her hands on your shoulders to look at you, then pulls you into a tight hug. 

 You squeeze her right back, rocking to and fro as she does, then look up at Mike from the corner of your eyes in a panic. 

 What do you do, what is happening, what hasn't he told you? 

 It’s about this time that a large dog runs into the room and actually jumps into Mike’s arms. He grunts as he hoists Scout up, nuzzling into her beautiful coat as she tries to lick his face.

 "Mamá, let her get settled first," Mike laughs from where he’s getting attacked. His mother lets go of you, but it’s only for Mike to set the dog back down, and Scout takes the opportunity to sniff and paw at you. “Be nice,” he warns her, pulling you in front of him and pushing you toward the hallway.

 That need to snoop around is ever present as you enter his room, but the much more pressing issue is, "You could've prepared me, ya' know. Given me a little heads up that you're…"

 "Greek?" He snorts, wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt. "My last name is Zacharias. That's a pretty good indicator."

 "I—..." You pause, pout, then mumble, "I'm not a genealogy expert."

 "Obviously not."

 He dumps the bags on his bed, a queen size, thank god, because he had told you last week they didn't have a guest room (and had seemed pretty happy about it at the time). 

 "I'll get mom and dad to speak in English for the next few days." 

 "I mean," you shake your head. "It's their house. I don't wanna intrude on that. Let 'em do what they're most comfortable with."

 He steps over to you, makes his classic move of staring down at you and smoothing his hand over your hair to make you tilt your head up. "That's sweet, but I know they're dying to talk with you, so actually being able to understand what they’re saying is kinda necessary."

 Humming, you stand on your tip-toes just as he begins to stoop lower. Before you can meet in a kiss, though, you smirk, "And, just why do they wanna get to know me, Miche? Is that a secret Greek name too?”

 He licks his lips, voice husky when he replies, "I've mentioned you a few times--”

 “Uh huh,” you smirk, too close for him to actually see.

 “And no, I think it’s Hebrew or something.” 

 You snicker before your mouths meet, breaths grow heavy, and the only time you break apart is so that you can look him in his light eyes and tell him, "By the way, the whole speaking a different language thing you can do?" He grunts, encouraging you to continue. "Very hot."

 You feel him smile against you, a self-satisfied, "Yeah?" making you burn against him. 

 "Yeah."

 It's hard to leave the room, but you both know you have to, hoping neither of you look too kiss-swollen when you walk back into the living room, and when Mike's mom is no longer there, he brings you to the kitchen instead. 

 "Smells good," he tells her, leaning over the stove and taking a whiff of the prepared dish that’s been set on top--stuffed tomatoes and peppers that make your mouth water.

 She says something, and Mike lets her finish before asking, "Can we speak in English while she's here? It's kinda hard to add to a conversation when you, like, don't know what's being said."

 "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She immediately gushes, turning to you with a worried look. Her accent is thick and charming, but she doesn't ever stutter, clearly fluent, just more comfortable in her apparently native language. "I just get so caught up when my Miche comes home, I—"

 And, she's hugging you again. 

 "I'm Maia! Christopher—Miche's father—should be home soon."

 You rub Maia's back until she lets go and turns back to the stove, but even as she does, she's asking you, "How is school? What are you studying? Miche's told me very few things."

 He shouldn't have told you anything at all, you want to say. 

 "Um, it's good. I'm an earth sciences major, geology specifically, so Mike—uh—Miche's been helping me study a lot."

 He leans down to speak so only you can hear, "Not necessary to call me that. She's gonna know who you're talking about when you say Mike."

 Not that you'll tell him, but you kind of like the way 'Miche' feels, the way it rolls from your lips to the back of your mouth, and for just one second, you think about how you'd like to moan it in his ear. 

 "So, uh," you shake your head in an attempt to get it back on straight. "Yeah, it's going good, I think."

 "It is nice that you study together," Maia hums, slicing into the dish to portion it out. "Miche probably enjoys the break from his fraternity life." 

 Mike makes an unsure noise, but you grin and lean on the counter, eyes shining as you look at the middle-aged woman, "You know, speaking of that, I need to know what he was like before the whole frat thing 'cause—"

 "Uhh, we don't need to talk about that," Mike quickly cuts you off. 

 Maia, however, catches your eye and winks, a silent promise that she'll fill you in later. 

 Mike sees it, whines a dramatic, "Mamá, please."

 You laugh, glancing over at him with a devious smile that makes him roll his eyes and grumble something. 

 The creak of a door opening followed by the sound of a screen slamming back against the frame signals the arrival of Mike's father. It takes him a couple minutes to join everyone in the kitchen, probably taking the time to get more comfortable after what you assume to be a long day. 

 When he does walk in, once styled hair fallen out of place, top two buttons of his shirt undone, you see exactly where Mike gets most of his looks. He may have gotten his fucking mane from his mother, but he definitely got his height and his eyes from his father. 

 "Oh!" He stops short when he sees you, looks at his wife, then at you, then at Mike. "Is this the girl?" 

 "Dad!" 

 Both of his parents snicker as he turns to you, pleading more than telling, "Just ignore them, they don't know what they're talking about."

 You don't pay him any mind, join in on the fun when you lift an eyebrow and tease, "Am I, Mike? Am I the girl?"

 "Oh my god, this is gonna be a nightmare," he groans, the tips of his ears growing red. Still, he tries to put on a stern face as he points at his parents, speaks in beautiful, rolling words that are beyond you, then turns his flashing gaze to you and commands, "And you, don't encourage them."

 "Mm, no promises." You stick the tip of your tongue between your teeth and wink at his mom the way she had at you earlier. 

 All of you sit at an actual table for dinner, something you haven't done in at least a decade, as you talk and laugh between bites of food. Scout is laying underneath, waiting for someone to drop a piece of food, and every once in a while, you feel her wet nose nudge against your calf.

 Maia and Chris are very kind and very funny, and it isn't just because they pick on their son all the time. Chris talks about his day in the office, complaining about coworkers the same way Mike complains about his brothers—"I just don't understand why you would eat sardines in the break room! Someone explain it to me!" Maia tells everyone about the three hour phone call with her mother—"My god that woman can talk. Every time we said goodbye, she would just start on something new!"

 "Explains where you get it from," Chris says with a chuckle. 

 Maia scoffs then stabs a piece of his food with her fork, eating it with purpose as her husband watches. 

 You lean over to Mike and murmur, "They're cute. I like 'em."

 He grunts. "That makes one of us."

 Sucking your teeth, you mimic his mother's actions and dig your fork into the meat of his pepper, stealing a bite and scraping your teeth over the utensil in a way you know drives him crazy. 

 You immediately regret it when you realize how big the piece is, filling your mouth so that it's hard to chew, and you grab a napkin to cover yourself while Mike snorts and smugly says, "Yeah, bet you feel real smart right now. How does thievery taste?" 

 Shoving his arm, you manage to swallow down enough of the food to talk and tell him, "Tastes delicious."

 When you look back across the table, you find Maia and Chris staring at you and Mike with shining eyes and matching grins. 

*

You get along well with Mike's parents. A little too well in his opinion. There are a couple mornings you wake up earlier than he does and share coffee with his mother. He'll walk in to hear her sharing terrible stories about how, "He was such a sensitive little boy," and, "I miss the days he and his friends would spend afternoons here playing their little games."

 She even breaks out the photo albums one evening after dinner, leaving Mike mortified as you laugh and 'aww' at the pictures of past birthdays, Boy Scout outings, and the horrors of middle and high school. 

 "Look how cute you are with braces!"

 "Please stop."

 "All dressed up for Easter, oh my god, are those bunny ears?" 

 "Mom made me."

 "You were so skinny. What happened?" 

 "Are you calling me fat?" 

 "No, I'm calling you buff. Dummy."

 Less embarrassing are the long walks the two of you take with Scout (who also loves you, of course). She stays close to your hip as you wander around the park, only leaving your side when you throw her favorite ball. At the house, she noses at you until you shift to let her lay either at your feet or on the couch with her big head in your lap. 

 It's the cutest fucking thing Mike has ever seen, and he hates it because he can't do anything about it. He can't tell you how much he likes seeing you walk around in his house. He can't tell you how much joy it brings him to hear your laugh ring out alongside his parents'. He can't tell you how much he loves seeing you slide into his old bed in nothing but one of his shirts, making yourself comfortable against his chest and weaving your legs between his. 

 He can't tell you, but he can do his best to show you. 

 Late at night when his parents are asleep, when the buzzing TV is the only thing lighting the room, Mike moves inside of you with deep, slow thrusts. He hikes your legs up to lock around his waist or pulls you up against himself if he's taking you from behind. No matter the position, it leaves you clawing at him, breathing heavily, jaw dropping open in a silent scream. 

 You feel so good, so tight around him even after he gets you ready for his cock. Your silken walls squeeze and milk him, pulling every drop of cum from him to soak into you. Fuck, he's so glad you're letting him do that now, fill you up until you can't take any more, until white is dribbling from your messy pussy. The way you look at him all fucked out is intoxicating, eyes droopy, smile lazy, body twitching with aftershocks as he sucks on your neck and kisses down your shoulders. 

 You have to know. You have to. Mike knows his feelings are written all over his face when he looks at you, may as well be carved into his skin. The words are on the tip of his tongue every night, but he muffles them with kisses, with burying his face between your legs, with sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. 

 He can't say it because saying it makes it real. Saying it will make it hurt more. 

 So Mike keeps his mouth shut, watches you every day as you converse with his parents and play with Scout. You poke around his bedroom in your usual nosy fashion, finding the rest of his Magic cards, old D&D books and privacy screens. The dusty record player he'd inherited from his grandfather interests you above all else, vinyls stacked around it, some old, some new, and as you flip through them now, cross-legged on the floor and swimming in his hoodie, you tell him the little things you talked about with his mom earlier in the day. 

 "She showed me your baby teeth," you say with a snort. "Why do parents keep those? My mom did too."

 "Black Magic, obviously," Mike says seriously, but when you glance up at him, he chuckles. "I don't know, babe. It's fuckin' weird, though."

 You grin and look back down at The Alan Parsons Project vinyl in your lap. You're quiet for a moment, but when you do speak up, it's in a quiet voice. "I'm pretty sure they think I'm your girlfriend."

 Mike cringes on the bed, shutting his eyes and sighing. "Yeah, that's probably 'cause I told them you were." 

 "What?" You turn your whole body to face him, eyes wide and incredulous. 

 Sitting up, Mike holds his hands out and questions, "What was I supposed to tell them? Hey, mom and dad, I'm bringing home this girl I fuck at school all the time."

 "We don't just fuck," you scoff. "You could've said friend or… Study buddy."

 "Study buddies with benefits," he lets out a humorless laugh. "How many of those study sessions end with your mouth around my cock?" 

 "That's beside the point." You stand up and walk over to the bed, hands on your hips as you glare at him in an unconvincing manner. You're not actually upset, Mike realizes. A little annoyed maybe but more surprised than anything. "The point is they expect us to do couple-y things."

 "We do do couple-y things." Mike reminds you, rolling his eyes when you snicker and murmur 'ha, do do'. "Oh my god, you're a dork."

 "So are you. And, a dumb one. What happens when they find out we're not actually together? Are we gonna have to stage a break up somewhere down the line?" 

 "Stop worrying about it," Mike tries, reaching out for one of your arms to pull you on top of him. You must be very used to straddling him at this point. It seems like you're in his lap more often than you're not these days, even if the two of you are just talking. "Just chill and fake it for a little while longer."

 You pout, glancing to the wall for a second before you mutter, "Might be tough. I've never had to fake anything for you before."

 Mike groans and traces his fingers up your sides, stopping at your shoulders and using them to guide you closer to him. With your face only millimeters from his, he barely even has to whisper when he presses, "Fake it just this once."

 You nod, lips brushing his, and from there you both devolve into sloppy kisses and desperate hands. As always.

[ next ]

[shadowsinger11]

John Wayne

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Christmas lights and stunning dresses are enough to spark a desire for a winter romance. But could you have possibly gotten the wrong idea?

Word Count: 2.5k

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: I might've listened too much to Cigarettes After Sex while writing and this is totally not a song inspired fic, born purely as a result of my procrastination with other projects

Tag list: @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hufflexpuff @neovannii @jenniweasley @theweasleysredhair @harrysweasleys @loony-loopy-lupinn @whiz-bangs78 @slytherinsunrise @starlightweasley @ickle-ronniekins @gcdric @vivianweasley @aprilsrant @idont-knowrn @thisismynerdyself @wonderful-writer @feetoffthetablee @minty-malfoy @vogueweasley @elf-punk @oh-for-merlins-sake @heart-of-tempered-steel @spilled-prose @itseatyourdamnapples @aaannabbanana @l0ttadreamz @potter-redheads @pastanest | message me to be added/removed! (if you're in bold, I couldn't tag you)

You were staring at the crowded dance floor.

Beautiful ladies were being spun around by their partners, gorgeous gowns twirling and swooshing with their every elegant move. Everything was perfect about them; from their smile which lit up the Great hall more than the sparkling white Christmas trees, to the way their wrist gracefully twisted around their lover's neck, eyes piercing into theirs. The music was playing, slow and melancholic, exactly as it had been playing for the last few hours, luring lovers and encouraging them to bare their souls in front of each other.

And so they danced, connected by fearful desire, united by hope and bonded by love.

It was a kind of magic no one could truly understand, mysterious and private as though you weren't meant to witness it that night. So when among the sea of couples lips met in a silent oath, your heart began to ache, pleading you to leave.

It should have been you. It should have been you the receiver of those loving glances, of those kisses which made your head dizzy and caused your knees to buckle, but it would've been no problem as you would've had the arms of your lover to keep you secure. Then, as you'd dare to look up through your lashes, gorgeous eyes would be already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. And you'd simply fall, letting the warm, velvety darkness envelope you.

You flinched from the slight chill, rethinking your choice of a sleeveless dress. The enthusiasm with which you had picked it months ago now seemed utterly ridiculous and foolish as you were sitting a good distance away from where you believed you'd have been dancing your heart out. But, as you took one last look at your surroundings, only to spot your lovestruck friends indulging in the presence of their partners, the comfort of your pajamas seemed far more tempting than the unreasonably expensive piece of fabric which didn't even matter to you anymore.

It was pitifully funny how things could change in the blink of an eye, in a single breath; how fast you had gone from blooming with excitement to wondering how you were foolish enough to contribute to your own heartbreak.

"How come I'm just finding out about this?" Fred exclaimed, chasing after you down the stairs of the Astronomy tower. "I bet I wouldn't have known if it wasn't for those Ravenclaws chatting back in class."

"You were gonna know eventually, what's the deal?"

"My point is, why didn't you tell me and I had to hear from someone else?"

A group Hufflepuffs gave you questioning looks as you practically ran past them, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process, "You're making a fuss about nothing, stop acting entitled to every piece of information in my life!"

"McLaggen? That git?" Fred yelled in frustration and disbelief; he didn't at all acknowledge the small crowd which had gathered to observe the scene, nor did he care in the first place. He stopped in his tracks, gripping the wooden railing tight, knuckles turning white and jaw tense. "You cannot be serious."

Shocked faces now turned to you, and you desperately wished you could use reducio on yourself. Instead, opposite to what your consciousness was screaming at you, you dug your feet into the floor and shot Fred a stern look over your shoulder, "We're not discussing this right now. Besides, what's in it for you anyway? You're going with Angelina."

Had you kept walking, you would have missed the way Fred's chest was heaving with shallow, rapid breaths, and his face was more maroon than you had ever seen. And you? You couldn't quite breathe yourself.

A week ago your untamed happiness brightened every room and hallway; classes seemed to fly by, exams were over and the Yule ball was right around the corner. Your heart was ringing with joy as you were so looking forward to forgetting your troubles for just one night. 

In the midst of shining Christmas decorations and beautiful dresses a dreamy, yet pretty bold idea had begun to form in your head, an idea which Ginny and Hermione encouraged with their support and affirmations. Deep down you had started to believe Fred Weasley took an interest in you, harboured feelings for you even, and your ever-present goofy banter which contained far more flirting than what would be acceptable between two best friends, only fed your imagination and raised your hopes up.

You were aware you were the only one on the receiving end of Fred's teasing jokes, cheesy pickup lines and lingering stares which had you staying up an extra hour in your bed at night. Even his siblings shared the same opinion - there was no way on Godric's sword that a person who clearly wanted to be around you as often as possible and got his hands on you every chance he could, wouldn't be at least a little bit interested in you.

That's why you nearly broke down when exactly a week ago in the hallway Ron casually mentioned his older brother had just asked out Angelina.

The ground was pulled beneath your feet, vanishing along with your oblivious hopes. The news stung sharply, leaving a sour taste in your mouth; never had you believed you’d spend the few days before the ball stitching up your heart, and you were willing to do just about anything to forget about your humiliation. So when McLaggen invited you with an obnoxiously flirty note in Charms class, you didn’t hesitate much.

You could feel a wave of tears burning your eyes as you looked up to where Fred was standing. His face and ears were still as red as they could get, and his chest was vibrating with every shaky breath he took. Fury had disappeared from his eyes long ago, replaced with concern, regret and hurt which you couldn't quite place.

He climbed down the few remaining stairs.

"He's obnoxious! And beyond what's good for you!" Fred stated, though his voice now lacked power and slightly trembled, loud enough just for you to hear. "You're setting yourself up for a pretty bad night."

You swallowed down the dry lump in your throat and finally turned around to fully face him, looking him up and down.

"Seems like I have a terrible taste in men then."

A second glass of firewhiskey did nothing to burn down the growing turmoil in your stomach. You tapped the edge of the empty glass with your fingers and smiled at your friends who were visibly exhausted from dancing to upbeat songs for quite awhile now, but enjoying their time far too much to take a break. You admired their spirit - just because you weren't feeling your best, it didn't mean your friends didn't have the right to have fun.

However, the inevitable sense of regret lingered in your bones, and you found it hard to not focus on how the ball had gone wrong for you, in more ways than you had originally thought.

Even without Fred as your date, there was still a chance you'd have a good time. McLaggen could undoubtedly make it awkward to be around, and with the fact that your heart had recently been sliced open, you weren't sure how much of his ridiculous antics you could take. But at least he was trying; if you put aside his overbearing ego, you could see genuine effort into creating something romantic for both of you. It was going to be okay. Not necessarily what you desired, but somehow okay.

And that last bit of hope vanished the second you caught your former date snogging your crush's date in an empty classroom merely an hour ago.

You didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the universe's bitter joke, but the tears on your face as you ran down the hallway in your beautiful dress were eloquent.

A bitter, bitter joke.

You couldn't take it anymore. The charming smiles, sultry glances and stolen kisses you had been observing for the past hour were too much. And when another slow song made an appearance, you rose to your feet and headed towards the tall doors of the exit. Perhaps sleep would be a decent ending to your horrendous night.

You had barely made it out of the Great hall when loud footsteps echoed on your right.

"Bloody hell, I've been looking for you!" Fred said through heavy breaths, having run all the way to you as it seemed. His ginger hair had escaped its slicked look long ago, now too messy to fix despite his numerous attempts to smooth it back. His suit was no better, slightly wrinkled and shirt open to the third button.

"Why have you?" you asked and folded your arms, feeling a bit chilly in the hallway.

"McLaggen. About him," Fred sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry for having to say it, but I just saw him-"

"I know."

Fred frowned in confusion.

"You do?"

It was your turn to let out an exasperated sigh as you looked down at your feet, "Yes. A while ago."

Fred's features softened.

"I'm sorry."

You barely found it in you to respond with a weak smile, "It's alright. I guess I was right. I do have a terrible taste in men." Then you gave Fred a sympathetic look, "I'm sorry for Angelina too, it's horrible she did this to you."

Your friend allowed the ghost of a smirk to appear on his lips and he shoved hands into his pockets, "I'm not really affected by it in all honesty," he shrugged. "I'm rather angry about the fact that the prat thought he could pull off something like this and get away with it."

Fred's heart ached at the sight of your slumped figure and glossy eyes; he hated himself for having contributed to the failure of the event you were expecting with so much hope. He tilted his head to the side, attempting to meet your gaze.

