#best thing to ever happen to me before Christmas and possibly during

[jungwnies]

wreckage - charles leclerc

୨ৎ : pairing : charles leclerc x wife!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : after a heated argument with charles, you watch in horror as his car crashes during a race

୨ৎ : genre : angst ୨ৎ : tws : car accident/injury, arguments/conflict, anxiety/panic, trauma, medical trauma. ୨ৎ : wc : 1318

part one | part two | part three | part four

They say life can change in the blink of an eye. One second, everything feels steady, solid, like the ground beneath your feet couldn’t possibly give way. And then it does. Maybe that’s the irony of it all—you never see it coming. Not really. You think you’re prepared, think you’ve braced yourself, but you’re never quite ready for the moment it all falls apart.

You fought this morning. Not just a little spat about something trivial—no, this was one of those fights that echoed louder than it should have. The kind that lingered, thick in the air, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth even hours later.

It wasn’t about anything catastrophic, either, but somehow, with Charles, the small things had a way of snowballing. His schedule. Your schedule. The time you didn’t have together. The things he didn’t say and the things you did.

“I’m trying, okay? You think it’s easy for me?” he’d snapped, his accent sharpening the edges of his words. “You know what this life is like.”

“Yeah, Charles, I do. But I also know you don’t get to use it as an excuse every single time something gets hard. I’m here, too, and I’m trying to make this work just as much as you are.”

His jaw had tightened, his gaze flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it’s never enough for you.”

You’d felt the sting of those words, like a slap across the face. But you weren’t one to back down, not even when the weight of his frustration pressed heavy on your chest.

“You don’t get to say that to me, not when I’m the one waiting, worrying, wondering if this is ever going to feel… stable. Do you know how hard it is to love someone who’s never really here?”

The silence that followed was deafening, his features a mix of hurt and anger, like he didn’t know which to lean into more. And then he’d said it.

“Maybe it’s hard because you don’t trust me enough to believe that I’m doing my best.”

You hadn’t answered, and maybe that was the problem. The fight ended there, not because either of you wanted it to but because there was no time to fix it. Not when he had a race to prepare for, and you had to pretend like none of this was tearing you apart from the inside out.

When you arrived at the paddock, it felt impossible to mask the weight of the argument. You greeted a few people with forced smiles, but you could see some of them watching you a little too closely. It didn’t help that Charles seemed just as tense, his jaw set and his usual ease nowhere to be found.

Carlos was the first to pull you aside, his brown eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned closer. “¿Qué pasa, eh? You look like someone stole your churros, and Charles… well, he looks worse. What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Amiga, por favor. I know you, and I know him. Whatever this is, it’s not nothing.”

You sighed, glancing over your shoulder where Charles was talking to his engineers. “We just… had a fight this morning. It’s not a big deal.”

Carlos gave you a skeptical look. “Not a big deal? You’re both walking around like someone cancelled Christmas. If you’re not okay, neither is he. You should talk to him before the race.”

You hesitated, the memory of this morning’s argument still fresh in your mind. “I don’t want to distract him. He needs to focus.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, shaking his head with a small smile. “Tch. If you think he’s focusing now, you’re wrong. You being upset is a bigger distraction than anything else. Go.”

Reluctantly, you nodded and made your way toward Charles. He was still in deep conversation with one of his engineers, but when he saw you approaching, his expression softened—just slightly.

“Hey,” you said quietly, folding your arms across your chest.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. There was a pause, the tension between you lingering like a storm cloud.

“Good luck out there,” you finally said, your voice steadier than you felt. “I mean it. Be safe.”

Charles studied you for a moment, his green eyes searching yours. Then he nodded. “And… I’m sorry. For earlier.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, someone called for him, signaling it was time to get ready. He gave you one last look, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with words unsaid.

The race began, and for a while, the roar of engines and the blur of cars distracted you. Charles was in good form, holding his position, making clean overtakes. You found yourself exhaling with relief every time his car flashed across the screen.

But then it happened.

It was almost too fast to comprehend. One moment, Charles was rounding a corner, perfectly in control. The next, there was smoke, debris, and the sickening crunch of metal against metal.

Your heart stopped.

The commentators’ voices rose in panic, their words a jumbled mess that barely registered in your mind. “Oh no, that’s Leclerc… that’s a big one.”

Everything else faded—the noise of the crowd, the hum of your thoughts—until all that remained was the image of his car, mangled and still.

“Red flag,” one of them said, and that’s when it hit you. They’d stopped the race. It was bad.

Your hands trembled as you gripped the edge of the table, your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

The minutes crawled by like hours, every second another layer of dread settling in your chest. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, desperate for any sign, any update, anything to tell you he was okay.

When they finally cut to the scene, you saw the medics surrounding his car, moving quickly but carefully.

“He’s conscious,” one of the commentators said, and you felt a rush of air leave your lungs, but it wasn’t enough. Not until you saw him. Not until you heard him.

You thought back to the fight, to the last thing he said to you, and it made you sick to your stomach. This couldn’t be the last memory you had of him, the last words you exchanged. It couldn’t.

You were already reaching for your phone, dialing his team, someone, anyone who could give you more than the vague reassurance of the broadcast.

“Please,” you whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. “Please let him be okay.”

It’s strange, how quickly everything can unravel. You think you’ve got it all figured out, that the argument was just another bump in the road. But in the back of your mind, there’s always that voice whispering, telling you that things might never be the same.

And now, with every second that ticks by, your thoughts spiral, faster and faster, until you can’t breathe. What if this is it? What if those were the last words you ever said to him?

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself, but all you can see is that image of his car, broken and still. Your pulse races. You told him you loved him today, but did he really hear you? Was he ever truly certain, or was that last moment of tension, the words left unsaid, enough to make him doubt everything?

You hate this. You hate the fear gnawing at you. You hate that you're sitting here, helpless, as he’s out there fighting for his life. That feeling of powerlessness—it’s unbearable.

Please, you think again, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality. Please, don’t let this be the end.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[artem1sc0re]

(‼️OUT OF CONTEXT SPOILERS FOR THE BLOODLINE DLC OF WATCH DOGS LEGION‼️)

What the hell have I created.

WHY DOES IT GENUINELY SOUND LIKE RAMPART WAS SPITTING BARS THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SOME SHITPOST BETWEEN THE EVENTS AIDEN AND WRENCH GO THROUGH IM GIGGLING OVER THIS

To add more to this I’m also afraid that @nickthenoncomedian ‘s statement is real, they butchered jacks with his haircut in my opinion 😔😔

[moonlightwritingf1]

Snowed-In Together | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N and Lando’s road trip to a cabin turns into a bickering match, but after a heartfelt moment, they share a kiss. By the end of the storm, their rivalry has transformed into something more.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 1.3k

The drive up to the cabin was supposed to be relaxing. Christmas lights twinkled along the roadside, and the snow had been falling softly—at least until the storm rolled in. Y/N and Lando, stuck in the same car thanks to their mutual friends’ poor planning, were now bickering endlessly.

“This is your fault,” Y/N said, shooting him a glare as the wipers struggled against the heavy snow.

“My fault?” Lando retorted, his voice rising in indignation. “You’re the one who insisted on stopping for coffee. I said we should keep going before the weather got worse!”

“Right, because skipping caffeine is the key to safe driving,” she snapped.

Every shared moment seemed to turn into a battle of wills—one neither could ever admit enjoying, even though their friends joked about their "chemistry."

It wasn’t chemistry, Y/N thought as they pulled into the snowy driveway. It was just him being insufferable.

They’d barely made it to the cabin before the storm hit full force. Inside, their friends were already settled, fires lit, drinks poured, and the best rooms claimed. Y/N and Lando, arriving last, were left with the drafty, freezing room at the far end of the cabin.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Y/N muttered, eyeing the twin beds.

Lando, standing behind her with his bag slung over his shoulder, let out a sharp laugh. “This is going to be fun.”

“Define fun,” she shot back, dropping her bag onto one of the beds.

_________________________________________________

The storm was relentless, the wind howling against the windows as the snow piled higher outside. The cabin, warm and cozy in the main living area, felt like a refuge—unless you were Lando or Y/N.

They’d spent the evening snapping at each other over every little thing.

“Who chooses Die Hard over Love Actually during Christmas?” Y/N demanded, clutching the remote.

“People with taste,” Lando retorted, lounging on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Their friends exchanged knowing glances, clearly amused by the bickering.

“You two should probably just kiss and get it over with,” one of them teased.

Y/N spluttered, her cheeks flushing. “Excuse me? As if that would ever happen.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his smirk infuriating. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

The next day, the storm had worsened, leaving them completely snowed in. The cabin was cut off from the outside world, and the power flickered ominously throughout the morning.

Wrapped in a blanket, Y/N sat by the window, sipping tea and trying to ignore Lando’s presence as he sprawled on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re surprisingly quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Maybe because I’ve run out of ways to insult you,” she shot back, though there was no real bite in her tone.

He smirked, setting his phone down. “Impressive. I didn’t think that was possible.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile.

Later that afternoon, Y/N busied herself with unpacking some Christmas decorations their friends had brought. Lando, clearly bored, wandered over and started rummaging through the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Decorating,” she said shortly, not looking at him.

He wandered over, picking up a small, hand-painted ornament. “What’s this?”

“Don’t touch that!” she said, snatching it from his hands.

He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Relax, I wasn’t going to break it.”

“It’s fragile,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the chipped paint.

“It’s just an ornament,” he teased, but his voice had lost some of its edge.

“It’s not just an ornament,” she replied, her tone sharp. “It’s... it belonged to my grandparents.”

Lando’s teasing smirk faded, replaced by something softer. “Oh.”

“They gave it to me when I was little,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “It’s the only thing I have left of them.”

The room fell quiet, and for a moment, Lando seemed at a loss for words. Then, in a voice softer than she’d ever heard from him, he said, “I didn’t mean to joke about it. I get it... holding on to things like that.”

Y/N looked up, startled by his sincerity. “You do?”

He nodded, his gaze distant. “Yeah. It’s not the same, but... Christmas isn’t really the same for me anymore. With racing, I’m always away from my family. It’s like I’ve lost that connection to it, you know?”

Her heart softened, the walls she’d built around him crumbling just a little. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

He shrugged, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You never asked.”

Something shifted between them in that moment, the usual sharpness of their banter replaced by an unfamiliar warmth.

That night, the power went out completely, plunging the cabin into darkness. The fireplace provided some warmth, but the room they shared was freezing. Y/N huddled under her blankets, shivering, until Lando spoke up.

“You’re going to freeze over there,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m fine,” she replied through chattering teeth.

“Stop being stubborn,” he said, his voice laced with irritation and concern. She heard him get up, and before she could protest, he was climbing into her bed, pulling his blanket over hers. “There. Better?”

She glared at him, though the warmth was undeniably welcome. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Yeah, well, you never do,” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement and settling beside her. “Doesn’t mean you don’t need it.”

The bed was small, and the proximity was unnerving. She could feel the heat of his body, his scent—woodsy and faintly sweet—lingering in the air.

“You’re annoying,” she muttered, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

“And you’re stubborn,” he countered, his lips curving into a small smile.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the flickering firelight casting shadows across his face. Something in his expression softened, and Y/N felt her heart skip a beat.

“Why do we do this?” she asked quietly.

“Do what?”

“Argue. Fight. Act like we hate each other.”

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her. His gaze was intense, but not in the mocking way she was used to. “Maybe because it’s easier than admitting the truth.”

Her breath hitched. “What truth?”

“That you drive me absolutely mad,” he said, as he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his voice low and unsteady. “And I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Lando...”

Her lips parted in surprise, but before she could respond, he leaned in, his lips hovering just above hers. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

She didn’t.

When his lips met hers, it was soft at first, almost hesitant. But as the kiss deepened, months of tension and unspoken feelings spilled out between them. Her hands found their way into his hair, pulling him closer, and he responded with a quiet, desperate intensity that made her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together.

“Well,” she whispered, her lips brushing against his, “that escalated quickly.”

He chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Guess we were overdue.”

_________________________________________________

By the time the snowstorm passed, everything between them had changed. The biting remarks and sharp retorts were gone, replaced by teasing smiles and stolen touches. Their friends noticed, of course, but no one said anything—at least, not yet.

As they packed up to leave, Lando lingered by her car, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“So,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, “what happens now?”

She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “What do you want to happen?”

His smile was slow, warm, and a little unsure. “I want... whatever this is. You and me.”

Her heart fluttered, but she managed to keep her voice steady. “Good. Because I want that too.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss her again, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

As she drove away, her cheeks flushed and her lips tingling, she couldn’t help but smile. The storm had left them with something unexpected, something real—and she couldn’t wait to see where it led.

[enviedear]

love to keep me warm ❅ dick grayson

part of enviedear's winter wonderland... 🎧ྀི dick grayson is your best friend, and has been since he moved to blüdhaven. you're more than familiar with taking trips to gotham with him, especially during the holidays! you've yet to miss one of bruce wayne's christmas galas—but this year is different. this year, you're hopelessly trying to hide the recent crush you've developed on your best friend. wc 2.0k | fluff, like, the fluffiest fluff

the pristine penmanship of an envelope, mingled in the mix of bills and various other junk mail, has you feeling nervous. unlike previous times—every other time—you're not excited to be invited to bruce wayne's annual holiday gala. not this year, at least.

perhaps if you hadn't spent the spring and summer falling head over heels for your best friend—or, partner in good—that's what dick calls it.

you hadn't meant to fall for him. in honest, you've tried your entire life to stop any of this for ever happening. there were times, when you were younger and dick was still outwardly an idiot, that you'd let yourself imagine it for a moment...being with him. but you always stopped yourself, never let the idea take root.

but then the hottest summer in blüdhaven history happened—and dick was so kind to offer up his apartment to you. generator-backed and remarkably cooler than your twenties era studio, you started out happy to have your best friend as a roommate. until it became too real, too perfect, and too out of your control.

dick grayson has always been a handsome guy, beautiful even, in some lights. but he's also the dork that sat in gum on the subway before his first dance, the annoyance who winks across the room when a conversation is going well, the loser that practices lines in his bathroom mirror—for criminals or lovers, you're unsure. he's been strictly off limits in your mind since you met.

but now—now he's morphed into something much more, and with it, so has your innocent little crush. you feel unable to hide it. always on edge when he emerges from his room. what used to be normal hang outs now have you feeling like a teen on her first date—you find it completely rancid. everything was much easier when you had control over these feelings.

the envelope sits in your hands, a little heavier than it should. you can already picture the grandeur of the evening—bruce in his tuxedo, smiling picturesque and politely, surrounded by gotham’s elite. alfred’s impeccable hors d'oeuvres and gentle quips. damian sulking somewhere in a corner, occasionally muttering about the frivolity of the season. and then dick...in a tailored suit that'll make your chest tighten, effortlessly charming as always.

you’ve been to enough of them to know the drill. you’ve stood by dick’s side countless times, smiling as people ask if you’re together. the answer has always been a laugh and, “no, just friends.” but this year, you’re not sure you can manage the smile.

“hey, you okay?” dick’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. he’s standing in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips, and a loose t-shirt that somehow still clings perfectly to his frame. you hate how easily he does this to you.

“yeah, m'fine.” you say quickly, stuffing the envelope into the pile of mail. “just bills.”

your mail still gets delivered to his place—despite the fact that you've updated your address again. it shouldn't be such an annoyance. really, it's a perfect opportunity to see him more...but seeing him while harboring the biggest crush possible is taxing.

he gives you a look, one that’s a little too knowing for your comfort. “you sure? you look…tense.”

“i’m fine.” you insist, maybe a bit too sharply.

“okay, okay!” he says, raising his hands in mock surrender. but there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “you know, if you’re stressed, we could do one of those cheesy holiday things to cheer you up. ice skating? christmas movies? oh, wait—gingerbread houses. you can’t be grumpy while decorating a gingerbread house.”

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “are you suggesting that i’m grumpy?”

“never.” he says with a grin that’s so sincere it’s almost maddening. “but you’ve been…quiet lately. i just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“i’m fine, grayson. really.”

he doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, instead grabbing an apple from the counter and leaning against it as he takes a bite. “there should be something from bruce in there—you’re still coming to the gala, right? you know it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

your stomach twists at the thought. you can’t imagine spending an entire evening pretending your feelings don’t exist, not when they’re so painfully obvious to you now. but you nod anyway, because what else can you do?

“yeah, of course i am!” you say, forcing a smile.

dick beams, and it’s so genuine, benevolent even, that for a moment you forget why you were ever worried. but then he turns back to his apple, oblivious to the way your heart is practically in your throat, and you’re reminded all over again.

surely—this is going to be the longest holiday season of your life.

the night of the gala arrives faster than you expected. the manor is alive with golden lights and soft music, the atmosphere a blend of sophistication and holiday magic. you’re in a dress that felt perfect when you bought it but now feels too tight under the weight of your nerves. dick, of course, looks effortlessly stunning in a black tuxedo, his smile lighting up the room as he greets guests.

you stick to the edges of the event, trying to avoid mingling too much. the grandeur of the wayne manor only amplifies your discomfort, the chandeliers and opulent decorations feeling like a spotlight on your inner turmoil.

but dick finds you, as he always does, weaving through the crowd with that natural charm. “hey, you’re not hiding over here, are you?”

“no, just…taking it all in.”

“uh-huh,” he says, tone teasing as he leans against the wall beside you. “you know, bruce said something interesting earlier.”

“oh?” you ask, trying to sound casual as your heart rate picks up. terrible.

“yeah. he mentioned you’ve been coming to these galas for years, but he’s never seen you dance.”

you laugh nervously. “i don’t dance...this way. you know i can't waltz.”

“that’s a real shame,” dick says, holding out his hand. “because i happen to be a great dancer. and i think tonight’s the perfect night to be your instructor.”

“dick, i—” you start, only to be shushed with his pointer to your lips.

“no excuses.” he says, his grin soft but heavily insistent. “come on, it’s christmas. live a little, dance a little.”

before you can protest further, he’s guiding you to the center of the room. the music shifts to something slower, more romantic, and you feel your breath catch as he places a hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. his touch is warm and grounding, but it only makes the butterflies in your stomach worse.

“see? not so bad.” he says, his voice low as he leads you effortlessly across the floor. “you’re a natural.”

“hardly.” you murmur, eyes fixed on his collar to avoid looking directly at him. but he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze anyway.

“hey.” he says gently. “you can look at me, you know. i don’t bite.”

you laugh, though it comes out shakier than you intended. when your eyes finally meet his, there’s something in his expression that makes your breath hitch. it’s kindly and steady, but there’s an intensity to it too, like he’s searching for something—scouting.

“dick…” you start, unsure of what you’re even trying to say.

“you know,” he interrupts, his voice dropping to a whisper, “you’ve been on my mind a lot lately.”

your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest. “huh?”

he nods, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “yeah. and i think…i think we should talk. after this.”

“after this?” you repeat, eyebrows furrowed.

he smiles, but there’s a hint of trepidation behind it. “yeah. but later, let’s just...enjoy this rare blessing of you dancing.”

you want to deny his request—hound him for the meaning of whatever “this” is. but you don’t. maybe even can’t—you’re unsure. because when you finally lock eyes on dick grayson, he’s looking at you as if you're the bright, shining, expensive star atop the tree.

as the song begins to fade, the chatter around the room grows louder, mixed with clinking glasses and rhythmic heels. dick doesn’t let go of your hand, even as the music shifts to something livelier. his thumb brushes gently over your knuckles, and you have to stop yourself from sighing in outright adoration. he's just being cavalier—you remind yourself.

“come with me?” he says softly, leaning down so only you can hear him.

“what? where?” you ask, glancing nervously at the sea of people around you.

“somewhere quieter.” his tone leaves little room for argument, and before you can overthink it, he’s guiding you through the crowd with a natural ease.

the two of you slip out onto the balcony, noting small flurries of snow raining down. for a moment, you’re grateful for the fresh air, until you take a look back to dick.

he leans against the railing, hands braced on either side of himself as he peers into the distance. he’s silent for a moment, and then you hear him sigh.

“dick?” your voice is hesitant.

he turns to you, his expression so sincere it causes your head to rush. “i wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. about—thinking about you.”

you freeze, your mind racing. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that makes your lips curve. “i mean, this past year—living together for a bit, working together—i realized something.”

you swallow hard, your chest tightening. “what did you realize?”

“that i’ve been an fuckin' idiot,” he says, his voice softer now. “i’ve spent all this time thinking of you as my best friend, you know? my really perfect best friend…" he trails off, scanning your face before starting up again, "but somewhere along the way, you became so much more to me. i think i’ve been too scared to admit it, but i thought, you'd deserve to know.”

the words hang in the air, and for a second, you’re sure you’ve misheard him. that your brain pulled fantasy into some horrid delusion—but the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, leaves no room for doubt.

“you…i'm sorry. what?” you whisper, voice more mouselike than human.

“i like you,” he says simply, his gaze unwavering. “more than a friend. more than a best friend. and i think maybe i’ve felt this way for a while, but i didn’t want to mess up what we have.” he says it as if he's reading off his grocery list, so willful with his truth.

your heart feels like it’s about to burst, a mix of disbelief and relief flooding through you. “dick, i—”

“wait,” he interrupts, holding up a hand. “before you say anything, i just…needed you to know. because pretending everything’s normal when it’s not is starting to drive me crazy. and if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. totally okay. we can go back to how things were. i’ll deal with it." he shrugs, avoiding eye contact now, "i just couldn’t go another year without telling you.”

