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[umadosedepascal]

DIRTY HOLIDAY | Pedro Pascal X f!reader | One Shot

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You go with friends spend the holidays in Mexico, such a coincidence to be at the same resort as Pedro. What a world, so small huh?

wc: 3.7k

rating/warnings: [little surprising plot] [Pedro being Pedro][unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f] [alcohol comsuption] [Curse words]

a/n: C’MON GUYS. Do I need to explain myself after yesterday pictures and videos? NO. FUCKING HELL NO. wtf Pedro.. WHY is he so fucking hot??? WTF. 😭

You are going with your friends to Mexico to spend the holidays this year. It was a tough decision to make because you always spend the holidays with family, but this time you decided to try something new away from home since your whole family always judges you. Your dad always comes to you saying, “You’ve been drinking a lot, my baby; slow down…”

All you want to say is that you are a grown woman and do whatever you want, but every year you keep behaving as an angel to them.

You and your girlfriends get on the airplane on the 24th, heading to Mexico for 2 weeks.

All of you are very excited and feeling some freedom in the air.

“Hell yeah, the first thing we get there will be a round of tequila shots… you gotta deal with me…” and your friends laugh with your sassy attitude.

A promise is a promise. You check in, change to your bikinis, and go to the bar by the pool.

“Hey buddy, 3 shots of tequila, por favor?”

The barman looks at you with half-closed eyes. “ID first, my ladies; you look under 18…”

Although you are all over 27, actually, you three hand your IDs on the counter and look around the pool waiting for your drinks.

One of your friends comes to you and says, “Hey, isn’t that guy from….”

Your jaw drops, your legs start trembling and shaking, trying to hold on to something and not to fall… “YES?”

Pedro is lying down on a sun chair in red shorts, drips of water are running down to his bare chest, and he is really deep into a book.

“I need my shot RIGHT NOW!” You say loudly to your friends, trying to compose yourself at the same time.

They know you have a crush on him and talk nonstop about his work, so this is going to be a wild trip if you get to meet him even for a second.

“Second round is on me; let’s do it,” one of your friends says.

All you can think about is him. You don’t stop to look in his direction and try to plan how to approach without being a silly, stupid, drunk idiot.

The most down-to-earth friend of yours tries to calm you down, saying that you will have your chance, etc., but you are so far away in your thoughts that you ask for a large margarita and tell them you're going to take a sun chair as close as possible to him and see what happens.

“You crazy! But yeah, good luck; I hope he’s not a dick with you…” one of them tells you, hopeless, not trying to hurt your feelings.

“Dick? Yeah, I want some dick… You laugh, already buzzed, walking towards the chair right next to his.

As long as you get near him, by himself, still deep into the book.

You already worked up the courage and asked, “Hi, is this chair taken?”

He gives a side eye, looking at you from head to toe. “No darling, all yours…”

As you sit on the chair, you can hear your friends from the bar cheering like party animals.

You look at him saying, “Jeez, these people know how to party, huh?” Hoping he didn’t see you before taking shots with them a few moments ago.

“Yeah, yeah… young people... having their time…” he says with a smooth voice.

You feel relief because he didn’t see you before with them and anxious at the same time because YES, you could start a chit chat with him.

“Erm, yeah…” You don’t know how to keep this going and pick anything that you find inside your ecobag just to create other possible ways to talk.

Lay down on the chair, put on your Ray-Bans, and open the FUCKING MAP of the resort.

Jesus, what am I doing? Should I say I know him? Should I just ask what he is reading or maybe wait for another brief comment coming from him?

You can see by the side of your eye that from time to time he looks at you, but very, very fast, you just hold that giant map, feeling like you're on mushrooms with empty thoughts on your mind.

You’ve got your friends getting drunk and cheering for you from the bar and the hottest guy in the world by your side.

Think wisely…

You grab your drink from the side table and sip it.

“Is that good?” He asks you.

Pretending like you got scared, almost dropping the fancy glass on the floor… “Did you just.. talk to me? Um, well, I had better ones. But this one isn’t bad at all…” you describe your drink with a shy smile.

What the fuck did I say???

He chuckles, closing his book and now sitting down on the chair.

“Hm... 3-star review? I’m getting one myself; I like cheap stuff.”

You simply just give a “ha” to him as he stands up and walks towards the bar.

Your friends get wild; at this point, they might think he is going to talk to them for sure.

You immediately look at them trying to mimic something like, “Nooooo, noooooo, don’t say shit, you motherfuckers!!!”

You are in a panic because you know them and what they are capable of, especially under alcohol influence.

But they understand wrong; they know you always need a hand in terms of trying to flirt with someone else.

You see one of them approach him, saying something and looking at you at the same time.

You are screwed up. You know.

The only thing you can do now is wait for your end, getting big gulps of your drink and trying to calm down.

He comes back with a wild smile on his face saying, “I just met your friends over there; they told me things... you don’t need to hide anything…”

You sit down quickly. “What? Hahaha, they… They are buzzed; don’t believe in what they say…”

He keeps looking at you with half-closed eyes. “Hmm,” he sits on his chair sipping his drink and says, “Yeah, it’s not that bad at all…”

You simply don’t talk for some moments; your anxiety is building up like a pressure cooker.

Until then… “Hey Pedro… I’m sorry… I just wanted to say hi, but I’m already drunk, and I don’t know how to start a proper conversation. They probably told you I’m a sucker for you… and the ‘dick’ thing as well. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not a stalker; I don’t want to bother you. I just think you're awesome, and it was a stupid idea to come over right here, right now.” You run over words.

“Wow, wow, wow, they just told me to be nice to you, haha, because you care... about me.” Pointing to himself.

After you say all that with a flushed cheek, you let out a loud laugh looking at your friends that are already out of sight. You get more desperate saying sorry a million times, trying to compose yourself.

“What more did they say?”

“That you are awesome and know everything about my stuff, but with moderation… I don’t know what they meant, but yeah, I just didn’t catch your name…"

You tell him your name with eyes open and disbelief that your friends, for the first time, did a good job, but not you… not you.

“What’s the dick thing you told me?” He asks you with a smirk.

“Aaah, nothing… being a dick… that’s it.” You say, looking to the ground with shame.

He grabs you by the chin and says, “I would never be a dick to a beautiful girl like you…”

You feel a shiver down to your spine when he touches you like that.

Oh shit…I’m already wet without even getting into the pool.

“I, I think I need to… brb…” You leave everything behind and go straight to the toilet, locking the door and sitting there.

Breathe in, breathe out.Ok, I will just grab my stuff and disappear…What did I do?

As soon as you open the door, Pedro is there waiting…

“I usually don’t do things like that; it can be the vibe, my drinks, or even Xmas. I don’t know…” He says, grabbing your hips, pushing you back to the toilet, and closing the door behind him.

“Is that what you wanted? hm" He rubs his beard on your face, searching for your mouth.

He guides your hands to his growing bulge while running his right hand from behind you, rubbing one finger over your pussy.

You moan when he rubs his finger roughly against you…

“So wet already for me…” he says in between sloppy kisses.

“Since the moment I spotted you here, yeah…” you whisper, with both hands stroking his cock over the shorts…

Then Pedro takes you slowly to the sink and sits you there, spreading your legs…“Let me see what you got, beautiful… spread more…” putting your bikini bottom aside and lowering to the same level.

You grab his wet hair with one hand while he tongue darts you deep, sucking your lips and moaning low with pleasure…

You don’t even blink, just looking down at him savoring you, such a tease.

No fucking way this is happening…

You can feel his nose rubbing against your clit; you are getting close to the edge, but suddenly people knock at the door…

“Oh dammit…” You murmur disappointedly.

Pedro stops his worship on you and tells you with a low voice, “My room isn't far... want to see what naughty presents Santa has for you?" His fingers trace small patterns on your thighs, making you shiver.

“But we need to be discreet… What’s your room number? I meet you there…”

Pedro chuckled softly, his breath tickling your ear. "Discreet, huh? I like the way you think." He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispered, "Room 217, second floor."

Luckily nobody is at the door anymore, so you sneak out the toilet.

You try to find your girls just to quickly freak out and disappear again, but there's no sign of them.

You come back to the pool area, and Pedro isn’t there anymore; you bite your lip, get a deep breath, take your stuff, and go towards the elevator.

Room 217

You knock twice.

The door slowly creaks open, revealing Pedro standing there, his shirt half unbuttoned, revealing his chiseled chest. He's holding a bottle of tequila and two glasses. His eyes roamed over your body hungrily.

Stepping aside to let you in, he whispers suggestively, "Merry Christmas to me, indeed." He gently shut the door behind you, his free hand trailing down your arm. "Hope you like tequila..."

“Hm, yeah, better be careful… right?

Pedro's eyebrows shot up, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the memory. "Ah, but that was just a sample of what I can do sober. Imagine what I'm capable of now, all loosened up." Doing a little dance…

Then he pours two generous glasses of tequila, sliding one towards you before picking up his own. "I've got a list of naughty things I want to do with you..."

Oh, he wants to play a game…I’m just gonna faint 😮‍💨

“Oh… tell me more…” You push him to the sofa, sitting on his lap.

A deep, sexy chuckle escapes his lips as he lets you push him onto the sofa, his hands immediately finding your curves. "Mmm, you're being a naughty girl..." He takes a sip of his tequila, then offers you the glass. "You first."

“My list? With you... it is an extensive list. Better you tell me yours first…”

Pedro leans back into the sofa, a confident smirk playing on his lips as his hands continue their exploration of your body. "Well, since you asked..." He takes another sip of tequila, his eyes never leaving yours.

The motherfucker is a tease; I knew it… I knew it!!!

His hands wander up and down your body possessively as he continues. "I want to see those perfect lips wrapped around my... gifts." He punctuates his words with a gentle bite to your neck.

"Then I want you bent over this fireplace mantel while I take you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.” His fingers trailed along your waistband suggestively.

“Wow…You really don’t waste time on your list, huh?” You start unbuttoning his shirt all the way down.

He chuckles, his eyes locking onto yours as he sees you unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his chest and abs one button at a time. He helps you finish the job, tossing his shirt aside. "Guess not..." He growls, pulling you closer.

Pedro's lips curled into a wicked smile as you slowly head down towards his chest, his hand lightly gripping the back of your neck.

"Well, since you asked so nicely..." you murmur approvingly, pressing your lips against his nipple.

He let out a low groan as you began to suck, his other hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "Fuck, just like that..."

You let out a soft laugh. “So… you like some worship on your nipples, huh?”

A deep, sultry chuckle escaped his lips, his voice husky with desire. "You're learning my secrets, aren't you?" His hand urges your head towards his other nipple. "Not just my nipples... but every part of me deserves some worship."

“That’s how I make my way down…” you whisper.

His breath hitches as you whisper your intentions, his body tingling with excitement. "Well then, I can hardly wait to feel those heavenly lips trailing lower..." He guides your face down his torso, his abs clenching instinctively under your touch.

As you kiss and nuzzle your way down his abdomen, Pedro's hands rest lightly on your head, his fingers gently guiding you. "Lower... lower... yes, just like that..." He hisses as your lips brush against the waistband of his red swim trunks.

You slowly peel back his zipper, the sound echoing in the room. Pedro's breathing grows heavier as you reach inside and wrap your hand around his thick, hard length. He lets out a low groan as you pull it free, his eyes rolling back in his head. "Fuck... oh god..."

Pedro's cock twitches eagerly as you firm your grip, the skin velvety soft, a prominent vein runs along the underside. The head is broad and round, flushed a deep red, with a tiny slit oozing with pre-cum. His hips giving an involuntary thrust forward, seeking more of your touch. "Don't tease me, beautiful..." He breathes out, voice strained with lust. "Put those gorgeous lips to work."

As you bob your head up and down, Pedro's hands tighten on your shoulders, his fingers digging into your skin. He starts to thrust gently…”Fuck... You look so beautiful with your mouth full of me..." He pants, his abs flexing with each thrust. His hands move to cup your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks as he guides your movements. The wet sounds of your sucking fill the room, mixed with his guttural groans.

I take you out of my mouth for a few seconds. “You taste so good, but I don’t want you to reach the edge, hottie…”

His breath catches at your words. "Mmm, teasing me now? You know exactly what you're doing..." His tone is a mix of both frustration and deep satisfaction. "Yeah, don't make me come just yet…”

“Yes, let’s work on your list…” You say, sitting back on his lap, cleaning the corner of your mouth with his precum.

Pedro's eyes darken with desire as he watches you clean your mouth with his precum. "Fuck, you're so naughty... I love it." He reaches out and runs his thumb over your lips, spreading it around before leaning in to claim your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss.

“So…What did you say about the fireplace? Second of the list…”

Pedro smirks mischievously. "Ah, the fireplace... I was thinking we could move our little session over there." He stands up, lifting you with him effortlessly. "I want to bend you over the mantel and fuck you from behind, watching your reflection in that mirror across the room.”

Pedro carries you to the fireplace, setting you down gently on your feet. He spins you around and bends you over the ornate wooden mantel, the cool marble pressing against your skin. "Keep those elbows locked," he commands, a firm hand on the small of your back.

Not happy with that, you just suggest, “Why don’t you just take me to the bed?”

"Because the bed is too ordinary," Pedro murmurs, running his hands down your thighs possessively, "I want to do this here, where I can watch myself take you in the mirror." He steps back to admire the view, his eyes roaming over your arched back and rounded bottom.

With a mischievous tone, you ask him… ”and you like to watch yourself?”

"Right now I’d love watching myself fucking you," Pedro confesses, his voice low and husky with desire. "Seeing my cock disappear into your pussy, feeling your body shake as I pound into you... it's fucking incredible." He reaches out to run his fingers through your hair, tangling them in the loose strands.