"I'd gladly prank the crap outta the git until he doesn't even dare to show up to classes… But for now is there a way for me to make your night any less terrible, love?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the thought of McLaggen skipping classes out of sheer fear of Fred. But then your thoughts wandered to the way Angelina was practically straddling his lap, and you wondered if Fred had been doing the same all this time unbeknownst to you; if right after a flirty joke sent your way he'd go to an empty classroom and kiss Angelina with the passion you had just witnessed.

The image of Angelina's lips on Fred's caused you to become nauseous and you attempted to swallow down that lump again.

"No," you replied. "But please, tell me one thing. What was that entire tantrum for?"

Fred didn't really seem taken aback by your question, realizing you'd eventually bring it up. He furrowed a brow, carefully thinking of an answer, and wettened his lips.

“Perhaps it would be inappropriate of me to say it- selfish even, but the mere thought of you being in the embrace of someone, especially with that someone being a foul git, caused me to get unreasonably angry.” Guilt was seeping into his every word and he bitterly chuckled to himself. “Ironic, isn’t it? Attempting to spare you heartbreak by being the reason for it.”

He gently took your hand and looked into your eyes, remorse swimming in his own, "I had no right to treat you the way I did. I'm terribly sorry for being controlling and you absolutely do not have to forgive me. Just know that I truly regret my actions; I never intended to hurt you."

His words were a feather-light caress to your wounded heart and you shuddered. You couldn't stay mad at him. Reciprocated feelings or not, he was still your best friend and you wouldn't let that go.

"Apology accepted," you gave his hand a light squeeze and Fred beamed, the entire hallway lighting up with him. Dread released your chest of its merciless grasp and you could finally breathe. However, one question never ceased to haunt you. "But I just need to know…” you began, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “...why were you so upset to begin with?"

Fred's shoulders immediately stiffened and he averted his gaze from you in an attempt to come up with a reasonable reply. His jaw was clenched, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "I didn't want you to go with him." He stated simply. "Not when you could've easily gone with me instead."

You froze.

"What do you mean?” you asked timidly, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “What about Angelina?"

Fred only shook his head, fighting back a grin.

"Darling, Angelina was never the catch."

The air was knocked out of your lungs.

You could only stare at Fred wide-eyed, and though his expression was unreadable, maroon had begun to crawl its way up to his ears and cheeks again.

"I'm sorry for putting you through all this," Fred spoke softly as he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, a kiss that awakened the butterflies within you. "I was really too much of a wuss to confess to you and settled for this instead."

"I guess that makes us two," you smiled sincerely, perhaps for the first time that night. Fred returned your smile with a grin, and asked.

"How can I make up to you for this oh-so-awful mess?"

"Dance with me," you said without skipping a beat. "That's what you owe me at least. Let's finally do what we both wanted."

Fred's expression became serious as he intertwined his fingers with yours, and led you into the direction of the Great hall, from which music could still faintly be heard.

"With the greatest of pleasure, my love."

Most people had already gone to bed, leaving just a few couples and you to drench in enchanted serenity. Fred's arms around you felt like home as you both swayed to the soft rhythm of the song, one of the many to follow, but his racing heartbeat under your palm caused your own pulse to speed up as well. 

You looked up at your lover through your lashes, gorgeous eyes already on you, their obscure flame consoling you and pulling you in. There was an odd, enigmatic allure that Fred possessed, and even after years of knowing this man, it only caused you to fall further into the velvety hell you didn't wish to escape from. 

And when his lips collided with yours, they tasted sweeter than the forbidden fruit.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

[emmyhem]

right where you left me (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everybody! so this is a bit of a longer one that is inspired by the song “right where you left me” by taylor swift on evermore. it’s one of my favorites by her because i love the writing and the concept. whether you’re a taylor fan or not i suggest reading and then listening to the song with the fic in mind, it makes the song hit extremely hard. also expect more taylor inspired stuff in the future because she’s one of my all time favorite artists. this one is sad but i live for the angst so what’re you gonna do? my calum piece, “everything you’re missing” should be up by the end of the week and i’m working hard on my very first michael and ashton pieces as well, which is really exciting. anyway i hope you all enjoy and are being safe (get vaccinated if you can!) once again my messages are always open and feedback/criticism is always appreciated. hugs and kisses to all, thanks - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: you met 20 year old luke hemmings in a coffee shop eight years ago and were sure your life had been decided. you once told him you’d wait for him until you were sure he was happier without you. you never thought that day would actually come.

warning(s): angst, cursing, alludes to possible infidelity, it’s a sad one so buckle in. 

word count: 6.2k

Current time - December 14th 

The familiar ring of the entrance bell pulled your attention from the worn book beneath your fingers to take a routine glance at the patrons rushing in from the early December chill. Mitten covered hands, and icy cold flushed cheeks entered one after the other. Your typical seat in the corner of the small cafe was shielded from the penetrating winds that accompanied each person in their entrance but you still shivered in sympathy at each new arrival. 

Your steaming earl grey had faded into a tepid puddle at the bottom of your mug as the hours passed on the analog clock that adorned the brick wall in the front. Olive, a barista you had become friendly with over the years approached your table with the cafe’s winter speciality, an orange cranberry muffin in hand. 

“Last one.” she said, sitting it on a pine green napkin in front of you. 

You reached into your purse for a few spare bills to cover the cost when she stopped you by placing a hand on your forearm. 

“On the house for our favorite customer.” her eyes were filled with pity as she nodded down to you, and you were too tired to feel embarrassed. 

“Thanks, Liv.” you sighed. 

“It’s my pleasure, besides I always feel like we’re robbing you when you pay full price, you only ever eat half anyway.” she added as she walked away. 

You picked at the baked good, memories flooding your brain with each bite. 

Eight years ago - December 14th 

As you clutched your books with a death grip you cursed yourself for forgetting your gloves in your dorm. The wind was picking up and it wouldn’t be long until they were numb completely, and your sweater paws were less than effective in warming your frozen fingers. 

A flickering red light glowed just a bit down the street and a sugary citrus aroma was pulling your stiff limbs towards it against the wind. The closer you got the more mouthwatering the smell became and soon enough you had reached the door, bracing yourself for the chill of the copper handle as you pulled it open. 

Sweet, warm air enveloped you as you stepped inside. The red brick walls were chipped in more than a few places, red and green christmas lights twinkle from a tree in the corner, and the crackling of the fireplace was like music to your ears. You wondered how you had never noticed the quaint cafe before as you took your place in line behind a tall man wearing only a thin black hoodie and beanie for protection from the cold weather. As you got closer to him a piney scent cut through the sweet smell of pastries and you caught yourself leaning in to get a better whiff of its freshness. 

Your eyes scanned over the menu that hung behind the cash register while he ordered and did your best to ignore the chill that ran up your spine when his soft aussie accent invaded your ears. 

Once he finished and stepped off to the side to wait for his order you moved forward and placed your books on the counter. 

“Hi, how can I help you today?” a young ginger barista with an abundance of freckles said. 

“Hi,” you paused and located her name tag. “Olive, I’ve never been here before but there's this smell that-” 

“Our orange cranberry muffins.” she interrupted pointing to a chalkboard in front of her that read, “Warm up with a wintery treat, try our famous orange cranberry muffin today!” 

Your stomach growled quietly at the thought as you nodded. 

“I would love one of those and...a medium early grey, please.” you replied, pulling a 10 dollar bill from your pocket. 

“Sadly, we have just sold our last one to the customer in front of you.” she nodded to the enticing blonde man that had caught your attention earlier, who was now staring down at his black vans as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

You narrowed your eyes at the muffin thief when he glanced up at you innocently while accepting his coffee from another worker. 

“We do still have our gingerbread and pumpkin muffins if you’d be interested in one of those instead.” Olive continued motioning a hand to the glass display of tasty treats to your right. 

You let out a disappointed huff, “That’s okay, just the tea please.” 

You paid for your order making sure to leave a few extra dollars in the tip jar before taking a seat on a worn burgundy couch near the fire to wait for your drink. 

Leaning your head against your hand for support you allowed your eyes to drift closed and listen to the pops and crackles of the fire meshing with the soft holiday music echoing through the place. You only opened your eyes back up at the feeling of the couch dipping beside you. 

Sitting too close to not acknowledge, was the boy from earlier who was now alternating sips of what smelled like a strong latte with bites of the muffin that could’ve been yours. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” 

His head snapped in your direction at the sound of your voice, and he finished chewing before responding.

“Doing what?” 

“Taunting me with your stupid muffin.” you were aware of how childish you sounded but hunger had always brought out the irrational side of you. 

“It’s actually quite delicious.” he smirked, ignoring your frustration. 

You groaned in jealousy, “Don’t rub it in.” 

Realization sparked in his eyes. 

“Got the last one didn’t I?” 

You nodded. 

“M’happy to share.” he grinned, breaking off half and holding it out to you. 

“No, really it’s fine. I’m just being annoying.” you waved him off. 

“I’m not annoyed. Really, take it. I’d have to throw it away otherwise.”

Your eyebrows raised at his comment. 

“I’m stuffed.” he explained, patting his stomach twice. 

“I don’t believe you, but I’m starving and this smells incredible.” you responded, accepting the baked good. 

You closed your eyes and let out a satisfied hum after biting into it. 

“Holy shit, this is like the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

The boy watched you and laughed at every pleased noise that you released. 

Once you had finished your half you turned back to see him still watching you, he had scooted even closer to you and your knees knocked together at your movement. 

“Thank you, that was amazing. Although it was pretty rich I don’t think I could eat a whole one either.” 

“Your welcome,” when he paused you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself but still stole half of this guy’s muffin. 

“I’m y/n.” you filled in. 

“Luke.” he returned. 

You nodded and repeated it, testing how it felt on your tongue. 

“Thank you again, Luke.” 

The two of you began talking about, school, work, music, your favorite movies, astrology, anything really. By the time you glanced up from the conversation the cafe was nearly empty and the fire in front of you had burnt out leaving a smoky debris hanging in the air. 

“I think they’re closing.” you said while checking the time on your phone. 

“Fuck, I’ve got a paper due tomorrow.” 

“Sorry, I kept you back.” you apologized, both of you gathering your things as you talked. 

“No, s’not your fault.” he dismissed as you both began to walk to the door.

Standing a few feet away from the exit you could already feel the nip that was permeating through the glass, it sent a chill through your spine making you wiggle your shoulders. As you stared at the floor over the books in your arms, trying to decide what the best way to ensure you would see Luke again was, you heard the buzz of a zipper. You lifted your head to see your new acquaintance removing his arms from the sleeves of his black hoodie. 

“Are you crazy? It’s freezing out there.” 

“I know, you’re shivering.” he answered, swinging the fabric behind your back until it dropped and wrapped around your shoulders. He pulled on the sleeves till they were hanging in place and you watched through your lashes, completely in awe of his concentrated expression. 

“Luke, I can’t wear this you’ll freeze and I can’t just take your clothes.” 

“C’mon of course y’can. I’m warm blooded. I'll be fine and you aren’t taking it. I’m gonna want to come in for one of those muffins tomorrow and you know I can’t eat the whole thing, so you’ll just have to be here to share with me. We meet, we eat, I retrieve my jacket, all is right in the world.” He smiled through his words, attempting to warm you up by rubbing his hands up and down your shoulders quickly. “Think you can do that?” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Excellent. Meet me here at 9:00 tomorrow.” 

You nodded as he pushed the door open and despite him trying to act unaffected you could tell from his rigid stance he was freezing. 

“I’m counting on you alright? Stay warm, y/n.” he reiterated through chattering teeth before exiting the shop. 

Current Time - December 14th 

When they talk about one moment defining your life it seems silly, and unrealistic. One day of your life is hardly even a blip so one minute defining everything seems completely ludacris. You would have never bought into it eight years ago, right up until Luke muttered those three words to you before braving the cold. 

“Stay warm, y/n.”

He said it and you had one of those moments. One of those, “and then everything changed.” moments. 

You had always been sure that your purpose would come to you later in life, maybe you’d have a spiritual awakening while in some foreign country. Maybe you’d read a book that would change your view on everything, or god forbid you’d have a close encounter with death and the epiphany would come then. You would’ve never guessed that a nearly missed encounter with the world’s best muffin and a lanky Australian guy would do it. 

But here you were eight years after the encounter, your hair was longer, the crinkles that appear by your eyes when you smile now linger, and Luke was nowhere to be seen, but some things haven’t changed at all. A half eaten muffin, the comforting cafe, and your unwavering certainty that your life’s purpose was to love and to be loved by Luke Hemmings all remained. 

Seven years ago - March 27th 

The door swung open to a positively beaming Luke, he leaned in to press a swift kiss on your cheek before hurriedly pulling you inside. 

“I have a surprise for you.” 

“You do?” you questioned, taking notice of the subtle burnt smell in the air and the smoky atmosphere of his apartment. 

He nodded excitedly pulling you by the hand into the kitchen where you were met with messy countertops packed full of lumpy and slightly charred muffins. Your mouth fell open and you turned to face your boyfriend who was smiling timidly at you, eyes scanning over your face. 

“I made you our muffins.” he smiled, proudly looking at his work. 

“Wha- how? How did you even get the recipe?” 

“Olive helped me out.” He responded, taking a seat on one of the bar stools by the island. 

“Lu, this is incredible. Thank you.” you praised, moving to stand between his legs. 

“I hope they turned out good. Y’know baking is a lot harder than it looks.” he tutted while unwrapping one for you. “Open up.” he instructed, tapping your chin. 

Your teeth struggled to bite through the dense baked good, and while your taste buds fought with the bitter crumbly substance you questioned whether Luke had actually followed any recipe at all because what you were eating tasted nothing like the warm, gooey, and tart treat that the two of you had come to love. 

You chewed slowly to avoid swallowing and kept your face as neutral as possible. 

“How is it? Good?” he spoke nervously and the little glint of hope in his eyes forced you to swallow it down and paint on a pleased smile. 

“Mmm” you moaned “It's delicious, Luke.” 

“Yeah?” he beamed. 

“Really good.” you nodded, your eyes drifting longingly to the sink. In that moment you would’ve killed for a glass of water. 

“Wow, I mean I thought they’d be alright but this is great. Lemme try.” he brought your muffin up to his mouth and in a panic you snatched it from his hands, squeaking out a small “No!” before shoving the rest of it in your mouth. 

“Babe, there’s plenty, no need to be greedy.” he laughed while unwrapping another. And you really should’ve thought this through because with puffed out cheeks full of possibly the worst muffin in history you took a step back and watched him bite into one. His face twisted in disgust and he quickly spit what he had taken back into the wrapper. 

When he looked back up to you, you were standing there with a full mouth and wide eyes. He cocked his head to the side in confusion, “You enjoyed that?” 

The second you shrugged your shoulders, feigning innocence Luke burst into a sharp cackle, his legs kicking up into the air from the force of his laughter. You took that as an opportunity to run to the trash and rid yourself of the awful taste in your mouth. 

Luke was still struggling to catch his breath while you finished pouring yourself a glass of water. 

“It’s not funny, Lu.” you argued between sips.

“Why didn’t you just spit it out?” he chortled, beckoning you closer with grabby hands. 

“Because, it was so sweet.” you reasoned. 

“Really? I would argue it was more rancid than sweet.” 

“Not the muffin you goon, the gesture.” you elaborated, smacking his shoulder. 

“I can’t believe you ate the whole thing.” 

“Shut up. I was trying to be nice.” you pouted. 

“Hey,” he said, standing and opening his arms. “M’sorry I know.” 

You waddled into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his back. 

“I love you for that.” he sighed, before kissing the top of your head. 

You froze in his hold, those three unexpected words echoing through your head. 

“You what?” 

His chest shook lightly as a laugh fell from his mouth. 

“I love you.” he repeated. It was so nonchalant, as if he’d said it to you a hundred times before. “You alright with that?” 

You nodded before pulling back just enough that you could see his face. 

“I love you.” you returned. 

Luke’s hands cupped your cheeks, a groan passing his lips before he pressed a soft kiss to your now pouty mouth.

“Say it again.” he pleaded into your mouth. 

“I love you.” you sighed, chasing his lips with your own. 

“And again, and again, and again…” he continued, rewarding you with one lingering peck for each declaration. 

“Mmm” he hummed in content when he decided he was satisfied. “Never stop saying it.” 

Current Time - December 14th 

A whirlwind romance like the one that the two of you had shared was never meant to be sad. It was the kind of love that constantly feels like a cheesy montage full of sweet moments that happens at the end of a rom-com. Unsuccessful baking attempts, cozy study dates, spontaneous weekend trips, hundreds of shared muffins, piggy back rides home from the bar, that’s what made you Luke and y/n. 

The two of you didn’t do well with the hard stuff and it worked because there just wasn’t any. Everything was easy and it felt good. It felt right. 

It had never even occurred to you that the hard stuff was part of any great love, that inevitably one day things would get hard. It really hadn’t occurred to you that pushing through the hard stuff was something that Luke may not be up for. Because you were and you always had been, all in. 

Six years ago - February 17th 

You had gotten home late after a long shift at the library you worked at part time . Luke was sitting on the couch scribbling something in a notebook and taking tiny sips of his steaming cup of tea, too impatient to wait for it to cool properly. 

You’d been listening to an audiobook while organizing the shelves that day and the somber tone of it had seriously dampened your mood. It also made you extremely grateful that you had Luke to cuddle away all your sorrows. 

He had noticed your sad expression the second he saw you and was quick to pull you into his arms and press you for information. 

“What happened baby?” he cooed as you nestled as close into him as physically possible. 

“Sad book.” you mumbled into his chest. 

“Aw, love you shouldn’t let that stuff get to you. S’not real, there’s no need to get upset.” This was something you had heard plenty of times before, seeing as you were an extremely emotional person and felt things strongly. 

“It was so sad though, bubs.” You reasoned that talking through it with someone else might dull the ache that it had left on your taut heartstrings. You explained the whole plot, how the couple had met on a plane and spent their two separate vacations together and along the way fallen in love. Luke would hum or nod every so often indicating he was listening but you knew most of his focus was on the fact that you were tearing up through your explanation. He let his lips rest along your hairline as you got to the climax of the story, speaking through cracks in your voice to tell him that they had lost each other’s numbers on their way back and while the woman was able to move on and find love later in life, the man waited at the airport for years hoping that one day he would see her again. 

Luke’s hand ran through your hair while your head rested on his chest. 

“I don’t think there’s anything romantic about it. It’s just sad.” he concluded. 

“I disagree.” 

“Really?” 

“I’d wait for you.” you confirmed, running your fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Not forever though,” he added. 

“I’d wait until I knew you were happier without me.” 

“Yea, me too.” he agreed. 

“I’d never be happier without you.” 

Current Time - December 14th 

One thing that you never doubted in your relationship was whether or not Luke loved you. You knew he did. It was something that had always been casual between the two of you, it was as much a greeting as it was anything else. 

As the sun rose and broke through your curtains the words to break the silence that lingered from the night before wasn’t “Good morning” it was “I love you.” Before leaving for work instead of an impersonal “Bye!” you shouted “Love you!” through the closing door of your apartment. It was a phrase that had been repeated millions of times, and despite the casualness of it all, it never lost its meaning. 

Even now, five years since you’d last seen him you knew with every bone in your body that no matter where he was right now, half the world away or two blocks downtown, he still loved you. 

Luke always kept his promises, a million times he had promised that he would always love you. And a million times you had promised it right back. 

A hundred years apart wouldn’t change that, let alone five. 

Five years ago - December 13th 

You watched the snow fall from the living room window, what you would normally find peaceful was making you go insane. It had been perpetually silent around your apartment for the past couple of weeks. Luke was hardly ever home, when asked he would tell you that he had a big project at work and needed to teach the new intern how things were done in the office. You hadn’t thought much of it, there were times when you were busy and had to put things with him on the back burner to focus on the uncertainty of work. It had never been an issue because as far as you were concerned things were set between you and Luke. There was the unspoken promise of forever. 

Of course, that didn’t stop you from missing him tons. On this specific occasion the cold weather had left you with clogged sinuses and a bad headache, one that you would typically soothe with a cup of  earl grey from the cafe and an abundance of snuggling. Since Luke wasn’t around to fulfill your touch deprivation you decided that wearing one of his favorite sweatshirts would have to do for now. 