“i like you back, god, i have for so long.” you say, your voice faltering off near the end.

his eyes widen, surprise and hope flickering across his face. “you do?”

you nod, a small laugh escaping you. “of course i do. you’re—ugh, you’re everything, dick. and i’ve been trying to ignore it because i didn’t want to ruin what we have either. but…yeah, i like you. a lot.”

for a moment, neither of you says anything. just staring at eachother without the barrier of friendship—somehow it makes him look even more divine. then, before you can blink, he reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in.

the kiss is soft and tentative at first, as if he’s afraid you might pull away or reject it. but when you don’t—when your hands find their way to his shoulders—he deepens it, pouring every unspoken word into his kiss.

when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless, a quiet laugh escaping him as he rests his forehead against yours.

“merry christmas.” he whispers, his voice warm. the sound rumbles through his chest.

“merry christmas.” you reply, heart full and satiated. and for the first time, you're glad you fell headfirst for your bestfriend—even more glad he followed suit.

[007reid]

sub spence returning from prison :( hasn’t been inside for way too long and he’s extra whiny and sensitive </3 and reader is usually more teasing but after being so long she’s just soft and giving to everything he desires

FERAAALLLL!!! enjoy hun🤍

dreams. spencer reid (18+)

spencer reid x fem!reader, 3k (it got a bit out of control...)

summary: exactly what the prompt says😻 tiny bit of angst cuz it’s post prison spencer, cmon

warnings: sub spencer x dom fem!reader, masturbating (fem), unprotected sex, p in v, handjob, fingering, riding, creampie, cum play kinda. just spencer being a pathetic lil boy. tell me if i missed anything!

spencer’s been more closed off, and you get it. you do. you had expected more excitement, more of the banter and things to go back like normal like it was before it happened but you know it’s all wishful thinking. it hurts, to accept that your spencer isn’t really your spencer anymore, it’s that damned prison’s spencer; not your sweet spencer who wears scarves and has christmas lights in his eyes all year long but the prison’s spencer who looks half dead and trudging through everyday miserable.

you know he’s trying his best too, and that part hurts the most. he tries to smile for you, tries to replace all the pieces and put it back but no piece fits. you keep reassuring yourself. baby steps. you’ll make it work. you’ll have to.

today has been your favorite day yet, and the day has barely even started. instead of being on the other side of the bed, curling up into himself and staying as far away from you as possible, you wake up to find his head buried in your neck with his arm thrown over your stomach, curls tickling your jaw.

“im afraid to touch you, y/n,” spencer had admitted, his first week back. he looked guilty and ashamed. “you’re too clean for me to touch. my hands are dirty. they’re always dirty.”

still sleepy, you reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers, tracing the skin of his wrist. at the touch, spencer immediately jolts awake and backs himself up before the sleepiness even clears from his face. your boy used to be able to sleep through turbulence on the plane and your heart breaks at the anxiety in his eyes.

his breathing is rushed as he settles down, unconsciously scooting further away from you as you try latching onto the sleeve of his shirt. "sorry, i'm sorry," you whisper over and over. "i'm sorry honey, i didn't mean to--"

"i know you didn't," spencer snaps and you backtrack. his face crumbles and he hides his head in his hands. the table turns and sorry's falls out his mouth like rain drops during a storm. "i don't mean to snap, i just got scared, in the cell i..." he trails off, frowning at himself. ever since he's got back he refuses to tell you about anything that's happened in there, stopping and cutting himself off whenever he accidentally does and you guess it's for the better. "'m sorry." he brush away the sheets and gets off the bed. "i'll be right back."

you know better than to follow as he heads to the bathroom, door closing shut and locked behind him. you stare at the dent in the mattress that's finally there after sleeping alone for three months and hops off the bed yourself, going to make coffee.

***

spencer starts relaxing as the day goes on, not by much but you notice it. he probably feels bad for what happened in the morning and just wants to make it up to you by being what you want him to be; soft and affectionate like he used to and finally letting himself to touch you, linger his fingers over your arm as he passes you while you make breakfast and sitting close enough to where you both touch.

it's night, and you're in a simple tank, ready for bed. spencer's head is in your lap and the tv plays a random show but your attention is on smoothing out the spencer's curls, tugging and pulling until you get a purring spencer reid in your lap, eyes closed and humming contently to himself.

"you tired yet?" you ask, eyes on the tv. spencer nuzzles his head closer to your stomach.

"mhm. no."

"kay," you dip your head down, sparing a kiss on the pouting boy's lips, aiming for a light, sweet peck because spencer's not really ready for anything else otherwise but you're surprised when he starts to deepen it, teeth nagging at your bottom lip, asking. out of breath, you pull back and he sits up from your lap, crashing into you again and he's insistent, needy as little pants fall from his lips as you press him against the couch, climbing on top of him.

"missed you so much," spencer breathe, hands closing around your hips and tugging you closer. legs positioned outwards from either side of his torso, he moans into your mouth when the heat of your clothed pussy rub gently against his hardening cock and you miss this almost as much as you miss him, spending all three months either too depressed to do anything or cumming from your fingers and then hugging his pillow later.

you run your thumb over the spit on his lip, crooning. "look so pretty," you whisper, rutting against his hips. spencer whines, soft and desperate, a hand hesitantly coming up to grope at your breast, sandwiching your hardening nipple between his fingers. "been so long, spence, you forgot how to touch me?" you tease at the unsureness and awkwardness in the way he moves to touch you. spencer shakes his head frantically.

"dreamt about you," he says eagerly, pressing his lips on the side of your mouth and then all over your face. "every night. missed you so so bad. fuck, y/n," he gasps as you start grinding on him, impatient.

you kiss him hard, pussy clenching and unclenching around nothing as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, just having him like this, pliant and here and not away. "what," you say, between kisses, each one messier and rushed than the last. "what did you dream about?" spencer whines. "hm?"

he falters, face getting visibly red under the dim lighting. he mumbles something under his breath, and you sneak a hand between your pressed bodies, palming him through his navy owl pajamas. "speak up, honey," you say, and spencer squirms, bucking his hips forward into your palm.

"i dreamed a lot of dreams," he says in a rush, breathing heavily, cheeks rosy. it's not the answer you're looking for. you tut.

"you know that's not what i asked, spence," you say, hand on his jaw as you push his face up to look at you. his eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated and lips red and parted, looking the spitting image of what you've been fingerfucking yourself to for months.

he whimpers, words stuck to his throat, embarrassed. you press your hand harder against his dick and his head knocks into your shoulder, burying his face in your neck, too humiliated to look at you in the eyes. "i dreamed you touched yourself and rode me and said i couldn't touch and couldn't cum but i did anyway 'cause i'm fucking pathetic," he confesses against your skin. "woke up and couldn't even touch myself cause of my cellmates and i--" your hands slip under his shirt and spencer does a full body shiver, your fingers hot against his skin.

"does that mean you haven't cum since you've been in there baby?" spencer ignores you, too distracted as you sway your hips against his rock hard cock. "spencer,"

he whines, and that's enough of an answer for you. "my poor baby," you coo, digging your fingers into his hair. "so wind up."

"need you," he whimpers, hands frantically clawing at your side, trying to touch as much of you as possible. "needa be in you, please. please,"

"in bed baby," you kiss him sweetly, wrapping your legs around his waist as he stands, supporting you with only one arm. you leave hickies on his neck while you wait for him to reach the bedroom, running your tongue over his skin to soothe them.

he lays you on the bed gently, tall frame towering over you as he sets you down but spencer still cowers under you despite it all. you remove your shirt and shorts as he settles down and when you turn around, he's staring, unabashedly, cock making an obvious dent in his thin pajamas, and the opportunity basically presented itself.

you start to slowly spread your legs, propping yourself up with your elbows and trailing a hand between your legs to rest at your lace panties. a devilish smirk on your face as spencer’s adam’s apple bobs visibly, brown eyes hungry and waiting as you press slight pressure on your clothed clit, knocking your head back.

spencer scrambles up to a sitting position, anxiously looking at you. “y/n,” he says, voice unusually high, flustered. “don’t—“ his voice breaks off as you start moving your fingers in circle-eights, sighing to yourself. “don’t—come here.”

you shoot him a warning look when he starts coming closer. spencer freezes. “thought this was what you wanted, pretty boy,” you purr. there is already a patch of wetness in your panties, and you linger your fingers at the waistband.

“not now,” spencer whines, insistent. “i’m so hard, wanna be in you so bad, please,” and despite how much prison had hardened him up, turned him into an entirely different person, spencer is still luckily the same in bed; easy to wind up and begs to get what he wants. too often it doesn’t work in his favor. tonight it might.

“you know what to do, baby boy,” you tell him, nudging your underwear off and tossing it somewhere in the room. spencer backs off, curling up into himself as his eyes remain pasted on you, watching. staring. you’re soaked, rubbing slowly at your clit, the air cool against your pussy. you keep an eye open, watching spencer for his ticks and reactions and it turns you on even more, seeing how desperate and needy he is, trying to rut against the sheets as you dip a finger inside yourself.

“none of that spence,” you tut. “you know that’s not the rules.”

he sighs frustratedly, stopping in his tracks, ever the good and obedient boy for you. you continue to play with yourself, slowly working up to two fingers and pressing down on your clit with your thumb, hearing spencer’s indiscreet panting from the other side of the bed as he watches, puppy eyes in full effect as he silently begs to have you closer. you whine as you curl your fingers inside yourself, and spencer’s just about had it.

“y/n,” he pleas, sounding like he’s about to cry. “i—it’s hurts, i wanna…”

you take pity on him. you’re all stripped naked and he’s still fully clothed, down to the halloween themed socks. “what do you want honey?”

“i—“ spencer gasps, squirming on the sheets. “uuhhgg…gonna cum i—“

“you gonna cum just from watching me touch myself?” you ask, amused. fair enough, he hasn’t cum in three months and you’re surprised he’s not permanently hard at this point. “gonna cum in your pants like a teenager spence? how pathetic are you?”

“y/n!” his voice trembles and he sounds so sweet, so needy for you and you give in. it’s hard not to, and you keep up at the act but at the end of the day spencer always gets what he wants. the begging strategy does do him some good.

you crawl over to him, placing yourself on his lap and he’s extremely hard beneath you, cock curving up from the thinness of his pajamas, getting a real good look at him. his eyes are rimmed red and tears are threatening to spill out and you lift his shirt over his head. “god youre so fucking beautiful,” you throw his shirt off the bed, tilting his head up to look at you. spencer groans at your words, hands immediately going to touch you, roaming your bare skin and nails digging into your waist.

“missed you,” he whimpers, lips at your neck as you get his bottoms off. “want this everyday, think of you everyday, fuck—“

“so hard for me honey,” you coo, stroking him through his underwear and then getting that off too. his cock, finally naked presses against his stomach, is a raging red, beads of precum leaking at the tip. “prettiest boy,” you whisper in his ear, taking his cock in your hand, smearing the precum over his cock as soft whimpers falls out of his mouth, inching closer to your touch.

“y/n,” he says, and it seems like it’s the only thing he can say. “y/n, y/n—“ you start to grind on him, sliding your pussy against his cock and spencer turns delirious, squeezing at your hips and wanton sounds coming out of his mouth, begging and cursing for nothing at all. the head of his cock rubs against the entrance of your pussy and the both of you moan, hips collapsing into each other.

his fingers finds their way to your entrance and begins prodding, and you whine as his middle finger slides in, thick and just right and it’s the feeling you’ve been trying to replicate but can’t get. “you’re so tight yn, fuck,”

“add another finger, spence,” you demand. spencer does, and the stretch burns only temporarily and you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and reeling yourself in so you can be as close to him as possible. lifting your hips, you start to fuck yourself on his fingers, impatient and horny and spencer is looking at you with fucking stars in his eyes, awed.

you never get too emotional or whiny during sex, that’s mostly all spencer but you can’t help bury your face in the dip of his shoulder blades and muffle your high moans against his skin, just glad that your spencer is back and this isn’t a cruel dream. spencer pulls his fingers out and you let out a displeased sigh. reaching down, you take spencer’s cock in your hands, smeared all over the tip with his precum and your wetness and spencer’s breath hitches in this throat, nearly jumping away at your touch.

you slowly guide his dick to your entrance, lifting your hips and all spencer does is watch, getting special treatment as you do all the work, slapping his dick against your pussy, eliciting a filthy sound from the both of you before rubbing the head of his cock against your open pussy. before he’s even in, spencer is already making these ridiculous noises, begging and panting and whimpering, hair falling into his eyes and sweat beading on his nose.

you quickly swoop down in a brave motion, bottoming out and it hurts, only temporarily before the stretch eases into pleasure and you miss it, miss him, so damn much and spencer’s already in another fucking world, nails digging at your hips.

“fuck, fuck, y/n—“ he whimpers weakly, chanting your name like a mantra as you start to move your hips, riding yourself on his cock. you know he can’t last any longer and you’re surprised he’s even managed to last this long so far, pulling out until your pussy is clenching at the tip of his cock and slamming yourself into his hips, and everytime time you do this spencer makes the prettiest noises, coughing up the moans struggling to come out of his mouth and tear tracks staining his cheeks, begging to cum.

“please, please yn don’t do that,” you do it again. “i…i—pull off, i’m gonna cum i’m not gonna last!” he cries, cock pulsing inside you and you know he’s not lying. you can read spencer’s body in the dark or light like it’s your own and you can feel your orgasm steadfastly approaching too, the heat building gradually at the pit of your stomach.

you start going faster, dropping yourself down to his cock and bottoming out at every thrust, his cock finding the tip of your spot every time. “yn,” spencer repeats. “gonna cum, stop please i—hnnnggg—“

“cum in me, sweet boy,” you press a kiss on his jaw, locking your fingers on his curls to pull his head back by his hair, making him look at you in the eye. spencer arguably looks the prettiest when he cums, and you never miss the show.

“i…what?” debaunched and fucked-dumb, it takes a second for spencer to understand what you mean. “you sure?”

“shut the hell up spence,” you groan, bringing him closer, chests flat against each other. you keep going at your thrusts, slipping a hand to rub at your soaked, swollen clit as spencer’s moans get higher and higher until his entire body is trembling, his eyes squeezed shut. “fucking—cum in me, honey.”

you know the exact moment when he cums because you did too, his face scrunching up in what almost looks like pain as you start to feel something warm bleed inside you and it feels like fucking heaven. your walls spasm around his cock, milking him as you orgasm, squeezing your intertwined fingers for dear life.

when you’ve both gained back your breaths, spencer lightly stroking the skin of your stomach where he can press and feel himself beneath of and you pressing more hickies on his chest and neck, you speak. “was that as good as your dream?”

your voice comes out more distorted than you thought, raspy and your throat is slightly sore. spencer laughs quietly.

“a hundred times better,” he’s quick to respond, earnest. “no brainer.” when you pull off of him and collapses by his side, he leaks out of you, wetting and trailing down your inner thighs.

spencer slides a hand there and slowly starts to finger his cum back into you lazily and you open up your legs for him, loose and wet from the orgasm. “you’re so full of me,” he says, sounding pleased with himself. his fingers scissors you open wider, patiently fucking you with them. you hold his other hand as spencer kisses you. “mine. all mine.” he presses down on your clit and you shake, your second orgasm hitting you like a soft wave. he keeps the pressure there despite you trying to close your legs, shivering all over, nipples hard and stomach rising. “all mine.”

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Could you possibly do a fic with Agatha x Reader where the coven plays Seven minutes in heaven game and Agatha has Reader's turn and Agatha is very happy?

Back in the Closet !NSFW!

Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: AU where the coven is not hundreds of years old witches, everyone is drunk, seven minutes in heaven, light smut, drunk sex, sort of semi public-ish sex???? idk reader and agatha have sex in a closet

A/N: I was high when I wrote this but I was way too excited to wait to sober up and I usually have my best writing ideas when in this condition anyways. Hope you like it anon!

It was your third annual Christmas-and-Yule get together with the coven, and this time, with Billy being out of town for college, things were a bit wilder than before. This one had more alcohol than the previous one–spiked eggnog, four bottles of wine (two red, two white), and hard liquor on the cocktail cart in the dining room.

At the kitchen island, talking with the other coven members, you held your fourth vodka cranberry-apple, “Has anyone talked to Billy?” “I only talk to him when he talks first,” Agatha shrugged. “Usually it’s him sending me stupid Instagram posts or sending me a TikTok and saying, ‘This you?’.” She ended with a poor impression of Billy, taking a sip of her eggnog when the other women laughed.

Alice, who sat beside you, answered, “He’s doing okay–a bit stressed out over finals, but he says his grades are good.”

Now, after the sun had set and the coven moved to the living room (and everyone was more than tipsy), things began to escalate. 

In the middle of a nice game of Never Have I Ever, you had only three fingers down–the least of them all, with Agatha having the most down at nine.

“Okay, okay!” Alice called through the laughing and commenting on the last round. “Never have I ever…played Seven Minutes in Heaven…”

Everyone put a finger down–everyone, but you. Your cheeks heated with embarrassment and you almost wished you had lied instead. It was embarrassing enough to be almost half their age, but them knowing you were so inexperienced in life was even worse.

“You’ve never played? I played it all the time at parties in high school.” Jen gaped. 

“Parties?” Lilia scoffed, her body swaying from the alcohol and seven fingers still up from Never Have I Ever. “In my group we’d do it at regular hangouts. Come full circle, I suppose. I should’ve predicted it with this coven.”

You shrank into yourself and sighed, “No, I’ve never played…I was sort of…a loner in high school, so…”

Lilia, Jen, Alice, and Agatha looked at you in awe before breaking into giggles and gasps.

“Switching games!” Jen hollered, smiling widely as the rest cheered.

You couldn’t help but look at Agatha when this happened. In the beginning, you thought the crush was innocent–the emotions were high on the Road and you blamed it on that. But that was almost three years ago and it still hadn’t stopped.

Now you were in Agatha’s living room watching her as she laughed with the other women, and your heart ached.

“I’ll go first,” Jen said, taking an empty wine bottle and placing it on the floor.  “Basically, you spin a bottle and whoever it lands on is your partner for that round. You go into a closet, and set a timer for seven minutes. Then, as long as you both consent, you can do whatever you’d like.”

The seven minutes during Jen’s turn felt like it was dragging on forever–until it was your turn. 

“Alright,” Jen smiled, looking directly at you. “It's your turn.”

You leaned forward and spinned the bottle. “Okay…uhhh…” You watched it carefully and when the bottle stopped spinning, your heart nearly leaped from your chest. 

It landed on Agatha–and she looked beyond thrilled.

With cheers whoops of encouragement from the rest of the coven, you followed Agatha to the closet trying not to feel embarrassed. 

“Oh, no,” you sighed. “Back in the closet, I go.”

Agatha chuckled and pushed you through the doorway, “Oh, shut up and get in.”

The voices of Jen, Alice, and Lilia finally subsided when the door to the closet shut. 

It was quiet–so quiet you could hear your heartbeat.

“You’re trembling,” Agatha whispered, her hands running along your forearms. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No!” you said quickly. “No, I want to, I just–I’m nervous is all.”

Agatha smirked and leaned in closer, “Nervous? How so?” Her face was just inches from yours and it was only coming closer. Her hands moved to your waist and you struggled to answer as her lips hovered over yours. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we take this further?”

You could feel your underwear practically soak itself. You looked at her lips and back into her eyes, “I–Umm–” At the sight of her starting to giggle, you started to as well. “I…kind of have…a little crush on you…?”

“There it is,” Agatha said. “It’s painfully obvious.” Blood rushed to your face and you felt yourself become warm again. You always thought you hid it well, but clearly, no one could outsmart Agatha.

You were about to open your mouth to respond but had no chance to when her lips locked with yours. She pulled away, just enough so that her lips brushed against yours, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this…How badly I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.”

Agatha’s lips were back on yours and she pressed you against the wall of the closet. “We have five minutes left–”

“Then show me how badly you want me, Agatha,” you breathed, the alcohol getting to your head and bringing out your confidence.

And that’s exactly what she did. Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants and ran through your slick, fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Is this okay?” she muttered.

You were completely engrossed in the pleasure. The mix of the alcohol and the feeling of requited love from Agatha made it hard to form a complete thought.

Her fingers lightly took your chin, tipping it so that she could look in your eyes. “We have three and a half minutes. Answer me.”

“Yes,” you huffed. “Yes, don’t stop! Oh my god, please don’t stop.”

She smiled and kissed you softly, “That’s a good girl.”

Your arm hooked around her shoulder and you brought her in for another passionate kiss, muttering incoherent words into her mouth. The pleasure was building and building, and wouldn’t stop. The darkness of the coat closet added another layer of eroticism that you hadn’t even thought about before.

“Yes! Don’t stop! Don’t stop, Agatha, please,” you begged. “I’m g–”

“Alright, you two!” Jen shouted from the living room. “Time’s up!”

You groaned and Agatha giggled after she took her hand out of your pants. She placed a small kiss on your cheek and opened the door.

“Don’t worry. If you decide to stay over tonight, I promise there’s more where that came from,” she muttered, winking as she pulled you out of the closet by your arm and pushed it closed with a bump of her hip.

[lusmeitli]

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him. 

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together. 

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.��

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left. 

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?” 

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily. 

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand. 

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped. 

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

[svnoofy]

SYNOPSIS - your entire life has been measured by christmases, specifically– those spent with the lee household. every christmas, it was the same, and your feelings for the boy you grew up with during those christmases stayed the same too. however, as time passed, a few things changed and matters of the heart become a little more complex. could it be possible that there was more to look forward to this christmas than just your favorite hot cocoa?