"And the mirror," he continues, his other hand reaching out to the mantel to steady himself as he lines himself up with your entrance. "Watching myself push into you, feeling your tight little hole squeeze around my dick as I fuck you hard against the mirror... fuck, it's going to be perfect."

With a deep grunt, Pedro thrusts forward, sheathing his hard length inside you in one smooth motion. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried inside you before he starts to move, his hips slamming against your ass as he fucks you hard against the mirror.

"Look at us in the mirror..." He reaches around to cup your breasts while continuing his steady pace. "Watch how beautifully you take my cock. Those whimpers you're making... fuck, you're perfect." His pace quickens, his breath becoming ragged against your ear.

His fingers pinch and tug at your nipples as he fucks you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. The mirror fogs up from your panting breaths and his sweat, obscuring parts of the reflection but not enough to hide the lewd scene unfolding before it.

In between moans, you beg him to take you to the bed; you can’t stand your legs anymore with so much pressure.

Pedro growls, pulling out of you abruptly and spinning you around to face him. He lifts you up and carries you to the bed, tossing you onto it before climbing on top of you. "I need to be inside you again, now."

He settles between your thighs, his hard cock pressing urgently against your slick folds. "Wrap your legs around me," he demands, easing the tip of his shaft teasingly along your slit. As you comply, he grips your wrists, pinning them above your head with one strong hand.

Pedro leans down, capturing your lips in a fierce, dominant kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, claiming your mouth as his other hand guides his cock to your entrance. In one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you again, swallowing your gasp with his mouth.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes blazing with lust as he begins to move, thrusting into you with deep, measured strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, your pussy feels amazing," he grits out, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you.

Pedro quickens his pace, his grip on your wrists tightening as he chases his release. The room fills with the sound of his hips slapping against yours and your breathy moans. "I'm going to fill you up so full," he pants, nipping at your jaw. One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding your clit and circling it with his thumb. "I want to feel you come on my cock…”

"Fuck, you're getting tighter... Is this what you need, baby?" His thumb presses harder against your clit as he fucks you with deep, forceful strokes, the intensity in his eyes unwavering. "Come for me..."

Pedro feels your walls clench around him, and he growls, "That's it, cum on my cock." He slams into you one last time, burying himself as deep as he can go. His thumb circles your clit frantically as his release builds. "Fuck, I'm close..."

With a loud grunt, Pedro explodes inside you, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot seed. His thumb presses hard against your clit, sending you over the edge as you scream in pleasure, your pussy milking his cock for everything he's got.

He stays buried inside you, his thumb slowly circling your sensitive bundle of nerves as he nuzzles his face against yours, breathing heavily. "Damn it, I will tell your friends you are amazing… they were right..." He murmurs, his voice muffled against your neck.

After a moment, Pedro slowly pulls out of you, his softening cock slipping free from your still-quivering pussy. He collapses beside you on the bed, pulling you into his arms and holding you close. "Can we keep up with this list?" You say.

He kisses the top of your head, his heart still racing from their intense encounter. "I think we should keep going, yeah. There are a lot more things on that list I want to try with you." He pulls out his phone and starts typing, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hey, I need to check on the girls...” you say, worried about them being away for a couple of hours already.

Pedro looks up from his phone, his expression softening. "Of course, go check on your friends. I'll be here when you get back. But don't be too long, okay?" He says giving you a little wink.

As soon as you go back to your room, you find your friends passed out on the bed.

Well, I guess you will leave a note at the door saying thanks for the little help, and you guys will catch up on the next day because you won’t sleep in the same room for a while… The list is endless.

😈

————————————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[aledommty5]

Hi again!! I wanted to ask how/if I can touch myself to your blog? Your posts make me so wet, and I just wanna have something fill me so bad. Or grind on something. Or just sit and read your posts and not touch at all, whatever you tell me

Glad you ask..

How to touch while going tru daddy's blog

(Guided masturbation)

Hi all sluts...I know you all want a break from stress full life and even maybe holidays, just fo lay down and stroke yourself and play with you and have a mind boggling orgasm...don't go anywhere Daddy is here to help you...

Do not remove your clothes yet

Go in a silent place... it can be your washroom, your bed, or anywhere u like princess....

Strip down your clothes and only be in bra and panties.....take your hand and follow it through your entire body.... trail it on your neck..now slowly drag ur hands to your stomach DO NOT TOUCH YOUR BRA OR PANTIES OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.. Follow it by your thighs...slowly feel the build up....

Now remove your BRA slowly circle your boobs DO NOT TOUCH YOUR NIPPLES YOU SLUT OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED BADLY REMEMBER THAT....

Slowly with light presses circle your boobs

Touch your nipples with the lightest touch....

Grab your left boob while trail ur other hand down your torso....

Cup ur both breasts.... ughh I wish Daddy could see you... good going slut

Now pinch your nipples hard and pull them make them soooo hard... don't hold ur moan....

Pinch hardly till 10 seconds

1.

2.

3.more hard slut u can do it

4.

5.

6. Harder

7.

8.

9.

10.

STOP..

glide your hands down your inn

ur legs and now near your

Share

panties.

You must be soaking wet... I wish I could see you

Now rub your clothed clit for 10 secs...put lightest pressure....

Wanna remove panty?

Not yet slut

Now rub your clothed clit for 10 secs...put lightest pressure.... Wanna remove panty?

Not yet slut

Now rub ur pussy through ur panty till u see a wet patch on your panty

Now u can remove your panties....spread your legs wide...your pink pussy should be seen.... now slowly put a finger on the entrance and trail it to the clit... ughh u wanna rub that clit so bad na? HAHAHA NOT YET SLUT... now if u want u can use some lube or your wetness and spread it across ur pussy even ur anus if u want... DO NOT TOUCH THE CLIT..

Now rub the folds of your inner labia for 1 min....

Now STOP TOUCHING...

Keep ur hands to the side and let the air graze u up...

THATS LIKE A GOOD SLUT...

NOW U CAN TOUCH UR CLIT... Rub it in small circles with light pressure

for 30 secs...

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7. U can increase pressure ONLY A BIT SLUT

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.increase the pressure to mid

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.Do as fast as u want

20.

21.

22.

23.

24. Fulllll speed slut I want ur legs shaking

25.

26.

27. DARE YOU CUM...NO CUMMING

28.

29.

30.

31.

AND STOP!

ik you liked it.. now take 1 finger and insert it in your hole. Finger it slowly

Increase the pace

Finger fuck as fast as u can and don't cum

Ahhhhh more fast

I wish Daddy could see you

Ahhhh..

.PUT a vibrator or rub ur clit fast as u can while fingering.

Finger hard and deep

U wanna cum?

Wait

AAAH

HARDER AND FASTER

YES DOLL

NO U CANT CUM SLUT

FASTER FASTER I WANT U TO MAKE A BLAST

YES YES YES

FASTER

AND NOW U CAN CUM.........

GIVE YOUR ASS A SLAP AND CLEAN YOURSELF UP.....

Clean up and follow for more guides I hope u like it...my pms are always open for msg ...

Love,

-F

[no-144444]

prison, not a promise- l.norris

summary: lando proposes and it doesn't go as planned...

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He genuinely thought you would’ve been the woman he married. He believed that the moment he got down on one knee, you would’ve burst into tears in front of him and said yes. 

He’d never expected that. 

People (understandably) thought you were fucking crazy. Who would say no to Lando Norris? Who would give up the chance to be rich and famous forever, to have one of the most sought-after men on the planet forever? 

Well, those people didn’t know what it meant to be ‘loved’ by Lando Norris. They didn’t see the constant fights and beratings. They wouldn’t know about the fact that you hadn’t felt like yourself for an entire year. They didn’t know about the sleepless nights, sitting there and wondering, hoping that you were enough. They didn’t know that an engagement ring would've been a prison, not a promise. 

You both walked into his apartment, silent. You hadn’t said ‘no’, saying ‘yes’ while in public just to keep up appearances,  but Lando knew, the second you two got in the car, you weren't happy. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to lean into him one last time, be his one last time. That was the Lando you fell for. The one that hugged and kissed you like no one else would ever matter to him, the one that looked at you like you held up the stars just for him. You never expected the honeymoon stage to last forever, but these fights weren’t normal. He ripped apart your character, your appearance, anything, just to make you feel as upset as him. You\’d been together for 4 years, and the problems started when he became Max’s rival.

“Lando, we’re not happy,” you started, feeling his hands drop from your waist. You turned around to face him. “At least, I’m not. I do everything you ask of me. I cook and clean, I dress up nice, I follow you around the fucking world and I gave up my dreams so that you could always have me at races. Now, all we do is fight. I’m fucking sick of it, alright? I’m tired of the fact that you either don’t love me anymore, or you don’t respect me, and I’d like to thank you for the 3 wonderful years we had before this year, and give you back your ring. You deserve someone less ambitious. You deserve someone paper-cut to be a WAG, Lando. I’m not that girl,” you sighed tearily. “When you find her, I suggest you tell her that you can be mean, you can be selfish, and you can be forgetful, but the trade for that is the sweetest man on the planet once the anger wears off. I’ve been around angry men my entire life, and I will not marry one. I’ll grab my things tomorrow. Goodbye Lando,” you brushed back at him, placing the golden engagement ring in his hand as you passed him by. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You left Monaco with all of your belongings, and went back home. You bought an apartment, and started your new job as a college professor. Before Lando you had been the best mathematician in the world. You had offers from every college from every college, but you chose the one closest to home. You didn’t think about Lando for months. You focused all of you attention on your students, all of your life was spent around numbers. You were finally happy. For the first time in a long time, you felt appreciated, you felt beautiful, and you felt happy. 

“Y/n,” the British accent you knew so well made you physically cringe. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Is it a mathematical problem?” you asked, not turning around as you sorted through papers. 

“Not really?” he chuckled. “Please just look at me.”

You slowly turned around and looked at him. He looked like shit. 

“I won,” he smiled, but it wasn’t a real smile. “I’m the Champion of the World.”

You held out your hand to shake his. “Congratulations.”

He took it with a frown. “I’m quitting F1.”

You stopped in your tracks when you heard that. “Why?”

“I did something really fucking stupid two years ago, and i need to make it right,” he admitted. “Y/n, I’m sorry. There’s no one else for me. You’re it. You’re my person, you make me feel so alive, so happy, so free, and I couldn’t even imagine what life would be like without you. Then I lived it. And it sucked. I know I’m an asshole, and I know you’re probably much better off without me, but I’m begging you, just let me back in your life, please? I’m falling apart without you baby.”

You stared at him. “Lando, I’m not asking you to stop racing because of me-”

“I did,” he smiled. 

“I’m not taking you back,” you insisted. “You made me feel like a shell of my actual self for a year, and I held on because I knew you needed a punching bag so that you wouldn’t take it out on the people around you. I don’t miss you. I don’t love you. I don’t want to see you.”

His face fell and he was quiet for a moment. “So I’ve really fucked it up?”

“Yeah, now get the fuck out of my lab.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅ A few months went by and the 2026 season started, and Landow as still on the grid, shocker. You didn’t care, he was a fucking asshole who didn’t deserve your time or companionship. You hoped he would choke every race start (which he did), get outperformed by Oscar (which he did), and loose to the WDC to Oscar (which he did). Karma.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 4: The Loneliest

CHAPTER SUMMARY:  The end of the Americas triple header brings chaos, scandal, and conflict to your relationship with Franco. And after an unforgivable betrayal, your friendship may be beyond saving.

WORD COUNT: 9.6k

WARNINGS: SO MUCH ANGST, reader is going through it, Franco is mean and lowkey kinkshames reader :( also Franco is a lil freak at the end so SMUT MINORS DNI

TAGLIST: @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse @uncreativetm @ncrsbrg @tillyt04 @amz824

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS YA FREAKS (affectionate). The long awaited chapter 4 is here! So sorry to dampen your holidays with this very sad chapter, but thank you all for being so patient with me while I was away. I hope you enjoy this extra long chapter as a reward for your patience!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

You’ll be the saddest part of me

The part of me that will never be mine

It’s obvious, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

You’re still the oxygen I breathe

I see your face when I close my eyes

It’s torturous, tonight is gonna be the loneliest

The morning light was torturous. It signaled the end of Franco’s short lived unconscious peace, and the breaking of the dawn forced him to confront the fact that it was race day. He hadn’t slept well. It had been one hell of a night.

One glance to the curtained window showed that the morning light was quickly going to be shrouded by rain clouds anyway. 

But despite his tiredness, he got up. If he had laid there too long he would have started thinking too much. About the race. About what was at stake.

About you.

He didn’t have time for that. He pushed that mixed jump pile of emotions—what exactly they were, he couldn’t name—down to the pit of his stomach as he quickly showered and gathered his things so he could get to the circuit quickly.

But even in the shower, as he tried to wash the memories of last night away, he couldn’t. His own nakedness didn’t even seem to be his, not anymore. The words you had written, imagining every inch of skin, stuck to him.

A wave of nausea hit him, and he felt like he was going to puke.

And it didn’t get any better as he dressed and gathered his things. There was a journal shaped space in his bag now, hollow without the evidence of his deception. He had kept it on him always to avoid you finding out. But now, it didn’t matter. He knew every word. Even if you did discover what he’d done, he had crossed a point of no return.

The journal itself still lay open at the foot of his bed. Had he fallen asleep after reading it, or just not had the energy to return it to its spot after feeling the shockwaves of the words? He didn’t remember.

All he knew was that his head was pounding. His entire body felt disconnected from the mind that governed it. It was too damn early, and too important of a day to be distracted like this. 