You blindly reached into his drawer to search for it but stopped when your hand caught on a folded piece of paper. You pulled it out and walked to the bed, flicking on the lamp as you sat. Once the light turned on you were able to see it clear as day, two airline tickets to Sydney departing on the 20th and returning  on January 3rd. The two of you had briefly discussed travelling to Australia at some point so you could finally meet his family but nothing had ever been confirmed. 

The naivety that had always been a part of who you were began to connect non-existent dots with hopeful lines. Luke was planning on surprising you with Christmas in Australia with his family. It explained why he was never home, it also explained the secretive phone calls you had started picking up on after he scurried out of bed in the middle of the night a while ago to speak to someone in hushed tones just outside the bedroom door.

That night when he finally got home at nearly eleven you had made sure to leave half a muffin with a note that read, “Miss you, stud muffin. You work too hard. Love you -y/n” on the kitchen counter. From where you laid in bed, you could hear him laugh as he read it aloud. You quickly sat up in bed when the laughs you were reveling in started to sound like sobs. 

The dim lighting in the kitchen didn’t stop you from seeing the tears on Luke’s face as he looked up to where you stood, stunned in the hallway. 

“What’s wrong?” you hurried to him. 

He made a sniffing sound before gathering you in his arms. He held you so tight that if it wasn’t so sincere it might’ve hurt. 

“Lu, what’s going on.” you squeaked out. 

He tightened his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your hair, emitting soft cries every so often. 

“I love you, y/n.” 

“I know. I love you too.” 

“I swear I’ll always love you. I swear.” 

“I know. Hey, Lu I know.” you soothed as his breaths became more labored. 

At some point you had managed to calm him down and coax him into bed, you reasoned that he was just so tired that his feelings got the best of him, something that had happened to you many times before. And honestly you were just happy to be back in his arms once again, so when he was wrapped around you in bed, his hands playing with your hair like they always did when he got anxious, you didn’t think twice about it when he said,

“We need to talk tomorrow, over breakfast. We can go to the café if you want?” 

You nodded against his chest as sleep overtook you, the last thing you heard being “I promise I’ll always love you.”  

Current Time - December 14th 

Your reminiscing was interrupted by a high pitched screech from the front of the cafe. When you followed the sound your eyes landed upon a distressed toddler, about three years old if you to guess, who was pouting up at a tall, gorgeous woman that was apologizing profusely to Olive for her son’s outbreak. You wouldn’t have looked twice at the scene if  it wasn’t for the way Olive’s troubled expression and wide eyes were directed precisely on you. 

The child was screaming through his cries “I want daddy’s muffin!” His face was red and blotchy from tears and the cold weather but didn’t completely overtake his creamy skin tone that complimented his familiar blue eyes. He was an adorable kid, a full head of blonde ringlets and chubby cheeks that you were sure turned a light pink when he smiled. 

He kind of reminded you of Luke. When the thought entered your head you were quick to dismiss it though, because if you were being honest most things reminded you of Luke. 

“I’m so sorry about this. He isn’t normally so loud, it’s just that my husband loves these muffins and he promised Sammy one.” you heard the gorgeous woman say. 

“It’s fine, the cranberry orange muffin is a big hit around here. They sell out almost everyday.” Olive responded, her eyes unbreaking from yours. 

“Yea that’s what Luke always tells me.” 

Five years ago - December 14th 

The walk to the café felt longer than it typically did and you had no idea why, for some reason you didn’t notice that Luke was dragging his feet. Maybe it was because you were sure that this impromptu breakfast date was to tell you of the surprise Christmas trip to Australia. Maybe it was because any amount of extra time you got to spend holding Luke’s hand in your own you considered a gift. 

When you finally arrived you were quick to usher him to your favorite table, one that was secluded in the corner, enough to have a bit of privacy but also allowed you to people watch on slow days and have telepathic conversations with Olive from across the room. 

You noticed that Luke wasn’t eating after a few minutes, his muffin half sat untouched in front of him and his nervous demeanor was driving you crazy. 

“I have to admit something.” you finally said, tired of the silence. 

Luke nodded for you to continue but refused to meet your eyes as you spoke. 

“I know about Australia, I found the tickets in your drawer so if that’s what you're so nervous about, there’s no need. Of course I’ll go with you, you have no idea how excited I am to meet your mom, she can finally show me all those baby pictures that she’s always telling me about.” you were so busy picturing your potential trip to Luke’s hometown that you didn’t notice Luke’s teared up eyes and anxious tapping. 

“Y/n, the tickets aren’t for-” he cut himself off before the approaching crack in his voice could prevail. “I met someone.” 

“Okay?” 

You didn’t even know what that meant, he met someone? You met people all the time, what does that have to do with the trip?  You lifted your mug to take a sip while you waited for him to continue.

“I mean I-I have feelings for someone, uh someone else.” 

You didn’t even feel your grip release, you didn’t hear the shattering noise, you didn’t feel the scorching liquid seep through your top onto your skin. 

Luke was leaving you. He fell in love with someone else. It was serious enough that he was bringing her home. Luke was leaving you. Luke was leaving you. Luke was leaving you.

“I don’t understand.” The crying had already begun, and although it didn’t surprise Luke he couldn’t bear to watch it. He stared at the spilled tea and shards of glass. The entire cafe’s eyes were on you and you didn’t even notice all you could see was that Luke’s weren’t. 

“Look at me.” you pleaded. There was a time when he would’ve seen your face, seen how distressed you were and gone back on everything solely because it hurt him too much to see you hurt. 

When did that stop? Why hadn’t you noticed? 

“I love you y/n, really I do. But I love her too.” 

“You love her more.” you didn’t even try to phrase it as a question, there was no point, you already knew the answer. He must’ve loved her more because he was leaving you for her. Luke was leaving you. 

Your acknowledgement of his feelings didn’t make it hurt any less when he didn’t deny it. Luke was leaving you. 

You sat in silence for at least five minutes, it felt like years. Luke watched you cry, fighting the urge to wrap you in his arms, and sway you back and forth until you stopped. He wouldn’t do that because it was selfish, it would ease his troubles more than yours, he deserved to see how his hurtful actions affected the one he swore to shield from any and all pain. 

“I’ll have everything out of the apartment by the end of the week.” 

The end of the week? You had planned on spending the rest of your life with him and he was telling you that he would essentially be out of your life by the end of the week. Luke was leaving you. None of it felt real. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I love you.” 

Watching him leave felt surreal, you couldn’t hear anything but your blood pumping, you hardly took any notice when Olive rushed to your table and pulled you into her embrace. 

Luke left you. 

Current time - December 14th 

You could feel his presence as soon as he stumbled out of the bathroom.

How could you have missed him coming in?

You dragged your eyes up his body from his feet, and when they fell upon his face it was like someone had pressed play after fast forwarding through the years that had been taken from you. You weren’t 23 anymore, and Luke certainly wasn’t either. He’d always had a strong build, but he held himself differently now. He was confident and collected, very sure of himself. He had a bit of scruff lining his jaw but you could tell it was well kept and intentional and a pair of black rimmed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. You reacquainted yourself with his appearance from your spot in the corner. 

With each subtle change you catalogued in your brain, vivid images danced through your head, like a kaleidoscope of what could’ve been. You saw lazy Sunday mornings on the couch leisurely sipping coffee, the open windows next to you bringing in a sweet breeze making the house smell like fresh grass after it rains. You saw yourself pushing a stroller through a park, Luke chasing behind one of your little ones just a few feet ahead. You saw roadtrips, vacations, theme parks, crowded family dinners, trick or treating, white gowns, and wedding cakes. You saw binkies, and bottles, tangled sheets, ruffled hair, pecks on the forehead, lunch boxes, and I love you notes. 

The last scene you saw, one that felt so real you could’ve sworn you were really there, started with Luke sitting on the floor surrounded in wrapping paper a toddler curled up in his lap. He wore flannel pajama pants and a ratty shirt he had purchased at the concert you went to for your third date. He took sips from his mug of lukewarm coffee every so often, and you were sure if you got close enough you’d be able to smell it on his breath, not that you would mind. His curls were grown out more than he typically liked them, they were messy from sleep and obstructing his vision slightly. Just as you reached out to brush them from his forehead, it was like you had been thrown backwards by a force strong enough to make your stomach drop. 

Reality. 

You could still see Luke from where you stood but he was so far away now. You reached your hand out again, gasping in shock when it hit a sheet of glass, you knocked against it firmly but nothing happened. It was like a window where you watched the scene unfold. A woman you had been in the same position as not seconds ago stood up and revealed her face. It was his wife, she handed Luke a small gift bag and waited patiently as he opened it. He acknowledged the gift, a framed photo of the two of them and leaned forward to press a thank you kiss to her lips. 

“Stop!” you called.

No one can hear you. 

“Luke, I’m right here.” you yelled, slamming an open hand to the glass. 

Hot tears fell from your cheeks as you continued to knock and shout. 

“Lu, please.”

As he pulled away from the kiss a grin plastered his face. And it hit you, he was happy. He really was happy. 

Realization of the thing you dreaded the most in the world happened quickly, but not painlessly. Luke’s eyes flicked to your own, he saw you through the window. He saw you calling for him, crying for him, begging for him. He saw you and then he looked away. 

And reality snapped you back yet again, right into the present moment. You were in your café, staring at your empty mug, your face felt hot and wet. When had you started to cry? You reached a shaky hand out for a napkin to wipe your tears, but ended up knocking the mini poinsettia pot in front of you over instead. A crash echoed through the café and everyone turned their attention to you and your frantic demeanor. Everyone, even Luke. 

You forced your eyes up from the glass that sat shattered on the white tablecloth with slow movements and shallow breaths until they finally found the culprit, the reason for your pain. You could see right through the light blue of his eyes, shock and bittersweet nostalgia pooled in the cerulean waves. 

Just like you were suddenly 29 and hurt when you saw Luke. He was suddenly 20 and enamored when he saw you. 

He physically winced while taking notice of the black streaks that cascaded down your cheeks. It reminded him of leaving you. It was all his fault. 

He met your gaze with a desperate one of his own, silently praying that you could still read him well enough to understand. 

His eyes released unspoken declarations with every slow blink. 

I can’t believe I’m seeing you. I miss you. I still love you. I’ll always love you. 

You can’t be here right now. I’m with my family. I’m happy now. I’m happy without you. 

Every silent, stabbing confession all summed up into one that you had been afraid of for the entire eight years that Luke Hemmings had stolen from you. 

I love you, but somehow that stopped being enough.

The place was silent. All eyes on you. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

You weren’t quite sure who you were apologizing to or what for,  it could’ve been to Olive for making yet another mess that she would end up cleaning. It could’ve been to all the customers you disrupted when you broke the flower pot. Or Luke’s son who you had stolen a muffin from. Or maybe his wife, that you had been demonizing in your head for years, seeing her only as the woman who stole the love of your life. It could’ve been to Luke, you were sorry you hadn’t taken him seriously, he was in love and he had a family and you were still waiting around for the day he decided to come back for you. The day that would never come. 

Deep down though, you knew you were saying it to yourself. Eight years is a long time, you had stopped living for yourself a long time ago. You did miss Luke, of course you did but maybe part of the hole in your chest that you had been so desperately trying to fill, was yourself. You really missed you. You without Luke. How could you have forgotten about her? 

“I have to go.” this time you knew exactly who you were talking to and as your feet carried you to the door you didn’t even contemplate turning around when Luke’s voice broke through the silence of the café to say,         

 “Y/n, wait!” 

You kept walking, past the stunned patrons, past Olive, past Luke. You kept walking until you were sure that no one would catch up. You just kept walking because after all this time you were so done waiting.

[harrysweasleys]

save me a dance // n.l.

summary: Hi!! Could I please request a Neville x Slytherin! Reader? She has a kind soul and became friends with Hermione (who’s the only person that knows about her crush on Neville), but she kept her distance because she knew about what happened to his parents. She goes to the Yule ball with another Slytherin that eventually ditched her, so she sneaks into the kitchens and hangs out with house elves until Neville comes by (knowing that she always hung out with them when she felt sad) and he confesses ^^

warnings: very brief mention of unwanted sexual advances if you squint, mentions of food

word count: 5k

a/n: my first neville fic!!! i’m so excited for you all to read it, i had so much fun writing it :)

[i do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other platform]

For what felt like the hundredth time, you woke up to the same view; your Yule Ball dress hanging loosely over the four poster bed, the sunlight streaming through the fabric and onto your chunky bed sheets.

The dress was quite stunning, but Godric, did you dread wearing it. You didn’t exactly feel like dancing the night away alongside some Slytherin bloke while you looked around at all the happy couples, wishing ever so desperately that that could have been you. That you could be the one dancing the night away with the person who had captured your heart effortlessly.

Unfortunately, that plan hadn’t exactly fallen into place. Hermione had done her best to help you out in getting him to ask you, but you ended up being put on the spot when a Slytherin boy named Jasper had asked you during Transfigurations. So, you had said yes, but deep down, that regret was starting to multiply by the second.

You let out a groan, tossed your head back against the pillow, and lifted the warm comforter off of your body. The fireplace in the centre of the room was still crackling away, but within the stone walls of the castle, the cold seemed to never fully fade.

So you threw on your house sweater, your scarf, robe, and a pair of trousers, before heading down to start the day. The snow was accumulating rather quickly outside as Christmas drew nearer, rendering you quite glad that you brought your scarf.

“At least you’re prepared,” Hermione mumbled as the two of you made your way to Divinations, “It’s always freezing in Professor Trewlaney’s room! Oh, how I wish I could have brought mine. Rather silly of me.”

You chuckled, keeping your eyes on the long winding staircase as you responded to her, “Not to worry, I’m sure Ron has a sweater you can borrow.”

Though you weren’t facing her, you could practically feel her eye roll as she scoffed, “Very funny. Such a clever idea. You really are filled with those.”

“I’m just saying,” you turned back to face her quickly before pulling down the ladder to the Divination classroom, “I’m sure he’d think you look amazing in it. Isn’t that what guys like? When their girlfriends wear their clothing?”

“I’m not his girlfriend,” she shushed you as you climbed up, “Be quiet!”

You apologized with a laugh as you climbed into the classroom and made your way to your usual seat at the front by the window, Hermione coming over to join you. Harry and Ron were seated not too far away, but that didn’t really matter to you. From across the class, you spotted Neville.

He was accompanied by Seamus — who seemed quite interested in the tablecloth at the moment — but you so wished that you could be the one sitting across from him.

His vest hung loosely against his body and his dark hair was littering his forehead, eyes scrunched shut as he let out a yawn. As he opened them, you noticed they darted in your direction before snapping away.

You felt a frown form on your lips. Why did he look away so fast? Instinctively, you raised a hand to the top of your head to check if there was anything in your hair.

“What are you doing?” Hermione asked as she dug through her bag, placing the heavy Divinations book on top of the circular table. The book, with its golden lettering, seemed to twinkle under the pink hues of the morning sky.

You shrugged, “Nothing.”

Her eyes followed to where you had previously been looking, and she let out a sigh, “Relax. You look wonderful. There’s nothing to fix.”

You sulked back into your chair, “Hermione, he asked Ginny to the ball. Don’t try to continue your matchmaking.”

She leaned forward on the table, pushing her thick hair behind her shoulder, “Doesn’t mean you don’t stand a chance. Look, I like Ginny, but maybe they’re going as friends. Like you and Jasper.”

“I think Jasper has more than friendship on his mind,” you muttered under your breath, thinking back to the way his hands lingered on your lower back a little too long after you agreed to be his date.

She gave you a sympathetic glance, opening her mouth to speak again, but was interrupted by Trewlaney announcing her presence. The class began shortly after, and you spent the time reading Hermione’s palm and deciphering what your own dreams meant.

According to the textbook, you were going to stumble upon a lot of money as well as possibly fall down a sewer within the next week. Nothing new, really. It was better than Harry’s, who once again, was told he was doomed for death in the coming months.

As the class ended, you stuffed the books and parchment into your backpack and thanked Trelawney for the lesson, following Hermione out of the room. As you made your way to the ladder, you spotted a little red ball on the ground.

You crouched to pick it up, immediately recognizing it as Neville’s remembrall. How oddly convenient that it land right at your feet.

“Oh, thanks,” he muttered as you turned to hand it to him, fingers brushing against his as you placed it in his palm, “This thing likes to try and escape.”

You grinned at him, “You should keep it safe in your dorm.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady as you spoke to him, which was odd, really. Why did you always become so nervous around Neville, who was one of the shyest, kindest people you’d ever met? Crushes were quite strange.

He gave you a small smile and a shrug, “I like to carry it on me. It’s from my nan. I don’t want to leave it behind.”

Your chest felt like it was going to swell at his words, “That’s really sweet. I’m sure she appreciates that you care for it so much.”

As you turned back to face the ladder, Hermione gave you a quick wink and a thumbs up before darting away with Harry and Ron, clearly insinuating that you should walk with Neville. You mentally scolded her before making your way to it, Neville not far behind.

“She does,” he said, fondness clear in his voice, “It’s not like I get anything from my parents, so I cherish anything I get from my family in general.”

Your heart sunk in your chest. Neville had always been very closed off when talking about his family — especially his parents — so the way he mentioned them so casually had you doubting what to say next. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by continuing the topic, nor did you want to brush it off like it was nothing.

“I’m sorry,” you said, facing him once the two of you began going down the spiral staircase, “I can imagine it’s difficult. But your nan clearly cares a lot, and she’s lucky to have you.”

His ears turned slightly pink at your words and you had to fight a grin.

The next few minutes were silent until Neville once again turned to face you. There was something about him that always seemed optimistic, despite the fact that he had just spoken a bit about the difficult situation with his parents. Whether it be the smile on his face or the sparkle in his eye, you couldn’t be sure what it was. But Merlin, did you ever adore it.

“She sent me my suit for the Yule Ball, actually,” he said, a bit of a hop in his step as he said the words, “It doesn’t fit perfectly but I’m sure it’ll last the night.”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s awfully sweet of her. I’m sure you’ll look dashing.”

As you said the words, you regretted them instantly. Well, not so much regretted — you meant every syllable — but more so, you wished you could currently fall into the sewer that Trelawney had predicted you’d stumble into.

Throwing out a compliment like that was quite possibly the last thing you wanted to do. Would he react badly? Would he think you were coming onto him? Would this change things?

Were you overthinking?

The corners of his lips curled up into a shy smile and he gave you a nod and cut you short of your internal rambling, “Are you excited?”

Yeah, definitely overthinking.

You let out a sigh, trying to move past your embarrassment and continue your walk to your next class, dodging a few passing students, “Kind of. I’m excited for the music. Not so much the dancing. I’m not very good at that.”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t either. I taught myself, actually. In my room. The lads loved to make fun of that.”

The image of Neville dancing away in the cramped boys’ dorm brought a smile to your face.

“You’ve already got a step up on me, then,” you faced him, “Get ready to watch me humiliate myself on the dance floor.”

You stepped a little closer to him as a group of Ravenclaw pushed past in a rush, and Neville’s hand reached for your arm to help steady you.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling away and avoiding your gaze, “But anyways, I’m sure you’re not as bad as you think. Ginny has never danced either, so you won’t be the only one.”

You tried your best to push past the surge of jealousy that washed over you. You already knew he was going with Ginny — hell, you’d know for a while now — but it did not make it any easier to hear. Especially coming from him.

“I didn’t expect you’d ask her,” you admitted, “but I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time. She’ll have a good leader to help her maneuver the moves.”

You gave his shoulder a small nudge, trying to act like you weren’t drowning in your own feelings. The thought of Neville holding Ginny close to his body as they swayed to the romantic music nearly made you sick. You liked Ginny a great deal, she was such a sweet girl with a fierce attitude that you admired, but you really wished Neville had asked you instead.

“We’re just going as friends,” he said, “I was going to ask someone else but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And I’m pretty sure Ginny was also interested in another person in the first place.”

You tried your best to hold back a sigh of relief. They were going as friends. That didn’t mean it would make it easier to see them together, but maybe you could push past the jealousy you felt about seeing them as a couple.

But then the next thing he said hit you; he wanted to ask someone else. Someone he was interested in romantically? Perhaps he actually did like someone, even if that someone wasn’t Ginny. Who could it be? And why were you so irritated? You didn’t even know them.