PAIRING - lee heeseung x fem reader

GENRE - romance, slow burn, fluff, an attempt at crack, light angst, brother’s best friend trope-ish, “she fell first, he fell harder” trope

WARNINGS - profanity, minor references to sex and inappropriate topics, heeseung being very much conrad-coded

THIS STORY IS LOOSELY BASED OFF THE SERIES: THE SUMMER I TURNED PRETTY

christmas at the lee household was something you looked forward to each and every year. so much so that your entire life was measured by christmases.

you spent christmases with your mom, older brother, yeonjun and the lees, conveniently because your moms were best friends. mrs lee had a son– heeseung, who you basically spent your entire childhood with besides your brother.

while heeseung and yeonjun had a close relationship from the start, you and heeseung, didn’t always hit it off. at one point, he was hiding your christmas edition barbie dolls because he was embarassed to be seen with them! (you didn’t blame him though– he was two years older than you so he didn’t get the hype)

but eventually, both of you grew out of the silly trivial things that pulled you apart as young kids and you found yourself enjoying his company just as much as he did yours.

he’s seen you through all your phases and vice versa. he was there when you were wearing pink everyday, your emo era and even through your braces and dungarees phase (which was literally last year) and to be completely frank, somewhere along the lines: you fell for him.

oh, and as if news didn’t travel fast enough: the whole house knew! and it has become a tradition for everyone to tease the hell out of you when he’s around. no worries though, he made it painfully clear that he saw you just as his little sister (yikes)

every year it was the same: it always started off with a family dinner, followed by cocoa by the fire place with some fun games to accompany— which repeated until christmas day itself, which, you thought, when the fun really began.

“are you seriously not going to bring any sexy outfits? seriously?”, giselle raised an eyebrow from your bed– supposedly helping you pack.

you shot a confused look at her, “babes i’m going to celebrate christmas with my family not a honeymoon at bora-bora”

giselle rolled her eyes, “if you WANT heeseung to finally look at you, then—”, she dangles a red, slinky, dress towards you, notioning you to add it to your luggage.

“tis’ the season you get laid babes”, giselle winks.

your cheeks flush pink, “giselle!”, you smack her leg.

“HEY, I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP”, giselle yelped in defense.

giselle gets up from bed and drags you to your standing mirror— “you’ve changed a lot since last year, and you HAVE to embrace it babes! i promise, he’s going to regret ever sister-zoning you!”, she hugs your shoulders.

part of you knows she has a point, but realistically, how much could you have changed? giselle was probably just being nice.

“y/n are you ready? we have to go soon!”, your mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

you gave giselle one final hug and you intertwined your hands with her in a secret handshake.

“promise you’ll tell me whatever happens between you and heeseung?”, she prompts.

“duh, you have my word”, you wink before lugging your bags down the stairs.

the drive to the lee family house was long and with your brother driving, of course you two were arguing over the bluetooth connection. yeonjun had presented the lame excuse of “needing it for gps”, when really: you knew he wanted to blast anime music that you had no understanding of.

“come on jun, just let your sister play her music–”, your mother notioned to yeonjun, who pouted at the mirror and sighed.

“fine”, he pouted yet again, earning a scoff from your mother.

you rejoiced, finally!, you thought.

you put your christmas playlist on shuffle and stared out of the window, the familiar neighborhood coming into vision amidst the blanketing snow.

your heart swelled at the sight of the people putting up lights, garlands and decorations alike: christmas is here again, you fondly thought.

as you drove through the icy roads, with last christmas by wham! playing in the background, you felt as though you were in a scene from a christmas movie.

when you arrived at the drive way of the lee family house, you were hit with the nostalgic scent of rosemary. mrs lee must be baking her famous potato casserole again, you thought– eliciting a grumble from your stomach.

“y/n, come help me unload our bags”, she taps your shoulder from the backseat, to which you quickly unfastened your seat belt to assist your mom.

at this point, yeonjun had long disappeared into the warm embrace of the cabin while you helped your mother unload the bags.

“soojin?”, you heard a familiar voice call out.

it was mrs lee– she stood on her door step, arms wide open to give your mother a welcome hug.

your mother smiles back before coming into her embrace– the sight was warming your heart more than any fire could.

mrs lee’s eyes stray to you for a moment and she almost screeches.

“y/n! my dear you have grown so much! she’s gorgeous soojin!”, mrs lee praised.

she went towards you and placed her warm hand on your cheek, “you’re in bloom, my snowflake”

mrs lee had a way of saying things that almost made you believe her.

she then notices the bags on the driveway, left unattended, to which she gasped, “let me get the boys for this”

she goes up to the door to beckon the boys out, and as you stood, frozen on the driveway in anticipation, you saw him, struggling to get his gloves on.

he had his usual polo sweater on, but this time he was taller, his hair was longer and it fell a little over his eyes– which had always been your favorite feature of his.

as you stood frozen on the driveway, your eyes met with his as he walked towards you. you felt your heart beat a million times a minute.

there he was, the boy you’ve longed for your entire life.

you stood there, across from him, as he took the sight of you in.

“what happened to your glasses?”, he asked.

“i don’t wear them anymore”, you explained.

he went around you to get your bags, lifting them easily compared to you and your mom’s efforts combined.

“i liked your glasses”, he leaned over slightly causing you to stiffen up, “but welcome back, y/n”, he pinches your nose– another familiar tradition.

he lugs your bag into the house and right as he reached the doorstep, he looked back at you, hands motioning you to come in.

“come in, you’ll freeze out there”, he says. you run towards the door at his invitation, closing the door right behind you when the both of you enter.

“so, how was everyone’s year?”, mrs lee asks, wine glass in hand.

“it was great mrs lee— i got into our university’s dance team!”, yeonjun bragged earning exaggerated and sarcastic applauses from heeseung, to which yeonjun responded by tossing a potato in his direction.

your mother shot yeonjun an icy glare as a reminder to behave, and he cleared his throat in realization.

“oh yeah and mrs lee, your son is a HIT at campus, he’s being hit on by girls left and right, it’s sickening!”, yeonjun remarked.

you were somewhat in a state of disappointment yet you weren’t surprised.

you had to admit, you always found lee heeseung handsome— but somehow, this christmas, your heart catapulted more than it usually did.

heeseung fiddled with the potatoes on his plate using his fork, clearly uncomfortable of the topic that arose.

“i guess— it’s because he looks so much like me”, mrs lee commented with a wink, earning a chuckle from heeseung– who was clearly unsure how to react.

you pursed your lips, avoiding eye contact with the boy across you.

“how about you, my snowflake?”, mrs lee asks– all eyes darting towards you.

“uhm..”, you thought about what had happened this year that was remotely interesting to share.

off the top of your head, you shared: “i got my braces off”, you smiled flashing your pearly whites, eliciting laughs from mrs lee and heeseung.

“no shit, dumbass”, yeonjun remarked, earning a kick under the table from your mom.

“yeonjun, be nice”, to which he pouted to, “come on moomm, you always defend y/n”, he flashes his morbid puppy eyes at her, only to earn a distasteful roll of the eyes from your mom.

“my snowflake has grown so beautifully”, mrs lee remarked, causing you to blush.

“thanks mrs lee”, you smiled at the nickname she has always given you.

you didn’t even notice the eyes that lingered on you a little longer than they should– from the boy across from you.

as usual, cocoa by the fireplace followed suit after dinner— and you were so excited to finally taste the best hot cocoa you have ever had in your life again.

as you topped your cocoa with a pile of marshmallows in the kitchen, you couldn’t help but overhear the boys chatting with each other.

“is that girl from school still texting you?”, yeonjun asked.

“uh i guess, there are a few of them”, heeseung replies, doubtfully.

“bro– don’t tell me you’re still hung up over wonyoung– come on man, that was monthsss agooo”, yeonjun drawled, earning a half-hearted sigh from heeseung.

oh, he’s had a girl friend before this, you thought– the familiar dreadful feeling arising in your tummy.

“i guess, but i don’t know– i feel like i still like her”, heeseung says, very much in the same doubtful tone he started with.

you don’t know why you were all sad about what you heard, it’s not like he was your boyfriend after all– but you couldn’t deny that it stung a little to witness the boy you like missing someone that wasn’t you.

you stayed up all night thinking about the conversation between heeseung and your brother – the name in the conversation repeating itself in your head like a mantra.

wonyoung, she sounds beautiful – you thought as you brushed your teeth.

after washing up, you sleepily make your way down to the kitchen, where everybody was. heeseung was with your mom, solving a crossword puzzle while yeonjun helped mrs lee with the pancakes for breakfast.

when mrs lee noticed your presence, she set her spatula down and rushed in to give you a hug.

“good morning sweetie, did you sleep good?”, she asks only for you to lie: “slept great, mrs lee”

you took a seat at the bar table, eyes wandering for the oat milk carton. before you could even stand up to look for it, heeseung comes up from right behind you and places a tall glass of oat milk right beside you.

“i know you hate cold milk”, he says with a smile– before walking over to yeonjun, who was trying his best to salvage his pancakes.

your heart fluttered at heeseung’s gesture, this was one of the many reasons you had fallen for him.

FLASHBACK

“which flavor should we get heeseung?”, a young yeonjun asks with a mischievous grin on his face.

the whole family was spending the day at the market– and although the boys were warned far earlier to stay away from the candy cart, yeonjun and heeseung had been saving up to splurge on candy the whole year! and with a little bit of will power, they managed to slip away from their moms– who at the time, were distracted by the attractive holiday candles for sale.

“i want peppermint and licorice!”, yeonjun exclaims, grabbing a fistful of each candy he wanted.

unlike yeonjun, heeseung was carefully contemplating his choices— but, before all, he reached in for the pink berry blast candy, which shocked yeonjun to say the least.

“ewwwwwww, you’re choosing pink candy?”, yeonjun gags earning an annoyed eye roll from heeseung.

“it’s for y/n, not me”, heeseung explains before continuing to carefully select his own choice of candy.

when they returned to their mothers, who were, to no shock, still at the candle stand– you stood idly by, noticing how the boys managed to slip away and come back unnoticed.

you weren’t one to snitch though, fortunately.

as you sucked on your thumb, waiting for your mom to finish indulging in the various holiday scented candles, heeseung taps your shoulder.

“i know you like this candy”, he hands the bright-pink candy over to you, a smile plastered in his face.

you were too young to understand what was happening right then and there but even little you, didn’t fail to blush at the kind gesture that was presented to you.

END OF FLASHBACK

the day moved rather slowly— the weather in the neighborhood switched between being gloomy and snowy, which made it hard to plan activities around.

you were laying in your room, folding your laundry, when you heard a knock on your door.

“hey loser”, it was yeonjun.

you rolled your eyes– “no, i am NOT going to fold your stupid underwear again”, you say almost predictably.

“what– no, i just wanted to say– heeseung and i are heading to a party tonight, and you have to keep it shut to mrs lee and mom, got it?”, yeonjun commands.

“what the hell, you guys are sneaking out?”, you ask.

“duhhh, do you think we stay in EVERYTIME for cocoa and game night? obviously heeseung and i are cooler than that”, he explains earning a gasp from your end.

“you’ve BEEN sneaking out this WHOLE time?”, you were exasperated to say the least.

“jealous, loser?”, he teases with a wink, causing your face to contort to a distasteful look.

“whatever it is, we’ll be back midnight, see ya loser!”, he storms out confidently.

what he doesn’t know is, you found out which party he was going to (the only party in town, which giselle took the very kind initiative of finding out) and there is no way in hell, you would miss the opportunity to rebel for once.

when yeonjun and heeseung arrived, the sight they saw was nothing extraordinary.

there were drinks, people making out, and music blaring from every corner.

“heyyy boys!”, the host, jake sim, greeted– giving each of them a dap in the process.

“great to have you back here this year”, jake roughly places his hand on yeonjun’s shoulder– simultaneously handing him a shot of tequila.

“i feeel aliveeee”, yeonjun exclaims after downing the tequila that was handed to him.

jake notions heeseung to take a sip, but he refuses.

“i don’t drink tequila”, he confesses– to which jake nods in understanding with an “ah ok”.

before heeseung could even decide what to do, yeonjun was off on the dance floor, girls surrounding him as if he were a magnet.

heeseung laughs at the sight before moving himself to one of the lounges, grabbibg a can of beer to pop open and enjoy.

unexpectedly, he sees a familiar face wrapped around someone.

wonyoung?

“girl, why are you dressing like a saint– how is heeseung gonna notice you when you’re wearing a literal nun-fit”, giselle remarked when she saw your quote-unquote “overly covering” outfit.

you were rummaging your bag at this point, before you found a rather intriguing piece of clothing– which you definitely never owned.

“is this yours?”, you dangle the red, slinky, dress towards the camera.

“YES! THANK GOD YOU FOUND IT”, giselle cheers in victory.

“yes bitch wear that– hello, there’s a reason i packed it in”, giselle commands, to which you hesitantly oblige.

after you slipped into the dress, giselle’s eyes almost pop out of her skull.

“OH MY GOD Y/N? YOU LOOK STUNNING?? I AM DEAD”, she jokingly motions– earning a shy giggle from your end.

the dress was indeed beautiful, you were just unsure if it looked good on you– it seemed way different than what you would usually reach for.

“if you’re even SECOND-THINKING right now i will smack you from my phone”, giselle suddenly says, as if reading your mind.

“please y/n you look stunning, like santa’s mistress but innocent and hot at the same time– damn, i suck at explaining but you look HOT”, she comments, giggling at parts, almost fangirling.

“now put on that red lipstick you bought and bam, femme fatale who?”, she winks at you with her suggestion.

you apply the red lipstick as instructed and when giselle saw your final look, she almost fainted.

she gave you her final best wishes and told you to put on your best heels– which in true y/n fashion – you forgot.

so, you just slip on your converses and carefully sneak out of the house, careful not to wake your moms.

now you just have to hope, yeonjun is too drunk to notice you were ever there.

when you arrived at the driveway, everyone had their eyes on you.

you felt a little insecure, walking in your dress and parka, into this completely new environment. before you could even make a step further, a guy stops you in your tracks.

“hi beautiful, welcome to my party”, he had a smug look on his face and you just smiled back and thanked him in response.

“have i seen you before? you look new”, he asked– technically you’ve gone to this neighborhood your whole life, it was just your first party.

“yeah, it’s my first party—”, before you could even say anything else— the guy yells: “WE HAVE A NEW PARTY COMER EVERYONE!”

heeseung had his eyes on wonyoung, who was enjoying herself with her new boy accessory.

he wanted to approach her, liquid confidence in hand.

but before he could even take a step towards her, he hears jake’s voice echo to the living room he was in.

“WE HAVE A NEW PARTY COMER EVERYONE!”

from there on, a good majority of the crowd’s eyes diverted to the door– where jake was escorting the new guest, arms linked.

heeseung couldn’t believe his eyes. you were absolutely gorgeous.

crowds cheered and whistled at your entrance, and heeseung stepped closer to where you were walking.

it can’t be her, can it? , he doubted himself.

he confirmed it was you when he saw your stained converses, what is she doing here?

you stood at the kitchen, unsure of what to do. there were so many people, yet you couldn’t find the courage to get along with any of them.

“i love your dress”, you heard a voice from beside you.

you turned to the direction of the voice, to see an angel-like girl next to you.

“oh my god, that means a lot coming from you”, you say with a smile.

“what’s your name, pretty?”, she asks with a smile, before taking a sip from her cup.

“y/n— choi y/n, nice to meet you..”, you prompt for her name in return.

“wonyoung, jang wonyoung”, she smiles.

wonyoung?, you thought– could it be that wonyoung?

before you could ponder a moment longer, the guy who greeted you returned.

“i’m so honored to have the most beautiful girls in town at my party—”, he slurs, earning a scoff from wonyoung.

“grow up jake, i have a boyfriend”, wonyoung rolls her eyes– did they get back together?, you thought

“i didn’t want you anyway.. it’s her i want”, he slurs, smirking at you.

you gulp, unsure what to say or do.

“don’t let him get to your head y/n, he’s just pussy deprived”, wonyoung said.

jake slips his arm around your waist, finishing the last drop of his drink. at this point, you were more than uncomfortable.

“what the hell?”, you hear an agitated voice say.

you look back to see heeseung, infuriated.

heeseung marches up to the both of you and right as you expect him to drag wonyoung away, he drags you away instead.

“heeseung, let go!”, you command. heeseung was fuming.

“what the hell are you even doing with jake? are you trying to fuck yourself over?”, he was angry.

this was the angriest you’ve ever seem him, which brewed similar feelings in you.

“why do you care, heeseung? i want to have fun too!”, you retaliate– attempting to walk away from heeseung to enjoy the party.

he pulls you by your wrist, “no you aren’t, i’m calling a cab– we’re going home”

he drags you with him into the sea on the dance floor, fishing yeonjun out of it, his grip still firm on your wrist.

when he successfully got yeonjun off the dance floor, he was wasted.

after successfully calling a cab, he drags yeonjun in and asks you to sit in the back while he sat at the passenger seat. the whole car-ride was silent. heeseung must’ve been really mad.

you admit you felt bad for ruining their night but: why was he so mad?

seeing you and his ex at the party wasn’t exactly what he expected.

however, what blew him up was seeing jake wrap his arms around you, sickeningly intertwined like lovers. when he saw what ensued, he lost all his cool.

he could barely register that his ex, whom he tried to approach the whole night, was right there.

the next morning comes quickly, and as he laid in his bed, he kept asking himself: why he was as mad as he was seeing you with jake?

it was confusing, he still liked wonyoung– he was certain of it– but even after seeing wonyoung and her new boyfriend smooch around for minutes on end, he barely lifted a finger.

however, when he saw you standing there, a little too close to jake, he lost every ounce of cool in his body and gained a new confidence that he never thought he could have.

you’re not crazy heeseung, it’s different because she’s like your little sister— it’s natural you reacted the way you did: his subconscious self tried to justify his thoughts, with the very same excuse its been using for years.

just like that one time you came to support him during his first talent show at university, and how you proudly cheered for him. his heart fluttered at that but his psyche silenced his heart with that very excuse: “it’s normal for her to support you– she’s like your little sister”

or that one time he felt butterflies in his stomach when you helped patch up an injury on his leg with your barbie first aid kit, before proceeding to make him a cup of hot cocoa– when his heart fluttered yet again, but his subconscious self convinced him: “siblings care for each other, this is nothing”

or even that time he saw you for the first time in a year, and when he saw you standing there, so beautifully in your dress at the party. again, “she’s just like your little sister”

he didn’t understand what was happening to him– could it be denial? maybe, but whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to face it.

at that point, it was a few days until christmas. the house was busy, with cleaners and workers running left and right–hanging decorations and dusting off ornaments.

you decided to help as well, helping the workers hang stockings and garlands around the house.

heeseung stood by the door frame, watching you help the workers decorate the house– a smile unintentionally creeping up on his face.

he observed how your hair was neatly tied back with a ribbon, and how your reindeer knit sweater, which he knew you got from his mom, ran a little too big for you.

you were laughing along with the workers, at a slanted ornament you hung.

a tap on his shoulder snaps him out of his haze, “yo, mom and mrs lee needs us to go to the grocery store to pick up a turkey for the christmas eve dinner so let’s go”, yeonjun announces– dragging heeseung away from the scene.

you barely even noticed his presence, too busy trying to fix the decorations you accidentally ruined.

on the car ride to grocery store, heeseung clears his throat to speak.

“wonyoung’s got a new boyfriend”, he speaks up, eyes on the road.

yeonjun’s eyes widen, “what? SERIOUSLY? i thought she only brought that guy at the party to make you jealous–”, yeonjun says.

“what? no–”, heeseung tries to explain only to be cut off by yeonjun again.

“i think so though! heard you had a new girl during the party– red dress and all! i heard everyone thought she was a hot take– too bad i was too drunk to notice her because we all know, she would’ve come home with me”, yeonjun smirks causing heeseung to cringe.

this guy would regret saying that if he knew it was his sister, he thought.

but hey, since yeonjun already ingrained that scenario in his head– heeseung might as well play along with it. plus, he could use some advice.

“yeah, i had a new girl but i don’t think i can like her”, he confesses.

“awww man, why not? you’re hot, kind of–”, yeonjun giggles, heeseung snorting in response.

“well, being with her is complicated– she’s beautiful, but i’m afraid i would hurt her”, heeseung admits, earning a scoff from yeonjun.

“you say that as if you didn’t date the dean of our university’s daughter but okay– come on heeseung, stop over thinking for once, if you like her, then make your move! don’t let your mind cock block”, yeonjun advises, hitting heeseung with a playful punch.

“alright then”, heeseung says, really hoping yeonjun won’t regret what he said.

“now let’s get this dang turkey”

the night of the christmas eve dinner came quicker than you expected.

the house was filling up with friends and family members, and it was finally beginning to look a lot like christmas.

you went down the stairs, dressed and ready to greet all the faces you hadn’t seen in a year.

you were surprised to see some of the faces from the party too– one of them being, wonyoung, which you assumed was invited by heeseung.

you waved at her, and the other people that were around.

“nice to see you again bub”, she greets, with a hug.

you’re not surprised why heeseung would date someone like her– she was so warm and kind.

when the dinner began, the adults were sat at the dining room, while the kids were sprawled out in the living room.

“i’m sooo bored”, jake complains after the dinner, earning an eye roll from yeonjun.

“you’re always bored when you’re not drunk, jake”, he retaliates.

wonyoung sat across from heeseung, which seemed strange for a couple.

“do you guys want to play spin the bottle?”, jake smirks.

everyone cheered in unison, approving his idea.

yeonjun grabs a bottle from the kitchen, and everyone forms a circle on the floor.

the first few spins were uneventful, the kisses being short pecks rather than long, deep, kisses– which earned boos from everyone.

however, when the bottle landed on heeseung and wonyoung, the air tensed up.

heeseung sat still, wonyoung the same.

“are we getting a kiss or no– OUCH”, jake groaned, when yeonjun kicked his foot– intentionally.

the air was so thick with tension– you began shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“fine, let’s change the course— heeseung do you like anyone?”, wonyoung suddenly asks and his eyes widen.

his eyes land on yours before he could say anything.

however, right as he was about to answer, your mom called out to you.