But it was all his fault. No one had forced him to read it. No—he had decided, of his own volition, to steal the journal. When you ran out of his room with tears in your eyes and ignored his calls for you down the hallway, he had glanced at the open journal, teasing him to commit this unforgivable offence. He ignored it then, leaving his room, but when he returned that night the temptation had become nearly too much to bear. So yes, just as you had accused him, he did steal the journal that morning before you arrived at the track. And he’d lied to your face about it. 

And you believed him. 

That didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting to the track and doing his job, showing everyone that he could do what he said he’d do. He had talked a big game—now was time to deliver.

So when he didn’t respond to your text that morning, you let it go. You knew how important of a day this was to him. Even though he never divulged the contents of his meeting to you, you had known him too long to not be able to assume that the stakes were much higher than anyone had originally thought. 

Why else would he be so standoffish when you finally saw him at the paddock that morning, brushing you off and quickly leaving? Why else would he not speak a single word to you the morning before qualifying? 

At first, the tonal change from last night—dancing in the pit lane and nearly meeting lips to a morning of being ignored—was shocking to you. But you knew Franco. And he had promised that you’d always have a place next to him. Maybe not this particular morning, when all he needed to do was perform. But always. And you trusted him.

So you let the transgression roll off you like the rain that continued into the morning. You took your usual spot at the back of the garage to avoid the ever present watching eye of the media cameras. After last night's stunt, you knew the world would be watching both you and Franco. You weren’t very keen to give the media what they wanted, knowing every gesture or word would inevitably be scrutinized. The fans, though, had been kind so far. 

All the things that they had said—we’re rooting for you—had hit you like a ton of bricks last night, alone in your room. You, too, had been unable to sleep. 

It was the effect of the ever-present possibility of what could be. You wanted Franco. All of him. His body, yes, but also his mind and his heart. You were in love with him, without a doubt, and since admitting it to yourself only a few weeks ago, you had fallen hard and fast. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t yours. He had a goal to work towards, and it wasn’t you.

But maybe one day it could be. Maybe when all of this was done, you’d still have him. That’s what he promised.

And for once, you’d allowed yourself to really and truly trust him.

You glanced at the screen that showed him sitting in his car before quali. His back was to you, and it felt odd to see him like this, so disconnected, as if you were just another fan rooting on your favorite athlete. 

Sure, he was your favorite athlete too, but he was also your best friend. 

You wanted so desperately to trust those words he spoke when he held you as you cried. You wanted to believe that his job would never come before you. So when those familiar insecurities rose in your throat like bile, you swallowed them down and forced a smile to your lips.

If the people were watching you, you’d give them a show. And if Franco had to perform today, so would you. 

So you let that sparkle come to your eyes when the fans with paddock passes strolled in and out in front of the garage, straining their necks to catch a glimpse of Franco in his car, and you in the background. 

Until it was time for quali. You had wanted to wish Franco good luck, but he had been so laser focused talking with his race engineers and fiddling with the car that you settled for whispering a silent prayer as he expertly rolled his car onto the track. 

You were always nervous for him. Even when the stakes were much lower, you knew the skill it took for him to do this job, and how dangerous it was. And on days like these, where the rain just kept coming and coming in sheets, you couldn’t help but let your anxiety win, knowing that anything could go wrong. 

But Franco was talented, and focused. He would be okay, and he’d exceed everyone’s expectations. You had to believe that right now, on track, all that was on his mind was becoming one with the road.

Unfortunately, Franco couldn’t focus as well as he needed to. His mind wandered, of course, to you. He had brushed you off earlier, unable to look you in the eye after what he’d read. 

Maybe, if there had been more time, he would have figured out what he was feeling. But he had chosen the worst possible night to do what he had done. Maybe his manager was right, he was distracted, and now he had to live with the consequences.

Or maybe, if he had been a better man, he wouldn’t have read it in the first place.

Regardless, he had, and even now, when he needed to focus, the emotions swelled up in him, coming in waves.

The first was shock. He read each sentence carefully, over and over again, praying that something had gotten lost in translation and you weren’t really saying what he thought you were saying. The second was disgust—how could his best friend write such detailed fantasies about him?

The third wave, the one he tried to ignore, was something he couldn’t name. A pool of warmth that settled at the bottom of his stomach as he read each filthy word, and the inevitable vision of the scenes he couldn’t help but imagine. He could feel his blood pulse through his veins as he let his mind give in to everything your words had commanded him to picture.

But the fourth wave came quicker, pushing down whatever the third had been. It was anger. Anger at himself for betraying you like this. Anger at you for writing all this and hiding it from him. Anger at life for putting him in this situation. Anger at his manager because she was right—he was distracted. 

He had been driving completely by muscle memory, even going silent with his race engineers. They angrily instructed him to return to the garage. 

He obeyed, apologizing to them for being so caught up in his own thoughts. But as he pulled the car into the garage and sat, he couldn’t help but let his eye wander the garage to you, standing towards the back as always, hands over the race headphones that they gave all the VIP guests so they could listen in on the actions. 

You looked so innocent. His best friend, just cheering him on from the sidelines, so blissfully unaware of what he had done. But what you’d done, too—the pages full to the margins of your fantasies—well, no one was truly innocent here, it seemed.

You looked up and gave him a reassuring smile, and he felt like he was going to lose it. 

He darted his eyes away, and thankfully, the race engineers cleared him to quickly return to the track. He would one last clean lap to finish off Q1, then return to the garage for Q2. 

But he couldn’t get your smile out of his head, even when he coasted through turn one. And that familiar queasiness returned in his stomach as he approached turn two.

The rain, and his distractedness, was too much to overcome. He spun and eventually hit the wall.

Back in the garage, you couldn’t breathe. The seconds of silence from his end of the radio felt like years as you waited to hear that he was okay.

All he let out was a sad, “Sorry mate,” to his engineer. But to even hear his voice was a blessing.

He eventually confirmed he was okay and made his return to the garage. His head hung low, weighed down by the expectations he had failed to fulfill. As his best friend, you wanted nothing more than to comfort him, to hold him and assure him that everything would be okay. But he didn’t even look at you. 

Turning his back away from you, he just stood solemnly as he removed his helmet and fluffed up his hair, before leaving to go speak with the media. 

As his car was wheeled into the garage, you thanked whatever God was listening to you that Franco had made it back to the paddock in one piece. The carnage was bad—and with the grand prix in only a few hours, the mechanics would have their work cut out for them. 

The garage was soon becoming too chaotic for your liking, so you slipped out to make your way to Williams hospitality to hopefully catch your best friend once he left the media tent. 

But Franco never appeared. You assumed he had been dragged from meeting to meeting, trying to salvage what was left of this clusterfuck of a grand prix weekend. You watched qualifying from the screens in hospitality, wincing when Alex crashed too, and offering another prayer for the sanity of the poor William’s mechanics.

The rain only worsened into the afternoon, when the Grand Prix would have to take place even despite the monsoon that raged outside. You still hadn’t found Franco; you occupied your time by chatting with the fans that were now drenched in the general admission sections. They at least were trying to salvage some joy from the weekend, and you were too.

But it bothered you that you couldn’t find Franco, and that he had been avoiding you all day. It was an odd juxtaposition; on one hand, you had become so comfortable in the space of the race circuit that you no longer hid from the people, but sought them out, taking photos and cheering along with Franco’s many fans. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but feel a prickling sensation at the back of your neck that something between you and Franco was wrong. But your anxiety had lied to you so many times that you no longer trusted your intuition. 

So, again, you tried to shake it off. It was going to be okay. Franco was going to focus and bounce back and get points. And when he did, he’d pick you up and spin you like he always did. And his beautiful smile would be yours again. 

When it came time to return to the garage to get ready for the race, you were hopeful but nervous, your emotions a delicate balancing act of steadying your fear with your desire to support the man you loved. 

As you entered the garage, you saw him, fiddling with the cuffs of his fireproof race suit, clearly annoyed by the scrunched lines in his forehead. And then, his eyes traveled up to meet yours.

It was like time froze. You had two options: do as you usually would and go up to him and wish him luck with a hug that was too close and too long to be strictly platonic. Or, ignore him and just silently wish him luck, praying that at the end of the race, he’d come running to you as he always did. 

You didn’t get to decide, though. Franco’s eyes darted away as quickly as he could move them, a subtle expression of disgust replacing his former frustration.

It felt like a knife to your heart. You slipped on your race headphones in silence. 

He’s just having a bad day. He’s stressed. He wasn’t even looking at you. He did it without thinking. A million thoughts ran through your head, faster than the F1 car that you now watched Franco climb into, readying himself for the race. 

You couldn’t look away from him, but he couldn’t even look at you. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and cry. You’d always been too sensitive, people had said, and that was part of the reason you started suppressing your emotions in the first place. But since you’d started your healing journey with your journal, you couldn’t stop the emotions anymore. The blush, the tears—all of it was beyond you, now. 

At least, if you cried, the rain would hide it.

That’s what you told yourself as you watched his car roll into the pit lane and onto the track. You prayed to whatever God was listening that Franco would be okay.

But it seems no God was listening to you that day. 

It started almost comically, with Lance Stroll crashing into the gravel on the formation lap. A miscommunication between the FIA and the drivers caused confusion on when the race would actually begin. And when the race finally did begin, it was nothing but chaos.

You held your breath during the first spin. It was Nico Hulkenburg, not Franco. Thankfully. Everyone was okay.

You counted the laps in your head, like you’d counted Franco’s breath when he would fall asleep in your apartment during your many past sleepovers. Like you’d counted his breaths when you woke up next to him in Singapore. 

Lap 32. He was okay. 

In your ears, you heard his race engineer warning him of the wet conditions, advising him to take extra caution with all the water on the track. 

Franco asked to box for wet tires. His engineer refused. He told Franco to survive.

A wave of anger rose in you. Is surviving not exactly what he was already doing?

Franco pushed back, asking if the engineer understood what he was saying. And again, he refused. An argument back and forth. Trust us, the engineer said. 

And then, he crashed.

A hard hit on the wall and a skid across the wet road. 

You felt like your knees were going to give out from under you. Everything was spinning.

The only thing that brought you back down to Earth was his voice in your ears. “I’m okay. I’m so sorry, guys,” he apologized.

In the aftermath of it all, you’d feel sorry for the William’s mechanics. But right now all you cared about was the man you loved and if he was really okay.

You didn’t care that he had been upset with you, for whatever reason beyond your knowledge. All you cared about was that he was alive and unharmed.

Your only want was to run to his arms, feel the warmth of his beating heart against your chest, assuring you that he was okay.

But he stomped into the garage and walked right past you, as if you didn’t even exist to him, like you were an invisible burden.

Your heart was pounding as if you were the one who had crashed. You watched as Franco disappeared into the paddock, likely heading to quickly speak to the media before sneaking off to God knows where.

Again, your mind went to the familiar choice, whether to go to him or hang back. But you’d been hanging back too much. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You followed in his general direction, but the paddock was buzzing with reporters and team officials. You scanned the crowd for the familiar curls of your favorite Argentine, but to no avail; the frustration threatened to bring tears to your eyes. 

Until you saw him darting through the crowd, nearly as fast as his own car, rushing to get away from all the people with their eyes on him. You had become one of them.

You navigated your way to the crowd and back to his driver’s room, waiting until you and Franco were out of the crowd to call to him.

“Franco!” you yelled, “Franco, wait up.”

“Go away, YN.”

That familiar stab in your stomach pulsed again. “Franco, I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

He reached his room and slammed the door shut, locked it behind him. You sighed.

“Please, let me in,” you practically begged. He was silent on the other side of the door.

He had never shut you out like this before—literally or figuratively. You felt the tears begin to pool. With a shaky voice, you began, “Franco, I’m your friend. I just want to support you and be here for you when things go wrong. You’ve been ignoring me all day, and I’m just worried about you.”

His silence continued, and the quivers in your voice became more intense. 

“If you want space, I’ll give it to you. But don’t shut me out forever. I want to be here for you. I… I care about you.”

Your heart beat with the near Freudian slip you had said. You were so close to saying I love you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t said it before; you were best friends, after all, but the shift in the nature of your relationship had made the words take on a new meaning. You couldn’t say it now.

It seemed as if nothing you could say would have any effect, judging by the silence on the other side of the door. You had just turned to begin walking away when you heard the click of Franco unlocking the door. 

You knew it was a silent invitation to enter. And when he carefully opened the door, just wide enough for you to enter but not enough so that anyone else could see, you saw the redness in his cheeks and the puffiness in his eyes indicating that he, too, had been crying.

It broke your heart. 

You entered and locked the door behind you, instantly enveloping your best friend in a warm embrace. You wanted no distractions—just you, the man you loved, and the silence of the room that was only broken by your collective cries.

All you could do was hold him close, burying your face in his neck, relishing the smell of his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race and the familiar smell of the garage—mechanical, yet somehow like home to you now. 

“I ruined everything,” he sobbed into your shoulder. The statement was cliche, but by the strength of his sobs, you knew he felt it was true.

“You don’t know that,” you reassured him. “So many other driver’s have crashed today. It’s a mess out there. You did the best you could.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’ve fucked it all up. I’ve ruined it. I let everyone down.”

He clearly wasn’t in a state to be reasoned with, and you knew that wasn’t the best thing right now anyway. He just needed someone to be with him. 

“It’s going to be okay. I promise it will.” That, and a warm body pressed to his, was all you could give him.

But the thoughts cascading through his brain were much darker. He really had ruined everything. Yes, his crashes would likely lose him the Redbull seat. But what he really ruined was his relationship with you.

He had done the unforgivable, crossed the line that he couldn’t return from. Everything between you two would be different now, especially when you found out what he had done.

Part of him wanted to lie and act as if it had never happened. You never wrote those words, he never read them, and everything would go on as normal.