“Well,” you said, unsure of how to change the topic, “I’ll be looking out for you two on the dance floor.” You wanted so desperately to no longer speak of the Yule Ball. The thought of the night was now dizzying and had you feeling a little faint, to be completely honest.

It was going to be a long day.

— —

You were honestly quite surprised by the appearance of the Great Hall. Usually filled with long tables, chairs, and candles, it was now glistening like a winter wonderland. There was fake snow falling from the ceiling, but it never touched the ground. The room smelled faintly of pine trees and sweets, and you figured that there had to be at least seven Christmas trees littering the room.

To put it simply, the space was beautiful.

Music played softly from the dance floor ahead, and to your right, there was a small table with a few snacks and drinks. There were also quite a few seats around, already occupied by couples and friends.

“What do you want to do?”

You turned to face Jasper, who was waving over at a group of Slytherins further on the left.

“We can go dance,” you suggested, praying he wasn’t going to drag you over to his housemates. Jasper seemed alright enough, but you weren’t a fan of his obnoxious friends. You could very well go the night without hanging around them, thank you very much.

He shrugged, “Sure.”

He linked his hand in yours and tugged you along behind him, bringing you over to the dance floor. Once you got there, you noticed a few familiar faces.

Hermione and Viktor were not far away, and she gave you an excited grin before pointing at her date, who was obviously making love heart eyes in her direction. You couldn’t blame him, honestly. Further along you spotted Fred and Angelina, dancing away as if they were the only two in the room. It caused you to chuckle.

“So do you want to dance, or…?” Jasper asked, placing one of his hands on your waist.

You shivered under his touch. It wasn’t a good shiver, it was discomfort. You wanted more than anything to be dancing with Neville — who you currently spotted over with Ginny, his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” you squeaked, awkwardly stepping closer to him before putting your arms around his neck. Your throat began to sting as you watched the two of them glide across the floor, laughing as they spoke to each other. It felt quite juxtaposed to the uncomfortable, weird situation that you found yourself currently in.

You began to sway to the music, trying your best not to dart your eyes to Neville every couple of seconds. Jasper was clearly not enjoying this, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care what he wanted. He wasn’t going to get what he came here for and you weren’t going to be guilted into it either.

You honestly couldn’t be thankful enough as the slow song ended. You quickly pulled your arms away from him and you crossed them over your chest.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you said, not waiting for his response before taking off to the table by the entrance. You heard him call your name as you pushed your way through students, holding the skirt of your dress in your hands to avoid being stepped on, but you didn’t look back.

There was a clearing near the table and you took a deep breath, dropping your skirt and letting out a sigh. Your shoulders slouched as you walked over and grabbed a small glass, not even sure if you were thirsty. The excuse was simply to get away from Jasper. You were regretting your decision to come here more than ever.

“I recommend the punch.”

You spun on your heel, nearly coming in contact with Neville. He was standing behind you, taking a step back after realizing how close he really was.

“Oh—,” you nodded, “Thanks.”

The punch bowl sat in front of you, glistening red under the shimmering lights. You grabbed the spoon and poured yourself a little bit, enjoying the scent of the fruity drink.

You turned back around, giving Neville a forced smile, “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

His eyebrows furrowed and he fiddled with his waistcoat, “Are you alright? I don’t mean to prod or anything.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, “Yeah, I guess I’m alright, really. Just not having a great time.”

Neville��s eyes scanned the dance floor where he spotted Jasper’s familiar blond head scanning the crowd, “I’m guessing it has something to do with your date.”

His eyes found yours again and you nodded, placing the glass down on the table behind you, “My situation is kind of like yours, I guess. You wanted to ask someone else. Well, I wanted someone else to ask me.”

You could see his shoulders sag before he frowned, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I’d say anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner, but something about him tells me he’s not enjoying himself the way he should be, being by your side and all.”

You had to fight a grin at his words. How Neville could be so awkward, yet so effortless in his words, you’d never understand. It was one of the reasons you knew you wouldn’t be getting over your crush anytime soon.

“Thanks,” you gave him a smile, looking down to the ground before meeting his eyes again, “You should go back. I don’t want to keep you from dancing.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes as he scanned your face, but he gave a slight nod, “If ever you want to get away from him, I’ll be there to help you.”

“Thanks, Neville,” you smiled genuinely, maintaining eye contact. He stood there for a moment, looking into your eyes, and you could practically feel how reluctant he was to walk away.

As cliché and typical as it sounds, it almost felt like you were alone in the room, completely lost in his gaze. His eyes brought you comfort that nothing else could provide, and you only wished you could look into them more often. Like dancing, for example. How easily you’d find yourself lost in his eyes if you were dancing.

“No worries,” he gave you a small smile, scanned your face once more, and took off into the crowd. As you watched his head of dark hair vanish, you let out a deep breath. If life could go your way, he’d have his hand linked with yours as he led you back to the dance floor.

But life wasn’t fair like that, was it?

You completely disregarded the punch behind you, stomach feeling like it was in knots, and made your way back to where you left Jasper. Only, you couldn’t find the familiar mop of blond hair anywhere. He was rather tall, so it wouldn’t be difficult to spot him. And yet, somehow, he was nowhere to be seen.

Until you looked to the entrance door and saw him hand in hand with a ginger Slytherin girl, both of them stumbling over their feet as they made their way out.

“Well, that was fast,” you mumbled, a frown on your face.

You stood alone on the floor, couples swaying to the music around you. It kind of felt like a movie — the kind of movie where the girl gets her heart crushed by a guy, and then is ditched by another guy, and then is left alone in the end. A crappy movie, you thought, but one that seemed to fit really well right now.

The music was practically taunting you, so instead of staying put or going to finish your drink, you once again gathered your dress in your hands, and made your way out of the room.

The hallway felt a lot fresher compared to the Great Hall, but that was understandable. Hundreds of bodies in one room compared to the corridor with an open doorway to the winter air.

Though, that wasn’t where you were going. You decided you’d go down to your usual escape spot, and now that all the teachers were chaperoning the ball, you would make it there with minimal interruption.

You spotted the familiar painting by the kitchen entrance, the bowl of fruits, and raised your hand to tickle the pear. The painting swung open and you crawled through the little stone passage, making sure your dress wasn’t going to get caught, before landing on both feet on the tile floor.

“Oh! Miss Y/N!”

Dobby, donned in a little scarf and hat, waved at you from a tabletop.

“Hey, Dobby,” you grinned, “Sorry to interrupt your quiet evening in here. I didn’t know where else to go.”

He patted the table next to him, “Why did you leave so early? Dobby heard the ball was lasting all night.”

You gave him a little smile, sitting down on the stool in front of him, “Wasn’t as fun as I expected. I’d rather spend my evening here. Where is everyone else?” The stool was rather small for a human being, considering it was most likely made for an elf, but if you leaned forwards against the table and kept your feet plastered to the ground, you managed to balance just fine.

He gave a little smile and looked at you with those big eyes, “They are all tired! We have been putting the ball together for days now! They all went to bed.”

The corner of your lips curved up, “Well, now you have company, Dobby.”

He clapped his hands together and let out a little laugh, “Let me show you what Dobby found today. It was in the Gryffindor common room!”

You nodded, knowing that it was most likely a knitted hat. Hermione had been leaving those scattered around the room for a little while now. Little did she know Dobby was the one collecting them all.

As you watched his little body disappear through a small doorway on the far wall, you took a look around the kitchen. Despite the fact that you were certain they had been working non-stop in here for days on end, it was nearly spotless. Pots and pans shimmered under the candlelight, tabletops were clear, apart from a few fruit bowls and snacks. The counters were clean, as well as the floors.

If this place had windows, or maybe a little more light, you felt it would be quite nice.

You sat there silently for a little while, already beginning to feel the sadness of the evening creep in. It was quite a bummer, really. You didn’t know if you wanted to go back to your own dorm tonight or stay out wandering the halls, mind running through all the scenarios on how tonight could have gone differently, how it could have been better.

The only sound you could hear was a light creak, which you eventually realized was the painting swinging open to let someone in.

Panic began to settle in and you stood off your chair, moving to the other side of the table. You would still be very much visible if you ducked, so there was no point in doing it, but you did it anyways.

The last thing you wanted was for Snape or Moody to catch you where you shouldn’t be.

Except, the person that crawled through and landed sturdily on their feet wasn’t Snape or Moody.

It was Neville.

You popped your head back up, eyes locking with his. He looked a little disheveled in terms of his hair, and his bow tie was slightly off centre, but the smile on his face showed relief.

“Neville?” you asked, already feeling a little less panicked. You only hoped Neville was alone. The last thing you wanted was for a girl to crawl in behind him. He wasn’t that kind of guy, you knew that, but your mind went there anyways.

Thankfully, he was alone. The painting swung closed behind him and he gave you a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, walking back around to the front of the table, this time deciding not to sit on the stool.

His cheeks turned a little pink but he brushed it off and shrugged, “I saw you rush out of the room. I wanted to see if you were okay. I remember you once told me you come here when you’re upset, so I gave it a shot.”

Your mouth felt like it fell open so you shut it quickly, blinking rapidly, “I’m surprised you remembered. Only you and Hermione know about my little escape spot.”

He gave a small chuckle, stepping a little closer, “Are you alright, though? I saw you leave and I didn’t see your date anywhere.”

You gave a shrug, averting your eyes, “He left. With another girl. I wasn’t interested in him that way, but it still sucks.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and gave a shake of his head, “You’re better off without him,” he stepped a little closer, catching your attention once more, “But I get why you’re upset. Funny story, the same thing happened to me. But not in the same sense. Ginny managed to get a dance with Harry.”

You were close enough to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

Realization caught up to you and you noticed how stupid this gesture probably was, so you snatched your arm back and held it against you. Neville noticed your quick reaction and you could see his gaze fall down to the ground before meeting yours again.

Just like at the punch table, it felt as if time stood still while you looked into his eyes. You could see he looked like he wanted to say something, his stare darting back and forth between your lips and your eyes, but he didn’t say anything for a good moment.

Until one of his hands reached across and held yours. His skin was warm, and you could feel his pulse against his wrist. His heart was beating fast, and if he could feel your own pulse, he’d say the same about you.

“You look—,” he took a deep breath, “You look beautiful tonight. Well, not just tonight. You look beautiful most of the time. I’m just saying, it’s — never mind.”

Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest, goosebumps rising on your skin at his words. They had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t find a way to respond. No words seemed to find their way into your mind. All you could do was smile. A bright, genuine grin that hurt your cheeks.

“Thanks,” you let out a small laugh, linking your fingers with his, “Also, you look pretty dapper yourself. I told you you would, and I was right.”

He stepped closer, his other hand locking with your free one. It wasn’t an overtly intimate gesture — people held hands all the time — but Merlin, did you ever melt into his touch.

“Do you — Can we have a dance?”

You bit your lip to hold back your smile. How you went from standing alone on the dance floor, starring in the most depressing teen flick you’d ever heard of, to standing alone in the kitchen, your hands locked with Neville’s as the candles flickered around the two of you, you’d never know. But you were so, so grateful. And happier than you can ever remember being.

“I’d love that,” you nodded, stepping closer and resting your head against his shoulder. His hands let go of yours and went to your waist, and it felt so right. So right that you completely forgot about how it felt when Jasper was holding you instead.

Your hands went up to his neck, draping them around him and leaning into his touch. There was no music, but it almost didn’t feel necessary. The two of you began to sway slowly back and forth, the only sound being the click of your shoes as you took your steps. You couldn’t even bring yourself to care about whether Dobby would walk back in any second now.

He rested his head against yours as he led the way. It wasn’t much of a dance, but it was quite possibly the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. You wished more than anything that you could freeze this moment and live like this forever.

“A hat! Dobby was left a hat — Oh! Hello!”

Neville pulled away instinctively and grinned awkwardly, taking a second to process what had happened before nodding his head in the direction of the house elf, “Hello, Dobby.”

You fought a grin, turning your head back to face Dobby, who was awkwardly looking between the two of you, a large knitted beanie in his hand.

“Dobby can sense he is intruding,” he muttered, giving a little bow before backing up through the door he left through before, “Good night!”

The moment had sort of been interrupted, but you didn’t move away from Neville’s touch, resting your head against his shoulder once more as your laughter died down. Of course, the curious little elf would walk in at the worst moment.

“I knew that would happen,” you laughed, tightening your grip around him a little more. He chuckled, head falling against yours. You could feel his hair tickling the side of your face, the strands unruly and curly as they brushed against your skin.

The night ended up being way better than you expected.

This one you would never forget.

——

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[harryhandstan]

This is my contribution to @meetmeinfleetwood​‘s “to lovers” fic challenge! I chose the trope roommates to lovers and the prompt “I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.” This was fun to write thank you for allowing me to participate!

Thank you to my beta readers @tbslenthusiast​, @witch-harry​, and @sunflowers-styles​! Y’all are the best!!

no warnings that I can think of other than alcohol tw // bc of the wine they share!

word count: 2.3k

writing tag | masterlist

It’s 5:45 p.m. when you finally leave work for the day. You should’ve just said to hell with it and went home at 5:30 like you were supposed to, but you were nice enough not to. Too nice you’d been told in the past, but it’s a flaw you’re willing to accept if it gets you a promotion to the position you ultimately dreamed of working when you started there 3 years ago.

After a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine (or two), your car can’t get you home fast enough. It’s Friday and you’re looking forward to spending time doing absolutely nothing for the next two days but curling up in a blanket and watching Christmas movies in the apartment you will essentially be alone in. Your roommate Harry shared the space with you, but kept to himself for the most part. Aside from dinners and movie nights on rare occasions when your schedule lined up, allowing you to spend the evening together.

As if your thoughts summoned him, your phone dinged, indicating a new message. Your eyes dart down to where it sits in the passenger seat, careful to keep your eyes on the car in front of you, waiting patiently for the light to turn red so you can grab your phone to respond.

It’s one simple word, “Home?” so you know he’s either still working or on his own drive home. 

Your reply is just as direct, “Not yet. On my way! Movie night?” 

The light’s green again so you tuck your phone back into your purse, ignoring the next ding until you arrive home. You’re through the door of your apartment and down the hall before you read his message, “Sure. Chinese or pizza?” 

“Chinese! I’ll pick the movie and you pay for dinner?”

“That doesn’t sound fair :(”

“Alright fine, you get home before I’m out of the shower and in my pajamas you can pick the movie..deal?”

“Deal!”

The race is on then, both of you competitive and determined to win. You have a movie in mind that you’ve been dying to watch all day and you don’t want to have to rock-paper-scissors to break the tie like you usually do when the two of you don’t agree on who wins  these little games. 

You’d already shed most of your layers of clothing easily as you moved through the apartment; your boots kicked off by the door, jacket gone and thrown over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, cardigan pulled from your body and tossed on the bed by the time you made it to your bedroom. It doesn’t take long to strip the rest away and to gather a set of pajamas from your well organized drawer before darting across the hall to the shared bathroom.

You know you have at minimum 45 minutes to be done, an hour if he goes to the better Chinese place a little further across town, which he most likely would. You’d been dreaming of ending your week with a bubble bath, but you don’t take the chance now, just hop under the hot spray of the shower, hoping it will have the same relaxing effect. Your eyes are closed as you tilt your head back to wet your hair while one hand fumbles over the bottles to find your shampoo. 

Eyes still closed, you tip the bottle to add a bit to your hand, but you freeze when you open your eyes temporarily to close the bottle and put it back on the shelf. It’s Harry’s shampoo you’ve grabbed instead and for a moment you don’t know what to do. You don’t know how many times you’ve teased him about how expensive his products are. But he would never let you hear the end of it if he came home and you smelled like him. Ultimately you would’ve felt too guilty to waste it, so you work it through and hope he never finds out. Pray that the act washes away just like the suds do when you rinse them from your hair. 

By your hopeful calculations, you still have about 10 minutes left before he arrives by the time you're done in the shower. You decide to give him a fair advantage, venturing into the kitchen to decide which bottle of wine would pair best with dinner. When you make your selection, you pour yourself a glass, settling into a comfy spot on the couch. The black remote taunts you from the small wooden coffee, and you grab it. No harm in getting the movie ready while you wait, right?

You’re 2 glasses deep and 20 minutes into the movie when he arrives, a smirk on his face at the sight of you. Your eyes go wide when you see him. You’re not sure why, there had been many nights he’d found you in the same position, but tonight feels different. You gulp down the sip of wine, too tipsy and unaware that you’re staring. Had his dimples always been that prominent when he smiled? Even without your glasses you could spot that grin that stretched a mile wide across his face.

“Haroldddd..you’re home!”

He hated that nickname, had always despised when other people called him that, but falling from your lips it sounds like a prayer and he would gladly change his name to that if he thought it would make you the least bit happy.

“S’pose I lost, huh? Got the food pretty quickly but stopped to get this,” He holds up a bottle of wine, ironically the very same kind that you’re drinking now, “Shoulda known y’would already have some!”

“Oh good, you got some for yourself..this one’s almost empty..”

“M’not that late, am I?” He chuckles as he makes his way to the counter, looking between you and the bottle.

“Hey..it’s a small bottle! This is only my third glass and I’ve barely even touched it.”

“Rough day?” He’s pulling plates down now and retrieving a glass for himself from the cabinet.

“Rough week. Rough few weeks, really.” You take a few more sips as you watch him prepare a plate of food. You figure he’s just making his own, and you wait patiently for him to finish so you won’t be in the way. But when he makes his way around the counter, he’s holding two plates in his hand and wow you want to jump from your spot and kiss him. You restrain yourself, as hard as it may be, and try to focus on the question he’s asking you.

He holds the plates towards the table and then towards where you sit on the couch, silently wanting to know where you’d prefer to enjoy your meal. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to move closer, knowing how much effort it would take to lift yourself from your warm, comfy spot to go eat at the table.

“Emily still on vacation?” 

“Yes! And she expects us to do double the work while she’s gone! It’s her 3rd vacation this year. I know she’s the boss but..”

“Doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch to you.” He finishes your sentence for you, brow furrowed, upset at even the idea of someone mistreating you in the slightest. 

“Right! Thank you!” 

You hold your hand out to accept the plate he’s made for you, “Got our usual, hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was just joking earlier about you paying for all of it. I’ll pay you back for my half.”

He’s already shaking his head no, stuffing a bite of food in his mouth, “It was my turn anyway, r‘member? You paid for those tacos we had last week.”

“Right, I did. Forgot about that.”

You watch him devour a few more bites, your eyes darting from your plate to his, “Yours looks better.”

“Huh?”

Maybe it’s the wine making you more bold, you’d normally never complain, “Your plate it just..looks better than mine. Switch with me.”

“It’s literally the same thing..and I’ve already eaten half the noodles off mine.” He looks mildly annoyed at even the suggestion.

“Don’t care..it looks better. Switch.” You realized just how bratty you sound, so you add a quick, “Please?”

He huffs dramatically, switching the plates and giving you a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

You return his smile, blissfully unaware of his annoyance in your tipsy state, “Very, thank you.”

You both turn your attention to the tv you realize now you had forgotten to pause, so the movie had progressed further, about 30 minutes in now.

His irritation has already faded when he asks, “What are y’making me watch?”

You start to explain the plot but stop mid-bite of your food, “Wait..have you never seen this movie?”

He shrugs, “Doesn’t look familiar.”

“Oh we’re definitely starting it over then!” 

“No, ya don’t hafta..”

It’s too late, you’ve already discarded your now mostly empty plate of food, nearly knocking your glass of wine over in your excitement of making him watch one of your favorite movies.

Almost an hour in, you don’t notice that Harry’s eyes have drifted to you. In fact, they’d mostly stayed on you since you’d restarted the movie. Your facial expressions were better to him than any movie; the way your eyes softened at the more heartwarming parts, or when your mouth formed a soft ‘o’ and gasped at parts he was certain you had probably seen at least a dozen times before.

You clasp your hand over your heart dramatically and he doesn’t even flinch, just listens intently when you say, “I love this part..this is the moment.”

His eyes temporarily flash back to the tv then, “The moment?”

“Yeah, you know, the moment. Where the guy looks at the girl and realizes he’s in love.” You sigh deeply, “I always wanted someone to look at me like that.”

Oh, you mean like what’s happening now between us? God he hopes for just a glance from you, a chance to show you that you’re living your own moment now if you’d just look at him. 