“y/n can you please get something from aunt mijoo’s car”

when everyone left, it was late in the night.

you had trouble falling asleep, so you headed to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa.

you were shocked to see heeseung, still in his sweater, staring out the window.

“heeseung– oh my god you scared me”, you gasped.

he looked at you, his body slightly slumped.

“are you hungry?”, he asks, observing your actions.

“nope– i just need some cocoa to help me sleep”, you reply, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“you’re the first person i know who uses sugar to fall asleep”, he walks up to you and pats your head.

at that point, it was nearing midnight.

you opened the cupboard, searching for the cocoa powder.

great, you thought, it’s waayy on the top shelf

you sighed in defeat, your head hung low.

heeseung notices this, and he easily reaches for the cocoa.

“need some help?”, he offers the cocoa powder in his hand, a smirk plastered on his face.

you roll your eyes, “thanks, i guess”

he giggles, leaning back on the kitchen island– watching your every move.

you whip up your concoction, preparing an extra mug for heeseung– as he stood by, watching you.

“wonyoung is so pretty”, you suddenly say– causing him to choke on some air.

“suddenly?”, he remarked.

“she is though, i understand why you froze around her”, you giggled, eyes focused on the hot cocoa you were making.

heeseung was speechless, he wasn’t sure where exactly you were going with this.

“i mean i wouldn’t expect less from the lee heeseung’s girlfriend”, you bitterly applauded, which causes the boy to choke on his spit.

“girlfriend? where’d you hear that?”, he asks confusedly.

“she’s your girlfriend.. right?”, you tilt your head, twice as confused as he was.

“uh– first off, sure i guess she’s pretty but when i froze– that wasn’t the reason, second– she’s not my girlfriend, well, not anymore at least”, he explains.

when you heard this, you somehow felt a sense of relief – relief at the fact that wonyoung and heeseung weren’t together.

“what!”, you let out, sounding a little too happy. you cleared your throat and ask him again: “heeseung, why did you get mad at me during.. the party?”, you hesitated a little towards the end, flashbacks of heeseung’s anger replaying in your head like a broken tape.

“well..”

oh shit, he thought. he hasn’t quite figured out the reason himself– so, he’ll stick to his brain’s text book answer.

“because, you’re like my little sister, y/n”, he lies– he knows that, of all reasons, was not the one.

there it was, the very thing you dreaded to hear.

“oh..”, was the only thing you could respond with.

good thing your hot cocoa was ready! you poured two servings, one for him and one for yourself.

you took out all the toppings, and proceeded to add marshmallows to your hearts content.

“did you want some?”, you asked heeseung– but he shook his head no.

“but i’d like some whipped cream please”, he asks, extending his mug of cocoa to you.

you nod, prepping the can of whipped cream for him, skillfully giving him a swirl before you got a mischievous idea.

you took some whip cream on your finger, stood on your tippy toes, and smeared it on his face, “your wish is my command”, you smirk.

he gasps, taking some cream to do the same with you.

“hey! i just removed my make up!”, you shielded yourself from his attack.

“you started it!”, he exclaimed– chasing you around the kitchen, determined to get some cream in your hair too.

before you knew it, the clock bells rang as it hit 12 am, it was finally christmas.

the both of you stood face-to-face, looking at each other’s cream smeared faces for a moment.

“merry christmas, heeseung”, you greet, earning a giggle from him.

“merry christmas, y/n”

when you left the kitchen, hot cocoa in hand, heeseung’s heart beat raced more than he ever thought it could.

he had been trying so hard to deny it, but now he thinks he can finally accept it: you were more than just a little sister to him.

the wholesome scene in the kitchen replayed itself in your head until the next morning.

you even texted giselle at the crack of dawn to tell her what happened– to which she could only fangirl in response.

everyone was gathered at the living room, sat around in their pajamas.

“merry christmas everyone”, you say– kind of sleepy.

you joined your mom and mrs lee on the couch, giving them a big hug.

“don’t forget, later we have secret santa with everyone coming so, perk up kids!”, mrs lee reminded before she left to go to the kitchen with your mom, to which all of you responded with an enthusiastic smile.

“did you guys manage to get anything for secret santa?”, yeonjun asks you and heeseung.

you and heeseung nod in approval, “yeah, why? did you get anything?”, heeseung asks yeonjun.

“uh yeah– totally, i – yeah fuck it, i forgot”, he finally admits.

“it’s okay i can get a bag of cheetos, i don’t know– what do girls even like”, he sighed in frustration.

you laughed at his defeat, causing him to shoot a glare your direction.

“shut up, loser”

heeseung giggles beside you, causing you to shoot a glare at him. “ok, i’m sorry”

guests poured into the house, one by one, soon enough— all the kids and adults were sprawled out in the living room, getting ready to play secret santa.

unlike the night before, the circle of people who attended that afternoon was a more intimate group of people.

“ok, heeseung, it’s your turn– who are you secret santa for this year?”, mrs lee prompted.

heeseung smiles a little, shyly picking up the small red bag beside him, standing up to head to his designated person.

without you realizing, he made his way towards you.

“merry christmas, y/n”, he greets again, in his gentle voice, to which you shyly accept the red bag whispering a shy “thank you”– all eyes were on you at the time, observing the chemistry.

to be frank, everyone in that room knew how you felt about heeseung, and how much you wanted him to be your secret santa, time and time again.

this time you got what you wanted, and as you caressed the small red bag in your hands, your cheeks warmed up– heeseung’s gentle voice repeating itself in your head.

the day passed quickly and you didn’t get a chance to open the gift yet.

it was only when you had gone back up to your room that you had the chance. you undid the ribbon delicately, as if the bag itself was more precious than what it contained.

you took out the tissue paper that protected the small velvet box which sat in the centre of the bag. you caressed the velvet box with your fingers, your stomach brimming with butterflies and anticipation.

when you open the box, you gasp in surprise and adoration.

it was a necklace, but not just a random charm necklace.

it was a snowflake, each crevice covered in crystals, which sparkled brightly under the moon light which shone through your bedroom window.

you took a moment to read the card it came with, which left you smiling wider than you thought you could:

i saw this necklace at the store a few days ago and it made think of you– because you’re our little snowflake:) i hope you like it.

merry christmas, y/n

you admired the necklace in your hands, a smile creeping up on your face once again. it was beautiful, just like him.

you picked up your phone, typing up a quick text message.

you: thanks for the gift, heeseung. i love it c:

heeseung: no problem, i’m just glad you like it :)

heeseung: hey, it’s snowing out, wanna go build a snowman? ;)

you giggle at his sudden invitation. you put on the necklace, wrap yourself in your warm scarves and puffer jacket before heading downstairs.

you quietly snuck out through the back door of the kitchen, eyes looking left and right for heeseung.

your search didn’t last long when you felt a snowball hit your back.when you turn to the back, you see heeseung hiding behind a bush, gloves messy from the snow ball.

you scoff, rolling up a snow ball and hitting him in return– just like you used to do when you were younger.

“hey! ouch! stop!”, he squirmed, the cold impacting him more than he thought. you laughed at his defenselessness.

again, you stood across him, face to face– admiring his face, just like you did when you first arrived.

the snow was falling from the sky, gently trickling your jackets and hair.

his eyes locked with yours, and you swore time stopped.

“i think there’s something you should know..”, he took a step closer to you, anticipation brewing in your stomach as you looked up at him.

“hmm?”

“i’m sorry i got mad at you during jake’s party and brushed it off as me being protective because “you’re like my sister”–”, he apologized.

“truth is.. that wasn’t even close to the real reason–”, he begun, your eyes glued intently on him.

“thing is.. i never understood why or how i felt about you— and, my subconscious mind would consistently tell me it was because you were just my little sister”, he looked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

“but, when i found myself missing you, thinking about you and your silly laugh when i crack my terrible jokes– and when i found myself infuriated at the idea that another guy could make you laugh like that, i knew that you were more than what i tried so hard to convince myself you were..”, he took your hands in his, eyes still locked on yours.

“how could i have been so blind to the one person who’s always been there for me.. from the time you patched up my little injury with your precious barbie band aids or even the time you stood front row during my first talent show— it has always been you”, he grips your hand tighter.

“so i was hoping i could be the one for you too..”, he nervously says.

“what do you mean heeseung?”, you ask suddenly, pulling your hands away from his.

at this point he was expecting his heart to be shattered– until you cut off his train of thought.

“you have always been the one for me”, you say suddenly– flashing him with the smile he loved so much.

before he could say anything further, you leapt up onto him, the warmth of your lips embracing his.

he smiled into the kiss, “i love you, my little snowflake”

you giggled, “i love you too”, you say briefly before he engulfs your lips in his again, twirling you in his embrace.

you have always loved christmas, but now, he’s given you a million reasons to love it more.

[ hera’s note ] – hello loves! merry (ADVANCED) christmas! 🎄 here’s an advanced heeseung christmas piece that i wrote while listening to taylor swift and sabrina carpenter’s new christmas EP HAHAHA i hope you all enjoyed this piece 🤍 please let me know what you thought about this one-shot and reblog it if you enjoyed it! i wanted to upload this early because i may be offline for a few days to celebrate this festive season :) anyways, i hope everyone will have a wonderful christmas, hera loves you! <3

[ taglist ] – @ja4hyvn | send an ask/dm to be added!

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[penkura]

Christmas Date

Summary: Penguin takes you on your annual Christmas date!

Note: Hi, this is the first of my little Christmas series, I guess! Some of these will be short, others a little longer, but I hope you'll enjoy them! No guarantee of when things will be posted but I have a few already done and ready. :)

Penguin almost lives to plan out holiday dates with you, he’s loved it ever since you first got together and keeps it up no matter how long you’ve been together. Your first date together was during the Christmas season anyway, Penguin had planned a date to the park, even though it was snowing, and you spent the day walking around and had a snowball fight with some kids that convinced you to join.

Every year since he’s tried to make it the best anniversary and Christmas date possible, two for one since the two dates almost overlap, and you’ve never had a problem in the few years you’ve been together. Penguin always hopes and sometimes begs Law to dock the Polar Tang somewhere around the date, so he can make a plan and take you out for the day without any of your crewmates around. It gets him stuck with extra chores for messing up the schedule, but Law has never told him no and Penguin is beyond grateful every time.

This year, Penguin plans to make it the best date you’ve ever been on, and he keeps every detail under wraps, only telling you to wear something nice and shoes you can walk in. You know he’s only given necessary details to your captain, Shachi, and Ikkaku, considering how your friends take to doing your hair day of and getting you ready. Neither of them tells you anything when you try to ask, just giving the other a sneaky smile they think you don’t see but you absolutely do, your friends aren’t as sneaky as they think they are.

As soon as you’re ready to go, Ikkaku pushes you out the door to your bedroom, wishing you good luck, and Shachi leads tells you that Penguin’s already waiting for you on the deck. His back is turned to you and you can barely hear him talk to himself, but decide to give him a hug from behind which surprises your boyfriend to the point he almost screams.

“What’s got you so distracted, Peng?”

“Holy—you scared me!”

You giggle a bit and apologize, Penguin tells you not to worry about it and gives you a hug in return before giving you a smile.

“Ready?”

“Yep!”

Penguin lets you take his arm as he leads you off the ship, telling you he has everything planned.

“Hope you’re hungry, I found a great place while scoping out the island with Captain this morning!”

“As long as it’s close, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I was so busy with chores!”

“Haha,” pulling you closer, Penguin presses a kiss to your head, “Captain kept you busy again, huh? Maybe he’ll give us some time off for the holidays again soon.”

“I bet he will, he always does.”

You keep talking on your way to the restaurant, anything and everything you both can think of, catching up on what happened after he’d left you on the ship to come into town. Once you reach the place Penguin had picked out, he’s upset to find the reservation he’d made was given to someone else, you weren’t even late! Whoever was working just gave it to someone else who had walked in, Penguin almost gets into a fight the employee before you take his arm and apologize for his reaction.

“Peng, let’s just go somewhere else! It’s okay!”

 It’s really not okay, no restaurant has an open seat for over two hours and all the cafes are packed due to people avoiding the snow. Penguin starts to get frustrated before you drag him over to a local park, luckily finding a food cart that had fair like foods available with hot cocoa, it’s enough to calm him and feed you both that he relaxes as you sit on a park bench together. It’s not so bad, you might be a little chilly but being with Penguin is what matters, even though he still looks upset while you both watch the snow continue to fall.

Penguin feels like he should apologize to you, he had to drag you all around town looking for some place to eat, you must’ve been starving by the time you found the food cart in the park. You deserved better, he knows that, but when he goes to say something, you beat him to it.

“This was pretty fun tonight, running around the town like that,” when you look over and smile, Penguin is confused, he was sure this was the worst date you’ve had so far, “Kind of reminds me how our first date was a walk in a park, you know?”

“…I didn’t drag you through that town though…”

“Well, no,” laughing, you lean against his arm, making Penguin lay his head against your own while you hold his hand, “But this was still nice, it’s almost like recreating our first date…just with a little more walking.”

While he wishes it had gone the way he planned, Penguin can’t bring himself to disagree with you. He had originally planned to bring you here after dinner anyway, for a nice little walk, but it being the main focus of your date isn’t a bad thing.

His plans may be ruined, but it’s okay after all, since you’re happy anyway.

He’ll plan another date to propose to you soon.

[accio-sriracha]

Wolfstar and Markers.

~~~♤~~~

Sirius likes to draw on his friends.

It's just something he does when he's bored in class.

He writes Property of Sirius on each of them. Sometimes abreviating it to P.O.S. for the double meaning.

He draws little cupcakes and pieces of cheese on Peter's hand.

He loves to draw golden snitches and broomsitcks across James' thigh during the summer, charming them to fly around.

But, rather ironically, it was Remus who usually sat next to him.

It was an exceptionally boring day in history of magic class, they were all waiting for the lesson to end as Professor Binns droned on about the Great Goblin War.

Sirius pulled the marker out of his bag, grabbing Remus' arm without waiting for permission.

Despite pretending to be annoyed each time, Remus stayed carefully still.

A little too still.

He literally spent a good portion of the time Sirius was drawing on him not breathing.

It was secretly his favorite part of the day.

He loved the feeling of Sirius' fingers skating across his skin.

He loved watching his concentrated expression from the corner of his eyes.

He loved the way Sirius took his time, careful not to mess it up.

How Sirius always told him he wasn't allowed to wash it off.

He never did, keeping it until the end of the day.

He pretended to hate it but each time he felt himself falling a little deeper in love with his best friend.

Sirius moved on from drawing moons and stars to drawing hearts at some point during their fifth year.

It was literally all he would ever draw on Remus now.

He kept the same drawings on the others, quidditch themed for Prongs and various snacks for Wormy.

But always hearts on Remus.

Remus couldn't figure out why, but the tiny detail made his own heart flutter faster every time.

He wondered what caused the switch, wondered if it was as significant as he was making it out to be in his head.

One day, while Sirius was doodling on Remus' hand, James asked him,

"Why the hearts, mate?"

It was pure bored curiosity, there wasn't any real interest in his eyes when he said it.

But Sirius looked up, and his answer made Remus' entire brain malfunction.

"I'm waiting for Remus to ask me to be his boyfriend. This is about as obvious as I can get before I decide to ask him myself."

And then he just-

Went back to his doodling.

As if nothing even happened.

As if that wasn't the single most earthshattering thing Remus had ever heard in his life.

As if that wasn't something Remus had been dreaming of doing for years.

Remus could feel the shock on his face.

He could tell he wasn't doing a very good job of hiding any of the emotions swirling through him.

Did Sirius know then? This whole time had he secretly known how much Remus enjoyed their little moments together?

"Moons?" Sirius whispered.

Remus hadn't realised how long it had been since they stopped talking.

Sirius was staring at him, a small flicker of uncertainty passed over him, like he was realising there was a possibility he was wrong,

"You okay?" He asked.

"Can you hand me that marker?" Remus replied instead.

Sirius' eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before he nodded, passing it to Remus.

Remus reached out for Sirius' hand, Sirius gave it to him without hesitation.

He drew a single shaky heart, adrenaline pumping through him.

"Yes." He whispered, "I do want to be your boyfriend."

And that was it.

They've been together ever since.

Sirius loves to tell people the story of how they fell in love.

He always pays specific attention to the part where Remus sat shocked into stillness for fifteen minutes before Sirius finally asked if he was okay.

Remus proposed around Christmas, they were gathered at the Potter's home, watching baby Harry stumble around as he tried to walk.

Sirius and Remus were sitting on the sofa, Peter sat on the ground, holding his arms out for Harry, and Lily and James stood by the kitchen, watching them all with a smile.

Remus had told the others his plan already and they thought it was amazing.

"Hey Pads?" He whispered, kissing the top of his head.

Sirius hummed and leaned in closer to him.

"Can you go grab me a marker? I think I saw one on the counter earlier."

Sirius paused and leaned away, giving him a curious look, "A marker?" He repeated. Remus nodded,

"Yeah, I think it was in the kitchen."

Sirius shrugged and stood up, walking over to the counter to find the black sharpie Remus had placed there earlier.

He sat back down, passing it over, "What's this for?"

"Give me your hand." Remus whispered.

The others went silent, watching them quietly.

Remus could feel adrenaline shooting through him, just like the last time he'd done this.

He carefully drew a heart on Sirius' hand, big enough to reach from one side to the other.

Sirius smiled, "I didn't think you still remembered. It's been years since I've talked about that."

Remus nodded quietly, lifting his hand up so Sirius couldn't see what he was writing.

Sirius watched him, impatiently waiting until Remus let him see.

Inside the heart was now four words, written in Remus' neat cursive,

"Will you marry me?"

Sirius looked up so suddenly it caught Remus by surprise.

He threw his arms around him, burying his face into his shoulder,

"Yes." He breathed, "Of course I want to marry you, Moons."

They kissed, teary eyed and holding each other close.

The others ran to them immediatley, pulling them into hugs and shouting congratulations.

Sirius told that story for an even longer amount of time.

If you look carefully enough, you'll still find a black marker in every room of their home.

Every note they leave for each other are always signed by these, and always with a small heart at the bottom in place of a signature.

Sirius still draws little hearts on him when he's bored sometimes.

And it's still Remus' favorite part of his day.

~~~♤~~~

[shutupptara]

‘tis the damn season - nathan mackinnon

summary: set during the 2020-shortened season- you’re home for christmas when you run into one nathan mackinnon on a grocery run. it’s been years since you’ve last talked, let alone seen each other, but it’s quickly like no time has passed. and the road not taken looks real good now..

i’ve been writing this since 2020. much like all of my writing i’ve posted, you have @kat-hearts to thank for this. she lovingly bullied me into finishing a piece i hadn’t touched in years. set at christmas, but not a christmas story. also set during the pandemic, so reality is very hand wavy (aka the nhl pushing the season happens, but lockdown isn’t reallllly a big deal) so if that bothers you, maybe skip this one.

is this any good? i honestly don’t know, but i know i loved writing nate so pls enjoy

word count: 13,151

warnings: alcohol use, strong language, explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, a general disdain for life and choices made, a tiny bit of angst, hating on Florida (it’s okay i live there) a LOT of self indulgence

title from ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift

It wasn’t that she didn’t like returning home for holidays, it was just a huge ordeal every time it happened. Not only was it a 3,000 mile trip, there was always ice and snow to contend with. Coupled with her well-meaning, albeit overbearing, neighbors, the holidays get to be a bit much for her to handle. Still, there’s something wonderful about the tranquility of home. Refreshing, really. With a year as stressful as 2020 had been, it was a blessing to be able to return home for the holidays.

Her first true day of Christmas break, her mother begs her to go to the store for her: there’s so much baking to prepare for, and while she is happy to do the shopping for her, she knows it’s so she won’t see her wrapping presents. Even at 26, her mom insists upon marking her gifts ‘from Santa’, and the nostalgia of it always makes her smile. So, against her better judgment, she ventures out to the closest Sobeys. She has her jacket and scarf pulled tightly around her, unwilling to admit to herself she really can’t take the cold anymore, but mostly wanting to hide to be in and out as quickly as possible.

She grabs a cart on her way in the store, unlocking her phone and holding it open in front of her, eyes sweeping across the list her mother had sent her with. It isn’t terribly long, thankfully. She makes quick work of grabbing what she needs, moving down the aisles long ago committed to memory with ease. Various other things get tossed into the cart as she moves: chocolate covered pretzels, a case of Diet Coke, her favorite cheese crackers.

When she reaches the wine aisle, she shrugs to herself, deciding it’ll be best to have some on hand, in case of an emergency. She grabs a bottle of Roscato for her mom, and two bottles of cab for herself. Once they’re safely in the cart, she makes her way to the checkout line. There’s quite a few people crowded there, and she tries to maneuver around to a shorter line, her brow furrowing when she spots a rather large looking man a few feet in front of her.

As she gets closer, realization washes over her. “Nathan MacKinnon,” she stops in her tracks, heart swooping in her chest. “As I live and breathe.” It comes out before she really even processes what’s happening.

He turns, almost as if in slow motion, his eyes widening when they land on her. “My god, it’s been ages. What are you doing here?”

She smiles slightly, suddenly hyper aware of how messy her hair is, and the fact that she hadn’t tried very hard when getting dressed this morning. “Could ask you the same thing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you home for Christmas.” She knows for a fact she hasn’t. It was the one reprieve of being back in Cole Harbour - Nate was never here.