But he knew he couldn’t. It had only been a day and the guilt was eating him alive. And now, he had ruined his chance at securing his future.

Still, in the bottom of his stomach was again that jumbled feeling he couldn’t quite name—something like anger, or disgust, something… vile. His manager was right. You had become a distraction, through no action of your own. But the filthy thoughts that went through your head at the sight of him, all which you’d written down and he’d read… it excited and repulsed him all at once.

And these emotions all ran through him as he sobbed in your arms, a quiet solace from the world. Things were broken now.

But in this moment, Franco could act as if none of that was true. He broke the embrace and finally looked you in the eyes.

Your stomach turned with butterflies. He was so beautiful, even with his puffy bloodshot eyes and gentle blush dancing across his cheeks.

And as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world, he gently cupped your chin, bringing your face to his, and kissed you.

The kiss was slow and tentative, soft, like you were something fragile. And this moment was fragile, evidenced by the silent peace between you when the kiss ended and you pulled away, staring at each other. 

Franco was about to go in for another when his manager knocked on the door. 

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, and the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wordlessly got up and left with her, leaving you alone in his driver’s room.

You were scared of what would happen when he returned, so you spent the rest of the day in Williams hospitality before leaving the track alone.

You never saw Franco again at the track, but you figured he was in deep shit for his crashes, and that you should keep your distance. But sitting in hospitality, your mind in the clouds as you heard the celebrations of Max Verstappen’s win in the distance, you were haunted by the feeling of Franco’s lips on yours.

It was soft, caring, full of… no. You couldn’t say it. 

You felt like there was a stone in your throat. You needed Franco now, but at the same time, you were terrified of what would happen the next time you saw him. So you left and went back to the hotel alone. You knew your usual routine; dinner together, spending a bit of time in his hotel room, then going to bed and heading home on separate flights.

And even though your journal had long left your mind, you imagined what would happen that night in his hotel room.

Another kiss, but rougher this time, more sure of what he wanted; and what he wanted was you. Hands wandering, hitched breaths, waking up next to each other in the morning light.

You felt like you were going to faint. But he never came by that night. No text, no call, no tentative knock on your door.

And even in the morning when you checked out of the hotel and made your way to the airport, still nothing.

You had hoped when you landed and turned your phone off airplane mode that you’d find a notification from him, but your texts were empty.

A day turned into a week. One week turned into two. No word from him. All your messages left on delivered.

It took you two weeks to get him on the phone. You had to call him out of the blue; that was the only time he answered you.

“Hello? YN? Are you okay?” He asked.

“I’m fine. Are you okay? I haven’t heard from you—”

He cut you off. “I’ve been busy.”

“I know,” you answered, slowly, as to not cause an argument. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.” You paused. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He paused too, but his pause was more awkward than peaceful. Clearly what had happened in Brazil had changed things, to a point where even a phone call felt stiff and unnatural.

You continued, “Do you maybe want to get dinner this weekend? Our usual place?”

It was a neutral enough offer, something that would be absurd of him to refuse. 

“Yeah, let's do that. I’ll pick you up on Saturday.” His tone was cool, but you took any opportunity you had for connection. He had said yes to your invitation; that was enough.

In the meantime, unbeknownst to you, Franco was losing his fucking mind. 

He didn’t know why he had kissed you in his driver’s room. It was like he wasn’t in control of his body. But how beautiful was the result; his lips pressed to yours, so softly, felt like heaven. He relished every second of the slow and chaste kiss as if it would be his last.

And when his manager had ruined the moment, he realized that it might be. He snapped back into reality as he rushed down the hallways of the paddock with her. She was clearly pissed. She led him back to a small meeting room. The room was empty, but he knew soon the whole team would be there, and he walked in like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Before he had even sat, she took her place at the head of the conference table, small but imposing. He was in big trouble. 

She inhaled deeply before beginning.  “Franco, are you okay?”

He nodded. 

“Say it.”

“I’m okay. I’m so sorry, I—”

“You were distracted.”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“But it’s the truth.” He was silent. She continued, “Look, I get it. You don’t have much experience driving in the rain. You wanted to switch to wets, I heard the radio. You tried your best during the race.”

He fiddled nervously with his hair like a child being scolded, not even able to meet her eyes. 

“I’m not upset that you crashed. Five other drivers crashed too. What I am pissed about is the media shitstorm that you’ve created. First that stunt last night, then crashing this morning? And I know you were distracted then, because you weren’t talking at all on the radio and then I saw you staring at YN before your last lap. What is going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” She was right. “Tell me what’s going on.”

He paused, stretching and scratching the back of his neck. He had always tried to keep his personal and professional lives separate, but it was becoming increasingly apparent that he couldn’t do that for much longer. 

“I… things are just… weird with me and YN lately.”

“I can tell.”

He gathered his courage before his confession. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His manager sighed. “I figured.”

She sat, a more sympathetic expression crossing her face. She explained, “Look, we all love YN. She’s always been there for you. I’m not trying to tell you what you need to do in your personal life, you’re an adult. But I think you know what needs to be done.”

He did know. But he was so scared. So terrified of the unknown future now. He couldn’t even speak it. 

His manager continued, “Well, after today, it’ll be hard to salvage the Redbull contract. But we have interest from other teams, too. Alpine, mostly. You still have a shot at a seat for next year. We can do this.”

She reached over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He smiled and nodded, knowing there was much work ahead to be done.

And that work had truly kept him busy in the following days, though not too busy to reach out to you. He just couldn’t do it. He knew if he gave himself anything he’d fall too far in. You consumed his every waking thought—but he couldn’t bring himself to respond to your messages.

Instead, he spent his late, sleepless nights online, reading what everyone was saying about him. A horrible decision, in retrospect.

The commentators had thrown him under the bus, calling him underdeveloped and inexperienced. Hundreds of people calling him “crashpinto” and saying he didn’t deserve his seat. To them, maybe lighthearted, but to him, it meant everything he had ever worked for becoming a mockery on Twitter. 

When you called, he picked up on instinct. You never called out of the blue unless it was bad.

But you had just wanted to hear his voice.

Fuck.

He couldn’t do this. He knew he couldn’t do this. His manager had told him. The entire internet was telling him. But he agreed to see you that weekend anyway. 

At least, that was the plan. But Saturday came and went and no word from him, no knock on your door, no answered text. Even a call went straight to voicemail—he had declined it.

All week, you had been looking forward to seeing him. You were wearing that dress you’d always fantasized about, the one that was his favorite color, the only one you felt truly beautiful in.

You had gotten dolled up for dinner. You wanted to finally tell him how you felt.

And he stood you up.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. How could you not? Franco was sending you mixed signals and you couldn’t do it anymore. 

But when you woke up, it was worse.

A million notifications. At least, that's how it felt. Disoriented, you opened your phone to a video from last night; Franco, walking around Madrid, with an actress. He had stood you up for someone else.

And not just any someone. You had heard of this Argentine actress. She was…controversial. Older. Beautiful.

And Franco had spent the night with her. At least, from the video and comments, that’s what you would assume. They were seen outside his apartment. He was reportedly very…talkative with her. Touchy.

You wanted to puke. The comments didn’t make it any better.

FRANCO BABY GET AWAY FROM HER

How could he do that to YN? 

I know he and YN weren’t official but if a man danced with me in the rain one week and was caught with the most problematic actress of Argentina the next, I’d commit an act of violence.

He is so fucking stupid, does he really think this is gonna help his PR after Brazil?

OMG they are so cute! They could be Argentina’s power couple <3

The last comment made you cringe. The replies to it were not kind.

You read through far too many comments before checking your texts. No message from Franco, of course. But from someone else: his mother.

Call me when you can xx

You took a moment to compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you dialed her number. 

Her voice on the other line was comforting. 

“YN, dear, how are you?”

“Hi,” you said, “I’m… I’m okay.” You lied, and she knew it.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I’m not really okay. Franco has been acting…odd lately.”

“I know. That’s what I called to ask about. I’m sure you’ve seen the video?”

You swallowed hard, as if you could force the pain down to your stomach and ignore it. “I have.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him. I haven’t heard from him for weeks, since Singapore. I thought I raised him better than this. The press is saying he was covering his face in the video because he didn’t want us, his own family, to know.”

“Seriously?” you questioned, aghast. But your shock was also at the implication of the statement—us, his own family. Even his mother considered you part of the family. But you were invisible to him, it seems. 

“Yes!” She responded. “And for good reason. I’ve never seen his father so angry. He’s throwing away his whole career for some… woman. He’s distracted.”

That word: distracted. It felt more powerful now than ever before. 

“I mean, he hasn’t seemed like himself lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

“I don’t either. I actually wanted to ask you to check in on him. He isn’t answering anyone, but I just need someone to talk some sense into him. Just go over to his apartment. If I was there, I’d be on his doorstep with a wooden spoon.”

You could hear the frustration and restraint in her voice. The visual of Franco’s mom on his doorstep with a spoon ready to discipline him was almost comical, if not given the context.

“I’ll try. But if he’s not listening to his own mother, I don’t think he’ll listen to me.”

“Well, if you at least try, that’s enough.” She sighed. “YN, I’m so worried for him.”

“So am I.”

The line grew quiet. You could tell his mother had more to ask, but was restraining herself. You were grateful; you didn’t have the energy to tell the insane back and forth you’d undergone with him in the past few days. You were exhausted. 

So you bid each other goodbye and you readied yourself to go to Franco’s apartment and confront him. This couldn’t go on forever. 

You were surprised that he ever even answered the door. You knocked tentatively at first.

“Franco, it’s YN. Let me in.”

He wordlessly shuffled to the door and opened it, not even stopping to greet you as he went back to his couch to scroll on his phone. 

“Hi,” you greeted, awkwardly, as he was clearly uninterested. He just gave you a small nod.

You sat down next to him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You opened your mouth to begin, but he cut you off.

“If you’re just here to lecture me, don’t.”

“I’m not here to lecture you.” Except, you kinda were. “Franco… everyone’s worried about you. I’m worried, your mom is worried too. She asked me to check in on you.

He placed his phone down and laughed, an exclamation dripping with sarcasm and contempt. “I’m sure she did.”

“Franco—”

“No, she sent you over here to come scold me, didn’t she?”

“No,” you lied. “You’re just not acting like yourself—”

“No, don’t start with that. You’re here to tell me how badly I fucked up, aren’t you? Well you can save it. The entire internet and all my managers and sponsors and everyone else on the planet beat you to it.”

“Franco, will you let me talk?” You asked.

He ignored your question. “I already fucked up my chances at a Redbull seat, so might as well just keep doing it, right? Go big or go home.”

“Don’t you still have a chance with Alpine?” You had heard the rumors. It didn’t matter, though. Franco still had a chance at a seat, yes, but he was no longer the golden boy of F1, the perfect replacement for the driver that always crashed.

“Why does it matter? Redbull or Alpine or… Chinese F4 or whatever the people come up with. It’s over.”

In an ordinary conversation, you would have chuckled. But this was no laughing matter.

“Franco, everyone's rooting for you. We all want you to succeed, and we know you can. I know you can. I believe in you. Why are you doing this?”

He paused. “Doing what?”

You weren’t quite sure how to answer that. Ignoring you? Kissing you? Or spending the night with another woman?

“Doing things that hurt your reputation.”

“What, are you worried about the brand?”

“Yes. I am. And you should be, too.”

“Oh, fuck off. If you were really worried about ‘the brand’ you wouldn’t have been acting like you did in Brazil.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice was full of pain. He’d never used that kind of language or cruel tone with you before.

“Acting like we’re a couple.”

“Franco, you initiated all of that.” The truth cut through both of you, leaving you raw and vulnerable. “And I thought you meant it. Was it all just… a lie?”

It couldn’t be. The dancing was public. But the kiss had to be real. Away from the cameras, the scrutiny, the potential of what could be. Just you and him. Two people who loved in each other—but in what exact way, it was impossible for you to know.

His only response was curt. “Don’t ask me that,” he whispered.

Silence blanketed the room for a moment.

“The actress,” you asked, “Do you love her?” It was a simple question, asked while still ignoring the elephant in the room of what had really happened in Brazil. 

“Why do you care?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

You looked at him with bewilderment. “I care because I’m your friend! She has the potential to ruin your reputation, so I mean, it’s kind of different depending on if she’s the love of your life or just a quick fuck.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so concerned about my love life. I don’t ask about yours.” 

You weren’t quite sure where his agitation was coming from, but it shocked you nonetheless. You responded back with your own passive aggression. “That’s because I don’t have one, Franco. I’m too busy flying around the world watching you race to go on dates.” It was true. But you left out the obvious fact that you were in love with him.

“You didn’t have to come.”

“You asked me to be here!” His words cut sharper than a knife. He had practically begged for you to be there. 

“Well, if it’s such a bother, then don’t come to the last three races. I need to focus, anyway.”

“It's not a bother. I enjoy being there! Franco, I’m just trying to talk to you, please don’t take out your anger on me.”

“You’re not trying to talk. You’re trying to tell me what to do, just like everyone else does. You all act like I’m a stupid child who can’t make any decisions on my own.”

Your anger grew. “Maybe it’s because you make decisions like this! You have a reputation to uphold and you’re choosing to associate with people like her?”

“You’re just jealous,” he said, with a thick venom in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat. You pushed your nervousness down and let anger replace it. In an equally snarky tone, you rolled your eyes and replied, “Look, obviously you’re not going to acknowledge whatever happened between us in Brazil. But I am not jealous. I’m your friend and I want to help you. And besides, not every woman wants to fuck you, Franco.”

“Oh, but you do.”