It’s tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can stop it, his mouth working faster than his brain, but it’s a low enough whisper he thinks maybe you won’t hear.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do.”

You do hear him, though you don’t believe it at first. Your hand is still resting over your heart, searching his face for any sign of teasing or dishonesty.

“H..did you just..?”

He’s looking down at his hands, fingers fiddling with one of the rings adorning his fingers, nodding before replying, “I did.” 

“How long?”

“Um..since the first week we’ve lived together? That first night we made dinner together and it was a disaster. Thought you were gonna catch the place on fire.” A giggle escapes him at the memory of you, rushing around the kitchen that night, face flushed red and hair a mess.

“That’s my moment? Almost burning our apartment down?”

“That and now, yeah. Just been strugglin’ with the best way to tell you. S’pose the wine’s making me a lil’ more fearless,'' He takes a deep breath, still not able to look at you in case he finds even a hint of rejection on your face, “But I understand if you don’t feel the same..”

“I do.”

His head snaps to look at you then, eyes widening for a second before he composes himself, “Really?”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms across your face at the sight of the thrill in his eyes. There’s a new buzz of elation in the air, but neither of you make a move at first. A pleasant tension fills the space between the two of you.

You break the silence, “So..what do we do now?”

“S’all up to you how fast and how far we take this. M’all in though, ready when you are, love. A cuddle might be nice while we finish the movie, if you’re up f’that.”

“I think I could handle that. I want something else first though.”

He’s trying to read your mind, thinks he knows exactly what it is, but he wants to hear you say it. Wants to hear the words he’s been waiting to hear for what feels like a lifetime now.

“Kiss me, Harry.”

You’ve already turned your body towards him; the movie, the food and the wine all long forgotten. He clears the space between the two of you easily, a hand on the side of your neck to add just enough pressure to pull you towards him.

Your lips crash against his, noses bumping at first but it doesn’t stop you, it only makes you crave him deeper and closer. You press your knees into his thighs, pushing yourself up so that you hover over him, your hair falling around his face. It’s still slightly damp from the shower, and his hand comes to rest on the back of your head now. 

There’s a smug look on his face when he pulls away, a hand still placed on your hip to hold you steady. He’s still breathless when he asks, “Did you use my shampoo?”

When you wake up in his bed the next morning, you question if last night was a mistake. You don’t regret it, not for a second, just wonder if maybe things will be different in the morning light. 

So when you barely touch the plate of eggs and toast he’s made for you for breakfast, he worries you’re having second thoughts about him, that he’s ruined any friendship you’ve already built by rushing into a relationship. 

So when you say, “Did you really mean what you said last night..about loving me?” He visibly relaxes, dropping his shoulders and beaming at you from across his own breakfast plate.

“Oh, darlin’,” He plucks a piece of uneaten toast from your plate, winking at you as he does, “You don’t know the half of it.” 

[90spumkin]

Have Yourself a Spooky Little Christmas

Summary: What the holidays are like with Spencer and your 5 year old son.

A/N: Well here it is. My first Christmas fic! I enjoyed writing this it made me all warm and happy. I don’t know who to give creds to for the pictures because I got it from google. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this, and message me if you would like to be added to my taglist or the taglist for a certain series just specify which one. Also this is kind of how i pictured Ronan while writing this. Let me know if any of the links throughout the fic are not working and I will fix them.

Pairing: dad!Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: lying to a child about Santa, the rest is just fluff 

Word Count:1942

It had been a long day at the office. Pile upon piles of paperwork were coming in trying to get everything settled before the holidays. I had just curled up on the couch with my son Ronan to watch a Christmas movie, when the door of the apartment flies open and in comes my husband weighed down by shopping bags.

I instantly untangle myself from my blanket to go help him. As I make my way to him as I quickly as I can my dorky husband starts on one of his rants before I can even get a hello out.

“Y/n you are not gonna believe all the Christmas stuff I just found at that little Christmas store down the street. I was gonna surprise you guys with getting home early. Well as you can see, I got distracted.” Spencer giggled at himself and I stood staring at my husband still trying to process that my Halloween obsessed husband was actually excited about Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong we have always celebrated Christmas the 8 years we’ve been together, but we have never really gotten into the festivities of the holidays. Spencer was bent over rummaging through the bags he had dropped on the floor. He stood up with what looked like sweaters clutched in each hand a goofy grin on his face, “Where’s Ronan? I got us all matching Christmas sweaters!”

“Asleep on the couch. Spencer honey why on earth-?” I was cut off by Spencer walking away and gently shaking our son awake. There was a loud screech and yelling of “Daddy! Daddy you’re home!”

Ronan attacked his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. Spencer picked him up and walked back over towards me. He showed Ronan the sweaters and our son just thought that they were the best thing ever by the look on his face.

I looked down at the bags at my feet which contained way more Christmas decorations we had room for. Spencer noticed me looking and said, “I thought we could visit my mom this weekend and decorate her room with what we don’t use here.”

I thought my heart was gonna explode. This man is so caring and loving and I swear looking at him holding our son and love evident on his face I knew I would continue to love this man for the rest of my life. I nodded and smiled, “Oh course honey, of course.”

Spencer’s grin only grew. He started to bounce Ronan who giggled in return, “Who’s ready to decorate?” Ronan squealed in his arms and shouted, “MEEEEE!”

Spencer put him down and they grabbed the bags Spencer had dropped on the floor and raced to the living room where they dumped the bags contents on the couch.

I walk in a little less as excited knowing we still haven’t put the Halloween decorations away, “Spencer honey are you forgetting something?” He looks at me questioningly and I only point at the skeleton standing in the corner and the fake pumpkins lining the fireplace mantle. He smiles and gives me a wink, “Oh those are staying.” This of course draws out even more excitement from the little boy at his side. They are so much alike with their mop of brown curls, love of learning, and love of all things spooky. I just take it all in at stride and decide to set the mood with some Christmas music.

30 minutes pass and we have our tree up and tinsel lining the kitchen island. I begin to hum with the song playing as I place ornaments on the tree. Spencer and Ronan are in the process of placing lights and a Santa hat on our lovely skeleton friend. Ronan begins to sing while he works and decides to change the lyrics, “Have yourself a spooky little Christmas.” This makes his father so happy and from then on out we no longer say Merry Christmas.

------

A week or so passed since we decorated the house. We have not had time to do any other holiday festivities. Of course, Ronan wasn’t missing out due to all the Christmas things he gets to do in school.

It was the first day of the two weeks we get off for the holidays and I made the decision to celebrate and spend time with my little family as much as I possibly could. About the time I had made this said decision, the apartment door flew open and was followed by the pitter patter of little feet and the laugh of my husband.

They came into the kitchen where I had been since they left to get breakfast. Ronan had a serious look on his face as he said, “Mommy, we need to leave right now!”

I was a little concerned, but one look at Spencer’s face told me all I needed to know. They had concocted a plan and it all started with this conversation with my favorite little boy.

“Oh, we do? And why is that honey?” I asked while trying not to let a smile slip and break my serious composer.

“If we don’t leave right now then we’ll miss Santa at the Christmas festival!”, he leans in and whispers the best he can, “If we miss Sant then Daddy will be grumpy and we don’t like him when he’s grumpy.”

Spencer of course still hears him, and snorts and I can’t hold back my smile any longer, “Oh we definitely don’t want that. Let me grab my coat.”

This brought a loud squeal from Ronan who launched himself into his father’s arm who also started to squeal in excitement.

Once we arrived at the festival my attention was locked on all the beautiful Christmas lights and decorations. There was breathy ‘wow’ to my right, and I looked to see the two most important people in my life staring at the lights and decorations with their eyes wide and mouths agape. They were both so mesmerized that I was able to catch the child like wonder on both their faces in a picture that I would cherish forever.

I had just enough time to put my phone away before Ronan snapped out of it and said, “Okay Mommy, Daddy. This is our game plan. First, we find hot chocolate. Second, find Santa.” He put his little hand in the air between us and we laid ours on top of his and as soon as he said “Break!” Spencer scooped him up and our little Christmas mission was ago.

We had managed to drink two cups of hot chocolate each by the time it was our turn with Santa. Ronan was so excited he could hardly stay still. When they told him, it was his turn he all but ran to sit in Santa’s lap. When Santa asked what he wanted for Christmas, Ronan thought for a moment and then leaned and whispered in his ear. Whatever he told Santa made him let out a gleeful ‘HO HO HO’.

Once we were a little ways away with Ronan holding mine and Spencer’s hands as we walked, he asked, “Would you guys like to know what I asked for?”

Spencer smiled down at him, “Only if you want to tell us buddy.”

“I asked for a little brother or little sister. I think I would be a good big brother.” He said with a huge smile. I looked at Spencer who was already looking at me. We smiled and said in unison, “You sure would.”.

We found a little café to have lunch and as we ate, I watched as Spencer and Ronan discussed where we would go next. I couldn’t help but to feel overwhelmed with love knowing my husband goes above and beyond for our son because he loves him so much, he wants him to have everything he didn’t as a child. And in return Ronan all but worshipped his father.

----

It’s Christmas Eve and our apartment is full of laughter and flying flour. Spencer and Ronan’s chestnut curls look as if they have frosted tips. I let out a laugh at how cute they are, “You guys are a mess!”

“Mommy your hair is white too!” Ronan and Spencer snorted at my shocked reaction. I hadn’t realized how much I had been hit in the crossfire.

“Okay that’s it I am never letting you two back in the kitchen.” I said with a pointed look. This just caused a whine from both the boys. I of course responded with throwing more flour at them both.

Cookies were finally in the oven and I was able to talk the boys into helping me clean up the kitchen. Ronan was bringing me the dishes to put in the dishwasher and he seemed to be deep in thought. Spencer noticed this also and paused in wiping off the counter to ask, “Hey bud, what’s on your mind?”

Ronan handed me the bowl he was holding and turned towards his dad, “How does Santa visit us? We don’t have a chin tea.”

Spencer’s face twisted in confusion and then his genius brain caught up, “Oh chimney. Well me and Santa go way back. We grew up together, and so I gave him a key so he could make sure you got all your presents.”

Ronan smiled really big and made the ‘come here’ motion with his finger. Spencer squatted down in front of him and Ronan place his hand on Spencer’s cheek and said, “You are a very good Daddy.”

Tear swelled in Spencer’s eyes and he wrapped our little boy in a hug. All I could do was clutch my heart and smile with tears in my eyes. They stayed like that a few minutes until the oven timer went of and Ronan detached himself from Spencer and yelled, “COOKIES!”

-----

Waking up slowly, stretching with the sun shining through the window onto your face. That’s the ideal way to wake up. But that is not how Spencer and I woke up on Christmas Day.

I was brought out of my blissful sleep by a tiny foot in my rib cage which was connected to a little boy screaming, “SANT CAME! SANTA CAME!”

Spencer and I both groaned, but Spencer was awake a lot faster than I was. He scooped Ronan up and started running to the living room screaming a long with the boy in his arms. I followed close behind wondering how they have so much energy so early in the morning.

Once we were all in the living room Spencer started giving Ronan his gifts one at a time. After opening every gift Ronan would say, “This is the best present ever!”. This of course made us giggle.

Seeing the joy all over Ronan’s face and all over Spencer’s as he watched our son was the best gift I could have ever asked for.

After a long day of opening and playing with gifts we all curled up on the couch to watch Ronan’s favorite Christmas movie, A Nightmare Before Christmas. Ronan was curled up in my lap with his head on Spencer’s lap. Spencer looked at me then at the boy in our laps. I looked over at him as he was running a hand through Ronan’s curls in a calming manner. He looked at me and said with a smile, “I would never want to spend a spooky little Christmas with anyone else.” He kissed my head and I curled up into his side pulling our son closer to us. I never wanted Christmas to be over.

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Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie​ @brooklynxnicole​ @hendersonsshadow​ @homoose​

[broadstbroskis]

our love lasts so long | william nylander

a/n: oh hello!! am i here with yet another childhood friends to lovers fic?? why yes, yes i am. one (mildly) based on a taylor swift song, as the title would suggest (seven, a underrated folklore BOP)? yes again. the biggest of shoutouts to anyone who let me talk about this over the past few days but especially to @brockadoodles who listened to many many things and to @danglesnipecelly for reminding me about my childhood friends to lovers brand

word count: 7k

-----

The girls are being mean to her.

They’re older than her, a lot older than her, like already in grade school, and they all have friends here already, because they’ve all been here for a while. Noah frowns. It’s not her fault her daddy just got sent here. Florida’s too hot anyway; she still doesn’t understand how this ice rink even stays cold!

She shuffles her feet along. The Christmas songs are loud and there are a lot of people here but Daddy promised he’d take her around really fast after he finished working on shooting the puck with Jake. She just has to be super patient-she thinks that’s the thing Mommy always tells her to be-while she waits and then Daddy will play with her and those stupid girls won’t even matter.

(And yes she can use that word; she just can’t tell Mommy.)

The ice feels funny, not like she’s used to back at home in Canada, but before Noah can start to look for her Mommy to ask her, someone crashes into her and they both end up on the ice.

The boy who flew into her isn’t crying so Noah sucks her lip between her teeth and fights back her tears. “Hey!” He whines over to someone and then says something she can’t understand.

“Hey!” She whines and shoves him. “You’re s’pposed to say sorry when when you hit somebody!”

“I know!” His eyes widen. The blue is a pretty blue; it’s like the ice and Noah likes it. “My sister pushed me first though.”

“Oh.” Noah says. Jake is always pushing her around and he never gets in trouble for it. It’s not fair.  “Well she should say sorry to you then.”

The boy nods in agreement, his blond hair flopping everywhere. “Yeah but she’s older so she thinks she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

Noah scowls. “So does Jake.”

The boy’s face lights up. “Well then we should be friends and we could fight them together!”

Someone else who’s going to help stop Jake from shooting pucks at her? Deal. “Okay.” Noah grins. “I’m Noah.”

He smiles back. “William.” 

-----

Willy’s at practice when he hears about the trade, the one that’s bringing Barrett Evans to the Blackhawks, and he hears it mostly because the boys think it means Jake Evans is going to join their team.

Willy’s playing a couple years up here, and there’s an argument going on during practice about if Jake’s doing the same; if he’ll join their team, how soon he’ll be able to get there if he is. That they’re more excited about the potential of Jake Evans joining this team than any discussion of his dad joining the actual Blackhawks is one of the reasons Willy likes this team so much. They’re all chill; no one cares what his dad does or where he plays. 

He’s just another one of the boys.

In about a week they find out Jake is joining their team, his mom quickly setting up a carpool to the rink with Willy’s, who is more than eager to agree, with the new baby taking up (in Willy’s opinion) too much space and time.

(What’d they need another sister for? Wasn’t two enough?)

Jake comes with two sisters of his own, another baby just like Willy’s sister, and then, even better, a dark haired girl that Willy only remembers from pictures and dreams, but a face that he recognizes instantly.

“Hey.” He taps the glass in front of where she’s sitting at his practice, writing something- probably homework. He’s supposed to do his in the car on the way to practice, Mum says so, but he never does, because he hates doing it, and like really, what’s the point if he’s going to be a famous NHL player anyway? 

Noah looks up, a little annoyed, but then her face breaks out into a smile when she sees it’s him. “William!”

“Willy.” He corrects.

She pulls a face. “Ew, like a wet willy?”

“No,” He laughs. “Like my name!”

“That’s dumb.”

“No it’s not!” It’s what everyone calls him.

Noah’s still frowning at him. “Yes it is, Will.”

“No dumber than the ark you’re named after.” He counters. If she’s going to be like that, he can play too. 

“At least I get cool animals on mine.” Noah huffs and then turns away from him, like she’s mad. 

“No hockey on it though.” Willy says and she turns back to him just to roll her eyes at him. “Not really worth it then, yeah?”

“You’re the worst.” Noah says, but she’s back to facing him and smiling again, showing off a couple missing teeth. “Don’t you do anything else?” He shakes his head, grinning. “That’s gonna change because I’m not playing hockey with you all the time.”

“Well I’m not playing dolls with you all the time.” Will says quickly. He has to do that enough with his sisters; he’s not doing anymore of it.

She rolls her eyes. “Stupid boys.” She mutters and goes back to her work.

“What does that mean?” Willy demands but before he can get an answer, his coach is calling them all back to practice and his break is done. He’s just going to have to bug her at the game tonight. 

(He does bug her at the game that night, but she annoys him right back, and by the second period, they’re laughing and grinning, friends once again).

-----

“Ok, but did you lose Alex or just like, misplace him?” Noah looks around her, searching for a head of blond hair in the crowd of people rushing around them in the mall.

“What’s the difference?” Will hisses, using her shoulder to stand on his toes, head turning as he searches for his brother.

“Like, are you actually asking because of a two language thing or are you just being a jerk because we lost your brother?”

Will glares over at him and drops down flat on his feet again, swearing as he does. “Mum’s doing to kill me.”

“Why?” Alex asks, reappearing suddenly with a soft pretzel in hand, and Noah screams, throwing her arms around him. “What happened?”

“We hate you.” Will says and Noah nods in agreement. “That’s what.”

“What’d I do?” Alex protests.

“Disappeared!” Noah cries. “With no warning.

“I told Will I was going to get a pretzel.” He defends. “He can’t listen and that’s my fault?”

Will reaches out like he’s going to pull his brother into a headlock-or worse, Noah’s not going to risk the two of them going at it like they do in their basement here in public-so she reaches out and grabs his hand, intercepting him before he can even make it to just ruffle his hair, or something. “Come on, Alex.” She teases, even as Will drops his jaw at her for stopping him. “We both know Will hears what he wants to hear.”

Alex laughs, looking as pleased as she knew he would, but Will’s jaw remains dropped. “Screw you” Will says, and because she’s still holding his one hand to keep it from going for his brother, she’s defenseless against the finger he pokes into her most ticklish spot.

“Stop!” She squirms away, or tries to- he won’t let go of her hand. “Will! Let go!”

He stops poking her side, but squeezes her hand and grins. “Nope, you chose this; now you’re stuck with me.”

“Your hand is sticky!” She whines. 

“I was testing tape.” Will grins, swinging their hands widely. “Now yours can be sticky too.”

Noah looks down at their hands, joined and still swinging wherever Will moves them. She hopes that’s all that’s on them but you never know with the DC Metro.

-----

There’s a girl giggling behind him.

Willy turns and she stops, but as soon as he turns back, she’s giggling again and this time, so is her friend.

He tugs at the blazer of his uniform, looking down at his shirt. Is his tie done funny? He’d gotten called out for that last week. But it looks fine, just like everyone else’s did earlier. He pulls out his phone. Hurry up. He sends Noah, watching the dots appear on his screen, like she’s texting back, but then she appears, right in front of him. “Finally.” He grabs her and tugs her away from this school, those girls, even more of them giggling at him.

Willy wipes at his face. Maybe there’s something on it? But nothing comes off on his hand and he frowns harder.

Noah’s biting her lip, like she’s trying not to laugh, and it only works for so long. “She has a crush on you, dummy.”

“Oh.” Willy says blankly, trying to sneak a look back at the first girl. 

“Oh,” Noah parrots. “Honest to god, Will, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

“Hey!” He forgets all about the girl, in favor of knocking his shoulders against hers-not hard enough to send her falling into the dirty snow of this New York suburb, but hard enough to make her laugh. “I’m athletic too!”

Noah bursts into laughter, this loud thing that’s bright and contagious and only serves to make Willy join in with her- not that he’s trying hard to stop himself. He’s always laughing when she is. “Sure bud,” She pats his arm. “You tell yourself that.”

-----

“Iced tea.” Noah hands a cup over to Will and then slides down so she’s sitting next to him, dangling her feet in the pool. It’s really too cold to go in, but that hasn’t stopped Will, who’s been swimming all afternoon on and off- and it hasn’t stopped him from pulling her in with him.

“How much sugar?” Will asks demandingly, as she rolls her eyes, like he’s not already taking a sip.

She’d normally answer with a snarky comment, just because he deserves it. But the nostalgia’s setting in; it’s been hitting her at random moments all week, and she’s inclined to just be nice to him, leaning against him as she says, “Come on, like I don’t know how you like your iced tea by now.”