“Yeah, I’m usually not,” he shrugs. “I uh, you know with the year as crazy as it’s been, and the season being pushed, I’ve actually been home most of the year. Hanging out with Andy, Sid, Jack, Pete...” There’s a longing look on his face, mirroring the ache she knows is lingering in his chest. There’s an identical one inside of her, and she knows she’s to blame for the pain Nate’s dealing with. This wasn’t a particularly easy run in for either of them, but it’s almost refreshing in a way? She doesn’t care about the buddies he’s spending his time with, she would’ve asked if she did, but it’s obviously important to Nate she know, and she doesn’t want to read too much into that. Maybe he wants her to know he’s not spending time with another girl, and she hates that part of her is hopeful because of that but it’s not fair to be. She can’t expect him to stay single forever, simply because being here and seeing him has every feeling she’s ever felt for him rushing back.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she laughs. “I’m really glad I ran into you.” There’s a surprising amount of truth to that. God, it’s been almost eight years since she’s seen Nate, even in passing, but that doesn’t mean she hasn’t followed his career. She’s from Canada for Christ’s sake, of course she follows hockey.

“I am too,” Nate grins. “Hey, you should come by later. There’s a few people coming over, no one you hate,” he raised his eyebrows and she can’t help but laugh. “No expectations, just drinking and fun. It would be nice to catch up.”

Without hesitation, she’s blurting out, “I would love that.”

“Great!” Nate exclaims. She can practically see him center himself in that moment, try to keep it together.

“I’m staying at my parents’ house,” she offers. Though I would much rather be with you, her mind continues, and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Are you still two doors down?”

Nate reaches a hand up, rubbing the back of his hand awkwardly. “Nah, I bought a house when I signed with the Avs. It’s a bigger one, out on Albany Terrace. I think you’ll like it.”

She smiles brightly. “I’m excited to see it.”

“Yeah?” Nate mutters.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I’ll text you the address,” he offers. “Guess that means you have to give me your number.”

___

She makes a substantial effort to not show up right at 8 pm. It’s difficult, as she’s been a compulsively early person her whole life, but this time it feels necessary to be “fashionably late”. It helps that she fusses with what to wear for over thirty minutes- this shouldn’t be a big deal, and she doesn’t want it to be, but that doesn’t change the anxiety that’s swelling in her chest. She tells herself this isn’t anything to stress, it’s just catching up with an old friend and if things are awkward, she can always leave. Still, as she pulls up to Nate’s house, she realizes there’s a part of her that’s a tiny bit excited.

She takes in a slow breath as she kills the engine, nodding to herself as she climbs out of the car and heads up the walkway. She’s clutching a bottle of Jack Daniels in her left hand, never showing up empty handed instilled in her at a young age. She rings the doorbell, glancing around curiously as she waits. Her heart is pounding, and she’s ready to turn and bolt back to her car when the door swings open.

Nate’s standing in front of her, a soft smile on his face. She lets her eyes sweep over him, admiring the beige cable knit sweater straining over his shoulders. He looks so relaxed, so incredibly casual. “Hey! So glad you made it. Come in.” He steps aside, closing the door behind her. “That a bottle of Jack?” She can’t do anything but nod, holding it out to him wordlessly. “You haven’t changed a bit,” he laughs. “Everyone’s in the living room. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

Nate leads the way through the house, stopping briefly in the living room on his way to the kitchen. “Hey guys!”

She peers around him, relieved to see there really wasn’t anyone she hated in attendance. Pete, who she's known her whole life and his girlfriend Hannah are first to greet her, ushering her to sit beside them.

“Hey squirt, it’s been ages,” Pete teases.

“You forget I’m older than you,” She laughs. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.”

“Where are you living now?” Hannah asks.

“Florida. Been there for almost five years.” She falls quiet then, eyes glancing at where Nate is still standing.

He fidgets, and clears his throat. “I’m gonna grab a drink.” With that, he disappears around the corner, and she’s left to slump into the couch.

For a while, she mostly listens to Pete talk about his job, or the crappy apartment Hannah’s parents are begging them to move out of. It’s only a matter of time until they end up engaged, she knows, and she’s happy they’ve found happiness. It does little to help her feel like less of a leper, though. As soon as she’s able to find a break in their one-sided conversation, she jumps on it, taking the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen. Nate’s on one of the other couches, talking to Andy about getting a Call of Duty game going, and that’ll be enough to keep him occupied for hours. No chance he’ll notice her absence until she can figure out what the hell she was thinking showing up here tonight.

She heads straight for the freezer when she enters the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of Jack, and grabbing a solo cup laid out on the counter. She drops a handful of ice into the cup, followed shortly after by a hefty pour of the dark liquid. She brings the cup to her lips after taking a long drink.

“Jack on the rocks, eh?” A voice behind her asks.

“‘Tis the damn season,” she mutters, turning to spot Sidney Crosby leaning against the doorframe. She raises her cup to him, taking another long drink.

He lets out a honking laugh, eyes sparkling. “It’s nice to see you again.”

She quirks an eyebrow, “didn’t really think you’d remember me, to be honest.” She had only encountered Sidney a handful of times, and she never thought she’d left much of an impression. Truth be told, she was always a little star struck around him- it was hard not to be.

He furrows his brow, frowning. “Come on, I met you a bunch of times when you lived in Pennsylvania. And Nate talked about you nonstop when you were-“ he trails off, shrugging.

“Pen pals?” She offers. She can tell Sidney doesn’t see it as bitter. There’s a sadness in her voice she probably won’t ever be able to shake when she’s talking about Nate.

He shakes his head, but doesn’t push her, thank god. Instead, he steps into the kitchen, pours himself a cup of Jack on rocks, and clinks his cup against hers. “Here’s to escaping hometowns,” he toasts.

She grins. She takes another long drink, frowning at her cup when she realizes it’s nearing empty. “I think I may get drunk tonight, Sidney.”

He offers her the bottle, “I’m with you. Let’s do it.”

Surprisingly enough, Sidney Crosby is the one to save her from the awkwardness of the evening. True to his word, he does stay in the kitchen and drink with her. They talk about everything from Sid’s most recent cup wins to why on earth she decided Florida was a good place for her to settle down. They tread very carefully on any conversation that can take a turn to Nate, and she’s thankful Sidney read the room. He’s quite fun to be around once you chip away the exterior and he lets his guard down. They relocate to the table in the corner, and keep the bottle of Jack between the two of them, both casually refilling their cups as the night wears on.

When the bottle is almost empty and she can feel her head swimming, she jumps at the sound of another person entering the kitchen. “Ah, this is where you’ve been hiding.” Nate takes the seat beside her at the table, his leg bumping against hers as he maneuvers his chair. “Should’ve known you’d ditch me for Crosby.”

Opposite them, Sidney snorts. “Nah, just needed a drinking buddy, is all.”

“Sid is surprisingly good at drinking Jack,” she offers.

“Yeah?” Nate grins. “Seems like you’re pretty good too. Have you eaten anything?”

She taps her finger against her lips, considering, before shaking her head dramatically. “Nope.”

“Maybe we should fix that...”

Again, she shakes her head. “No room for food. Just alcohol.”

Nate smiles at her, and even in the haze of the alcohol, she feels her heart warm. It’s that same fond smile she’d loved so much when they were together, and she knows she can’t let her mind run away from her, but at the moment, she can’t rationalize why that’s the case. “In that case, let me break out the good stuff.” He stands up, heading to the cabinet above his stove. There, he grabs a fancier looking bottle, a dark brown liquid sloshing around as he carries it over to the table. “Crown Royal XR, so you never forget where you came from.” He takes the liberty of pouring her and Sid a glass before fixing one for himself, and reclaiming his seat.

She sniffs the liquid in the cup, eyes widening. “Ooof.”

“Don’t quit on me now,” Sid goads. He nudges her with his elbow, giggling.

She shakes her head adamantly. “Momma didn’t raise a quitter,” she announces. She raises her glass, waiting as Nate and Sid follow suit. “Here’s to Cole Harbour’s golden boys.” She sees Nate roll his eyes, but he’s smiling when he brings his glass to his lips.

She takes a long drink, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. “Oh, that is really smooth.”

“Everything’s better when it’s Canadian,” Sid pipes up.

She giggles at this, which makes Nate quirk an eyebrow. “There’s no arguing that point, Florida.”

“Come on, Florida isn’t that bad,” she insists.

Nate looks to Sid, then back to her, shrugging. “The fact that you have to say it that way doesn’t help your case.”

“It doesn’t snow there!”

“Boo,” Sid says.

“How do you even survive without hockey down there?” Nate adds.

“Shut up, there’s hockey! My friend Nick would argue Tampa is a huge hockey town. Wait- oh my god!” She cuts herself off, looking around excitedly. She pats the pockets of her pants, pulling a face when she can’t find her phone.

“What are you doing?” There’s a distinct amusement in Nate’s voice.

“Where’s my phone? I wanna FaceTime Nick. He always gives me shit about knowing y’all. He pretends he doesn’t believe me because he’s never met you, so somehow that means I haven’t? I don’t even know...”

“Nick your boyfriend?” Nate grumbles, voice low.

She just snorts out a laugh, and takes her phone when Sidney slides it over to her. She clicks around on it for a second, then the distinct sound of a FaceTime call fills the room. She drums her fingers against the table impatiently, eyes lighting up when the line clicks on.

“Hey!” An excited voice fills the room.

“Hey Nick! What’re you up to?” She keeps the phone close to her, keeping Nate and Sid out of the frame.

“Well, it’s almost one in the morning on winter break so obviously I’m drunk with Garrett.”

“Tell him I said hi,” she insists.

“Sure. What’re you doing?”

Her eyes light up again, and she grabs her glass excitedly. “I’m also drunk, but I wanted to show you who I happen to be drunk with.” She downs the rest of the liquid in her glass and slides her phone back farther on the table, angling the camera to capture all three of them in the frame. “I give you Nate MacKinnon and Sidney Crosby.”

“Holy shit. That’s- fucking hell, that’s actually Sidney Crosby!”

She chuckles, turning the phone to face Sid and he waves awkwardly. “I told you, you don’t grow up in Cole Harbour without knowing the pride and joy of the city.”

“But you said you’d only met him a few times! And Nate MacKinnon too, what the fuck...”

“In the flesh. Oh, and Nate wanted to know if you were my boyfriend before I called.” She peers over at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. He opens his mouth to protest, but Nick quickly cuts him off.

He laughs, shaking his head. “Just one of my best friends, dude. You have my blessing. I know she would love to date a hockey player.”

“Yeah? Good to know.” Nate smirks.

“On that note, we’re going back to drinking now. Just wanted to humble brag real quick.” She flashes a toothy grin. “I’ll make them get dinner next time they’re in Tampa. Maybe you and the whole crew can come along.”

“Yes, totally! Have fun! Merry Christmas!” She wishes him a Merry Christmas back, and she’s ending the call, she hears Nick muttering to Garrett: ‘yes that was Sidney fucking Crosby’. She drops her phone down onto the table then, glancing over at Nate expectantly.

“So that’s Nick, my not boyfriend. He’s a big Lightning fan, and he hates the Penguins.”

“Charming,” Sid laughs. “Seems nice though.”

“Nick’s the best,” she agrees. “He and Danielle get me through living in Florida.”

“Ah, so you do admit Florida sucks?” Nate presses. He offers her another drink, and she nods eagerly. When her glass is full, he raises his to her. “Fuck Florida.” She taps hers against his, smiling widely.

“Fuck Florida, indeed.”

___

Another hour slips by as the three of them sit in the kitchen. The rest of Nate’s house is quiet, save for the inevitable hockey talk they’ve slipped into. Nate’s sobered during their time sitting there, his attention focused mostly on her and her half hearted responses. Poor girl is exhausted.

“Time for me to head out,” Sidney mutters. He pushes his chair back from the table, clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Uber’s outside. Thanks for having me, Nate. Nice catching up with you.”

“Bye Sid!” she brightens up, waving her fingers as he giggles and heads out the door. “Then there were two.”

“Sure I can’t interest you in some food?” Nate offers.

She shakes her head adamantly, eyes glossy, head swimming. “No, I told you... no room for food.” She rests her arms on the table, dropping her head down on top of them and peering up at Nate curiously.

He chuckles, resting a hand on her elbow. “Okay, time to get you home.”

She pulls a face, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Naaaate,” she draws out, “no.”

“Come on,” he laughs. “I’ll even tuck you in.”

She narrows her eyes at him, still frowning, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He offers her his hand as he stands, helping her to her feet as soon as she agrees. He hooks her arm through his when she sways, trying to keep her steady on her feet. “I’ve got you.”

It takes some maneuvering, and a lot of patience on Nate’s part, but eventually, he’s able to get her into the front seat of his truck. He buckles her seatbelt for her when he slides behind the wheel, starting the car as she starts complaining about how uncomfortable his seats are.

“Good thing your parents live less than three minutes from here, huh?” He teases. He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her head slumped back against the headrest.

She’s quiet for a long time, and he has to tear his eyes from the road to make sure she hasn’t fallen asleep. When he does, he catches her gaze. “Nathan?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles.

“You don-“

She shakes her head, eyes squeezed shut. “No, Nathan, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I walked out I just- fuck, I didn’t want to be a WAG. I didn’t want hockey above all else, always. It wasn’t fair for me to do that.”

He’s quiet, hand gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Well, it wasn’t fair of me to make you feel like that would be your reality.” He hesitates, taking a slow, deep breath. After a moment, he nods to himself. “We can call it even.”

He offers her a shy smile, and she can’t stop herself from returning it. She unhooks her seatbelt and slides closer to him on the bench, resting her head against his shoulder. “Deal. Thank you, Mack.”

___

When they arrive at her parents’ house, Nate kills the engine and lets out a sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.” She groans, but sits up straight.

“Fine,” she grumbles. She pushes the door open hastily, climbing out and crosses her arms over her chest. Nate simply shakes his head, taking her arm again and leading her up the pathway carefully. He knows it’s icy, and the last thing they need is the both of them to eat shit.

As soon as they reach the front door, Nate shushes her, trying to remain as quiet as possible while he pulls out the spare key from beneath the mat. He’s done this countless times before, and truly, it never gets any easier.

“Mack, remember when you tried to sneak me in drunk right before you left for juniors?” She laughs. She just giggles even louder when he presses a finger to his lips, eyes pleading. “You always take care of me.”

“I know, shhhh. I always will. We’ve gotta get inside.” Moments later, Nate gets the door open, tugging her across the threshold. He pulls the door shut as quietly as possible before glancing up, spotting her parents in the living room, sitting on couches reading. “Hi guys,” he sighs.

“Nate,” her mom smiles. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too. Sorry about this.. She was drinking with Sid and I didn’t want her driving-“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she whines. “I’m perfectly fine, Nathan.”

Her dad gives him a knowing look, chuckling. “Thanks, son.”

“Lucky to have you around, Nate,” her mom adds. “You know the way.”

He nods, tugging on her arm to lead her up the stairs to her childhood bedroom. She grumbles the entire way, complaining about being “too tired to see” or “everything’s spinning, I’m going to die”. Nate can’t contain his laughter, which only seems to frustrate her more. She glares at him when she finally gets the door to her room open, kicking her shoes off by the door and flopping down onto her bed in a huff. “Who let me drink me so much,” she groans.

“That would be Sid,” Nate leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s an enabler.” She lifts her head up, peering at him thoughtfully. “I was afraid to talk to you tonight,” she admits. “And he supported my stupidity to try to make me feel better. At least his heart is in the right place.”

Nate’s brown furrows. “Why would you be afraid to talk to me?”

She pushes herself up into a seated position, crossing her legs underneath her. “A tiny screen’s the only place I see you now.” Her voice is low, eyes cast downward. “I don’t know what we have in common anymore, or if you’d even want to talk to me.”

“Hey,” Nate says, pushing himself off the doorframe and stepping into the room. Two strides bring him over to the bed, and he sits beside her, craning his neck down to catch her eye. “I asked you to come over because I did want to talk to you. Do.” He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know why but I never expected to run into you, and when I did, all I could think about was reconnecting and... I don’t know, being friendly again? There’s a pretty big you shaped hole in my life.”

She looks at him, eyes sweeping over every last detail of his face. She wants to blame the alcohol for how attractive she finds him in that moment, but she knows she can’t. Nate has always been gorgeous, and their time growing, apart, has only increased that. “I’ve got a big Nate Mack hole too,” she admits.

Without wavering, he reaches out and rests his hand on hers, rubbing his thumb across the smooth skin there. “Tomorrow, then. I’m coming by with breakfast and we’re gonna play pond puck.”

She can’t help the groan that falls from her lips. “I’m going to be far too hungover to be on skates tomorrow.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you drank half a bottle of Jack,” he grins. “Night.”

___

True to his word, Nate does come by first thing in the morning. She crawls out of bed at the sound of laughter down the stairs, wincing when the light hits her eyes. She manages to pull herself together to look somewhat presentable, though her headache is enough to have her debating hiding under the covers for the day.

“Oh, look who’s up!” Her dad teases. He’s sitting opposite Nate at the kitchen table, reading the paper like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Nate laughs. “I brought Timmies.”

“Black?” She mutters, reaching for the cup gratefully. He nods. “Not iced, but I guess I’ll live. Thanks.”

Nate rolls his eyes, bringing his own cup to his lips and taking a long drink. “We gotta get you out of America. Not iced, pft,” he scoffs.

“Nate’s got a point, kid. You’re barely a Canadian anymore.”

She gives him a pointed look. “I didn’t hear you and mom complaining in Florida in January last year.”

Her dad grins. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles.

“You hungry at all?” Nate asks.

“Just coffee for me,” she raises her cup to him.

“Alright. Should we get going then?”

“A heroic return to my pond puck career,” she jokes. “Should be great with this hangover.”

Her dad laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Don’t let her fall through the ice, Nate.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He flashes a winning smile as he gestures for her to head out the door in front of him. “Your dad was thrilled to help me find your old skates in the garage this morning,” he tells her as they climb into his truck.

She rests her head against the cold window, eyes shut. “Of course he was.”

“It was nice to see them again,” he says quietly. “I always really liked your parents.”

“Good thing, they love you.” And it’s completely true. To this day, her mother still asks her about Nate. What’s he up to, if he’s seeing anyone... it would be sweet if it wasn’t so painful for her to have to relive every time she brings it up. Her dad is thankfully more subtle- they really only talk about Nate when hockey comes up. Of course they both keep tabs on the Avs, and it’s a common ground that is far more exhaustive than her job that her dad doesn’t really understand anyway. All in all, yes, her parents do love Nate, which made their break up that much harder.

Nate doesn’t respond; her words linger in the air like a bad perfume. There’s a kind of expectation to them, a dare to explore what that means and how it makes either of them feel. Thankfully, Nate pulls his truck off the road before they have to broach the subject. Just ahead of them, there’s a frozen pond, a couple of trash cans tipped over on either side to use as makeshift goals. It’s the same pond they’d played on as kids, hours spent skating and laughing together. It brings back a melancholic feeling, one that seems to sit in her chest when she follows Nate’s lead and climbs out of the car. He hands her her skates and a stick when they start walking, eyes focused on the snow beneath their feet.

She laces up her skates silently, glancing over at Nate every so often. He looks like he wants to say something, but just isn’t sure where to begin. She tries no to dwell on it, and instead let herself have a good time today. It’s been a long time since she’s had the chance to skate.

She uses the stick Nate handed her to help stand and steps out onto the ice, skates wobbling as she tries to get her bearings.

“Looking a little rusty there, Gretz,” Nate teases.

“Oh shut up,” she groans. It takes her a minute, but before long, she finds her comfort on skates again. It’s second nature, something she knows she will never forget how to do. “It’s just been a while.”

“Nowhere to skate in the sunshine state, eh?” He skates around her in a circle, turning around and skating backwards so he can face her. “What could possibly make you want to stay there?”

She gives a half shrug. “My life is there.”

Nate nods. “Right. Your job, your not boyfriend...” The smile on his face suggests he’s kidding, but she can see something behind his eyes.

“Nate...” there’s a warning in her voice.

He holds a hand up in defense. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I just... what do you?”

“I’m a counselor,” she tells him. She chuckles when he purses his lips, clearly having no idea what that entails. “It’s supposed to be a mental health professional in the schools - someone to help students short term, refer out for bigger issues, teach social emotional skills. I’m just a glorified secretary at this point.”

He narrows his eyes, considering her. “I don’t believe that. You’re too good.”

She lets out a long sigh. “No, it’s true. Nothing I do actually helps anyone, and the one girl I did have a good relationship with, I was too busy to help this year. So she’ll never come back to talk to me now. I’m always a month behind and I don’t know-“ she lets her voice trail off, feeling her eyes sting as they fill with tears. It never hits her like this until she says it out loud, but it’s so alarming to lose your passion. She’s content, but she’s not happy, and it’s hard to feel like she didn’t make a huge mistake with her choices in life.

Nate stops suddenly, causing her to slam right into him. He reaches out and grabs her shoulders, keeping her upright. “Hey,” he coos, “I’m sure she’ll come back to talk to you. This year is unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I’m sure a lot of this is stress.”

This seems to open the flood gates, and against her better judgment, she feels hot tears start streaming down her cheeks. It only makes her cheeks more cold, and she curses under her breath. “I think I messed up, Nate. Florida, counseling, what if it was all a mistake?” She shakes her head, dropping it down to stare at their feet.

Nate reaches out, tilting her chin up with one finger. “Then you make a change. Find out how to be happy again, and go after it.” His hand slides up to cup her cheek, warm fingers wiping away her tears. “You’re incredible. If you made a mistake, that’s fine. Regroup, move past it.”