If your heart had skipped a beat before, it had just dropped into your stomach now. Was it that obvious? Before you could even summon any rebuttal, Franco continued, “You know what actually happened in Brazil? You found me out. I stole your little diary when you left it in my driver’s room. And I read every fucking word.”

All the color had drained from your face. Every single word—where you had declared your love for him, and written all your fantasies about ravishing him and him ravishing you. Every fear and frustration and moment of sadness that you had poured into that journal; he had read it. 

“What, nothing to say now?” he snapped at you. 

He was right; what could you say when your best friend had crossed a line, only to find out that you had crossed the line so much further?

You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t have the strength to push them away as you had always done. What was the point, anymore? 

Your only response came out like a sad whisper. “Why would you do that?”

But clearly, he felt no sympathy for you. “Why would you do that?” he retorted. “Everyone tells me constantly that you’re a distraction. And they’re right. Because I’m trying to win points and you’re in my driver’s room writing fantasies about us fucking. And then I crash and lose everything and you want to act like you’re so innocent, just wanting to help. Well I know what you really want. And it’s disgusting.”

For a second, you really thought Franco was insane. Somehow, he had managed to manipulate the situation into making this your fault. 

But if he had truly read every word, how could he come to the conclusion that all you wanted was his body? How could he not understand how deeply you loved him?

In mere moments, a million ways to convey this went through your head, But it was no use. He was beyond the point of reason. And your friendship was beyond saving.

You had nothing to say, and it felt like if you didn’t get out of there right that second, you’d go insane. “I think I should just go…” you muttered as you turned to grab your things and exit his apartment. 

“No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to just run away from this.”

Your anger returned at his refusal to let you go. “If you can do whatever you want, then why can’t I?” 

This time it was him who was silent. 

Just as you were finally about to leave, you heard his voice behind you, “I’ll prove you wrong.”

His four simple words released the flood of your anger. You turned to him. “Prove me wrong? All I’ve tried to do is tell you that you’re wrong, that you still have a chance to save this if you do the right thing. But what if you don’t, Franco? What if you don’t get a seat for next year? You know what will happen? She’ll leave you. And the entire world will forget about you, everyone except for me, because I’ve always been here, even when you were nothing. But this is how you treat me, you’re mean and you lie to me and you betray my trust and you blame everything on me! So don’t come crying to me when everything falls apart.”

And so you left. And that was that. 

The next few days went past like a blur.

You could only remember small snippets. A set of emails; your VIP passes had been revoked, your flights and hotel reservations canceled. 

A video of him kissing her in a nightclub. A video of her going home with another man. Rumors. Pain. 

All of the sudden, you weren’t in his life anymore. But life just…went on.

You knew it would be best to just get off social media for good, now. Try to move on with your life. But you couldn’t help it. You watched the gossip pages, the F1 updates, his own page.

His comments were full of angry people, lambasting the actress or trying to defend you. His managers even had to issue a statement.

In your head you could hear his manager’s voice, scolding him. You knew exactly what she’d say.

And halfway across the world at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you were right.

The few days in between the video of the actress, his argument with you, and the Grand Prix weekend felt like a century. But he was here, for better or for worse.

Still, the icy glare of his manager cut through him. He’d gotten an earful after the video leaked. The tension still hadn’t settled. 

But media day had gone fairly well; little mention of you or the actress. In fact, everything had gone smooth—a little too smooth, going into qualifying. 

One last meeting before he’d have to get to the garage. The garage itself had felt oddly…quiet, without you there. Yes, he’d canceled everything in the hot aftermath of your argument. 

But he couldn’t ignore your absence, like a hole in his chest.

He went in and out of focus—he was doing that a lot, these days—as the meeting dwindled and staff filtered out of the room one by one, until again it was just Franco and his manager.

She felt the tension in the room, and knew it was a delicate balance. The wrong mention at the wrong time could ruin everything. So she didn’t mention your name, knowing that it could affect his performance.

“Hey, kid,” she teased him, “You’ve got this. You’ve been through a lot—Hell, you’ve put me through a lot, but you’ve still got three more weeks to show the world what you can do. And I believe in you.”

He only gave her a reassuring smile before he went to the garage. 

The smile was fake. He knew it. She knew it. Maybe the fans knew it. 

You certainly knew it, watching the Sky Sports broadcast from home. It was an odd duality; you couldn’t stop watching, but every time they showed Franco, you felt like you’d been stabbed right in the heart. 

And across the world, Franco felt that same pain. His manager hadn’t brought you up, but her words were far too similar to yours. I believe in you.

Of course she did. That was her job. But you? You believed in him when he was fourteen and couldn’t figure out how to wash his clothes alone. You believed in him when he was sick and when he crashed and when he fucked everything up. 

Everything you had said just echoed in his mind, over and over, every night. He hadn’t been sleeping well. 

But this was his own fault. He had ruined it. He had read the journal. He had revoked your VIP passes. 

He had no one to blame but himself. And it was eating him alive.

When he was younger, he fell in love with racing because of the freedom it gave him. When he was in the car, it was just him and the road. No one could touch him—he could drive into oblivion if he wanted to.

But now, even in the former bliss of that sacred space of his F1 car, his shoulders were weighed down by the weight of all he had done. 

The quali session was almost over when he crashed. 

There were no words anymore. He retired the car and went back to the garage in silence.

At home, you just cried. There was nothing else you could do. 

It wasn’t long before Franco heard a familiar knock at his driver’s room door—his manager. He had spoken to the media, answered all the questions perfectly. But he had cost the team more time and money. He had let everyone down.

He opened the door without speaking a word, bracing for his scolding. 

But when his manager entered, her expression was not one of anger. “Franco, talk to me. What’s happening?” 

“I don’t know. I just lost control of the car and—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He paused, a strange sense of deja vu washing over him. He sat down and brought his head to his hands. The words wouldn’t come out.

“Where is YN?”

“She’s not here.”

His manager’s tone grew angrier. “Yeah, I’m aware. Where is she?”

“At home.”

“Why isn’t she here? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Franco said, his frustration growing at his manager’s insistence. 

“Well, obviously something happened, because she’d have to be dead or in jail to not be attending one of your F1 races.”

He looked up, furrowing his brow. “You told me to do what I have to do. So I did.”

“She didn’t take it well? That's… surprising.”

His anger was now tinged with confusion. “Well, most people don’t take it well when they’re called a distraction.”

“...Franco, did you tell her that?”

“Yes, that’s what you wanted me to do!”

“Oh my—no, God, Franco, that’s not what I meant!”

The driver got up, ready to angrily speak with his hands. His manager didn’t cower one bit. She asked, “Franco, what the hell did you tell her?”

“I told her she was a distraction and that she didn’t need to come to the last races. And I told her that she doesn’t need to scold me because you already do that enough. I did what I had to do, exactly what you told me to do!”

His manager took a deep breath. “When I said that you should do what you had to do, I meant that you needed to sit down and tell her how you feel.”

Oh.

She continued, “Yes, you were distracted because of your feelings for her. But she isn’t a distraction. She’s your friend, right? And you love her. So why would you say that to her?”

He began, “I—I don’t know. I don’t…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

“Jesus Christ, Franco. What has gotten into you?”

He couldn’t even speak. 

“Is there any chance in hell that this can be smoothed over before the race next week?”

He shook his head. No. Not after he had deliberately stood you up to go out with the actress. Not after he had spent the night with her, imagining your lips on his instead of hers. Not after everything he had said. Not after he’d rescinded his gift he’d worked so hard to give you by univiniting you to all the remaining races.

No, things were definitely not going to be smoothed over anytime soon. 

Qatar. Still no word from him. 

You’d contemplated reaching out a few times, but every time you’d gather up the courage, you’d remember what he said. There was no point anymore.

He crashed within the first laps of the race. It wasn’t even his fault, but still. The damage was done. 

The once promising young driver was now the laughing stock of the internet from all the work he’d made for the Williams’ mechanics. Unfortunately for your mental health, you’d still been keeping up with F1 news. 

Your absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Has anyone else noticed that since YN hasn’t been at races, Franco hasn’t been performing well?

REPLY: Yeah, he does seem kind of off, even in interviews :(

REPLY: He didn’t do well in Brazil and she was there tho

REPLY: Yeah, but Brazil was a mess, no one except Max did well

REPLY: Call me parasocial but I 100% believe that he confessed his feelings and she didn’t reciprocate them. Why else would he immediately crash twice, hook up with a famous actress, and then YN isn’t at any races?

You laughed from the sheer absurdity of it all. Their assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. 

But time kept passing, like your entire world hadn’t been destroyed.

And again, as Franco traveled across the globe for races, his world was crumbling too.

It was becoming apparent that he wouldn’t get a seat for 2025. His time in F1—at least, for now—was coming to an end. And you were gone.

As he checked into his hotel room in Abu Dhabi, he could feel that familiar weight coming to rest on him. It hadn’t let up through the entire triple header. 

And when he was alone in his room, he couldn’t hide from it anymore.

You were just a phone call away. All he had to do was press a button and apologize. You were kind—he’d always loved that about you—you’d forgive him.

Or maybe you wouldn’t. Or maybe you couldn’t. 

He couldn’t bear the thought. So he didn’t call. Instead he tried to shake it off and take a shower, washing away the grit and grime of the airport, and the metaphorical dirt that now clung to him, the guilt of all he’d ruined. 

But even in the shower, his thoughts wandered to you, back in Brazil. You had held him, and he buried his head in your shoulder, taking in the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth of your embrace. 

His hand trailed from his hair, where he was rinsing out his shampoo, to lower on his body, over his toned stomach and the happy trail that dotted his stomach.

He imagined his hand was yours.

No. This was wrong. But you had done it, hadn’t you?

He finished his shower in record time. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed in just a towel, he remembered that night in Singapore.

Had you thought about him like this? You must have. Yes, he remembered, you wrote about it. 

He had kept the journal. It was there, in his backpack, at his feet. 

He didn’t even think when he did it, reaching down to grab the small leather bundle of sin, letting his towel fall to the floor and not bothering to pick it up. 

Climbing on the bed, he opened the journal again. His hand gripped his aching cock, but God, how he wished it was yours. 

He read. I keep imagining that night at the hotel in Singapore, when he came out of the bathroom with just his towel on. 

Yes, he remembered. The memory of your closeness made his hard length twitch. His eyes darted further down the page. 

So I get on the bed and straddle him, the only thing between us being my skirt, panties, and the thin fabric of the towel. I can feel him, how badly he wants me.

He pumped himself up and down, slowly at first, then harder as your words got filthier. He imagined the scene; you on top of him, his hand being yours. God, how badly he wanted you, no, needed you right now. 

Then I’m in control, kissing his neck, leaving love bites up and down so that everyone knows he’s mine. 

Yes, he was yours. His body was yours. His mind was yours. Everything that he was, was yours. How badly he wished he could tell you that. But all he could do now was keep himself on the edge, denying himself the sweet release as you’d imagined. 

He moans softly into my ear, bucking up his hips into me for just a bit of friction. “No,” I tell him, “I didn’t give you permission for that.” He whines in protest, but I just smile at his frustration. “My sweet boy…”

He mimicked the scene when his hips jerked involuntarily, eliciting a low groan from his throat as he released all the pent up anger and frustration. He hadn’t meant to finish this early, but your words and the memory of your lips on his had an effect on him that he couldn’t control. 

But even as his breathing slowed and he moved to clean up the evidence of his debauchery, he couldn’t help but wonder how you’d punish him for disobeying your commands.

God, he fucking missed you. 

Even with the clarity of his release, he didn’t seem to be thinking clearly. His phone still lay open, the screen on your contact. 

One phone call. That’s all it would take. One phone call and you could be there at the end of it all, just as you’d always been there at the start.

But he still couldn't do it. 

He tapped the settings icon and hit “block caller.”

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Letter from your pregnant self (HIS POV) 18+

I got beef with men but ... what else is new ?

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PILE 1

MY BEEF...any way thank you so much for coming through. Girl you better like it, he got me working fucking overtime. Actually all of them did ...

(LINK TO YOUR READING ... YES IT IS FREE AND ON TUMBLR ... MERRY CHRISMAS)

PILE 2 

Both of y’all are only child that were raised to be anxious over achiever. Parents are never there. I keep hearing : ‘’Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends. Super rich with nothing but fake friends…’’

Letter suppose to be for you but instead he wrote it for your baby.