Will sighs dramatically, taking her weight and pressing back against her. “Guess I’m going to have to make my own coffee now too, huh?”

“Two creams, one sugar.” Noah reminds him gently and he laughs, but it sounds kind of hollow, not at all like the honk that usually sends her into fits of giggles right along with him. It’s quiet after he stops, the only sound the pool filter a few feet away and the crickets just starting to chirp, and she hates the silence. In all their years of friendship, they’ve never been quiet people, never had to do an awkward dance while they figured out who they were each time they met. They fell right back into easy friendship, laughing and giggling, dragging each other into their favorite things and places, until one of them was leaving.

It feels different this time. “Are you really leaving?” There’d never been a doubt in her mind when her dad left DC that she’d see Will again. Maybe not for a few months, maybe not for a few years, but the day would come.

“For now.” Will shrugs. “I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“It’s Sweden.” Noah says quietly. She doesn’t have that same feeling this time. Sweden’s their home. Why would they leave? 

“It’s hockey.” Will says, like hockey, Sweden, and home- they’re all interchangeable. 

And maybe they are; hockey- the people Noah meets because of her dad’s team, the friends she’s made, Will, his family- hockey, as a concept, has been more of a home to her than any of the houses she’s known, than these temporary places she embraces every two years or so. 

But she’s been around long enough to know what comes after hockey and it’s the only thing that changes home. The offseason home becomes the main home. Dads start picking up carpool duties and volunteer coaching positions. The spotlight shifts to the kids and their dreams. 

It’s hockey and it’s Sweden and it’s home and whether they’re all different or the same, Noah knows this is the last time she’ll be seeing Will.

-----

Willy has minimal complaints about being a rookie, even if Reemer and Naz think he should have more. 

He’s, like, the definition of living the dream. He’s got a sweet apartment that he shares with one of his best friends. He’s on a dream line with two more of his best friends and they’re absolutely tearing it up. 

His team’s incredible, even if they’re a bunch of assholes sometimes (Willy is too sometimes, he admits), but they’re fun and they’re funny and they like to let loose and have a good time, for as often as they’re really fucking serious about the goal they’re all there for. 

Like today. Practice had been brutal and then there’d been a lift before a video session, but there’s nothing on the schedule for tomorrow so there hadn’t even been a question of if they were going out that night. Suggestions for where had been tossed out the second practice ended.

It’s a good night, things are going well and drinks are flowing (as they should be) and then Matts rolls back to the table, weirdly dejected after coming back from the bar trying to talk up a pretty girl, and he takes his chirps with as much grace as the worst loser Willy’s ever met can, but Willy looks over and he knows that girl. He’d recognize those eyes anywhere, even if her hair is longer and maybe darker? So he gets up, even as Matts calls after him, “Fuck you Willy,” and the rest of the boys laugh.

He leans his weight against Noah, laughing at the look on her face when she realizes it’s him. The annoyance leaves her face pretty quickly and a smile slides right in its place, like she’s waiting for him. “Matts is pretty annoyed you turned him down.” He teases, bypassing hello altogether.

“Yeah well,” She huffs and it’s like she’s trying for annoyed but Willy can see the smile that she’s hiding. “Matts needs to learn that just because he’s a big shot hockey player doesn’t mean every girl is going to drop into bed with him at the sound of his name and a free drink.”

“He’s a lot nicer than that.” Willy defends. “Usually. I didn’t mean it like that.” Because, well, Matts can be an asshole, but it’s not about bringing a girl home.

Noah looks at him skeptically. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never led you astray before .”

She bursts into laughter. “Yeah, okay.” The sarcasm drips from her tone, even through the laughter.

Willy pokes her but it only makes her laugh harder. “Name one time.”

“Sledding in DC, winter skate in New York, ditching school to go to the mall that one time in Westchester, taking the train into-“

He covers her mouth. “I said name one.”

When he removes his hand, Noah’s grinning up at him, and suddenly he realizes what’s different. It’s not her hair (which is darker, he’s sure now that he’s up close), or her smile (still bright and laughing), or her eyes (bright and green and unforgettable). It’s the oh fuck running through his brain, because he’d definitely take her home.

-----

Falling back into friendship with Will is easy; it’s pretending Noah doesn’t want more that’s hard.

It’s always been easy to be friends with Will. She can’t remember a time when they didn’t click, when things felt weird or uncomfortable between them. 

But that was before he started dragging her everywhere around Toronto- to the greatest restaurants she’s ever eaten at, to the Christmas Market, to breakfast on Thursday’s every week he’s in town because he knows that she doesn’t have class until the afternoon. 

The flutter in her stomach is so unfamiliar, something so unassociated with Will, that it takes her a while to place it. And of course he’s doing something so normal, so innocuous, so casual, it shouldn’t even register on her radar. He’s buying coffee, for Christ’s sake!

But he’s remembering that she likes oat milk in her iced coffee, even though she hasn’t really actually told him that; it’s just the order she always gives when they go for breakfast. And he’s ordered her a size up from what she usually gets, without her even asking, just because she’d mentioned being up late last night with homework.

“Here!” Will chirps happily, passing her the cup grinning, and there’s that flutter again, deep in her stomach, and it’s that, that small gesture that means so much, just knowing that he’s looking at her enough to know that she needs this extra large iced coffee with oat milk without even being told, that tells her what this feeling is.

This is a crush.

“Thanks.” She’s gonna tamp this baby down and fast. Why is she even crushing on Will at all? It must be, like, the years they’ve spent apart; she’s been desensitized to him or something. Suddenly, his hair’s all beautiful and his eyes are pretty and shit. Unreal.

“You’re welcome,” Will smiles. “But I didn’t just get this for you just because you look exhausted.”

“Is this a bribe?” She demands.

Will laughs. “Kind of.” She side-eyes him until he caves. “We’re all going out this weekend after the game and the team wants to meet you.”

“Oh.” She says, surprised. “That’s it?”

“You were expecting worse?”

She nods. “Much.”

“Well, nope.” He pops the ‘p.’ “Just gotta come hang out with me.”

“Ugh.” She complains. “Maybe that is worse.”

“I bought you that coffee. I’ll take it right back.” Will threatens.

“Never.” Noah cradles it close to her chest. “Not allowed.”

Will’s watching her, smiling, like he already knows she’s going to say yes, but he says anyway. “So you’ll come?”

“Of course, I’ll come.” It really wasn’t even a question. She would have come even if he hadn’t bribed her with the most amazing coffee she’s ever had to drink, but he sweetened the deal with that, so that’s how she finds herself slipping into the VIP section of a club on a Saturday night, eyes scanning to find him.

It’s not too hard to spot him and she soon finds herself sliding into a group of teammates and significant others, fighting back a laugh at the look on Auston Matthews’ face. “Hi!” She drapes herself over Will’s back, actually laughing at the look on his face and clinging tightly to make him work at pulling her off.

“God, you’re a pain.” He announces, finally tugging her around. 

“Always.” Noah laughs, because this is easy, this is normal. Teasing Will just like always. “It’s what I strive to be, a thorn in your side.”

“You don’t have to try.” She miscalculated this gravely. He’s in the perfect position to dance his fingers into her most ticklish spots. “You just are.”

“Are you going to introduce us, Willy?” Someone asks dryly, one of the guys across from them. “Or just stand there pretending the two of you are in your own little world?”

Will’s cheeks flush-something unusual for him, he’s never embarrassed- but he says, “This is Noah.” Simply; like everyone should know who she is to him just from that alone, and it kind of seems like they do. A bunch of their faces light up and a few of them lean into each other and start whispering together. But she doesn’t get a chance to ask him what he has said about her, what kind of talk he’s been talking, before he’s listing names off of everyone around them, like she’s going to remember all these people.

There’s immediate chatter from almost everyone around her; it’s as if each one of them have been dying to meet her for a different reason. “Willy’s kept pretty tight-lipped about you.” Connor-James-Matt?-She’s already forgotten every name Will’s told her- says, almost too casually. “How long have you guys been seeing each other?”

“Before or after you turned Matts down?” Someone else adds eagerly, even as Auston groans, a little embarrassed.

Will’s fighting back a laugh next to her and she wants to kill him, honestly, she really does. But she settles for the next best thing, plastering her hand over his bicep, playing up a part that she isn’t. “Oh, you know. Fifteen years, on and off, right, babe?”

“Fif-what?” That’s Naz that’s narrowing his eyes at them; she’s pretty sure.

And now Will loses it, at either that, or the faces the rest of his teammates are making, and she pulls her hand away, laughing right with him. “What the fuck?” Tyler says flatly. “You really are just friends.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Will insists.

“He’s a terrible liar.” Noah says. “You’d know right away. His face gets all-”

“Nope.” Will pulls her away. “Think it’s time for a drink, don’t you?”

“Gets all what?” Someone calls. “All what?” 

She winks over her shoulder; she’ll get back to him later.

Noah doesn’t get around to him until much later, dragged to the bar with Will and then out dancing where they’re joined by a few of his fellow rookies. There might be times when they all go out looking to pick up, but this clearly isn’t one, every one of them out doing each other in the most ridiculous ways (Mitch wins; Mitch wins every time).

She gets back to the table a while later, when she’s dying of thirst and Will’s gone to the bar for refills, but it’s been long enough that she’s kind of forgotten she’s somewhat on the hot seat in this group. No one pounces immediately, but two of them- Morgan and Jake- move away from the team’s argument about a podcast they’ve been listening to and slide closer to her.

“So what’s the tell?” Morgan asks and Noah frowns for a second until she remembers earlier, laughing and declining. “Fine, sure. I admire the loyalty, I guess.” 

“It’s too easy for him to return the favor.” Noah laughs.

“Ok, so you’ve known Willy,” Jake says slowly, like he’s trying to calculate in real time. “For 15 years now?”

Noah nods. “Since we were four. Our dads got traded to the same hockey team and,” She shrugs. “Then again, and again, and again.”

Morgan kind of lights up, like this is the best news he’s heard all day. “What exactly was Willy like as a kid? Like has he always slept this much on any flat surface available? Or is that a weird thing he picked up in Sweden?”

“Always.” She laughs and then shrugs again. “I don’t know, I think he’s a lot like he is now. I don’t-I don’t think much has changed.”

And before she can even say anything else, the man himself is slipping in beside her, carelessly throwing his arm over her shoulders and gluing himself to her side. “Don’t talk to them.” Will demands. “They won’t have anything nice to say about me.”

“Rude.” Jake throws a wrapper at him, and it tangles in his hair but Will just shakes it out.

“Actually they’re asking me about you.” She tells him and he gasps dramatically.

“Don’t talk to them.” He demands again and she laughs.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want you ruining my image.”

“What image, pretty boy?” Morgan drawls, and Noah just laughs as Will retaliates by throwing the straw wrapper back at him but he doesn’t leave her side after that, remaining a comfortable weight pressed against her for the rest of the evening.

She doesn’t hate it. Stupid crush.

-----

“Happy Birthday.” Willy slides the gift across the counter but Noah doesn’t even reach for it, still looking down at the textbook she’s highlighting. She’s new-semester stressed still, the kind of stressed where her hair is constantly up in that bun for a few weeks and the bags never seem to leave her eyes. He can’t wait for another week or so, when she’ll finally crash and sleep for like, two days, a break she’s in desperate need of.

“What is it?” She asks skeptically and like, sure, the wrap job’s a little sketch, but Willy did it himself, no help from Mum or sisters. She should be, like, proud of his job mediocrely done. 

“Was I unclear?” He asks, and she gives him a look, reaching for it with an eye roll. 

“My birthday was last month.” She reminds him. “You sent me flowers.”

Willy knows. The flowers had been a placeholder because he’d wanted to be with her when she opened her real gift, to see her reaction, watch the smile grow over her face when she sees what’s in the box. “That was never your whole gift.” 

She smiles. “It could have been! It was just nice to know you were thinking of me.”

Willy stops just before he says something stupid, like that he’s always thinking of her. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her since they reunited last year and he probably won’t stop thinking about her, even after she finishes up with school and figures out her next step. It seems inevitable that fate will follow its same path they’ve travelled their entire lives, and they’ll end up crossing paths three times a year when Willy travels to whatever city she ends up in, knowing before they even meet for dinner that it’s not enough time, never enough time.

Instead he smiles and nods. “Come on, I’d never miss your birthday. Even if we have to celebrate late.”

Noah laughs. “Fair.” She says, finally reaching for the gift he’d laid out for her. And he knows what she’s going to find first, but that doesn’t change how nice it feels to know he nailed it when she opens the box of Swedish candies he’d brought back, a box of all her favorites. “Ohh!” She immediately pops one of her favorite chocolates into her mouth. “I don’t even care what the other thing is; this is amazing. Thank you!”

Willy laughs, kind of nervously. “At least look at it before you decide to stick it in a corner and never look at it again.”

She’s already pulling it out, peeling back the corners of the wrapping paper, and then looking up at him when she realizes it’s a jewelry box. He smiles encouragingly, feeling like he barely manages to get a full smile up before she’s opening, and then it stretches out fully in relief when she gasps. “Will.” She says finally, looking up at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Do you like it?” He asks hesitantly. He’d bought it on the spot the moment he saw it, the green of the peridot the exact shade of her eyes and her birthstone-or at least, it was, according to his sister. The necklace itself, a delicate chain dropping into a teardrop stone, this easy beauty that he couldn’t help associating with only her.  It’d felt too perfect to pass up. 

“I love it.” She says immediately. “This is-it’s-it’s perfect!” She gets out finally, and Willy breaks out into a smile, watching her lift the chain up to her neck. “Will you-” She breaks off, looking at him expectantly.

“Oh!” Willy gets it now, stands up to step behind her and gently takes the ends of the necklace. “Yeah, of course.” Noah lifts her hair and for a moment all Willy can concentrate on is the whiff of peach he gets suddenly. He fumbles the clasp for a second before he finally gets his shit together. “Why does your shampoo smell so good?”

She laughs, letting her hair tumble down again- another burst of peach to his nose- and turns to face him. “I switched it this summer. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Nice? Maybe it’s because he spends all his time in a locker room with 23 other dudes, but it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. He feels weird, knows it’s so not friends to want to pull her into his arms, just so he can hold her close and breathe in that smell, so he just nods.

“Yeah.” Willy says and his eyes are immediately drawn to her smile, to her fingers dragging the teardrop along the chain, and he- he flickers his eyes back up before he can go any lower. “It’s nice.”

-----

“You ready yet?” Will picks up his wallet off his island, where Noah’s been sitting for the last hour trying to tweak her resume one last time before submitting it to another job interview. “I’m going to miss my flight.”

“I’m going to kill you.” She says flatly. She’s only been calling that concern out to him since she walked in the door.

Will grins, throwing his arm around her shoulders and tugging her close into his side. If they weren’t about to spend the entire summer apart, maybe she’d fight it more, afraid that she’s taking too much from him to satiate her more-than-just-a-crush. But Will’s pulling his stupid Sugo hat on his head with the hand that’s not squeezing her close, and he’s about to leave her for four months, fresh off the devastation of the Bruins loss, so she curls in, greedily taking anything she can from him. “Save some cap space,” He hums. “If you did.”

“Oh my god.” She shoves him away. She takes it back. She takes it all back. She feels absolutely nothing for him; he’s the worst human she’s ever met.

Will pulls her back in and his arm stays around her the entire walk down to his car, when he only removes it so they can pack his bags in and then slide in their seats. As soon as he starts it and gets on the road, he reaches over again, just resting his hand on her knee.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to let me drive your car all summer.” Noah says, so she doesn't say something she regrets instead, like I love you, or worse, something about his hands and where else he can put them. 

Will glances at her briefly before turning his attention back to the road and Noah’s already grinning before he responds. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Shifting in her seat to better face him seems like a good idea until she actually does it and it means that his hand just moves further up her leg. She has to stop herself from looking at it, his fingers on the skin of her thigh. “You’ll still have a car when you get back.”

“The same car?”

“Maybe with a dent or two in it.” Noah teases, mostly just to annoy him. It works; he flickers his eyes over toward her in a glare. “I’m kidding.”

“You better be.”

“I’d totally get it fixed.” She continues, smiling when Will laughs. “Pristine condition. You’d never know.”

“Just how I want it.” He pulls up to departures and puts the car into park, so they can both step out; him to fly out and her to switch sides, meeting at the trunk. “Please don’t crash you or my car.” He says softly, pulling her into a hug.

“Please come back soon.” She counters, muttering the words into his chest.

It’s apparently not as quiet as she’d intended. “Wedding season.” He squeezes. “I’ll see you then.”

But that’s not what she meant at all. Noah doesn’t want him back for a weekend or two. She wants dry ink on a contract, locking him in to Toronto.

-----

When the start of the season comes around and Willy’s contract still hasn’t been signed, he can’t say he’s surprised to get a Snapchat from Noah, featuring her, Auston, and Mitch all pouting. 

“Come on.” He frowns at her, when they’re facetiming later that day- well into the night for him, actually. “You know why I’m doing this.” 

She pouts again, even though she’d been smiling only seconds before. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it. Why can’t you be in a standoff with management from here?”

“Why can’t you come work from home from here?” Willy counters and she actually huffs at him, but changes the subject.

When his holdout continues to last though, she does, finally, agree to come work from home from his place in Sweden, at least for a little, and Willy has to physically stop himself from fistpumping in excitement. It’s been too many months of seeing just her pixelated face through facetime, of conversations broken up by timezones, and late night calls that make him want things he knows he can’t have. 

It’s only a few days later but it feels like forever by the time that Noah is throwing herself into Willy’s arms the second that she exits the Stockholm Arlanda airport, and it’s only years of core stability training that don’t send them both flying to the ground. 

“How’s my car?” He teases, because it’s been a lot longer than the four months he promised and he just wants to see her smile, in person, without a lag from their stupid iPhones.

It works. “1 door left.” She chirps easily. “Don’t worry, Auston’s helping me fix it.”

“I’m sure he is.” Willy says darkly, because it was really no secret Matts still thought she was gorgeous, even if Willy was sure he’d never actually do anything about it. Pretty sure. At least 50%.

Noah laughs. “You’re hilarious.” She pats his arm a few times and pulls away to get in the car, but he wants to know about what. About Matts? It’s a legit concern, he feels. Maybe he’ll just fire off a text to Matts, just to be sure. “Will?” Noah’s leaning out of the passenger side. “Are we leaving or are we going to spend my whole trip here at the airport?”

“What if we are?” Willy shoots back, but he makes his way to the driver’s seat.

“If it meant that you were coming home?” Noah gives him a small smile. “I don’t think I’d even be mad.”

Willy gives her a tight smile. “Not yet.”

“Is it-” Noah makes a noise and then continues anyway. “Are you going to come home?”

“I want to.” She knows this; they don’t talk about his contract situation often, but they do, occasionally. “You know that.”

“Yeah.” She says softly. “I just-it’s getting close, yeah?”

Yeah, it was. The deadline was creeping closer and closer, with still no deal. He didn’t...love that, he’d say that for sure. He wanted to be back with the boys, playing; was ready to be back with Noah, for any time she’d give him. “Yeah.” He says, and then switches the topic completely, because he doesn’t want to think about what he’s going to do if this is the only time he gets with her until next fall. “You want to go to dinner with my family tonight?”

Noah’s eyes light up. “Yeah, oh my god!”

Willy laughs and takes the next exit on the highway, instead of driving further into town to go to his own place. Dinners with his parents and sisters is usually a quick cure to any spiraling thoughts about the signing deadline, and having Noah there today is even better. She’s a comforting weight against his side; a laughing presence with his mum as they gang up against him; a friend to his sisters after dinner, as they sit curled together in a corner of the living room whispering secrets and waving him away when he gets too close.

It’s a lot of things Willy doesn’t let himself think about, doesn’t let himself want, because Noah’s never given any hints she wants the same. And she’ll always fit with his family, because she grew up with him, with them, but one day she’ll find another guy who she just seamlessly fits into the side of, whose family she can easily laugh and joke with, because she’s that charming and friendly and nice. How could anyone not love her?

“I remember your sisters begging me to braid their hair at games all the time.” Noah says fondly, once she leaves their circle of secrets to come back to him. “God, I can’t believe how old they all are now.”

“Don’t remind me.” Will says darkly. His youngest sister just announced she has a boyfriend, her first boyfriend; he hates it the most.