Her breath hitches, eyes locking with his. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips, her heart warming at his words. It’s an incredible feeling to be validated like this, to know her concerns aren’t ridiculous and she’s not an utter failure for rethinking every decision that’s brought her to this point. It’s tenfold now, standing so close to Nate, her heart beating wildly in her chest. “Nate, I-“

“I believe in second chances,” he tells her. His voice is barely above a whisper now, the rasp sending a tingle up her spine. She can hear the unspoken words behind it, I believe in you, and I believe in us. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but with the way he’s looking at her right now, it’s hard to take it any other way. Maybe she could let herself do this - love again, put her faith in him.

There’s nothing she wants more than to be able to give in, melt into his arms and tell him it was all wrong, but they can fix it now. With his bright blue eyes shining the way they are, she even lets part of herself believe that.

It’s the other, realistic part of her that holds her back. The what ifs and rational thinking of distance and time zones and years past rearing their ugly head. The fear of getting hurt again, or hurting him. There’s just too much to consider, too many sacrifices to ask of any one person.

“I want to believe in them too,” she admits. “But-”

Her eyes tell him everything she’s too afraid to. He inhales sharply, nodding once. “I understand. I won’t push you.” His fingertips brush across her cheeks gently before he drops his hand to his side. A sad sigh falls past his lips, and before he can move to skate away, she’s grabbing his forearm and gripping it tightly.

“We’ll play for it,” she blurts, mostly in an attempt to keep him from walking away.

Nate’s eyes snap up. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ll play each other. Pond puck. And I’ll be yours for the weekend.”

“If who wins?”

“Either of us.” Her hesitance is clear as day on her face, the anxiety swirling in her stomach. Maybe she’s being ridiculous, childlike even, but this is the only way she can give her heart what it wants without giving up her entire life. Albeit how appealing that road looks at the moment.

Gaze narrowing, he purses his lips in consideration. “You’re saying no strings?”

She nods, “I’m saying I won’t ask you to wait for me, if you don’t ask me to stay.”

“So a one night stand?”

Her head shakes slowly, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “No. I want the weekend with you in our own little bubble. I want to ignore reality and just… be.”

“I think we need terms for this,” Nate says. “What’s off limits, what isn’t.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “What you’re comfortable with.”

“If you win, big if, I’m yours for the weekend. You can call the shots; anything you want to do. Fair?” When she agrees, he cracks a small smile. “Great. When I win, you’re mine for the weekend. I’ll call the shots.”

“Sounds reasonable-”

“One more thing,” he cuts in. “You can’t break my heart.”

His words hang heavy between them, shifting the atmosphere. This feels like a contingency meant for more than just the weekend. It makes her chest ache to think about it, but Nate’s speaking again before she can get a word in edgewise. “Alright,” he pulls a puck out of his back pocket, holding it out between them. “First to three, yeah?”

He’s courteous enough to wait for her to get her bearings, both hands on her stick, knees bent, before he drops the puck between them. He taps it a few times with his stick, moving in slow circles. He pauses when they’re face to face again, leaning forward. “I’ll let you have first go.”

“Don’t go easy on me, Dogg,” she teases. “I’m tough. I can take it.” She mirrors his stance, leaning over the puck with her hands spread wide on the stick.

“Game on, babe.” She sweeps her stick over his, cursing under breath when he swipes the puck away from her. He carries it on his stick across the ice, avoiding her attempted checks and steals as he goes. Eventually, she abandons that tactic, instead racing ahead of him and turning to defend the “goal”. She keeps her stick down, watching his eyes to try to read his play. He fakes left, moves right, stopping on a dime as he throws ice across her shins. She blinks and the puck is slamming around in the can, Nate throwing his arms in celebration.

“One down,” he gloats.

She rolls her eyes, flicking the puck out at him. It skids to a stop in front of his skates, and she heads back to center ice, knowing he won’t be far behind. By some miracle, she’s able to gain possession of the puck in the faceoff, doing her best to get a jump on him and head down the ice. In an instant, he’s right behind her, stick held out in front of her, attempting to poke check it away. When she shifts, Nate checks into her from the side, nearly sending her tumbling on the ice. “Okay Mr. Lady Byng,” she laughs.

Nate simply grins at her, taking off after the puck and keeping it a distance away from her ahead of him. Effortlessly, he sends the puck sailing into the trash can, turning around to face her with an even cockier grin. “Not looking too good for you.”

“You’re a cheater,” she mumbles, retrieving the puck and gliding over to center ice. She keeps it in her hand as Nate eyes her, his gaze dragging slowly from her skates to the top of her head. “What?”

He shakes his head, jutting his chin out. “I don’t cheat.” He hunches over his stick, waiting for her to crouch into the same position and drop the puck. The intensity that emanates from him is palpable, his bated breath, clenched teeth only adding to the stakes. When the puck falls from her hand, it’s like time slows down. There’s a frigid breeze across her cheeks, blowing her hair back over her shoulders - the puck clattering against the ice once, twice, before it’s flat and they’re both springing into action. Their sticks collide as they sweep them, neither making contact with the puck at first.

It’s Nate who comes up victorious from the faceoff, stickhandling it until he’s able to turn his back to her. She knows he’s far too advanced for her to out play - his skills are unmatched, so she opts for playing a little dirty, using her own skills to her advantage. When Nate fakes and moves left, she positions herself there, right in front of him. All the air whooshes out of her as they collide, his shoulder pressed against her chest. The startled expression on his face makes her crack a grin, and he’s distracted enough by the move to let her gain possession. Once it’s on her stick, she takes off down the ice in the other direction, keeping the puck out in front of her. She can feel Nate hot on her tail, attempting to swat the puck free, knock her off balance. Her eyes stay fixed to the trash can, and she doesn’t hesitate - just slaps the puck as hard as she can. The bang that rings out echoes through the quiet, and she glances over her shoulder, flashing Nate a triumphant smile.

“Two-one now,” she points out. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to boast about, but it very clearly pushes Nate’s buttons. She’s never known a single person to be more competitive, and it’s admittedly fun to draw that side out of him every now and again.

She can tell she’s struck the nerve when Nate gets huffy, his nostrils flaring as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “Just get ready for the faceoff.” He reaches down to scoop the puck out of the can, quickly following her back to center ice and watching her get situated. Seconds pass in silence until they’re both ready, and Nate drops the puck.

It’s a hard-fought battle from the moment the puck hits the ice. Nate jumps into action, immediately getting his blade down, trying to gain control. But she doesn’t concede to him as easily this time. She bends her knees a little further, using her body to shove against his side, trying to throw him off. When he chances a look at her, she swats at the puck, nearly situating it on her own stick. Nate chuckles, shifts his weight to his other foot, and steals the puck back. The movement throws her a little off balance, and she reaches out for him on instinct, hand gripping the fabric covering his shoulder tightly. She tugs at it to keep herself upright, ignoring his half hearted scoff when it knocks him away from the puck slightly. Within seconds he rights himself, tearing down the ice toward the goal. He’s impossibly fast, and she knows there’s no catching up to him, so the resounding “clang” of the puck hitting the metal comes as no surprise.

When she lifts her gaze, she immediately spots a grinning Nate skating over to her. The corners of his eyes crinkle in delight. “That’s game,” he breathes as he skids to a stop, throwing snow across her shins. Breath hitching as she draws her eyes up to his face, she notices Nate is so close. Closer than he’s been to her in years, and heart is pounding in her chest. With a clatter, he drops his stick to the ice, tossing his gloves down beside it. Now bare-handed, he reaches up, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. The cold air bites against the skin of her cheek for just a moment before his hand is there, big and warm and so soft. “I call the shots, right?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but her eyes are zeroed in on his lips. His tongue flicks out to wet them after a brief nod of her head, and something in her brain short circuits. Drawing in a shaky breath, she holds it as Nate leans in, lips brushing against hers gently, tentative. On their own accord, her hands are flying up to grip his shoulders, her legs suddenly weak.

The kiss is over almost as soon as it’s started, and it leaves her breathless, eyes blinking open slowly. All she can focus on is the small smile that appears on Nate’s lips, and the deep blue of his eyes.

“Do you have plans later?” Nate mutters.

“No.”

There’s that blinding grin again. “Good.” He leans in, pressing a soft little kiss to the side of her mouth, barely inches from her parted lips. “I’m picking you up at seven.”

___

“Where are we going Nate?” She asks, eyes narrowed. They’re sitting side by side in his truck, driving mostly in silence to their unknown destination. His earlier text was cryptic, merely telling her to dress warmly with a smiley emoji. It’s out of character for him, but mostly she’s surprised he seems to want to be spending time outside. In December. In Canada. Sure it’s been warmer than in past years, but when the sun drops, they’re lucky to be breaking twenty degrees Fahrenheit.

“It’s a surprise,” he says. A small smirk dances across his lips, eyes seeming to sparkle with mischief. He knows how much she hates not knowing, but she understands he’s trying to do something fun too. So she sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shifting her focus to the road in front of them. “You’ll like it,” he promises. There’s the tiniest hint of uncertainty there, a hesitation that tells her he’s just as nervous and confused about everything as she is. Do they know what the other likes anymore? How much has changed?

“I’m sure I will,” she insists.

They drive in comfortable silence, the low hum of Nate’s truck the only sound filling the air. When she chances a glance at him, she’s met with his calm expression, the familiar curve of his nose, his pursed lips. His concentration is clear as day, and she can’t quite place why it’s so endearing.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have much time to dwell on it. He drives about twenty feet more before he’s pulling off the main road. Immediately, they’re both bouncing on their seats, the uneven terrain jerking them back and forth. Just as she opens her mouth to ask him what’s happening, Nate puts the car in park and kills the engine. Wordlessly, he opens his door, stepping around the truck quickly to pull hers open for her. He holds a hand out to her to help her step down, and keeps a firm hold on it when she’s safely on the ground.

“Nate?” She says finally, head cocked in confusion. They’re parked in the middle of an open field, nothing but trees and the setting sun around them. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s not exactly sure what she should be expecting. “What-“

“Trust me,” he cuts in. He smiles at her when she nods, then leads her toward the back of his truck. He lowers the tailgate with his free hand, then reaches for a handle on the cover. His grip finally drops as he clicks the handle into place and walks the cover back toward the cab. Inside it, pillows and blankets cover the bed of the truck, a Yeti cooler stashed into the corner. When she catches his eye again, he’s sheepish, a bashful smile on his face. “I thought it’d be nice to just sit under the stars for a while.”

“Nathan…” it comes out in a sigh, and she’s thankful for the darkening sky that’s hiding her growing smile. She knows it’ll instantly give away how smitten she is, and that’s a conversation she’s not quite ready to have yet.

“Is it okay?” The hesitation in his voice has her jumping to reassure him.

“Yes, yes it’s perfect,” she rushes.

He dips his chin in a nod. “Let’s get you up then.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, or really even process his comment before he steps over to her, lifting her easily around the waist and hoisting her up. As soon as her feet are planted in his truck, he gives her a little nudge forward, and climbs in after her. “Sit, make yourself comfortable,” he insists. He busies himself pulling out a flashlight, flicking it on and sitting it in the middle of the truck bed. Next, he’s grabbing food out of his cooler, placing them gingerly beside the flashlight. She merely watches in awe as item after item is taken out: plates, forks, glasses, crackers, cheese, wine, fruits. He’d thought of everything.

“It’s not a meal,” he reasons, “but I figured it’s better than nothing.” He produces a corkscrew from his pocket, then sets in on getting the wine bottle open.

“Nate, it’s wonderful,” she insists. She takes the stemless wine glass as he hands it to her, smiling softly. “Though I’m a little surprised to see you willingly eating carbs and drinking alcohol.” She cracks a grin when he rolls his eyes, making a show of bringing his glass up and taking a large gulp.

“Et tu?” Nate groans, dragging his free hand through his hair.

“I’m just messing with you.”

“You’ve read all the articles, then? Keeping tabs on me?” He lifts his eyebrows suggestively.

“Something like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Nathan.” Her expression is hard, a no nonsense frown on her face. “You do not disappoint anyone.”

He sighs, and passes her a plate of various snacks, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I don’t know how true that is.”

“I do. You’re being hard on yourself.”

He considers for a moment, shrugging. “Maybe. But I need to be. It keeps me disciplined.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes before popping a cut piece of fruit into her mouth. “I don’t think you need help in that department.”

“I started seeing a sports psychologist,” he mumbles. It catches her off guard, his admission, but it fills her with pride all the same. The Nate she knew before never would’ve taken that step, and he certainly wouldn’t have told anyone about it. That’s growth.

“How’s that been?”

“I like it. Kinda helps me take a step back from things and visualize what I want and how to get there.” He hesitates, opening his mouth before closing it quickly.

“Sounds like there’s a but there?”

“But I don’t know that it's enough.”

“In what way? Like you need more help with your mental health?”

He scrunches his nose. “No, I guess with hockey and stuff. It just-“ he cuts himself off with a sigh. “It feels like I’ve put in the work, and have gotten no results.”

“Because you haven’t won shit?” She offers. She cracks a grin when Nate looks up at her, expression blank. This only serves to make her giggle, and as much as she wants to blame it on the wine, she knows it’s the way Nate shakes his head and cracks a grin right alongside her.

“I haven’t won shit,” he agrees.

“You will.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am.”

“Why?”

She brings her glass up, polishing off the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down. Hesitantly, she scoots forward a bit more, until her knees bump against his. His eyes draw up to hers slowly, the icy blue stealing the breath from her lungs. “Because I know you, Nathan. And you were born to do this.”

“It’s really not feeling like it these days.” There’s so much defeat in his voice it makes her chest tighten. On a whim, she reaches over and takes his hand, rubbing her thumb over his wrist slowly. “Feels more like I can’t do anything right.”

She wants desperately to reassure him, tell him his mind is wrong and playing tricks on him but she knows that isn’t what he needs. He has to navigate this himself. She can offer him support, but this is something he has to figure out on his own.

“I went first overall, I should be doing more for the team. It’s just been first or second round exits year after year. I can’t get us out of this hole.”

“It isn’t only up to you,” she reminds him. “If you feel you’re not playing up to your standards that’s one thing, but you can’t play every position. It’s not fair to entirely blame yourself.”

“Maybe not,” he shrugs. “Maybe I made a mistake with all of this.”

She frowns, eyes narrowing. “With hockey?”

He nods. “Hockey, life. I don’t know. What if I chose wrong?”

“Well, you’re preaching to the choir on that bud,” she says. She hesitates a moment, gathering herself. “For what it’s worth, I know you didn’t choose wrong. Things have been a bit bleak, sure, but you are far too talented to not share that gift with the world.”

Nate’s gaze catches hers, and she feels a shiver travel up her spine. When concern floods his features, she knows he’s felt it too. “You cold? C’mere.” He gives her no time to respond, just leans himself back against the pillows and reaches for a blanket. Once it’s situated over him, he pulls her in close against his side until her cheek is against his chest and his arm is around her back. The blanket gets tugged up to cover her too, and they lay together, cocooned in the blankets under the stars.

“Better?” Nate rasps, and truly, yes. This has made things better. Being so close to him, warm and safe - this is the first time she’s been able to take a deep breath in a long time. But she can’t admit that to him. So she gives a soft murmur in agreement and shuts her eyes to commit this moment to memory.

“I’m proud of you Nate,” she says eventually. “I know that doesn’t really help with all this, but I’m not the only one, ya know? We’re all rooting for you.” She tilts her head up, staring straight into his eyes. It makes her lose her breath, especially when he gives her a small smile.

“I appreciate how much you believe in me,” he whispers. “It does help.” He draws his fingers up slowly, tickling them against the exposed skin where her sweatshirt has ridden up. It forms goosebumps immediately, and she cuddles in even closer, out of instinct. “Being here has been like coming up for air.” He sighs, eyes softening even further. “And seeing you-“

“Nate-“

“Don’t,” he rushes. “We have an agreement, right? You’re mine for the weekend?” The hopeful expression on his face guts her, but she nods. She is. For the weekend.

“Yes,” she agrees. She tilts her chin up far enough for her nose to bump against his jaw, nuzzling it. “I don’t wanna think about after.”

“Then don’t.” He cranes his neck further, until their breath mixes. “Just be here with me.” Gently, so gently, he kisses her. It’s just a tentative brush at first, but it sets her body on fire. Within seconds, she’s hauling herself even closer to him, dropping her body over his as she deepens the kiss. She feels Nate’s big hands come up to grip her hips, keeping her close.

It’s not desperate and frenzied, but it still has her heart racing. The sweep of his tongue across the seam of her lips has her sighing, melting into him. It’s comfortable, warm and familiar, like coming home. She knows she can’t dwell on that thought, so she pours everything she can into Nate instead. Kisses him breathless, then comes back for more.

When Nate breaks away, he lets his head fall back to the pillows, a tiny grin on his face. “I’ve missed this, babe. Missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, Nate.” She admits, to herself just as much as she does him. It feels monumental to do so, but she lets herself have this moment; snuggles closer into Nate’s arms and kisses his neck. They have the weekend, and she’s not going to ruin that.

~

Reality starts to feel a bit distorted after laying with Nate in his truck. In a way, it feels like they’re existing inside a bubble - one that gives them a taste of the road not taken. It’s addicting, with the potential to be heart wrenchingly painful if she’s not careful. But part of her knew she’d end up here. Her and Nate had been so strong before fear crept into her mind. The problem now is figuring out how, if at all, this influences her real life that she’ll be getting back to sooner rather than later.

And Nate, bless his heart, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make this as hard as possible for her. He’d taken the “I call the shots” agreement to heart, planning the entire next day for them to spend together. He arrives at her house thankfully much later in the morning than the day prior, with iced Timmy’s in tow. He leaves a dozen doughnuts and two extra coffees on the counter for her parents, flashing that heart melting smile when she insists he didn’t have to go to the trouble.

“It’s no trouble,” he insists as they’re climbing into his truck. He immediately reaches to crank the heat for her, tugging his seatbelt across his body.

“Well thank you,” she says. “What’s on the docket today?”

He eases the truck out onto the road, his tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. Only when they’re settled into the lane does Nate glance over at her. “Thought we’d drive down to Peggy’s Cove. Walk around a little bit. See the lighthouse?”

Her face lights up at the mere mention. Peggy’s Cove is about an hour from Cole Harbour, and it’s always been one of her favorite day trips. There’s something so wonderfully calming about the shoreline, at any time of year. “Sounds good to me,” she says.

She’s pleased to find how at ease she feels beside Nate on the drive down. They happily flick through radio stations, singing along completely off key. Her cheeks start to hurt from the wide smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, all thanks to Nate. And god, what a thought that is. She’d certainly never entertained the idea of meeting up with Nate at home, nor did she think she’d find herself riding around in his truck. It feels like an alternate reality and surprisingly, the thought doesn’t put a damper on her mood. It just makes her enjoy it all the more.

Before long, Nate is pulling into a deserted parking lot along the shore. He kills the engine then looks over at her, smiling softly. “Shall we?” When she nods, Nate climbs out of the truck and races around to grab her door for her.

It’s a stunningly beautiful day, but it's freezing, even bundled up against the cold. Despite her tightly wound scarf the wind nips her cheeks harshly as soon as she closes his door. In front of them, waves are crashing against the covered rocks, a soothing symphony filling the air. There's chunks of ice floating in the water, and she shakes her head at just how picture-esque it all is. A rare blue sky day in late December, the sun breaking through the small clouds, its rays reflecting off the snow on the rocks.

Nate turns to her, offering his hand and she takes it without hesitation. His gloved fingers wrap firmly around hers, and they start to slowly walk toward, squinting to see.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been down here,” she admits. “I don’t know how I forgot how beautiful it is.”

“I’ve always loved it here,” Nate says. She glances at him, sees his pink cheeks, his hair blowing in every direction. It makes something in her chest tighten, and she squeezes his hand a little tighter. They make their way closer to the lighthouse silently, simply taking it all in.

As they approach the darker rocks, Nate stops suddenly, tugging her into him. His arms go around her shoulders, keeping her close. “This okay?” He whispers.

“Yes,” she breathes. More than okay, she wants to say. It’s touching really, that he’d drive all this way just to stand there with her and stare at a lighthouse. It’s reminiscent of the early days in their relationship, before the drama and the uncertainty, when all they needed was to be together. “Thanks for bringing me Nate.”

He hums, his cheek pressing against the side of her head. “Thanks for wanting to be here.”

She can feel that his words have a much deeper meaning behind them, though she chooses to take them at face value. It's clear they’re going to continue to dance around the obvious, even if it’s rehashing something they’d already settled on. It’s just for the weekend; there’s no realistic way it could be more and they can’t put that kind of pressure on each other. But even though all of this is true, it doesn’t change the way being with him makes her feel. It doesn’t take the warmth out of his smile, or the fondness from his eyes. So maybe she is breaking her own heart here, but what other choice does she have?

***

She and Nate spend much of their day wandering through the small fishing village. They stroll down the boardwalk, through small boutiques and touristy souvenir shops. Nate happily walks through every single open door, stopping to sign an autograph or take a photo every now and then when they happen upon another person. He has no qualms about waiting for her to browse in the bookshop, instead spending his time posted up on a comfortable chair, petting the store cat with a smile on his face.

After a late lunch at the only restaurant in town, they get back on the road, headed for Cole Harbour. Conversation in the car is light and casual, both just catching the other up on life’s nuances they haven’t been privy to in years. It’s more than just work: it’s the song that made Nate cry because it reminded him of leaving for the US when he was just a child, it’s the countless seafood meals she’s turned down in her adult life because nothing can compare to the luxuries of home. The conversation never lulls, though it does veer significantly off course when they spot the ‘welcome to Cole Harbour’ sign approaching in the distance.

“Nate, pull over!” She insists. She’s digging through her bag, ignoring his request for an explanation. After a few seconds, she emerges victorious, holding up a black marker and a piece of paper. She smoothes it out as best she can on his dashboard, then unhooks her seatbelt. “Do you have any tape?”