Dear Lucetta (Various ethereal ‘’L’’ name came through. Other name that came through : Lysandra, Lysianne and Lucretia) 

Daddy messed up (This man is bawling. I mean breakdown and everything. He tries to be strong but for the sec that he admits that, tears are overflowing. If he was actually writing the letter they would be teardrop on the letter). Daddy is nothing but an asshole. I should not write this right … Your mama is going to get mad when she realizes how I butcher your vocabulary (yellow laugh ( french : rire jaune) … idk how to explain it in english). Fuck … You deserve a fucking good letter. That’s the least I can fucking do … yeah that’s the least I can do. Mama decorate your room like the royalty you are meant to be. The tapestry tailored in Spain in an accent of gold and soft pink are all over the walls. Made sure to ask the maid to polish the wooden floor until she can see herself in it. She actually sent me in here to check the oxygen cleanliness of your room. First wtf is air cleanliness. Second when the fuck did they created a damm machine for that shit. Lastly, you are not even there … Sorry baby … I love you more than anything but your mama is gone mad with the way she’s preparing for you. I never understood when  my poor friends complain about rich people's spending habits.  Now I am standing in the room section reserved for your room oxygen. I can help but run a hand in my hair and agree. (Another yellow laugh (rire jaune) before falling down on his knees and crying. Give him a couple minute y’all he needs to catch his breath … ) You're going to cost me so much baby. I never care for my trust fund, finances or even money but I am asking the family accountant to come to me first thing in the morning for the 4th this month. I hope I have enough money ( and for some of y’all … gold … liquid gold …iykyk). I know Mr. (His dad's name) has enough money in the bank but maybe is not enough. Maybe you need more than the couple millions we have. Maybe you need more than the properties we own. Maybe you need fucking more than an oxygen regulator machine. Maybe you need a whole lung doctor. Yes… you  need a nutritionist, a child psychologist … Does the baby have a tutor ? Fuck you need it. Baby just said and daddy will get it. You understand everything you want daddy get. You want a hug, a kiss, for me to count all the stars in the sky to describe how much he loves … done. You need me to buy the moon for you … done. You need me to resurrect  Leonardo Devinci so he can paint you in all your glory … done. There’s nothing I would not give to you but the thing that makes my heart ache is the way I crave intimacy with you. Can’t wait to hold you in my hands. Can’t wait to touch your littles toes. Can’t wait to see your lips pout like your mama when she is done with my mess. Can’t wait to see you grow. I promise princess I will never make second ever again. I will go to every parent meeting at school, bringing you to all your ballet, opera, harp, fencing, horse ridding whatever fucking classes your mom has for you; I will never miss your school competition and I will listen to all your house show you will produce to show yourself off. I don’t care if I am in a meeting, I will always have time for you. I will always have time to remind you how much I love you, how pretty you are, how much you matter and how much of a blessing you are just because you are. Yes… just because is you,  baby. Forgive daddy please. I know I am not in a position to ask you for anything especially after giving up on you for so long but if you don’t make it out of the NICU … mommy may never make it out. We both made her suffer enough. 

Please baby (damm he's whimpering in pain, choking on tears) stay with us. 

YOUR DADDY. 

Don’t worry you are not dead or close to it ( in the physical form at least …), you are being monitored at the hospital. I am getting traumatic labor (I should do a PAC about it) not because of pain but because of blood. You may have not lost your water but blood. I see you laughing at some joke the father of your baby did. Not a single care in the world. Girl your hair is perfect, if you have a Dyson and are working to perfect your blowout … just so you know you are the blowout queen in a couple years. Skin glowing, you look so pretty pregnant. That baby was really the blessing that changed your life forever. You are wearing a 2 piece white set … boom blood. You touch and look at your man. I keep hearing : ‘’ nononono … that can’t be it. (HIS NAME !) It can’t be … my baby. 

This whole letter  has nothing to do with the cards so let’s dive … shall we ? (Intuition took over …)

First you guys were both extremely hardworking workers. Never had time ( and also if I may … never learn ) to create deep bonds. I see both people living in their own penthouse. Yours has more of a Victorian look and his is more modern. You may have a white cat. 

You met at the work gala. I see 2 people look at each and accept y’all fate. 

You start fucking. The deal was perfect. He needed a woman that was not going to get attached to his riches. You needed a man that’s not trying to fix your cold heart. 

I see y’all literally planning to have sex like it’s a meeting … I think y’all use it to blow some steam annoyed by your empty life, useless parents and annoying coworkers. 

At first just fucking, no aftercare, clothe back on and on the go. Then he cracks a joke and you giggle which makes you stay 5 minutes longer. Then he charms you while cooking dinner for you before you leave. Then you spend more and more time together… Now he grabs you a snack and y’all always watch a kid show. He complains about how dumb the character is but you enjoy the deep dive he’s doing without even realizing it. 

You are not wrong, there's a lot of things he doesn't realize. He doesn't realize how much he craves connection. He doesn't realize how much he craves intimacy with you. When asked why ? Is it because you allow him to be ( do you realize the synchrony with the letter … anyway sometime my psychic surprise me 2 girl) 

You took the pregnancy test together and he joke on the fact it was getting terminated and not to stress so much but a light a hope awaken in your  heart for the first in soooo fucking long but you brush it off and went on the same page as him. Not because of him but because ‘’ you the fuck has time for a kid anyway’’ (your word not mine). 

Then you heard the baby's heartbeat and you cut all contact with him. Someday at the beginning of your second trimester you text him paragraphs upon paragraph on how you kept the baby, how it was never to hurt him, but for the first time in your life you felt hope and it felt like you needed to hold on to it. That you don’t know how but you are going to make it. 

He will villainize you and block you. One of your close friend is going to send them drunk voice memo in the middle of the third semester announcing him is a girl between cursing the fuck out. WAKE UP CALL FOR MISTER. 

He comes back the same day you threw your private luxurious baby shower. 

Some of y’all are Italian 

He has a no relationship with his parents and refuses 2. Calling them by their first name while you still seek love from them. 

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PILE 3

Dear Red (y’all call each other by colors so anything can fit, just took that one because it came through first) , 

You are resplendent. I know you think I am exaggerating. Or maybe you think I am only talking this sweet because everything is new ( I just heard : ‘’ The talk is cheap …’’ Lol this one is sassy) but baby I can put my hand the fire that I would still go that hard for you in 30 years when you boobs going to sag, your face will wrinkles from all the time I am going to make you laugh and you have grey hair just like mine ( You : YAH! Stop that in 30 years we are not going to be this old … you dumb fuck. I swear too God this fucking skincare better work. You better stop being goofy .. I want to be a MILF. You know, that is one of my life goals … GIRL YOU BETTER TELL HIM; Me: (choking on my laugh) Now… Why am I getting yelled at ?). Can’t never forget when I saw your sexy ass that day at the beach. I did not think … yeah I can’t wait to fuck it and make her yell my name (ok can’t lie it was my very next thought) nahhh, baby I was hook by the way the sun was making your skin glow. The tattoo on your body is a telling story before my eyes but you know I never wear my damm glasses so I could not read it. Anyway the way your hair flows gracefully with the wind, the way your eyes light up basking in the sun. I knew I had to get a lil mama number. When I first hear your voice … it made me breathless (should have asked for your asthma pump but I did not know you like that at that time but that shows you how much I was starstruck … Almost I had my first asthma attack- You: BABY stop telling my damm business to this lady). Your words, your tone, the way you move with so much elegance … I just knew I hit the jackpot. I would be damm to let you go. I am so proud of having you as mine. I love spending time with you, I love spending money on you, I love kissing you, I love leaving hickeys on you, I love holding your hands, I love texting you, I love making stupid edits of us (Me : the 2014 couple edit … girl … I can’t … you boy is making me cry of laughter). I know everything happens so quickly but you know how you explain me that life is like a book with crystals and your cards with little drawing on it, ( Me : Byeeee I can't, he is trying to explain crystals and tarot cards; Him: Honestly I don’t know about all that … I love hearing her talk about it. I love hearing her talk when she’s excited. I love her voice. The perfect candidate for yap session) anyway my inner child feels so safe and alive with you. I know you feel the same baby girl. Everything is working so effortlessly that must mean we are manifesting something good ( Me : LOL ! He’s talking about the law of attraction). My mom did not even get mad when I announced to her that I got you pregnant (You : Duh she loves me stoopid). You parents loved the fact that we found each other and your dad is as eager as me to formalize our union. Honestly I would marry you anywhere at any time. I told  you from the beginning that you will be my wife and I meant it but I know you want something bigger and so  it’s going to have to wait. That doesn't mean I can’t surprise you with an engagement ring. Standing here with a small group of men allowed to the baby shower, I can’t help but look at you. Your skin tight black dress exposing your full breast and the slide on it showing off your thick thighs. The smile on your face while you act ratchet with your friends ( Him: Damm babe I did not know you could still throw it in a circle 8 months pregnant … you better not say you are tired tonight. I got a plan for both of us) letting yourself go not a single care in the world. This is how I want you to be forever. Not a single care in the world, always full of joy and love and helping you achieve all your goals. Baby I know, it was quick but I swear it is only the beginning of the most beautiful love story. I am going to work hard until my last breath to keep the spark going. 

YOUR ONE AND ONLY MAN 

HIM 

Again wtf is wrong with those men. At first they did not want to work with me … now they are good ? To the point of making me over work …smh.

Yes, you guess it … it was an intuitive letter now let’s get into the card. 

First I am getting PLUS SIZE ! Yes, very thick and curvy women.  Now I understand why I wanted to write a bigger butt earlier … your man loves the curves baby. That’s does not mean is a fucking fetiche. Like if it is affecting health is going to ask you to fix it. News flash loser fat people can have an active life and still be fat. He never forces you to achieve any kind of weird kink. 

Y’all may be giving yourself too easily to men. I am getting that since they only see you for your body. You prefer existing than being invisible (like when you were child, some of y'all have been big since childhood. You were not really bullied but very ignored. People were ashamed to associate with you). Right now I see you are at the beginning of your elf love journey. You are making healthy food choices, spending time mastering a hobby : crystal, tarot, knitting or some other heels dancing. YOU GO GIRL ! Regarding men you still give yourself easily, some even tell you they don’t like you. They just fuck you because you are easy. You accept it and let them take you to pound town anyway. 

This man is going to help you tremendously in your self love journey … you have no fucking idea. You are going to glow more, stop eating your feelings, love yourself, have boundaries with your environment ( idk when the world decides that we have to give less respect to rounder people but anyways …), you will dress more provocatively and wear way more colors. Speak your mind more and be confident in yourself. 

Baby say goodbye to boring sex and say hello to sex toys. Rejoice, babe rejoice you deserve it. Let me tell you something he is pleasure dom … Girl he's going to make you orgasm like it is a damm sport. You better hold on because the night is going to be long. Pussy swollen from overstimulation, ass hurting from spanking and hickeys everywhere. Not him having the audacity to ask you to ride him after all that … anyways chile let me go. 

He gets so hard whenever you talk about spirituality. If you are witch prank by performing some sex magick on him, this man would be sooo proud to be your little helper while you are doing some spell.

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

PILE 4 

Judgement (reverse), King pentacles, 4 wands (reverse), page of cups (reverse) 

I put the card because I want to show that I actually try to do the reading at first but the energy aint it. Somebody had an awful pregnancy especially because of an awful baby daddy. Like he dragged you to the filth, made you cry and cheated on you. Even gave you an STD for some of y’all. Since than he calm the fuck down. He tries to come through like a nicer person  but he made sure to make me understand he doesn't love you so I don't want him. I ain't wasting my time for something he can text. Then his younger self came through … boy bye with your filthy energy. 

So I kept trying because I had to feed you guys … Then your future husband came through but you were still not pregnant so … it was kind of useless for me … But then I understood that y’all are actively trying and that's good enough for me. 

No cards … straight intuition ( I don’t  want this filthy energy to come through again) 

Dear Малышка, Солнышко, Киса (ain't going to lie … I google the most popular and line it up. He ain't going to call you all that. Also I am really getting eastern Europe and I know they all have their own language but most of them somehow got colonized by Russia in some way shape or form. But if he’s from Poland then he will use his language. He’s from Lithuania, he will use his language … You catch the drift) 

(before we get into anything … thick, thick accent), fuck I want you. I need you. Like all the time. You ain’t make it easy for me Малышка. One day you welcome me home with a long white robe, hair in a perfect intricate bun and makeup a bit oily. That's how I know our kid did not let you rest. You only had  time to take away your clothes before you had to jump in mommy mode. Other times you tease me by sending me pictures of the lingerie and perfume you are wearing. Swear I hate the fact that I start work so early and finish so late. Oh let me not forget when you took a picture with my computer of you in your favorite brown set. The number of times you give me a blue ball should be illegal. Don’t even get me started when we were invited to the gala, you look so breathtaking … anyways you already know all that. Being a man's desire never was a foreign concept but being in love was one I had to teach you. Every day I rejoice with the idea of spending a whole lifetime loving you and our little bundle of energy. She/He never stops … just like her/his mommy. It took me a while to win over her/his heart. She/He is so protective of your heart. Almost as if he/she everyone in your heart aches when carrying him/her. That’s ok now we are 2 trying to protect you, can’t wait to be 3 humans to love on you. Until then here is the money for the new makeup you wanted to try. 

Love you Малышка. 

LOL ! I swear your future man has some sense of humor. I said the other one he could text you is lame nice word this one came through as a text. 

Also some of you may think he is super old … nah he is around your age. Babe get out the damn book there’s handsome Slavic men your age range in the real world. 

Anyways this man has tattoos and loves metal and goth music. He has moneyyy. I just don’t know the capacity but enough to put you in a luxurious condo and fund your influencer career. 

Lol … I see some of y’all cringing. I don’t think you will do couple content, actually you keep your life extremely private … The only thing people know is the diamond on your finger. I am getting more skincare and makeup content creators. You have a boudoir (beauty room/content room) that’s all we see. When I channeled him, I saw you receiving his message while getting ready to film some content. At that time in your life you are still juggling a 9to5. I mean girl, you are doing it all ! Mommy, corporate baddie, content creator and trophy wife. 

He has a rather dark aesthetic unlike you. You have a quite cute, pink aesthetic but love hardcore metal and goth. 

He came through while I played my NIRVANA playlist.

PREVIOUS READING

2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK

[piftamere]

something real (wc : 1.4k)

secret santa fic for @eussstasss as part of the hq x reader secret santa by @/lale-txt, i hope you'll like it! i had fun writing it <3

synopsis : she asks her dear best friend, Suna Rintarou, to accompany her to her family Christmas party as her pretend boyfriend, too embarrassed to go alone another year. no ulterior motives.

content : suna rintarou x f!reader, fake dating, friends to lovers, fluff

divider by @nectardaddy

Year after year, the questions were the same.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Are you still single?"

"Are you ever going to bring someone home to your family?"

And every time she had to disappoint them, forcing a smile as she replied she wasn’t seeing anyone. She could see their own smiles drop and their faith in her weaken.

This year, she couldn’t take it anymore. Something snapped. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out that she'd have someone accompany her to the family Christmas party.