Noah cackles, as if she knows what he’s thinking about, which, well, maybe she does, after the last hour. He doesn’t even want to know what they said about him (except he does, he really, really does). “If you promise to be nice to him, maybe she’ll let us go one a double date with them before I leave.”

Willy about blacks out when he hears her mention the word date and he’s pretty sure it shows on his face. “Really?” It’s the only word he can get out. Everything is wonderful; thank God, thank Jesus, thank who-fucking ever. This is the greatest-

Noah laughs. “Well I don’t think she’s going to let you meet him by yourself!” She nudges him with her shoulder. “But we could all go to dinner together!”

He takes it back. Everything is terrible and this is not even close to the greatest day ever.

They end up going for dinner with his sister and her boyfriend anyway-whatever, it’s fine.

“He was more than fine.” Noah protests, when they’re walking back to his place from the restaurant. It’s her last day here and Willy’s trying to soak up every bit of her that he can, so if that means walking to a restaurant in the cold, then so be it. “He was really nice!”

“He was, like, moderately nice, at best.” Willy pulls a face. 

“Don’t be that guy.” She shakes her head at him. “You know what guy I’m talking about.”

“Yeah.” He sighs. 

She nudges him. “You know, if you came back to Toronto with me, you’d never have to see him. Out of sight, out of mind.”

He wants to. He wants to so badly. He just...can’t. “You know I can’t.”

“But I don’t!” Noah says, frustratedly. “I don’t know why you can’t at all. You want to be there and they want you there. I don’t fucking get this!”

“Money. Terms.” He shrugs, sounding a lot more casual than he feels. “My agent’s taking care of things. That’s what he’s here for.”

“Well maybe it’s time to take care of things you want for yourself.” Noah mutters.

“What?” Will asks; he’s sure he heard her, but the bitterness is really unlike her.

“Nothing.” Noah curls into him and Willy wraps his arm around her shoulders without question. “Just cold. Left or right to get home?”

-----

Will’s text comes through in the middle of the afternoon, that they’re just ironing out the fine details and that he’ll be on a redeye that night.

You don’t even need to buy me a Christmas present this year. Noah sends in response. Best gift ever. 

When he doesn’t respond, though, she gets a little concerned. He always sends something back, always, whether it’s just a little emoji or some kind of quip, and that was prime for the taking. Call me at the airport? She follows it up. Do you need a ride when you get here? I still have your car.

Matts is grabbing me, going right to practice and meeting w kyle. Catch up later.

She actually startles at the response. He’s never, never been so short with her. It’s not even that the response itself was rude; it just...didn’t even feel like him. It feels like he’s pushing her away and the only thing she can think of is that he is. That he’d realized how she’d clung to him in Sweden in departures, the way she hadn’t been able to stop herself from running her hand down his back before pulling away, and he’d connected it to the fact that she’s definitely in love with him and was pulling away.

It’s the worst thought she’s had since she realized he was staying in Sweden for a while. She’d drunk a bottle of wine then to cope and she does the same now, but then she’s only more cranky the next morning when she’s still over thinking and she has a headache.

The knock on her door only makes her more annoyed, at least until she opens it and sees Will standing in the hallway. “Hi.” She breathes. She’d pictured him coming back to Toronto so many times, and look, she knows she doesn’t need to impress Will, who has seen her at her best and worst, but not once was she wearing sweats and the biggest sweatshirt that she owns. 

“Hi.” Will grins and she’s about to tell him to come in, but then he’s cupping her cheek and ducking down and it’s like time stops as he kisses her.

Noah can’t quite believe she was ever scared that Will didn’t love her. She doesn’t need him to say it, but he’s the one to pull away first, resting his forehead on hers, and they’re the first words out of his mouth. “I love you.” He kisses her again and god, she could do this forever. “You told me if I want something, to just take care of it myself, and I’m doing it. I don’t want to sit back anymore and let someone else love you. I love you.”

Will brushes his thumb over her cheek and Noah tries to gather a thought, any thought after a kiss that turned her brain to mush. “I don’t know when I started loving you,” She says, smiling when she sees the grin grow across Will’s face. “But I think it was before I even know what love was, and I don’t ever want to stop.”

The next kiss is the worst one yet, the smile still on his face (and hers), but that’s okay, Noah muses. They have time. 

[misslilli]

It'll get better soon guys, don't worry 🤗

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 24 - It Takes A Village

[ Felix ]

It’s close to December and my favorite holiday is coming up fast, the lights are already up all around town and in school we make paper snowmen and sing Christmas songs. It’s supposed to be the most cheerful time of the year, but people in my life are sad, which in turn also puts a damper on my Christmas spirit.

Dad is not doing very well, he’s working all the time and doesn’t say much, he just goes through the motions of our day. One day, he just forgets to pick me up from school because he has worked through the night and fell asleep at the dining room table during the day.

Principal Skinner can’t reach him or my mom, who is in Europe right now, so he calls my other emergency contact, my grandma. I don’t know what exactly he tells her, but she’s coming all the way from Connecticut and the Principal will drive me home to check on my dad.

I’m excited that grandma’s coming, she’s really awesome! She’s straightforward and very, very strict and doesn’t like to cuddle, much, but her no-nonsense way of running a household may be exactly what we need right now. And she also makes a mean lasagna!

When we get to the house, dad is beside himself, apologizing to us over and over again for falling asleep and he looks a little relieved when Principal Skinner tells him that grandma is coming over to help.

I launch myself at her - I’m permitted exactly two hugs, one hello and one goodbye - when she walks through the door and immediately try to get her to make lasagna for dinner. She sends me up to my room to play for a bit, while she talks to dad and cleans up the mess in the kitchen. Afterwards, she really makes lasagna, yes!

——————

[ Teena ]

When I got the call from Principal Skinner, I was very worried about what I’d find when I got to the house, I’ve been called to pick up the pieces only once before.

It was after Diana left Fox and Felix and what I found then was a disoriented and confused three-year old who kept asking for his mom and a devastated dad and husband, unable to care for his child in his own heartbreak.

Thankfully, it’s not that bad this time, but I can tell that something has happened. Fox has been avoiding my calls for weeks now, only having Felix talk to me over the phone. I know that Sam knows something, but she wouldn’t tell me no matter how hard I pressed.

So the first thing I do when I get to the boys’s house is send Felix off to his room and sit down my son onto the couch to talk.

“Tell me what happened, Fox.”

And he goes on to me the whole story, from the first day of school where he met a woman that had upended both of their lives, to the birthday party - Sam has actually told me about that one, I thought it was a really sweet story - and the Halloween fair right up until the Basketball fiasco and the last time he saw her, where she asked him to give her some space until she has figured some things out.

“What do I do now mom? I hate myself for scaring her off like that and I can’t stop the tailspin of thinking I’m not good enough for her anyway, with that broken mess that’s our family…”

“I’ll tell you what to do now. You give her space like she asked you to and you get your act together in the meantime. Felix needs you to take care of him, it won’t do to wallow in self-pity. And ask yourself this: How can you expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself? Go see Connie and fix your self-worth issues because you’re a good man and you absolutely deserve someone who makes you happy.”

“Thanks mom, for everything. I’ve already scheduled extra therapy lessons with Connie. You know what makes this whole thing even harder? I have to see her every damn day at school when I pick up Felix.”

“I’ll pick him up from now on. You focus on yourself, without distractions.” Maybe I’ll even get to meet her, I’m fairly curious about this Rainbow Woman myself.

—————

[ Felix ]

At recess in school, everyone’s on their best behavior, holding their collective breaths because Miss Scully is in a bad mood today. Actually, she’s been irritable for the past two weeks, with a very short fuse and absolutely no tolerance for disobedience.

Since her classroom is right next to ours, we can sometimes hear her yell at her kids for something or other and even our class flinches when it happens.

Right now, she’s over at the playground, leaning into two boys who have gotten into a fist-fight over a game of tag and I’m silently glad I’m sitting over here with Miss Anderson. I look up at my teacher, curious.

“Miss Anderson, why is Miss Scully so angry all the time?”

“I can’t tell you, Felix, I’m sorry.”

“Because you don’t know, or because you don’t want me to know?” When she changes the subject pointedly, I know it’s the second one. ‘Ugh, why don’t adults tell children anything, it’s driving me crazy! Dad won’t tell me anything and now this.’

Grandma picks me up again today and on our way to the car, we run into Miss Scully. 'Uh oh, I hope she doesn’t go off on grandma, I don’t think that will go over very well.’ My grandma can be scary sometimes, too!

“Hey Miss Scully, this is my grandma, she’s staying with us for a while now! Grandma, this is Miss Scully, she’s the fourth-grade teacher.”

——————

[ Teena ]

I’m happy to see that my son has raised Felix to be a polite child when he introduces the tiny red-head I’ve heard so much about.

“Grandma’s not actually my name, Felix. I’m Teena Mulder, it’s nice to meet you Miss Scully!” Holding out my hand, I try to seize her up.

Her handshake is firm and her posture is ram-rod-straight, all professional, but her eyes betray her poised exterior, because I can see flashes of sadness when she looks down at Felix. I can only guess that she’s not having an easy time with everything, herself.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Mulder. I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got an appointment to get to. I’ll see you tomorrow, Felix. Goodbye, Mrs. Mulder.”

With that, she’s off to get her bike and Felix breathes a sigh of relief.

“Whew, thank God, she didn’t get mad at you like she got mad at the two boys at recess today.”

I’m a bit puzzled by his odd statement, but on the car ride, he tells me all about the incident in great detail. I get the feeling that these stories are a staple in the boys’s days and I can begin to understand why my son would rather not hear Felix go on and on about what she did and what she said right now.

—————

[ DS ]

My therapist has told me that it has to get worse before it gets better, but this is getting ridiculous. I can’t sleep more than a few hours at night, which leaves me irritable in the morning and with an incredibly short fuse at school, going off on my kids for the littlest infractions.

They’re so terrified and confused, they end up making even more mistakes, which in turn sets me off even more - it’s a vicious circle that leaves me frustrated with myself and more times that I’d like to admit to, I’ve lost it in the teacher’s bathroom.

Meeting Mrs. Mulder today was unexpected and I tried hard to keep it together for a few minutes, but I can’t stand looking at Felix’s innocent face for a longer period of time, so I bolted right after the introductions.

I actually did have an appointment, with my therapist, and today she suggested I write down my feelings in a journal to get them off my chest and reflect on them.

During the night, I wake after only a few hours of sleep spent tossing and turning. Unable to fall back asleep for yet another night, I drag myself our of bed and downstairs, turning the TV in the living room, hoping it’ll lull me back to sleep.

“10 things I hate about you” is on and by the time Julia Stiles recites her poem, I’m bawling into a pillow. I remember the homework I’ve been given, so I grab a piece of paper and a pen and begin writing.

“Miss Scully’s list of 10 things I hate about you”

The words of the title swim before my eyes as I scribble my feelings onto the patient paper. The poem I write is slightly different from the one in the movie, but writing it all out really does help.

I fold the paper up carefully and toss it in the trash before heading back up to bed.

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Together Alone

BASED ON | The NCT secret santa collaboration feature done by bumblebeenct and lucaswithnoshirt studios over @neoculturechristmas​ headquarters 

DEDICATED TO | My own precious secret santa, @sly-merlin​! This one is for you my love. I hope I did you justice for the type of fic you requested and I hope you like it! By the way I apologize for getting your present to you late.

STARRING | Huang Renjun and Female Reader

FEATURING | Lee Donghyuck 

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Business centred, and Holiday centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, suggestive references and implications, crude humor, language, mentions of death, a deceased parent, drinking, alcohol, and other adult themes

PLOT | Everyone knew him. The heir to the multimillion dollar company. Next in line to inherit the top pharmaceutical business in all of China and South Korea. For being only 20 years old he was the most accomplished person of his age. Set to become the CEO at age 21 on his birthday, nearly a few months away, there was nothing that could deter him down the road for further success. They say he’s envied by most, yet loved all the same. If only people knew who Huang Renjun really was without his family’s name plastered against the walls of society that gave him fame and fortune. Only one would have the chance to find out the truth of his reality and sometimes when that comes near the end of a year shutting close, not everything can end pleasant like one hoped. OR Happy endings might not exist in this messed up world.

RUNNING TIME | 6.4k

DIRECTOR’S NOTE | Happy Holidays, my loves! This work is in honor of you all and the amazing year you all gave me with your immense love as well as support. I appreciate every single one of you more than you will ever know so I wish happy days among you this season and new year. I love you and please enjoy! Also, shout out to my lovely proofreader, @dvrlingrenjun​, you’re the best.

1, 2, 3 Now Rolling...

“Fuck them all!” Huang Renjun yells out in frustration, leaning back abruptly in his black cushioned chair, his hands clutching tightly at his dark strands of hair.

The younger boy smirks at him, leaning against the pillar by his office. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

A glare was sent in his direction in retaliation. “Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“Sure, big guy,” he dismisses, the jab made at the older visible with the way his words cut through the air. “Still doesn’t render the fact that you have to go to this event like you always do.”

Renjun groans, his right hand going around his left wrist to play with the gold Cartier bracelet that rested there. A gift given to him when he turned the legal age of eighteen a few years ago. A gift given to him by his father, on behalf of his mother or so it was said. One that was a promise of luxury and achievement if he continued down the path they set out for him. His decision then when he was an adult to decide his fate, but that was only a lie. The bracelet was only a bribe for a materialistic life where he could be well off and if he stepped away then he would be stripped of everything that made him who he was. 

“I know, okay? We do it every year but that still doesn't take away from the fact that I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Perhaps his father was a part of that.

“Well,” Donghyuck drawls, shrugging his shoulders when he lifts his body off the pillar to take long strides in order to reach the other boy. “At least it’s out of town this year so I’m down...I mean free vacation.” He gives a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling of juvenescence and a thrill for adventure, mystery, excitement. At least one of them still had a childlike soul and a more or less normal life while the other was forced to grow up too fast in the spotlight where eyes were scrutinizing his every move before he could even walk.

They called it maturity, but Renjun calls it loss of youth. 

“You’re such a freeloader,” Renjun mutters, his hands stopping from playing with the bracelet to glance up in exasperation.

“Says the boy inheriting an almost billion dollar company without batting an eye,” Donghyuck snorts with an eye roll, picking at his nails that now gained all of his attentiveness.

It was true after all.

Renjun laughs in mockery. “You’re just jealous, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.”

Donghyuck sighs loudly for effect. “Cous, I wouldn’t want your life even if I tried. Some horrifying shit.” He shakes his head, obviously disturbed by the notion.

Renjun’s voice becomes small, yet firm. “It isn’t that bad...”

Donghyuck finally stops twiddling with his fingers to give the other the time of day with a look of obvious reluctance. “Uncle is scary, can you blame me?”

“Guess not, that man is my father.”

“Exactly and as much as I would love to continue this conversation,” Donghyuck glances at his crisp navy steel Bulgari watch, seeing the time half past noon. “I got to run, meeting with the boys soon and I just needed to deliver the message before that. Little pit stop if you will.” His hands flair out in a theatrical motion as if he were giving a bow.

“Oh?” Renjun raises an eyebrow, hands reaching out to get started on the stack of papers placed at the edge of his desk by his receptionist before Donghyuck’s surprised arrival. “Say hi to them for me.” He pauses in afterthought, knowing the younger’s antics. “Or not.”

Donghyuck’s boisterous laugh rings. He knew him so well. “Very funny, but oh, wait!” 

The increase in his tone attracts the older’s regard who was beginning to read through the proposal. “Yes?”

“Here,” Donghyuck states, reaching into the back pocket of his chinos to pull out a small black velvet box with gold edging. “An early present of sorts. I assumed you might like it.” He slides the box over on the desk where it is caught in the grasp of delicate hands.

“Proposing are we? You know we are related right?” Renjun smiles snidely, running his fingers over the soft velvet in wonder. It was rare to get a gift from Lee Donghyuck himself and with the right intentions at that. 

“It would be an honor and privilege to marry me, thank you, but no it’s just...open it when I leave. I’m not into that sappy shit as you know. I have a matching one too, but yeah merry early Christmas and New Years.” His easy grin widens as he winks to take backward steps to the exit of the office. Always one for a dramatic flare.

“Matching...we can’t be a couple either, Hyuck,” Renjun says, shaking his head while he puts the box down on his desk in wait.

Donghyuck flips him off and grits out a reply. “Shut up and be grateful for once.”

Turning his head back to his papers, he mutters, “Oh, I am.”

“Anyways, bye you fucker. Don’t drown in work,” Donghyuck lets out once he turns his back.

“Thank you for caring, delivery boy,” Renjun shouts as his cousin finally opens the door to exit after his much longer than anticipated stay.

Donghyuck’s hands still on the silver knob before he can fully push the door. “When don’t I? If you’re gone then that means I would have to inherit the company and as much as I would love the money, the fame, the attention, maybe even the girls...I don’t want that responsibility. You get me?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, spinning the black ballpoint pen between his index and ring finger. “Just say you’re lazy and go.”

“I am going!” Donghyuck exclaims while he turns his head over his shoulder, shooting the boy sitting at the desk that didn’t quite fit him well, another wink. “Bye for real, Junnie!”

The door at last closes and he is gone in a blur of colors.

Renjun mumbles under his breath. “I told you not to call me that.” 

His mother used to call him that and she didn’t have the chance to stay long in this world. Taken too soon is what they say, but maybe she was blessed before everything turned to stone. 

With Donghyuck’s departure, Renjun looks over at the lone box that was gifted to him, perhaps not a gift like the others that held no meaning, for this one was an outlier in the equation. Donghyuck never gave without meaning or gain so it had to be special.

He places his pen down and picks up the box, undoing the clasp that held it close. The box opens to a sight he has gotten used to, yet there was a disparity. In between the cushion of the velvet laid a beautiful silver Chopard ring. The band was simple in design, yet intricate with the signature ice cubes filled with small sparkling diamonds across the entire width. Renjun handles the ring with care once it is taken out of the box to inspect every detail. Not only was the brand engraved in stunning cursive on the inside, but Donghyuck had gotten the ring customized with the word family in the same writing on the opposite side of the inner circle. 

Renjun runs his fingers over the engraving, the words rough under his calloused hands. He hums in thought as he slips the ring on his middle finger, the radiance seeping in from the windows catching the precious metal. “Family...family...I haven’t had one in a long time.”

The truth is he had, has, but he was too blind to see. 

Family is not just those that are immediate, composing of a father and mother or even siblings. Family can also entail the greater extent from cousins to aunts to grandparents. Family can even be those that are not blood related like the friends a person surrounds themselves by. 

Renjun has family. If only he could acknowledge them before they too left him utterly alone. 

Alone was something Renjun was not for the days to come. 

A week later after his cousin delivered the news about the annual holiday vacation and company sponsored events that his family has been hosting since his late teen years, he was flown in a private plane against his will to a remote town near Busan, far off from the heart of Seoul. He would rather spend the holidays in the city where he grew up like all those past seasons ago, but his father decided there was a need for change, a mirror of one forthcoming in virtually three months. Usually those that made the trip came for the designated three days they were given which still involved work communications with scant room for relaxation depending on the schedules of selected individuals. However, if one was a Huang, which Renjun was the only one left along with his father that were at least part of the business, then departure and stay differed. Intermingled was the Huang winter vacation with that of business affairs, a factor that was born when the tradition started. His father always said to kill two birds with one stone when given the chance and this very situation was one he took hold of to morph into a personal gain. 

Nothing was ever as it seemed with his father, nor himself. One characteristic they shared among a hundred to a thousand polarities.

Albeit this time around, Renjun had fought against his father’s wants, which was not the first instance, but was one that ended in surprising success. Success he tasted on the daily, even if all was bitter with no room for happiness. However, this success was sweet with contentment, ending with an awfully horrid aftertaste. Convincing his father to fly him out along with the others on the 23rd of December instead of the 20th was a victory no less. At least he didn’t have to spend unwanted days in the presence of his old man longer than necessary. 

He arrives in wealth and social standing like he always did for once his black A.Testoni dress shoes hit the white tiled floor of the airport’s general aviation ramp building, everyone within his general vicinity, even those afar, are taking heed to his every need, that as of now are limited. 