“What do you need tape for?” Nate asks. He earns himself a pointed look, one that says ‘don’t ask questions’. He sighs, then flips open the center console. “I think I have some stick tape lying around…”

While he tracks that down, she gets to work writing, keeping her arm strategically placed so he can’t glance over her shoulder to sneak a peek. Just a few seconds later, he’s setting the tape down next to her hand and looking at her expectantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see,” she grins. She picks up her sign and the tape, opens the door to his truck and hops down onto the road. It's not very busy, thankfully, but Nate is immediately concerned all the same.

He calls out her name, quickly following after her as she walks. “You can’t just get out of the car on a main road and walk away,” he insists, but she’s not listening to him. She’s still making her way forward, toward the welcome sign and the townline. Once she’s standing in front of it, he watches as she pulls up the tape, ripping it with her teeth. The piece of paper is held against the welcome sign, then secured with tape, and she steps back with a satisfied smile on her face. The writing doesn’t become clear until Nate is standing beside her, and once it does, he bursts into laughter.

Attached to the bottom of the sign, where it reads ‘Home of Sidney Crosby’, she’d taped up her own: “and Nathan MacKinnnon”.

“I’ll have to get a proper one commissioned, but I thought this would do for now,” she grins. As she locks eyes with Nate, she feels her heart start racing. He seems happy, but she doesn’t want to assume he’s not just saving face and she’s made him uncomfortable.

Wordlessly, he closes the space between them, gathering her into his arms. “You’re just- you’re so wonderful.” He doesn’t give her the time to respond, just leans in and kisses her, hard and long. It sets her world on end, she gasps for air when he pulls away.

“Nate-“

“You wanna come to my place?” He asks against her lips, eyes hooded. A brief nod is all that’s needed to get him moving, guiding her back to his truck and opening the door for her.

___

Her hands are trembling when they pull up to Nate’s house. Nate grins at her, taking her hand over the shifter once he parks. He brings it to his lips and kisses it softly. There’s an unspoken understanding in the air, tension hanging between them. “Hey,” he whispers, trying to catch her eye. “You alright?”

Her voice is so soft when she speaks that Nate almost misses it. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “It’s been such a long time and I really want this to be good for you-“

Nate cuts in, brow furrowed. “Look at me.” He waits until she draws her eyes up to continue. “It’s okay to be nervous. I’m a little nervous, but please, don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I mean, I do want to,” she interjects. “I just- what if it’s not… good?”

He actually snorts when he hears this. He’s under no impression they’ve lost that spark over the years. It’s always been good, and he knows it will continue to be. But the hesitance on her face is suggesting she’s not thinking the same way he is. “It’s going to be incredible,” he insists. “Just like it always was.”

“We were kids, Nate. I’m worried it won’t be.” She takes in a deep breath, shaking her head. “I’m worried I won’t be any good.”

He drops her hand, turning in his seat until he’s able to cup both of her cheeks. Then he draws her head up until she’s looking at him again. “You are the most beautiful woman I know, and you’ve been driving me crazy since the day I saw you in the grocery store. I know you’re going to blow my mind.” She hesitates for a moment, but then she’s nodding as best she can with the way he’s holding her. “If you’re not ready, we can wait.”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I’m done waiting.”

This is all the confirmation that Nate needs. He keeps his hands firmly planted on her cheeks and leans in, kissing her hungrily. He slides his tongue into her mouth, groaning when he feels her fingers crawl up to grip his hair tightly. She leans even closer to him, pressing her chest against his, letting him feel every inch of her torso. His eyes are half lidded when he breaks away, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

Her eyes blink open, and Nate’s smiling softly at her. His eyes are soft, filled with longing, and her stomach is doing flips. It’s tenfold when he climbs out of the driver’s seat, coming around to take her hand and help her step down. He laces their fingers, leading her up the short pathway and in the front door. They shed their shoes and their cold weather gear there, tossing it unceremoniously toward the built in to the right. They’ll deal with the mess later.

“Do you need anything?” His voice is low, raspy, and she’s shaking her head immediately. She’s of a one track mind now, and it seems that Nate picks up on that. He takes the initiative to walk her up the stairs, straight to his bedroom.

“Can I touch you?” He whispers. He rests his hands on her waist, lingering at the hem of her soft t-shirt. When he sees her nod, it’s up and over her head in a hurry, exposing her smooth skin. Nate’s eyes greedily take in every inch of her chest, and she’s surprised she doesn’t feel the urge to cover herself.

She feels a surge of confidence shoot through her; the way Nate is looking at her fueling her ego. It makes her bold, and she pushes back on his shoulders until he’s stepping backwards, and eventually, falling onto the bed. Then, she climbs into his lap, her hair falling around them like a curtain when she leans down over him. “Are you just going to look?” She asks, and the challenge in her voice ignites something inside Nate.

Before she can blink, she finds herself on her back with Nate crawling over her. He reaches up and tugs off his shirt, smirking at her sharp intake of breath. He doesn’t take much time to gloat, choosing instead to draw her in for another kiss. His hands make quick work of her bra, tossing it across the room carelessly. His lips trail down her chest, mouthing at the supple flesh, and swirling his tongue around her nipples. He revels in the breathy sounds falling from her lips when he bares his teeth.

“Nathan, please touch me,” she whines. She wriggles underneath him, trying to draw him up, get his mouth back on hers.

“Patience, my girl,” he mumbles. He kisses the tip of her nose before he sits back, eyes taking in her form. Her hair is splayed out across the bed, cheeks flushed, and pupils blown wide. He slides his fingertips over the red marks he’d left on her breasts, dragging the rough pads down until they’re toying with the waistband of her pants. He glances up at her again, eyebrows lifted to check in, make sure this is still what she wants. He earns himself a frustrated groan and a “come on, Nate”, which he takes as the green light. He slides everything down in one move, leaving her completely bare to him. “God, look at you,” he breathes. He pushes her legs open wider to accommodate the bulk of his shoulders before he drops down onto his stomach. His eyes never leave hers as he leans in close, kissing up her thighs until he’s inches away from her throbbing center.

She tosses her head back, squeezing her eyes shut to try to regain control of herself. Her body is thrumming with anticipation, desperate for Nate to do anything. After a few seconds, she’s rewarded for her patience. Nate licks a long strip up from her entrance to her clit, chuckling against her when she gasps. Immediately, her hands fly to his hair, fingers gripping tightly. Nate flicks his tongue expertly against her before drawing her clit between his lips and sucking. She feels him ghosting his fingers over her lips, the soft tickle making her toes curl. She lets out a moan, and that’s all it takes to get Nate to dive in. He slips two fingers into her dripping entrance, scissoring against the tight suck of her walls.

“Nathan,” she pants, back arching. He’s nibbling on her clit as he seeks that spot inside of her, pumping his fingers in and out quickly. She cries out when he finds it, and Nate presses down hard, keeping his fingers firmly against it while she thrashes against the bed.

She’s sure her grip on his hair has to be painful at this point, but she’s too far gone to care. All she can focus on is the blinding pleasure Nate is giving her. She can feel that coil tightening inside of her, her body wound so tightly she’ll snap back at any given second. When he sucks on her again, she snaps, trapping his face between her legs as she comes, thighs tightening around his head.

Nate keeps his fingers working inside of her as she starts to come down, her breath slowing, though not entirely coming back to her. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbs up to his knees, grinning wickedly. “Such a good girl for me,” he coos.

She’s having a hard time replying to him. She can’t get a sentence out, moans tumbling past her lips whenever she opens her mouth. Nate is prolonging her orgasm, keeping her suspended up on cloud nine as he watches her, eyes hungry. “I’ve imagined this so many times,” he admits. “Over the years, when I’m on the road late at night. I love to picture you wrapped around me instead of my hand, squeezing me so tight. You feel so good around my fingers; I can’t even imagine how you’ll feel around my cock. Will you let me have you? Sink deep inside of you and fuck you open, my girl?”

She cries out again, nodding quickly. She grips his forearm tightly, eyes rolling back. “Please Nate,” she chokes out. “God, please, I need you.”

“You’ve got me,” he swears. He leans down and kisses her again, stealing the air from her lungs. He tugs his sweatpants down as best he can with one hand, sighing against her lips when his cock springs free.

Slowly, she draws her eyes up from his cock, enjoying the sight of his clenched stomach muscles, and the strain of his bent forearm. Everything about Nate is absolutely gorgeous. He’s just so big; so wide and cut, and god, he’s going to be the death of her. She grips his shoulders tightly, mouth going dry at the muscles her fingers trace over. She’s trying to commit every moment to memory, the soft pants falling from Nate lips, the way his eyes are nearly black with desire. It’s so different than it had been before, but somehow the same. They’ve both matured so much- confidence emanating off of them now, but that giddiness is still there. That schoolyard crush that makes your heart beat faster and your hands shake. Her head is swimming, with desire, and the disbelief that this is truly happening. That they’d found a way to have this happen again.

She whines when he draws his fingers out of her, the loss leaving her feeling empty, and she clenches around the air. “I’ve got you,” Nate promises her. He reaches over her head to the bedside table and comes back with a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before sliding it down his throbbing cock. Her fingers are still gripping his shoulders tightly, and there’s no way her nails aren’t biting into his skin but Nate doesn’t say a word. He just runs a soothing hand down her torso and grips her hips, holding her still as he lines himself up with her entrance. His eyes are locked with hers as he presses forward, the blunt head of his cock drawing a gasp when he slips inside. He’s so wide; her walls are already straining to accommodate him, the burn of the stretch making her heart pound. Nate takes his time pressing into her, letting her accommodate for his size. As he pushes in, he’s whispering soft reassurances to her, telling her how beautiful she is, and how good she feels.

He grips her waist tightly when he’s fully sheathed, his big hands wrapping around her. “Okay?” He whispers. She can see the strain of holding back on his face, the need to make sure she’s alright before he can let himself go and enjoy this.

“Perfect,” she assures. “Please, Nate.”

He sucks in a deep breath and nods. Slowly, he draws his hips back before snapping himself forward, burying himself even deeper. She’s impossibly tight and wet around him, drawing him in and clinging to him. It doesn’t take long for him to build up a steady rhythm and when he does, he feels like a man possessed. He’s holding her down against the bed, watching as her breasts bounce and her mouth falls open in pleasure. He feels her drag her nails down his back and he groans, driving into her even harder. The force of his hips is pushing her up the bed, leaving her breathless and begging for him.

“I’m so close,” she pants. “Please Nate, touch me.” Her eyes are shining when she looks up at him. He obliges, sliding his right hand down to press his fingers to her clit. Within seconds, she’s coming around him, clamping down on him as she cries out his name. Nate fucks her straight through it, his hips slapping against her ass as he chases his own release.

He kisses her desperately when he feels his body tightening. When her tongue sweeps against his, he’s gone. He drives in and holds himself there as he comes, a grunt falling from his lips. When he’s able to come back into himself, he reaches down, holding onto the condom as he slowly pulls out. He kisses her cheek in apology when she winces, tying the condom off and tossing it into the trash just after. He runs a hand down his face, trying to steady his breathing before he stands. He grabs the first hand towel he can find in the on suite bathroom, running it under the tap and bringing it back into her bedroom wordlessly.

She’s still spread out on the bed where he’d left her, her arm thrown up over her eyes as her chest heaves. He drags the towel between her legs, cleaning her up carefully, before the towel too gets tossed to the floor. “You doing okay?” He whispers. He drops down onto the bed beside her, manhandling her body until she’s lying on her side, facing him.

“Wonderful,” she says, and that’s the understatement of the century. “Was, was I okay?”

Nate’s eyes go wide, and he’s nodding immediately. “That was unbelievable. God, the way you feel-” He cuts himself off, dropping his head onto a pillow dramatically. “It’s amazing how good we still are together.” She peers up at him, sees his eyes closed and the small, happy smile on his face. It makes her heart twist in her chest, her throat tightening. Realization hits her like a bucket of ice water thrown over her head. None of this is real. He’s not her Nate anymore, and damn it, how is she going to walk away from this?

“I can hear the gears whizzing around in there,” he teases. “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

She hesitates, debates deflecting- telling him it’s nothing and avoiding the discussion she knows they should have. They’re adults now, this is the kind of thing they need to discuss, but she’s scared. “Nate,” she sighs, feels tears brimming in her eyes. “I don’t know. I just-“

“You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.” His voice is low. It isn’t accusatory, it’s just sad, like a punch straight to the stomach. She opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. Hot tears leak out of the corners of her eyes, pooling on the pillow case.

“It’s feeling pretty broken right now.”

This has her swallowing hard, gathering her courage. “I don’t want to.” It’s barely a whisper. “But I don’t think there’s another choice.”

“Of course there is,” he assures her. “There’s always another choice.”

“Not when it leads right back where we broke in the first place.”

“Don’t think about that. Tell me what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter-“

“It does matter,” Nate insists. “What the hell are we doing in this life if we’re not trying to find happiness?” His eyes search her face, drinking in every feature. “What would make you happy?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “You. But-“

He shakes his head slowly. “Nope. No buts. I would make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Thank god,” he breathes. “Because I’m not letting you go again.”

“It’s not that easy,” she says. “There’s too many variables, and it will lead us right back where we started.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

She sighs. “How can you know that?”

Nate reaches a tentative hand out, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “Because we know better. We can make better choices together. I know you don’t want to be a WAG, and I’m not going to put that on you. If you want to stay in Florida, okay. If you want to move to Denver, okay. If you want to move back to Canada, that’s okay too. We’ll make whatever you decide work. I just want you.”

“You… you want that?”

“If it involves you, I want it.” He’s so adamant, speaking with such conviction she can’t entertain any other thought. She scoots closer to him on the bed, molding herself against his chest and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I really want this to work, Nate,” she says. “I really, really want that.”

He drops a kiss to her forehead. “Sweetheart, I told you, I’m not letting you go again. I mean it.”

[terapsina]

I Missed You - elejah fic

Happy New Year, @vorpalmuchness (sorry for missing Christmas).

- ao3 -

For Elena, being without humanity was very much like being in a house that had burned down around her.

All the comfort and warmth of a home replaced by blackened beams and scorched walls; with broken, half-destroyed photo frames encircling nothing but ash.

It was numbness. Darkness. Silence.

There was no emotion.

But there was... instinct; and hunger. The ever-present rage that kept her foot firmly on that switch. And a strange fascination with playing with fire.

This was why Elijah's sudden appearance and the kiss that had driven the breath from her lungs and sent a simmer of resentment to warm somewhere in the very depths of her chest, did not quite make Elena want to run.

It should have. Elijah was a threat.

"You listen very carefully to me, Stefan, if anything whatsoever happens to Katherine, I will descend upon Elena."

Elena rolled her eyes. Bored.

He was a threat but not because of the reasons she was sure Stefan and Damon were probably freaking out about right now. Not because he could "descent upon her" and tear her to pieces before she could so much as flinch back - she wasn't sure if she'd care if he did and it was moot anyway, he wasn't going to. She knew what it looked like when Elijah made a genuine threat and this here was as empty as it came.

Likewise, he wasn't a threat because he could compel her humanity back - no, Elena knew he wouldn't.

Elijah wasn't a threat because of who he was. He was a threat because of who he'd become to the Elena that was at the moment safely buried under the burned-down remains of her humanity.

That other, more foolish Elena might have done her very best to remain ignorant but the Elena she was right now did not bother with the guilty white lies she'd told herself then.

Elena had always been a little bit too aware of Elijah; had seen a little bit too much behind the curtain. Found herself just a little too defensive of their interactions.

Found it just a smidge too hard to look away.

It was the way her name on his lips felt like a caress; the way she'd felt his eyes like a touch even as she did look away; the way his letter had gotten tucked in a dark little corner beneath her mattress so that it was close at hand and yet safely out of view from accidental discovery.

Most of all Elijah had been the one person around whom everything within her had sharpened into bright, sharp focus. Their negotiations - a dance between two players, the threat of the consequences she'd face if she failed to see the hidden pitfalls in their deals making her mind run on all cylinders. But also the breath of fresh air that was his respect of her as an opponent, - or an ally, or a person, - making her feel like she actually had agency over her own choices for a change.

Even during the moments when everything had inevitably gone to hell again and their gazes slashed betrayal and regret into the other...

Elena knew where her heart had been slowly heading.

Where it might have landed if things had been different. If he hadn't left, if she hadn't gotten entrapped in a sire bond so all-encompassing that the only breath of freedom she'd felt in months was after she'd followed that last command and the voiceless scream Elena had not even noticed in the back of her head had faded into gray alongside her grief.

And all this meant that Elena should be trying to get as far away from Elijah as fast as possible.

But something spiteful and rattling made her want to poke the beehive more.

"You're both idiots," she informed him.

"Excuse me?"

She exhaled loudly to show her annoyance. "What happened to you, Elijah? I mean, I thought you were supposed to be a man of honor. And yet you've been hooking up with Katherine this entire time?"

It wasn't jealousy, with the switch turned off she was safe from that. She didn't - couldn't - care that he'd apparently been shacking up with her doppelganger since leaving Mystic Falls. But the idea that he was yet another man who couldn't tell the difference between her and Katherine grated against something sharp, leaving a metallic taste at the back of her throat.

Irritation? Yeah, that was it.

Being without emotions wasn't quite like being without feelings.

It's just that what feelings were there were surface-level and mercurial. And right now they were spite and irritation and the urge to scrape a bloody claw over some of the soft tissue Elijah had exposed to Elena when he'd run his fingers over the strand of hair encircling her face and told her he'd missed her while thinking her someone else.

She wondered how long it had taken him to lose all common sense.

Katherine did always seem to work fast; had a curious knack for inserting herself in the spans at just the right moment for maximum personal gain.

She could almost admire it were it not for how it also likewise always ended with Elena needing to deal with the consequences of Katherine's actions.

Or with her brother cold, and dead, and gone forever.

"Well, I suppose this man of honor always shared a connection with Katherine. She contacted me when she learned about the Cure. We thought we could be of mutual use to one another." Elijah’s voice was calm and matter-of-fact, his turned back making it impossible for Elena to read whatever the true thoughts behind the words.

She wondered why it was that he seemed to be avoiding Elena's eyes now. Guilt for kissing the wrong woman? Shame for not having recognized that she wasn't Katherine? And damn if that alone wasn't encouragement enough to keep her own humanity well and truly dead.

Guilt was useless. Pathetic. And had been one of the bricks she'd laid in the path that led her straight down into the hell that was her sire bond to Damon.

"Of mutual use," she mocked him with sudden mirth. "Please. You fell for her trap just like every other one of those idiots."

"You underestimate me, Elena. I know who she is. I know what she's done." There was something about the way he was straightening his cuff-links, about the way he walked past her, forcing Elena to turn on her heel if she wanted to keep her eyes on him. Something about the way Elijah still kept his head turned, that made her think there were thoughts he was trying to keep concealed.

"And you think she's changed?" Was he really that blind? She looked into his eyes as he finally stopped in his circling and faced her. "She's playing you, she lied to you, Elijah."

"She didn't lie to me about your transformation," he contested, something sad flickering briefly over his face.

And then he seemed to truly look at Elena, with eyes that in any other circumstances would have pinned her in place and made nervous little butterflies flutter their wings in her stomach. In these circumstances however all Elena felt were faint echoes of hunger that reminded her that she hadn't ended up snacking on that redhead Katherine had compelled and Elena and Rebekah had used to find her.

"You're not just a vampire, though, are you?" he said and stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them until they were nearly as close to one another as they'd been when he'd slid his fingers over the back of her neck and pulled her face against his own. When he'd kissed her mid-word and she'd felt blood roar against her eardrums; felt his lips on hers and his fingers in her hair. Sensation running through her nerves, lighting them up like Christmas lights in December and--

...a flush of heat from within the heart that should be frozen over reminded Elena that playing with fire was only fun as long as she didn't let the bitter burn ignite into a fire.

Elijah stared at her like he could see straight through her into that wall protecting Elena from her pain and... Elena went blank, pushing even harder against the switch, smoothing annoyance into apathy - attraction into boredom - until all Elijah could possibly touch would be the frozen surface of a still lake. Cold and smooth, without cracks to be exploited.

"There's... something else. You're not yourself. You've abandoned your emotions, why?"

Because she'd died with Damon’s blood in her system. Because she'd become a walking, talking doll that did what she was bid. Because her sire told her to and the poor, sired fledge that she was, she'd had no choice but to obey.

She would never allow herself to become that again. She wouldn't let them win.

"My brother's dead," she said instead and finished vindictively in a monotone meant to cut. "Your girlfriend killed him."

Real shock crashed over his expression and Elena felt a vague twist in her stomach. Relief? No. She was free of relief, and why would it bring her that particular feeling anyway? "You didn't know?"

Katherine hadn't told him.

Then she snorted, surprised by her own surprise. "Of course you didn't."

Why would Katherine have said something that might make Elijah see exactly how little it was that she'd changed?

"She lied." There was anger in his eyes now. Disappointment. But strangely no hurt.

Something snagged against that last observation; something minor beginning to nag at the back of her brain.

'I missed you,' Elijah had whispered against Elena's lips.

But the Cure that was giving Elena such a headache recently had only shown up on the scene in the past few months. How long ago could Katherine have called him? How long could it have possibly been since the last time Elijah saw Katherine?

Mind whirring she kept herself still, staring back into Elijah’s eyes and not letting a hint of her thoughts through. Letting Elijah see only that absence of humanity as she answered with words that would give him nothing. "I hate to say I told you so but... duh."

Who exactly had Elijah thought he was kissing when he'd joined her under the roof of that gazebo?

Katherine? Or... Elena?

[bloody-bee-tea]

Happy birthday

Satoru happily skips through his apartment. It’s his birthday this Thursday and while that itself doesn’t mean too much to him, it does mean that Suguru will be coming back, at least for a little while.