The moment the lie left her lips, she wanted to take it back, but it was too late. Relief washed over her parents’ faces, her mother rushing to the phone to give her grandmother the big news.

She couldn’t shatter their happiness now, not when she’d seen how much it meant to them.

A few weeks later, she was slumped over her best-friend's couch, face buried in a pillow.

"I still haven’t found anyone," she whined, her voice muffled as she groaned in frustration. "It’s tomorrow."

Suna leaned against the armrest, amused. ''You sure you tried everything?"

"Yes, everything."

"And now you’re giving up?"

"Yup." She replied, defeated.

"So… no Christmas?"

"Nope."

As she was blocking out the mocking snicker Suna was making, an idea struck her. A desperate, ridiculous idea. She turned her head just enough to look at him, eyes pleading, peaking over the pillow.

"Wait…" she began hesitantly. She sat up, clutching his arm. "Do me this one favor. I’ll owe you forever. Please."

He raised an eyebrow, almost sure he knew what she meant, his lips stretched into a mischievous grin. "What?" He wanted to hear her say it.

"Be my fake boyfriend. Please."

"Why not just tell them you broke up with your imaginary boyfriend?"

She groaned again, burying her face in his sleeve. "I can’t. I can’t deal with the pity stares or them thinking i made it up. Please Rin, pretty please."

He wanted to reply that technically, she did make it up, but her desperation must have struck a chord because, after a beat of silence, he sighed, "Fine."

If she’d had more time to think it through, maybe she’d have asked why he agreed so quickly. Maybe she’d have wondered about that smirk on his face. But with the clock ticking, she ignored the signs.

She was going to regret this.

The next day, they were standing on the doorstep of her childhood home, a freshly bought pie in her hands. She glanced at the front door, now having second thoughts, her stomach tying itself into knots.

As Suna reached for the doorbell, he suddenly paused, his lips letting out a mischievous chuckle. "Wait a sec," he said, stepping closer.

She shot him a curious look. "What are you doing?"

Without answering, he slipped his arm casually around her waist, pulling her snug against him. She flinched, nearly dropping the pie.

"Relax," he said with a playful wink, his smirk slightly infuriating. "We have to sell it, you know?"

His hand rested comfortably on her hip, like it was the most casual thing ever. She swore she could feel the warmth of his touch burn her skin through the thick fabric of her coat.

Her cheeks flushed, both from embarrassment and the sudden realization of how committed he was to the whole thing. "You’re enjoying this way too much," she muttered under her breath.

"You begged me for this, remember?", Suna replied nonchalantly, reaching for the doorbell with his free hand.

Before she could respond, the door swung open, revealing her mother who practically dragged them inside.

It felt surprisingly good to walk around the house, introducing her "boyfriend" to her relatives. The warm smiles, the approving nods and whispers. She'd almost fall for the act herself.

If only she could ignore the strange, fluttery feeling settling in her stomach every time she looked at him.

At dinner, he played his part a little too well. In the name of being believable, his hand lingered on hers as it rested on the table. She had a hard time getting used to the soft squeeze of his fingers when he leaned back in his chair, cracked a joke with her father or complimented her mother's cooking. She blinked, taken aback by how effortlessly he seemed to fit into her family, like he’d been part of it all along.

She caught herself stealing glances at him, feeling peculiarly shy at this unfamiliar, charming side of him.

After dinner, they gathered around the Christmas tree to exchange gifts. The soft glow of the lights, the scent of pine in the air and the laughter of her family made this moment feel all too real.

Suna turned to her, a small, neatly wrapped box in his hand. She wasn't expecting this. How had he found the time to buy her a gift? She was trying not to read into it.

"Here," he said casually, holding it out to her.

"You got me something?"

"Of course. I’m your boyfriend." he replied with a small grin.

Their fingers brushed as he handed it to her, and for a fleeting moment, their eyes met. Something in his gaze, something warm, playful, and maybe a little too sincere for comfort, made her heart thump loudly against her ribs.

It was becoming harder to remember this was all an act.

She tore her eyes away, focusing on unwrapping the gift in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. Inside was a delicate bracelet, a thin chain with a beautiful charm that shined faintly in the tree's glow.

"So? Do you like it?" He asked, watching her reaction intently. He almost sounded nervous.

She nodded, "Rin… It’s beautiful. I didn’t think-"

"That I had taste? Ouch-"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, a smile still on her lips. "That you'd go this far."

Suna leaned in, his voice dropping just enough for only her to hear. "What can I say? I’m committed to my role."

Carefully, she took it out of the box. She was struggling to put it on, when he took it from her hands.

"Allow me," he gently wrapped it around her wrist and skillfully clasped it. His touch lingered on her skin, longer than necessary, but neither of them moved.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur, but her mind was far away. Every stolen glance at him, every playful touch, only made the knot in her chest tighten even more.

A little lost in her thoughts, she found herself by the window, gazing out at the snow-covered yard as she mindlessly fidgeted with the charm on her bracelet. The calming view was a welcome distraction as she tried to untangle the mess in her mind.

"Look what we have here." Suna whispered, coming up behind her, his voice tinged with mischief.

She turned, slightly startled as her eyes followed his hand pointing to the branch of mistletoe over her head.

"Seriously?"

"I don't make the rules," Suna replied, stepping closer. He shrugged, raising his hands in defeat.

Fed up with how confident he’d been all day, she sighed and tugged firmly on his sleeve. He stumbled forward, caught completely off guard. Now impossibly close, he stared at her, wide-eyed. For the first time since they arrived at her parents’ house, he was dead silent. She couldn’t help but savor the moment of peace.

Maybe for a moment too long, because the surprise was wearing off, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "What? Lost your-"

"Oh shush." she cut him off, her voice firm. Before he could react, she leaned up and kissed him.

His lips were still, as if the shock hadn’t quite worn off. But then he kissed her back, his hand coming to rest on the side of her face. His playful demeanor becoming gentle.

When they finally parted, her cheeks burned. His usually half-lidded eyes glinted with something she couldn’t quite name, something intense, real.

A little breathless, he spoke, "You said you’d owe me forever, right?"

Her brows knit in confusion, her heart still racing. "Yes?"

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. "Go out with me. For real this time."

She stared at him, her mind reeling. And as she looked back on today and their relationship, that always seemed tainted by something a little deeper than friendship, she realized the feeling gnawing at her insides since this morning wasn’t anxiety, it was hope.

And maybe it was time to stop pretending.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 2

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2])

I'm glad nicky came up with a cool new tune because according to period movies and shows greensleeves is the only song anyone ever knew

look at that meek little smile, ughhhh. nicky is like two days old and this asshole has already figured out he's the perfect prop for her murder sprees. and these poor women are calling her sister and are willing to help too.

the spell is te accipimus in circulum, we accept you in the circle, and yes that makes me cry a little. we accept you in our community. and the spell is yellow air magic, which sounds like the most empathic kind if Lilia is any indication.

that's interesting, you can't really tell that well from screencaps but go rewatch the scene, this witch is making mushrooms grow with yellow magic instead of green?? is it just a spell (she is holding a book) or have I been getting it all wrong and color has nothing to do with the type of magic one has?

or maybe??? the color depends on the coven you're in?? the salemites all had blue magic for example. and now that I think about it the stone circle is a protection spell but it's not red/orange.

the meaning of this scene is so glaring dear lord. agatha was never going to give these women a chance to prove that yes, there are people out there who could love and help and accept her. she has shut herself up to that possibility a long time ago.

and she stole the soup too. awful.

I've seen all the different theories about nicky needing to feed on witches too, or nicky needing soul sacrifices to survive because he's the son of death etc. we don't have enough evidence to prove anything yet, but personally I headcanon nicky as a totally normal kid, that makes this story even more tragic.

and aww that baby suckling on the little pudgy fist

nicky doesn't look that happy about what he's been asked to do, does he?

we establish that nicky was sickly (maybe he was born with some internal defect that rio temporarily patched up?) we also see him steal the bell agatha will use for her Road scam in the future.

and we meet yet another witch being kind and wanting to help.

agatha: I love this six year old so much I'm gonna make him accessory to murder

dO yOU ShaME YouR MOtHER

and the big fake gasp too. as usual this bitch has conned a whole community

like, she's convinced herself that other witches are bad and are after her WHILE relying on witches's good hearts to con and kill them. what sort of mental gymnastics???

color goes from yellow to purple. nicky waits outside while his mom commits murder, it's not a good look on agatha. completely fucked up, actually.

(I'm terrified that the goat will end up being an agent of mephisto or something idiotic like that, lemme tell you. I hope they're just keeping it for milk and company.)

and here's the million dollar question. nicky has seen his mom kill literally since he was born, and now he's old enough to start realizing what that means.

oooh I know that look, that's agatha when she's put on the spot. she avoids his gaze, she can't be sincere with him.

and of course she's teaching herself spells from a book. nerrrrrrd

nicky, bless his soul, appears to give it a good thought and then offers a practical suggestion. I guess he wouldn't mind to have a roof on his head and some friends too.

GREAT acting from kathryn here. the quick OH SHIT face followed by the super final NO, with her jaw so rigid. in typical agatha fashion, when she's upset she becomes avoidant.

this is evanora's legacy. despite agatha's immense love for nicky, she is passing all that pain down and inflicting it on him.

remember when she called billy a survivor? this is the greatest asset in her opinion, the one she wants to teach her son. the truth is, she is angry at witches because she is scared of them, she's scared of being targeted again. but look at that kid's dark circles, I can't believe she's making him sleep in the woods, sick as he is!

really really fantastic subtlety. agatha wants to sound wise and strong, but she looks scared, uncertain, guilty.

see how nicky looks at agatha while he sings? he's checking to see if she's noticing, because his mom likes music and likes his voice. he's afraid he has upset her and wants to make her smile. he tried to reason with her, and now he tries to soothe her. this is what happens when you have an immature parent, a child will want to help, they will try to fix things. they'll end up parenting their parent, and it should always be the other way round.

agatha takes the bait. she's relieved that the conversation has moved to a safer subject. but oh, this script is so good. this is a mostly innocent, mostly sweet remark, but with a possessive undertone. don't forget that you are mine, she says.

and still, the love is real. even in a fucked up situation like this, these moment of happiness are precious and genuine and will linger on. look at how adoringly nicky looks at his mom, she's literally the sun and center of his small world, and that's how agatha likes it: she created nicky because she needed someone who could be hers without any baggage or consequences. but it turns out that raising a child is not a cheat code for love, it's one of the most difficult, most significant and impactful decisions a human can make.

[blue-jisungs]

ancient runes and sea creatures

summary. leehan ends up in his worst nightmare - getting the perfect student into trouble

au. hogwarts!!!! ravenclaw!reader x hufflepuff!leehan

word count. 4722 (got a lil too carried away... )

warnings , extras. leehan is intimidated by reader ?? but in a like. impressed way?? also reader is a head girl prefect!!. a slightly suggestive implication at one point but like, its misinterpreted ++ a bunch of hogwart lingo and lore (?). use od leehans real name. mention of a creature that eats humans

author's note. a biiig thank u to @slytherinshua and @gluion for pushing me out of my writers block w this one!!! and esp moni, who tbh came up w this plot!!! i hhope u like it!!! it kinda took a self-indulent route for me (ancient runes as chinese characters haha... haha... and leehan being a mid student w niche hobbies vs the perfect student yn who! shocker! likes! studying... hahah....ha.....) ANYWHO. also love u to death @l3visbby for proofreading!! where would i be w/o u atp....

also i wanted to post one last thing in 2024!!! so i hope u enjoy it and get ready bc ive been cooking <3

leehan fixed his glasses, fingers brushing against the coarse pages of his favorite book. then, he glanced at his notebook. filled from top to bottom with neat, medium sized, handwritten text. here and there were loose sketches and photographs attached with fish shaped paper clips.

the hufflepuff boy looked up at his gryffindor friends - jaehyun and woonhak. they were chatting about something loudly, the sound of their voices blending in with the noise in the corridor. 

sunlight peeked from behind the windows leehan was leaning against, making him feel even more indulged in his own world. 

“we’ll keep going. don’t wanna be late for potions!” jaehyun suddenly announced in his ear and ruffled his hair “see you, donghyun!” 

he just smiled in return, woonhak having goodbye. 

before returning to his book, he let out a small sigh and started looking at the students passing him by. a lot of friends giggling and talking, some people studying or snacking on colorful candy. 

then, as if a lightning struck him, he tensed upon noticing you. 

you were walking with fast pace yet not hurried one. the navy and grey colored tie rustled on the wind, your hair waving gently. a small frown was painting on your graceful features.

“what do you mean sungho is not showing up? i need everyone there” you asked, glancing at your ravenclaw friend for explanation. however, they did not have any. 

“no idea, y/n! he just told me to tell you and wandered off… you have to–” they started. 

“i don’t have to do anything. we have to cooperate if we want everything work out” with a scoff, you turned your gaze away and locked eyes with leehan for a mere moment. 

he felt blood rushing to his cheeks, quickly glancing down at his book. you looked scary. no, intimidating. 

“this thing isn’t here by accident” you gently tapped your head girl badge with pride. “let’s go to class now. i’ll catch sungho later” 

leehan didn’t even realize he was holding in a breath - only when the sound of your voice faded away, he released it. 

he tilted his head and smiled softly, flipped through the pages. he only stopped when he saw a detailed print of a basilisk. quite terrifying yet devilishly smart creature. 

leehan closed the book and packed his belongings, slowly going towards his classroom. 

“oh come on, don’t be such a loner!” riwoo’s whines reached nearby standing student’s ears, causing them to look over at the hufflepuffs. leehan cleared his throat and let out a sigh of defeat.