A slightly older woman who he deems as his assistant, comes into view, her black Prada heels clicking loudly against the tile as she advances with a clipboard and her trusty cell in her hands to the boy. She cheerful speaks into the empty building, her smile unwavering. “Mr. Huang, I am glad you had a safe flight. I printed your itinerary for the next couple of days that I will hand to you once we are in the limo. Considering it is…” She glances at her Apple Watch Series 6 to check the time. “Two forty three as of now, we can drop off your luggage at the Lodge and get you settled into your room before your three fifteen lunch with Mr. Kim and his wife at the Yongsusan Café. You will be with them for an hour before the rest of the afternoon is yours to spend productively. Then at six o’clock the maids and stylists will come by to get you ready for the business meeting at seven thirty, following with a small dinner party with those same individuals, including their wives and children. Sounds good?”

Renjun does not even have time to reply before his assistant speaks again. 

“Yes, okay! Let’s get going then.” She turns on her heel abruptly, yet with expertise without room for error and begins taking steps away from the plane to the left. “The limo should be this way, follow me while your luggage gets loaded. The drive should not take more than ten minutes.” 

He has no choice but to accompany her as he would not be able to make a run for it, he will be caught within seconds. He tried once and that was only one failure amongst little to none in his book. 

His strides are slow and lousy as if he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased, when he in fact did not, far from it in actuality. Even so before he knows it he reaches the limo and is lurched forward in motion towards his destination for the next few days. The place his dad selected oozes with sumptuous intent, being a gorgeous mid-century modern wooden lodge that nearly looked like a manor upon inspection. As the limo pulls up to the front, Renjun is able to see the beauty up close that he is entranced by even if he seems unfazed. New places and people excite him more than he lets on for his life is dull, lacking fulfillment of an unknown tomorrow. 

The porter, who is situated in patience by the front doors, strides forward to open the door of the limo, permitting Renjun to step out with the authority and grace bestowed upon him. 

When he crosses the threshold into the Lodge he is met with an even better interior that rivaled that on the outside, but he is not allowed to ponder too much on the design before the head manager greets him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang, it is certainly a pleasure for you to stay with us at the Lodge this fine holiday season. I am Gwan Jang-Mi and I will be showing you to your room today along with giving you a small tour of this place in order to familiarize yourself with the setting. If you look here to your left…”

Her speech is drowned out into obscurity as Renjun’s awareness shifts to another woman, one so stunning that he is surprised he did not take notice sooner. When sauntering through the entryway into the resting room that will be cleared out in the next couple of hours, a bar is situated to the left where you stand, arranging countless bottles of liquor to wine on the counter, no doubt for the little party later or for the meeting. Those men were heavy drinkers and needed alcohol to make it through the rest of the evening. Renjun did drink to drown his sorrows, worry, and anxiousness away, but he was not one to throw himself down a spiraling hole of darkness nor chaos that he could not get out of, for those consequences were ones he did not want to reap.

The soft sunlight peaks through the high guarded windows, shining down on your face that enunciates your features. For simply being in a black polo and khaki pants, you made it work and drew all attention to yourself without even knowing the power you held. 

The moment of admiration comes to a close when Renjun is ushered away from the ground floor to make way to his room in the upper levels, leaving you behind.

Yet that would not be the last time.

Time goes by slowly when there is no purpose, no meaning to the daily workings of one person in the masses of others. Renjun has experience in that regard, time always goes by slowly for him and exhausts him a great deal like a rotary clock that seeks no end. 

He was worn out by the time he got back to the Lodge in the early evening due to the stay with the Kims went longer than necessary and he was called elsewhere upon emergency to discuss future matters. He did not have time for himself like his assistant had plainly made known so there he was, collapsed head first into his silk covers, ten minutes to six. 

Instead of taking a long awaited nap he is ushered up and into more formal wear after a cleanse from the bustle of bodies that barge into his room. 

No privacy. No sense of normality. 

That is the normal. 

The next few hours go by in blur from him sitting in front of a mirror to have his hair styled to sitting in front of burly old men that were associates and inventors of the company in a grad meeting room with locked doors and the finest assortment of liquor that money can buy. 

He is out of the confines in no time, not even bothering to say one final hurrah before he lurches himself out the door and into the now cleared out resting room. One of the servers comes by then dressed in all black attire that was nothing of the typical black and white uniform, edging towards a usual guest. Renjun snatches a glass of sparkling champagne and gulps it down in one go off their silver platter, discreetly of course, for he has to look composed—sober throughout the entire affair. He always could hold his alcohol without a problem and he felt blessed to have that advantage. One thing he is proud of. 

He is whisked away not even moments after by one of the older investors, Mr. Han, to moreover chew over the end of the year budget and his stance on future decisions to be made in the new year. From the corner of his eye while listening to the man talk in a flamboyant manner, he sees his father standing with a glass of white wine happily talking to another investor, a more influential one, the most influential one of them all and his wife along with their daughter who was not even carefully surveying the room in search of someone.

Renjun’s eyes widen in shock, mumbling under his breath, “Shit.”

Mr. Han stops the flow of words out his mouth, his eyebrows rumpling together. He did not hear the swear word the boy uttered, yet he heard something in passing. “Pardon?”

Renjun shakes his head vaguely, bringing his third glass of champagne in the air as a sign of departure. “Ah excuse me, Mr. Han, but it seems I have been beckoned elsewhere.” His eyes shift over to his father who was not making direct eye contact with him, but Mr. Han did not need to know that little detail as he observes Renjun’s line of sight. 

Mr. Han chuckles brightly. “I see, well I must not keep you from your father.”

Renjun smiles. “No, you must not, but we shall continue this conversation later, Mr. Han. I am sure you have much more to say and I will happily discuss further with you.”

Mr. Han waves his hand in the air nonchalantly. “We shall. Now off you go.” 

Renjun nods his head, his lips still quirked up in a smile, this one more genuine than the last, as he makes a beeline towards his father to make everything seem more believable. Though once he no longer feels the eyes of Mr. Han on his retreating back he switches routes, going to the left rather than straight ahead. He circles around the opposite side, catching a stark mop of washed out red hair amongst the crowd in the process—Donghyuck. His cousin is not alone, however, talking rather freely with a girl he could not quite see in his peripheral vision. The grin on Donghyuck’s face is undeniable even with his back turned and the way Renjun hears the tiny giggles you are emitting, all is too familiar, which is the perfect cause for a disruption.

Renjun does not acknowledge his cousin when he arrives at the bar, the younger boy too immersed in conversation so he signals for the other worker that comes becking to his call. 

“A Negroni, on the rocks.”

The girl nods in understanding and turns to prepare the drink while Donghyuck still has not noticed his presence. The younger boy always did focus on what was in front of him rather than on his surroundings, contrary to his cousin that saw the whole picture. Two contrasting people surely with unlike futures ahead of them. 

The frosted glass with the reddish-orange liquid and topped with orange shavings is served to him a minute later, placed in front of him on a matching glass coaster.

He clears his throat loudly in an attempt to catch Donghyuck’s attention. “Thank you.” 

A method that proves effective since the younger boy finally turns his head to the right to see Renjun sitting on the barstool next to him, sipping casually on his high class Negroni. 

His eyes are wide, but he masks his shock with a subtle smirk. “Jun! Well, well, if it isn’t the mini man himself. How long have you been sitting there?” 

Renjun snorts into his glass, shaking his head at the dig Donghyuck made at his height, always one out for blood. “Far too long to have noticed your flirting from across the room, Hyuck.” It is now his turn to smirk, but Donghyuck’s own is still unfaltering.

“I take pride in my skills, glad you gave your time of day to notice.” He elevates his glass up then, filled most likely with a Nicolashka, his favorite holiday drink to date, and takes a sip himself, a move Renjun mimics.

Then your voice interrupts. “Sorry to cut in, but I have to get back to work. You’ve been distracting me for the last ten minutes, mister.” Your stern gaze is directed at Donghyuck from the latter statement. Although once your words are uttered, Renjun focuses his eyes on you, scrutinizing your appearance. The very girl he saw earlier today, the girl Donghyuck so happened to have a chance with before him—you.

Donghyuck laughs, the smirk morphing into a shiteating grin. “I told you, call me Hyuck.”

“Well, Hyuck, I have to get back to work...plus I am sure you want to talk to your friend.” Your gaze flickers to Renjun in that instance and lingers there longer than necessary that has him laughing to himself. 

Donghyuck’s charm only goes so far. 

The younger boy peers at Renjun when you utter out friend, and he smiles small in remorse. “Sadly, but do not let me keep you from your work.”

You turn your back on him, your eyes catching Renjun’s in the process before you look away from the intensity of the dark orbs. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

You leave the bar area then most likely to put on an apron that Renjun noticed you had not worn throughout the entire duration. Donghyuck simply distracted you before the start of your shift and after, not a good trait to inherit. 

Donghyuck hums, but let’s the remark go as he fully turns to Renjun to start up that conversation. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Must you always keep me from having fun?” 

Renjun shrugs his shoulders, swishing the liquid in his glass. “Not always, but I was saving that girl from misery. You should be thankful that I care enough.” 

Donghyuck taunts. “Oh wow I feel so special.”

Renjun sternly eyes him, his voice lowering. “You should.”

Donghyuck’s lips open to retort a response, but no words are spoken on his end for his eyes look over the older boy’s shoulders and he catches sight of someone none of them truly like or have liked after the incident. He sees her.

“Well fuck, here comes the devil,” is all he makes out and the phrase enough has Renjun turning his own head hastily to see who he was watching. Such is when he sees his ex-girlfriend, Cha Yeona, prowling straight towards their way.

“I’m going to go...so good luck, mate. You’ll need it.” Donghyuck pats Renjun’s shoulder in departure and his gesture of sympathy, leaving him in the wake of a girl he really did not wish to see or converse with. 

Once he leaves the bar in quick speed, you come in at that exact moment, your eyes zoning in on the way Yeona’s dainty hand latches onto Renjun’s forearm in greeting. You turn away from the image, busying yourself with wiping down the glasses. 

“Oh! What a lovely surprise,” Yeona voices, letting her hand maneuver down to place on top of Renjun’s hand in which she gives him a faint squeeze thereof. He flinches from the contact, retracting his hand to slip into the pocket of his Burberry blazer while the other rims his glass. 

He peers at her intently, a potency that has her giggling nervously. His looks could kill whenever he was serious with a blank face and austere hollows of eyes. “Hello, Yeona.”

She sits down gracefully on the stool next to him, crossing her long unblemished legs over each other, her hands placed in her lap. Her smile is bright and makes him want to pull out his hair. She was always two-faced. “Hi Jun Jun! How have you been?”

He lets the pet name go, but does not glance at her again, looking over her head at the white lights strung outside. “Good.”

Silence engulfs them that has her fidgeting out of discomfort. He evidently did not want to talk. She reaches her hand out to touch him once more that has him leaning away. She sighs in defeat, retreating from the gesture. She would have to reach him some other way. “Well...I—”

He cuts her off from continuing, drowning the last contents of his drink before he pushes the glass away towards the server at the end of the counter. He puts a hand up. “Save it. I have no reason to talk to you again. Leave.” 

He arches his eyebrow when he sees she makes no move to leave and he chuckles darkly. “Do I have to tell you again? Or should I have security escort you out?”

She flinches from the tone of his voice and gulps, her throat becoming exceptionally dry. She hurriedly stands up, almost ripping over her heels and departs without a goodbye, not that he wished to get one from her. Her slim body covered in a blood red dress slips into the crowd and Renjun finally releases the breath he was holding. 

He tugs at the strands of his gelled back hair. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters, lifting a finger in the air to signal for another drink that the server speedily moves to make. 

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

Renjun lifts his eyes to see you gaping at him, an eyebrow uplifted in fascination as you finally were in your uniform, a white cloth draped over your shoulders. Renjun runs his hand through his hair and scoffs from the remark thereafter. He was sure the stylists would be upset to see him dishevel their mighty work, but he could care less.

He shakes his head, the strands of hair rustling. “No, I think not. She deserves it.”

“Wow. Again, harsh.” You laugh mockingly and grab his drink that was slid over by your coworker to clean the glass again. You place the beverage down on the coaster which he takes with pleasure, muttering a small thank you that you can barely hear amidst the classical music playing in the background. Your hands make contact for a split second that has tingles erupting on your end, in a rather cliche response, yet he made no move of the feeling. 

There is quietness again that makes you flustered since you were never one to enjoy the muted scenery, always wanting a sound ringing in your ears. While Renjun enjoyed the still, always wanting a sound that faded in the wind and never made a comeback appearance. 

In a desperate attempt to keep conversation while making yourself busy by fixing up the bottles of alcohol, you propose a question that invades his privacy, whilst he never had privacy to begin with, a factor you were left in the dark about.

“So...um...your girlfriend?” You ask, in regards to Yeona that left some minutes ago. 

Renjun snorts, placing down his glass and interlocks his hand to rest his chin on, a move to focus solely on you. “Right. She’s my ex-girlfriend actually so you’re not entirely wrong.”

You mumble out a quiet, “Oh.” It was not your business to know his affairs after all, yet there was a voice nagging within that made you curious to find out every part of him.

The tranquility hugs the both of you once more, until he questions you out of the blue. 

“You want to get out of here?”

To say you are shocked is an understatement, since you are in fact bamboozled beyond belief. He says the declaration with so much firmness and certainty, it has your heart twisting on the inside.

You lightly laugh to mask the shock and turn around to really look at him, a look that he reciprocates. “I don’t even know you.”

A keen smile is visible on his lips. “Exactly the point. You have nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, leaning against the counter of the bar to stare into his eyes that look so lifeless, yet beautiful. “Maybe, but this is my job. I can’t just bail.” 

He leans his head closer to you, an act that allows you to a whiff of the Christian Dior Ambre Nuit cologne he wears and his minty fresh breath. “Of course you can.” His soothing voice turns teasing as he smirks. “Don’t worry I won’t tell.” 

You scoff to yourself, surprised by his mannerisms of outforwardness. You look around then to see if anyone is watching the two of you, but all eyes are elsewhere and you let out a sigh of relief. Another girl comes into the bar when you glance to the side, most likely to cover the next shift that was not yours quite yet, be that as it may you did have a break coming up. 

Renjun outstretches his hand in patience, his smirk slowly growing, even if it was borderlining a smile that you could see right through. He hums in anticipation and you give in.

“Okay fine, but not for too long,” you say as you rest your hand in his. The cold of your fingers meet his warm ones and you latch on for dear life, afraid to let go. 

He grins at you and squeezes your hand. “No promises.” 

Then he proceeds to drag you out of the bar, tugging you to who knows where. The tingle of a secret keeps you on your toes and you become giddy, laughing along the halls as he steers you left, right, straight, left, right, up...a never ending cycle of adventure.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” You ask after gaining the courage. He is intimidating in some regards, the thought of how he acted towards his ex-girlfriend as visible as day in your mind.

He shrugs, finally slowing down. “Who knows. Could be outside in the cold or near a fireplace in the warm. You will just have to see.”

“That certainly gives me no direction at all.”

He turns his head to look at you and stops suddenly, having you nearly crash into his back before he tugs you to the other side. He chuckles when he sees your horrified face from almost busting your nose. “That was the point, darling.”

You huff in annoyance when he continues walking, the pressure of his fingers around your own feels heavier as time drags on and your heart has no sense of calm, constricting with the name of endearment that slipped past his slim lips.

“Okay, we are here!” He announces and lets go of your hand, the bareness of his heat leaving you shivering. You take a step back from planting your feet firmly on the floor and glance around the room in which he stopped. It was one of the upper level rooms with strict access only to the most wealthy of the associates and investors. His family must be one of those highly regarded, if only you knew how highly regarded his family is, being the ones with the most status, the most affluent lifestyle. However, you would remain clueless.

“Oh, wow. The view up here is amazing.”

Renjun laughs, placing his hands in the front pocket of his slacks as he strolls around the room, glancing at the glowing fire that was left on and the books that were sealed shut. “Trust me, I am well aware. Why do you think I brought you up here?” He gives you an exasperated stare, peering past at the giant window you stood in front of that showcased the whole town, now covered in sleek white snow. It must have snowed while he was conversing with others at the party for when he arrived at the meeting hours ago, the land was void.

The white flakes are still falling outside, delicately covering everything in one uniform color that leaves you in awe and he is left admiring you, how at peace you are. How free you look, an emotion he never held onto in his entire life.

“So besides admiring this view, what are we doing up here?” You ask, your fingertips grazing the cool frosted glass of the window, seeing beyond to the endless landscape and twinkling stars along with lights of the houses nearby.

Renjun answers bluntly. “Admiring the view.”

You can’t stop the titters from escaping you and you roll your eyes, an action he sees through the reflection.

He steps forward, coming up besides your figure to look more clearly at the breathtaking scenery of a winter wonderland. “No, I’m joking...at least partially.” 

You giggle some more, interlocking your hands in front of you. “I didn’t know you had it in you to joke.”

It is now his turn to laugh. “Darling, I have a lot in me that you don’t know.”

You sigh solemnly, taking a step back to turn around, examining the other objects around the room. “Oh, I’m sure.” 

He is an enigma waiting to be unraveled, but you would not be the one to solve his case and that alone is an idea that scares you. 

Before you can get farther away, his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from escape. You peer down at his hand then up to his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching together in perplexity.

He does not speak, only drags you into him to where you are now chest to chest, only an inch of distance between your bodies. The closeness between the two of you leaves you breathless and gasping for air. His thumb carrasses your arm and runs down to the palm of your hand, enveloping his fingers around your skin. Your eyes are trailing the movements and you take a sharp intake of breath, curious as to what can happen next. He hooks his other free index finger under your chin to lift your face up so he can see you in distinct luminosity.

You have gazed at his eyes practically all evening, but nothing has prepared you for seeing him up close. He is even more handsome in full definition from the lines on his soft pink lips to his perfectly tousled hair. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, his thumb running along your cupid’s bow. “Absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful.”

You gulp, the words drying up in your throat for what could you say to his compliment?

Then everything happens at once.

His hand moves to wrap around the back of your head and he tugs you closer by the other until you are pressed up against each other. He lightly pushes your head forward and contact is made. 

Lips against lips. Moving and moving against each other, taking all your breath away for the second time within a span of a few seconds. 

He lets go of holding your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, to pull you closer if such is even possible. To make the contact more tender and desirable.

You suppose desire is that which allows the moment to escalate further. From a mere innocent kiss to a fiery passion of craving for more. 

When your lips separate, he does not think twice before grabbing your hand once more and dragging you down the long corridor to arrive at his secluded room around the corner.

He opens the door with haste as you come tumbling in after him, grabbing, pulling, tugging until all that is left is just you and him.

The frantic beats of two hearts. 

The heat of skin pressed against skin. 

Simply two bodies that became one all due to the desire floating around the room and pushing you to the limit. 

You lost yourself in him that night and he in you. 

Lost to the pure ecstasy of pleasure during the season of joy and love.

Yet the season could also be one for giving and taking.

You wake to a cold bed the next morning.

Gone is the warmth of a boy who made you feel like you were on top of the world, someone special enough to demand notice and have anything that is asked for. 

Gone is the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear, the words of assurance, comfort, and false love that made you feel worth it and simply protected.

Gone is the long lingering touches of his fingers pressing into you and dancing along the lines of your body to explore and learn.

Gone is the feeling of his lips on your skin that was enough to ignite you ablaze and leave you seeing all the colors of the rainbow.

Gone is he—Huang Renjun. 

All that remains of the remembrance from the night is the note he left by the oak bedside table, one that crushed the dream of longing and hope within. One that slapped you with the crude reality of who he truly was, is, in a place that you did not belong to and never would. 

Thanks for last night, but it’s a one time thing. You can see yourself out. Happy holidays.

He signed the note with his initials, H.R. and his family’s embroidered seal. 

Then you realize in that moment, your bare body covered in his silk covers in the large suite he had all to himself, that the holidays are not for everyone. 

You can either be together with someone else or alone by yourself. 

Never the two. 

Always one or the other. 

You had hoped to be together yet alone with him in privacy to make your own memories away from prying eyes, but at the end of the day you were by yourself and he was too.

That is how life works in this sick, twisted world.

Men against men. Women against women. Everyone against everyone.

Alone.

Never together. 

Like he and you.