He's been abroad for so long already and the only times Satoru ever gets to see him these days are during Suguru’s birthday or his own. And then he has to go through nine agonizing months of not seeing him again, before they get to do it all over again.

Though this should be Satoru’s last birthday they spent apart from each other, because Suguru’s work abroad is supposed to end after ten years, so that would mean he’d be back permanently next summer.

It’s the only thing keeping Satoru sane some of these days because he misses Suguru something fierce.

As if Suguru can hear his thoughts, Satoru’s phone rings with that obnoxious tone he specifically set for Suguru.

“My dear Suguru,” Satoru sing-songs as he picks up the call but his stomach drops out when he isn’t met with the same annoying “My loathed Satoru,” Suguru always greets him with.

It’s a routine they have; something that’s set in stone, that always happens. 

And now that it doesn’t Satoru finds it hard to breathe.

“Satoru, I’m sorry,” is what Suguru finally says and immediately, Satoru’s eyes burn.

“No. Suguru, it’s my birthday this week!”

Suguru always comes home when it’s Satoru’s birthday.

“I know, I know,” Suguru sighs out and he sounds tired and defeated. “But they won’t let me leave. Work picked up so much and everyone is panicking because I’ll be leaving next summer–I simply can’t leave here.”

“I’m panicking,” Satoru shoots back, his voice choked up. “I’m panicking, Suguru, because my best friend can’t be there for my birthday!”

“Satoru, I’m sorry. You know I want to be there but it’s just not possible.” 

“Then make it possible,” Satoru seethes out, because this cannot be. Suguru is always there on his birthday.

“I can’t, Satoru, I tried,” Suguru gives back. “I can’t take the time off this week. Though they agreed to let me go for Christmas Day at least, so I’ll visit then.”

Christmas is not that far off; just another two and a half weeks and it should be fine. It would be, too, if Suguru wasn’t missing Satoru’s birthday.

“You’re going to miss my birthday,” Satoru says, his voice quiet and void of any kind of feeling and he can almost hear Suguru wince at the other end.

“I am so sorry, Satoru, I don’t know what else to say. You know I’m not doing this out of fun. I have never missed one of your birthdays and I wasn’t keen on starting in my last year here.”

“Will you have time during your birthday? Can I come over then, at least?” Satoru mutters, because he doesn’t want to miss one of Suguru’s birthdays either.

“I hope so,” is the vague answer he gets and Satoru feels cold.

Suguru is not coming home and Satoru is possibly not going to see him for his birthday, either.

“I’ll be there for Christmas, I promise, Satoru. I have five days then.”

“Sure, Christmas. Sounds good,” Satoru tonelessly says.

It’s not the same. It will not be the same and Satoru already hates the entirety of December, simply for that.

“I guess you have work now, too, I wouldn’t want to keep you for too long,” Satoru mechanically adds, certain that Suguru is saying something to him but the ringing in his ears is very loud and he can’t make out Suguru’s words.

He simply hangs up on him.

That’s another first for them, Satoru thinks as he sinks down on the couch.

His phone is blowing up, Suguru trying to call him back and sending messages when his attempts go to voice mail and Satoru silences the phone. Yet another first for him.

Instead of picking up Suguru’s call, Satoru dials Shoko.

“What?” she asks, not bothering with niceties and Satoru opens and closes his mouth a few times before he can find the words he needs.

“I want everything you have planned for my birthday cancelled,” he tells her, because he knows she has something planned, and if it’s just a relaxing brunch with their friends.

Satoru is not going to do it, not when—

“Why?” Shoko wants to know, her voice already cautious and Satoru hates the way his eyes burn.

“Suguru won’t be there. I don’t want to do anything. Don’t bother me on that day.”

“What do you mean Geto won’t be there?” Shoko demands to know, clearly just as caught off guard as Satoru was but he doesn’t have the strength to explain this to her, doesn’t have the heart to think about this any more and so he hangs up on her as well before he turns his phone off for good.

He doesn’t want to hear from anyone anymore; today already held the worst surprise of his life and he can’t take any more.

Satoru falls asleep on the couch and when he wakes up, he immediately goes to bed. He tries his best to ignore Suguru’s empty room, which he totally didn’t already clean up and air out, where he didn’t already put fresh sheets on the bed.

Of course Satoru didn’t do any of that, eagerly waiting for his best friend to come home.

~*~*~

Satoru sulkyly shuffles through his apartment. It’s his birthday today and he’s all alone, because Suguru couldn’t make it.

It’s Satoru’s birthday and Suguru isn’t there to celebrate it with him, isn’t there like he promised he always would be.

Satoru lets out a long sigh before he flops himself down on the couch. He repeatedly told Shoko to cancel all the plans she no doubt made and so he is left to wallow in peace for today. He’ll probably have to go out with his friends tomorrow, but for today at least, he gets to be as sad as he wants to be.

Which is very, if he’s being honest.

Suguru being this far away, and for this long, too, is already hard enough but now that Satoru can’t even see him on his birthday? It’s the worst thing that ever happened to him and not for the first time he wonders why he ever encouraged Suguru to take that position.

He must have been mad at the time, he thinks; or maybe he was just madly in love and wanted to see Suguru happy, which that job offer clearly made him.

That’s also a possibility.

Satoru sighs again, continuing his wallowing on the couch for at least another hour before he dozes off.

He wakes up to pounding on his door.

“No,” he whispers because he told Shoko to keep everyone away and he doesn’t want to hear anyone say happy birthday when Suguru is not there to say it too.

But the pounding won’t stop.

“Go the hell away!” Satoru yells out, making the pounding momentarily stop before it picks up again.

It’s infuriating enough that Satoru gets up from the couch, almost rushing over to the door and yanking it open, breathing in to yell at whoever dares to disturb him today.

The words die on his tongue when he comes face to face with Suguru.

“Suguru?” he breathes out because this can’t be. Suguru said he wouldn’t be there and Suguru never lies to him.

“Happy birthday, Satoru,” Suguru says and it must be him, that’s his voice and his smile.

It doesn’t make any sense, though.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru blurts out and Suguru gives him a sheepish smile.

“Can I come in?”

“Can you come in? Can you come in?!” Satoru shrieks out, now veering into the realm of hysterics, because this cannot be.

Suguru lied to him.

“Satoru,” Suguru sighs and takes that moment to push him out of the way, closing the door behind him before he takes Satoru’s hand in his. “Surprise.”

“Sur—no! Suguru, you lied to me,” Satoru hisses, trying to take his hand back but Suguru won’t budge. “How dare you!”

“I’m sorry,” Suguru says with a wince. “Shoko already yelled at me for it.”

“I’m going to yell at you for it, too, just so you know,” Satoru says but to his mortification tears are starting to cloud his vision. “Any moment now.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Suguru seriously says, because he always takes Satoru serious like that.

“You can’t just do that to me,” Satoru sobs out, finally abandoning his pretended anger and throwing his arms around Suguru’s neck. “You can’t just lie to me like that.”

“I know. It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Suguru whispers, holding Satoru close and it only makes Satoru cry harder because he thought he wouldn’t get one of Suguru’s amazing hugs for his birthday.

“How long can you stay?” Satoru asks, the tears still flowing and panic grabs him when Suguru slightly pushes him away.

“Shh, just, let me look at you, okay?” Suguru asks when Satoru’s grip on him won’t lessen and Satoru has to force himself to let go.

“You don’t have to leave tomorrow, right? I get a few days?”

“You get a lot of days,” Suguru tells him, cupping his cheek in his hand and wiping the tears away. “Satoru, I’m back. I’m home.”

“What?” Satoru breathes out and Suguru smiles at him, taking Satoru’s breath away.

“I finished my work early, and I’m here for good. I’m coming back home, if you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll—you absolute jerk,” Satoru says, though he can’t help the happiness that bubbles through him. “Of course I’ll have you, your room is still right there, what do you even think?”

“I think that I’d really rather move into your room,” Suguru says after a moment, a cheeky grin on his face, and Satoru frowns at him.

“My room? Suguru, yours is bigger and it has more light, you know that. What could you possibly want in my room?”

There’s a beat of silence before Suguru bursts into laughter, his hands warm and steady on Satoru’s arms.

“Satoru,” he giggles out, making Satoru frown, because what is even going on. “Satoru, I’m saying I want to move in with you. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Satoru blinks.

“You mean—” Satoru can’t bring himself to say it, too afraid that he’s misreading all of this very badly, because surely Suguru is not saying he wants them to move into a room together, like a couple.

Like two people who are in love would do.

“I mean, I love you,” Suguru easily says and it just causes new tears to flow down Satoru’s face.

He can spot the first signs of panic on Suguru’s face, and so he’s quick to lean forward, brushing his lips over Suguru’s.

“I’ve waited ten years for this,” Satoru admits and Suguru chuckles slightly.

“Well, we both did, then,” he gives back, pulling Satoru into a real kiss. “So, about that moving?”

“We’re moving into your room,” Satoru decides, because it wasn’t a lie when he said that Suguru had the nicer room. “And you’re going to do all the work for putting me through hell these last two days.”

“Fair,” Suguru immediately agrees, as if he’s afraid Satoru could take it back. “Happy birthday,” he whispers into another kiss and Satoru sighs happily into it.

The lead-up wasn’t great, he’s not going to lie about that and he will give a piece of his mind to Suguru later, but this?

Best birthday present ever.

[lovemesomesurveys]

When was the last time you read a whole book, to the last page exactly? It saddens me to say it's been several months. I'm not sure why I haven't been reading, but I need to get back to it asap.

How many times have you had sex within the past two years? Guesstimate? Zero.

When was the last time you made up a word? Did people think it was weird? Uhh, I have no idea.

How many times in a month do you go to the movies? How much do you spend? It really varies, but I'd say at least 3 times.

What is one of those movies that you could never get tired of watching? I have certain movies that are just ones I've seen several times that I enjoy and like to have them on in the background, ya know? Movies I can just relax and chill with and not have to think too much or pay much attention to. Movies like Devil Wears Prada, Bridesmaids, 27 Dresses, No Strings Attached, Friends with Benefits, Easy A, etc.

When was the last time you heard thunder? Where were you at anyway? Hmm. I don't recall.

Have you ever begged the opposite sex for anything at all? No.

Are there many places to shop in the town you live in? What kinds? There's a decent amount. We're not like the shopping hub city like the bigger cities are with the fancy stores, but we have good stores.

When was the last time you bought shoes? What do they look like? I honestly don't recall the last time I bought shoes myself. The shoes I have now are all Christmas and birthday gifts.

Do you like surveys with really in-depth questions, like mine? Yeah.

When was the last time you were in trouble with your parents? *shrug* I'm 34 years old.

Has your boyfriend or girlfriend ever cheated on you? Were you mad or sad? >> I have never had this experience. <<< Same.

Do you know anyone who claims to have the ability to see the future? No.

Are you a superstitious person? Have you ever been superstitious before? Maybe a little. Like, I do the "knock on wood" thing, but I think it's just more so out of habit. I also don't like to speak about certain things or say certain things out loud out of fear it might happen.

Do you like any songs from country music? If so, which ones do you like? Yeah, I like some country music.

Can people read your facial expressions easily? If so, why is this? I know my mom can. She just knows me so well.

When was the last time you went on vacation? Where did you go to? Back in March of '22. How many states have you been to in your lifetime? Guesstimate if not sure. Four, including mine.

When you go to the movies, do you actually watch the movies or not? Well, yeah. Though admittedly sometimes I doze off a bit. Those damn comfy recliner chairs. What kind of instant messaging service do you use? Why do you use this? Facebook messenger. When was the last time your area had a tornado warning, if ever? Never, we don't get tornadoes.

Have you ever had one of those major fights with your current bf/gf? -- Does it ever bother you when people use abbreviations for certain words? As long as I know what it says.

Would it creep you out if you walked in on your best friend having sex? "Creep" is isn't the right word, but I'd mortified and extremely uncomfortable. I'd close my eyes and get away as fast as possible. It would be awkward for sure. When was the last time you said ‘I love you?’ Who did you say it to? Recently to my mom.

Do you have any of those freaky phobias that make no sense at all? Yeah, my holes and clusters phobia.

Do you ever look at random people and think they could be a serial killer? >> I mean, I've gotten creepy, bad vibes from certain people that made me feel nervous.

Does it scare you when the sky gets really cloudy and dark during the day? No.

What was the last amusement park you went to? Did you have fun? Disneyland. Yes, I had an awesome time, i love it there.

[victoriavmw82]

When The Music Fades and All Is Striped Away

You ever have a mean girl for a friend? Ever worry what others think about you, instead of what you think about yourself? Have you ever had people expect something to happen to you and as it turns out, it goes the exact Opposite? If so, grab a drink and curl up for more.

A friend of mine I went to church with she had this love hate thing with me. She loved me, but at the same time she was jealous of me. She loved to hate me if that makes any sense. She for years since the whole time I had known her thought I wanted her man and her man wanted me. When we had social gatherings, I was darned if I do and darned if I didn't. The way she would go out of her way to embarrass me or hurt my feelings or worst of all exclude me on purpose. The way she would treat me during Bible Study when she would lead it there she'd be with all of her friends and they were to me, the "Mean Girls" . They didn't up lift you or make you feel empowered they made you feel worthless and yucky by the time they got through with you and the worst part was they did it all in the name of Jesus.

I'm sure had you asked her when she was alive who she'd expect her husband to be with it probably would have been me. I remember one time I gave her a compliment on her plates saying we had similar taste and she presumed I was being manipulative and was actually wanting her plates; based on the fact I complimented them. She then told me when she died she'd be sure to let me have them as she was already sure I would have them🤔whatever that was supposed to mean. When I shocked her by saying no I expected nothing,she was shocked. I think a part of everyone thought that David would end up with me......including myself as much hell she gave me. Well that and the fact he had once told me he fancied me at the worst possible timing. The truth is that was the furthest from the truth, he actually wants nothing to do with me at all. Of course there was things he did when she was alive that made her feel the way she felt in regards to him; he flirted, but asking him from his perception of things he has never flirting. He was only a dad figure🙄I could spend a whole blog elaborating, but I'll spare you. I over looked alot and played dumb to a lot. In my opinion, I can weigh in somewhere in the middle, I believe to some extent he did, things said and done ,however ,some things was just part of his nature. He genuinely was more than likely charsmatic. I think the more I sank in rock bottom is when I lost my glamour and wonder and it was more like looks of disappointment after that.

She never told me she was disappointed in me, but when I began to be excluded in things like social gatherings were before I had always been invited,that is when I knew. When they threw a surprise party and I had no way to get there or home but had an invite that's when I knew I was no longer wanted there. The expectation was that I find a way, no one was allowed to give me rides🤔so the disappointment was much on my end as apparently there's. I always felt that was on purpose to make me believe I was wanted there when actually she really preferred me to not be around. She once refused to do a Christmas booth picture with me claiming she was pictured out, yet there was literally handfuls of people she took pictures within the same photo booth set up at church that year right afterwards. There was even a group picture of her dearest friends from over the years I was not invited, I stood in the distance and with tears in my eyes watched as she made it clear that the friendship I thought had been was an illusion.

If I wore makeup she made it about me trying to get her husband's attention or her son's🙄If I didn't I was acting depressed. If I got anew outfit it was always because I wanted to look my best for her husband in her opinion itcould never just be because I wanted to. She talked so much shit about me that after she died her friends came out of the wood work to let me know how crappy of a person they thought I was. I wonder if she ever loved me like she had said she had, as daughter? She never liked it when I stood up for myself and challenged her. She once grabbed my hand and yanked me close to her and told me to shut up... at church. She told me that day, you wanna see how much power I have this day everyone will remember that you were the one that grabbed me not me... that's how much influence I have. I blew it off she told me her son would remember it that way..... I always assumed because he watched his mom publicly shushed me like a child he would have noticed she had grabbed my hand and pulled me close to quietly scold me that he saw she hadn't finger, my hand... He remembers it exactly like she said he would. To have that much power is crazy to me.

The part that is shocking is that ever since the day her husband had picked me up for work and told me he liked me; the honest truth is there was that part deep inside of me that wanted to turn acknowledge he was speaking to me and say, "If you do like me,prove it!" "Cuz I call BS!" There was that part of me that wanted to be a bitch back as much as she had been a bitch to me and her family members mainly just her eldest son and company and say, "okay, well if your ever single and not married, okay, ya.... then we can discuss this! " He wasn't a bad dude, old enough to literally be my dad but none the less a good guy. It would be the only exception cuz I would know he wasn't an abuser or just wanting sex from me, like most older guys. Instead I ignored I heard him.

Now the thing I ever talk about is what I'm about to say: In all honesty, He was the jerks dad. But the thing is I was attracted to him, not the jerk. He was charming, funny and honest. But it was more like when you go to work or somewhere and your asked hey what do you think about this person honestly you never think to act on it if that makes any sense so it always bothered me she just assumed I would be like a homewrecker when I was all about just wanting her approval if that makes any since and wanting her to be proud of me.

He never addressed any of his feelings after she died but he was so quick to find a replacement. I was left with so many feelings, especially when I'm the one getting the shitty looks from her friends when it should be the girl he's dating and marrying not me so why am I the hoe. He even assumed that dating time involved sex when I tried to talk to him to get him to talks about it. I was so hurt, he even made it sound like it was all in my head. Her friends talked so much shit about me "because" he use to flirt with me though it went over my head... No like literally till a friend sat me down and as a friend pointed it out to me and for him to play dumb was so like every other guy in my world. I always thought of him as the perfect husband other than the flirting🤔😂just laughed it off as the south rubbing off and being a typical older guy in the south🤦🏻‍♀️😂I always imagined him to be the perfect dad and perfect Pastor when he was one..... the moment he made it out like it was alloy head, the blinders came off and I saw him like his wife had saw him God rest her soul. She shared some things in Bible Study and I always just listened to it and thought she was just being parinoid that he was going to cheat and jealous and possessive, I never actually thought that he actually had almost cheated on her. She tried to commit suicide. It was part of why she was, the way she was. Why their eldest son was the way he was all this taking place around the time he was born Imagine you could cut the tention in the air with a knife. It made a testimony I had heard from what I thought was the crazy lady at church,every church has one or the story of one😂🤣the lady that is like the apythony of a gold digger, botax and desperate house wife junkie🤣😂or wanna be rather. So this lady had married this guy, yes he was wealthy and yes he was well a typical guy. Thinking with the wrong head if you get my drift. So I had called her one day cuz I was one of the few people she actually liked. I thought it was weird I could hear Pastor in the background, I also thought it was suspich she was at the movies🤨She came up with a believable excuse I filled it away as useless knowledge. Years later she appears after being MIA and she states she had been asked to leave the church by Pastors son cuz he knew of the affair she was having with Pastor David🤔🧐😳In my head I was like this lady done slid off her cracker it was only when David's wife died that I thought about that story again but much differently and I began to wonder.🤔What do you think?

[twatkcox]

[2023 Is A Curse]

Just as I was about to consider 2020 the worst year due to the COVID-19 pandemic, it looks like there's something worse.

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Don't get me wrong about this. At least some good things happened, including the three-day Pinoy Otaku Festival: Shizen event last May, the Best Of Anime 2023 and the Manila International Book Fair last September, and the Ozine Fest Halloween Special last October. I also get to enjoy most weekends at my favorite hangout place, at the three cafes near my high school. I finally got to buy some cool stuff (in-store and online), especially the anime shirts and a pair of black sneakers. I should be happy about these great things that happened in my life, right? Well, not at all.

I'm gonna be frank on this one since I really need to get all of my frustrations out before the end of this cursed year. First of all, I was starting to get anxious and depressed being unable to enjoy my weekends due to personal reasons. Back then, I had no issue going out on both Saturdays and Sundays, since these were the only times I got to go out of the house, but nowadays I can only choose one. Also, I never get to do much of the mall-hopping trips like before. That damn COVID-19 pandemic totally wrecked my plans, my weekly rituals, and my well-being.

I had a feeling that God was behind all of these, for just one purpose: to ruin my life. That ultimately made me become a misotheist, though I didn't feel like telling this to my family, since no one would take me seriously. I've briefly considered atheism but thought better of it. After all, he somewhat makes things work for my sake, probably as a way to make me trust him once again. Nice try, but no. It just doesn't work that way.

My life was already crumbling, I was on the path to self-destruction. I had a hard time thinking things clearly. I was clearly losing motivation in almost everything. I don't know if I'll ever get to enjoy my life once again.

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I'm starting to hate birthdays ever since that pandemic started, but I couldn't tell anyone about it. I don't want to offend anyone, but I would be lying if I told them how much I enjoyed birthdays when in fact I'm not. Oh well, I suppose it's hard to find anyone who's gonna agree with me on this one. Anyway, birthdays feel like a ticking time bomb to me. The more I celebrate, the older I get. I also hate birthday greetings. They're pretty much unnecessary. And more importantly, birthday celebrations are incredibly costly. I just don't see the reason why they're always doing this when others can't even afford a simple birthday party.

For this year, even if I did celebrate a simple birthday celebration, I tried my best to keep my friends and relatives from posting birthday greetings on my FB wall. Well, at least, during my not-so-special day. I mean, thirty-three years is basically a number (as with the rest of the possible numbers), but I see it quite differently. Age serves as a reminder that I'll never get any younger again.

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I don't know if I'll ever celebrate Christmas or New Year with a smile on my face, but because a lot of bad and upsetting things happened in my life, I don't think I'll ever be grateful for this year. No thanks to God for making me go through this unnecessary anxiety, he doesn't deserve my gratitude.

That's it. I can't wait for this cursed year to end, the year that caused a great deal of anxiety and depression in my life. Just turn things back to the way it was before the pandemic. 2023 sucks.