“fine. who else is going? you know i don’t enjoy crowded places in particular…” he started but his friend already started pushing him towards the exit.

“well you, me, jaehyun, woonhak… and, drumroll please! yes, you guessed it! two infamous slytherins, park sungho and han taesan!” riwoo grinned. leehan nodded, satisfied. that’s a perfect amount of people. “and hanbin”

“just hanbin?” leehan frowned, suspicious. riwoo smiled awkwardly, forcing his friend to move faster.

“and sohee!” riwoo hesitated. 

“and…?” leehan grunted, halting in place.

“that’s all! i promise!” sanghyeok put his hand over his heart “hufflepuff’s honor!”

leehan just scoffed and followed his friend to three broomsticks. it was weekend, after all. going out with more than two people once in a while won’t hurt him, surely. 

it was warm inside, the smell of delicious food hitting his nostrils. donghyun was quick to spot his friends (and their friends). lately jaehyun was detachable from sohee and hanbin. 

eight butterbeers were already waiting on the table, sticking to the wood. 

“you made it, woah! you have my respect!” woonhak, the youngest, joked. sungho patted the seat next to him and leehan sat down, smiling awkwardly. 

“and you? shouldn’t you be on the prefect meeting or whatever?” taesan asked suddenly, sungho rolling his eyes. 

“i should. but if i skip one, nothing will happen” he shrugged, reaching for his butterbeer. 

“y/n seemed pretty upset about it” the words slipped out of leehan’s lips before he could realize it. everyone looked at him, a bit shocked, so he quickly added: “i heard it when she was passing me by. nothing crazy, it’s not like i talk to her or something” 

the mere thought of standing near you terrified him, not to mention talking. donghyun didn’t know how sungho –  or anyone, really – was doing that. 

“she’s being dramatic. miss perfect… she decided to be in charge of organizing almost everything this year, at least it feels like it” sungho mumbled. 

“yeah, it’s crazy how she manages to do it all. well, let’s just hope she won’t cast melfors jinx on you” jaehyun teased 

“his head is as big as a pumpkin already, though” taesan snickered and was met with sungho’s fist on his shoulder. 

you were sitting on the grass, crossing out the ideas that seemed foolish. the weather was cold, yet snow hasn’t fallen yet. even though it was november, you were in charge of organising events for students that are going to stay at hogwarts during christmas. you being one of them. 

well, it wasn’t fully your responsibility - other prefects were supposed to help. 

“stupid sungho…” you mumbled, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck. 

you looked up and adored the view in front of you. the last of leaves falling off trees, being swept by wind. here and there you could see some students but during this cold season, majority preferred to stay inside. then, you noticed a particular silhouette. 

someone was squatting dangerously close to the lake. 

you stood up, packing your belongings in a rush. 

as you approached the reckless student, you noticed the yellow and black colors of hufflepuff. of course. you opened your mouth to scold their behavior but you heard a quiet murmur. 

“hm? how did you get here, little one? you belong to the island. you couldn’t have possibly swam over here” 

you leaned a bit forward and peeked over the hufflepuff student’s shoulder. he was gently reaching his pointer finger out to a bowtruckle.

the small, green creature was staring at the stranger, big brown eyes blinking slowly. it slowly meet half-way with the person’s finger. 

“you’re not as shy as you friends” a low chuckle made you smile “i should get you back there… but how?” 

the person rose their head up and looked around. the bowtruckle pointed at you. 

“oh?” the student tilted their head and looked through their shoulder, meeting your curious gaze. you gasped, getting caught. 

the guy’s eyes widened, lips tightening. 

“oh” he mumbled. you frowned, his features looking somehow similar. 

the hufflepuff boy stood up, acting as if he did not just hid the small creature in his pocket. he tried to walk away but you stopped him. 

“hey! it’s dangerous to be out here” you cleared your throat. the guy stopped in his tracks, back facing you “do you have an idea what kind of beasts are there?”

a soft smile cracked on his lips, eyes trained on the ground. 

“kelpies, grindylows, selkies… and oh, the giant squid. man, they are so…” he whispered and you were certain he thought his words didn’t reach you. yet, they did. you smiled, realizing he was probably another creature-obsessed student.

“anyway, i do appreciate your care towards this little fella. however, it would be better if hagrid took care of him” you looked at him with a straight face. the hufflepuff boy kept avoiding eye contact and failed to notice the silly bowtruckle escaping from his pocket. 

the green creature ran down his pants and started making circles around you. 

“i, uh… i don’t know how to hold him” you scoffed, trying to catch it. 

“like this. make sure not to tug the leaf on its head…” he breathed out and caught the bowtruckle, holding it in two hands. 

awkward silence fell between you two, the boy stubbornly keeping his head low. 

“i’ll keep going” he mumbled and wandered off to hagrid’s hut, leaving you puzzled and somehow intrigued.

“hey, chill out” sungho nudged your shoulder, casing your fountain pen to jerk and leave a crooked line. you glared at him.

“i would if someone helped me. i still have to come up with ideas for the three last days and i need to turn them in to mcgonagall by friday” you huffed and tossed your notebook aside. 

sungho puffed his cheeks and looked over at taesan for help. he just shrugged, carelessly tucking his hands into his pockets.

“don’t look at me. i’m not even a prefect” his cat-alike smirk made you even more frustrated.

“okay, well… maybe try asking some students what would they want to do?” sungho proposed, scanning your face to gauge your reaction. you let out a small huff.

“see, here we go. thanks. now i just have to ask around who’s staying…” you groaned and noted down the idea, closing your notebook. “but i’ll do that later. now i’ll go, i promised professor snape to help him clean the classroom. a reckless student just… caused a mess, so to say” 

the exchanged amused looks and you raised your eyebrows. 

“what?” 

“nothing. have fun” sungho snorted. his gaze suddenly snapped up to someone else and he waved. you noticed three people walking up. 

one of them looking similar.

“hey, myungjae, do you happen to know someone who’s staying at hogwarts during christmas?” sungho asked, leaning on the table. your fingers twitched at the sight of him almost spilling a cup of juice with his elbow.

“well, uh… our leehan and ricky, i think. and zhanghao. and hanbin, he promised to stay with them so they wouldn’t feel lonely” a boy in gryffindor uniform answered and looked at you, a wide smile painting on his lips.

“you’re staying?” taesan asked. you looked at the only hufflepuff boy in the group. so that was leehan?

“yeah” he answered shortly, purposefully averting his gaze from you. 

“why–?” taesan kept asking and you just sighed. 

“is there anything you would like to do? during the break. i need to organize events for students so i figured it would be the best idea to ask them personally” you crossed your arms. 

everyone looked at the guy, his head tilted down and eyes glued to his shoes. 

“what’s up with him?” the other gryffindor student whispered. 

you waited for a moment before shaking your head. that seemed to work on the boy - he finally looked at you, shyly. 

“it’s a hard question, i know. just… hit me up once you figure it out” you sent him a soft smile and went your way. 

“what’s up with you? is the potion blowing up in your  face still on your mind?” jaehyun laughed and nudged leehan’s shoulder. 

“so that was him after all” taesan snickered. 

“chill out, donghyun. y/n is really cool, don’t need to be all tensed up around her” sungho teased. leehan looked around, scanning the great hall. some people were looking their way - but that was probably nothing serious, right? just a bunch of losers, a prefect and the head girl prefect that’s an all a student.

“earth to leehan! why are you staying here?” jaehyun asked, waving his hand before the hufflepuff boy’s eyes. 

a playful smile painted on leehan’s lips before he explained his reasons to his friends. 

rushing through the dark hallway, you pressed your textbook closer to your chest. it was way past the curfew and you hoped flich was done with his late patrols on this side of the castle. you just happened to get too focused on ancient runes and–

“oof-!”

you felt the impact of bumping into something and almost landed on the ground when a strong hand prevented you from falling. you squeezed your eyes, the darkness not allowing you fully to recognize the stranger.

“y/n…?” his soft voice rang familiar and you glanced at his uniform. the yellow badge with a proud badger adorned his chest.

“leehan, right?” you scoffed and he helped you regain balance, taking a step back. that way, the moonlight sneaking through the windows fell on his face, highlighting his features. 

he fixed his glasses, brows slightly furrowed.

“what are you doing here?” you whispered, blinking slowly. even though your prefect instincts kicked in, you were genuinely curious. 

this boy had just a mysterious aura to him. always so aloof, almost distant. nowadays, you caught yourself noticing him, usually alone reading a book or doing something. something, indeed. just like when you saw him near the lake. he always seemed to be looking for some kind of creatures. you couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

“i… uh, i was researching” he smiled gently. his gaze was fixed on you - unlike other times. maybe he didn’t feel so shy now that the midnight darkness was surrounding you two. you thought it was cute. “and, uh… you?”

“ancient runes. they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun” you smiled and nudged his arm gently “let’s go together, our dorms are in the same direction”

he nodded and followed you, the quiet sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor.

“did you think about the question? it’s okay if you haven’t, i was just curious” you asked, glancing at him.

“personally, strolling around hogwarts at such hour is nice. i wouldn’t mind it if i was able to do it without the possibility of getting in trouble” he answered. you agreed.

“i haven’t thought about that. hm. maybe it’ll be possible since there’s gonna be less students. i’ll talk to mcgonagall about it” you hummed “thanks” 

“and, uh, did you get it all done? like, the events” his voice was quiet. he wasn’t shy but more so, he was cautiously picking his words. 

“yes but there’s not going to be much. people i asked didn’t seem interested” you sighed.

“it’s a shame, you’ve been working hard to come up with anything” leehan sent you a reassuring smile. a strange glint sparkled in his eye, some kind of sadness. 

“what can i do? i guess they want to be alone, apparently” you scoffed.

“meow”

you two froze, feet glued to the floor. leehan looked at you, wide eyed. 

before you could realize, he was pulling you to hide behind a column. with your head squished against his chest, you could hear his heart pounding as if it was about to rip out of his ribcage. 

his hand naturally rested on your head, the soft fanning of his breath against your hair. 

the sound of footsteps was coming closer and closer as you tried to think of something. 

a sudden beam of light caused leehan to squint his eyes, pulling you slightly closer. 

“what an absurd! not only it is after curfew, you are also… doing things that should be kept private! this place is coming to an end! who would have thought, students… of opposite-!”

“what? no! it’t not like that!” you choked out, turning around on your heel. 

“mrs l/n?!” filch gasped, and mrs norris’ loud meow was almost soul ripping “out of all people! you?”

“no, it’s not like that! we just…” leehan’s voice was quiet, almost stuttering. 

“yes? explain your red faces then! someone who was caught wouldn’t be such a blushing mess! dear merlin, what is going on with those youngsters nowadays!” the caretaker whined.

“we weren’t doing anything, mr filch! we just- we tried to hide! from you, it is. not from you as in… we didn’t-” you tried to explain. when you turned around to check up on the ravenclaw boy, he was indeed as red as the gryffindor representative color. his eyes were glued to the ground and you could swear you saw sweat dripping down his temple.

“detention!”

his eyes snapped up, wide as two prophecy orbs. panic written all over his face, fingers fiddling. 

“it’s my fault. let’s not bring y/n into this” he spoke up, swallowing hard. 

“how so? i see you two. not just you, boy” mr filch said with an attitude, picking up mrs norris. “i’m not repeating myself. detention. madam pince needs help in the library, so it’s just perfect” 

“but-” leehan tried to cut in but the cat interrupted him with an aggressive hiss. 

“now go! before i take points from your houses!” the caretaker tsked and you ran off, grabbing his hand. you could only hear distant murmurs “the head girl… youngsters are getting worse and worse each year…”

once out of his reach, almost at the ravenclaw dormitory, you realized you’re still holding his hand. leehan halted, gasping.

“i’m so sorry, y/n! i don’t know what’s gotten into him but i’ll do it myself. please, don’t bother–” the hufflepuff boy started rambling, avoiding your gaze. was he scared you’re angry at him?

you gently put your hand on his arm.

“hey” 

leehan slowly looked into your eyes; however, just for a split second. his breath was heavy in the silence. 

“it’s alright. i can handle one detention. in the library? it sounds like a pleasure to me” you huffed, trying to cheer him up. poor boy, he must’ve really felt guilty. “he got so pissed because he has never felt the touch of a woman. mr filch got jealous, that’s all” 

you chuckled but leehan remained quiet. well, maybe that was a failed attempt at trying to cheer him up. 

“i, uh. anyway, i’m sorry too. don’t beat yourself about it, okay?” you whispered, patting his arm. leehan’s small nod made you content. “sleep well, leehan” 

he felt your hand slip off his shoulder. 

maybe if he wasn’t too ashamed to look up, he would’ve noticed the way you looked back at him before entering the dormitory.

leehan was standing between the bookshelves, enjoying the smell of books. the library was quiet, thanks to the majority of students having left already. even madam pince wandered off to somewhere. 

“hi”

he turned his head to the side and was shocked to see you. out of your ravenclaw uniform, at that.

“hi” he whispered and quickly returned his gaze to the book he was holding. he gulped nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing.

it was his worst nightmare, actually. bringing the all-star student into detention with him. even though the fault was technically on both sides, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. you should be resting and not… 

“how’s it going?” you asked quietly, standing next to him. your back faced the bookshelf he was facing, side profiles matching. 

“it’s quite pleasant, to be frank” he mumbled in response “you didn’t have to come here”

you scoffed and scanned all the books, laying in messy piles. they really needed reorganizing.

“would i really be able to call myself a student without getting in trouble even once?” you snickered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i told you not to worry about it, leehan”

silence fell between you two, only the sound of him flipping the pages bringing warm comfort.

“it’s donghyun, actually” he said softly with a twinge of happiness. you cocked your head and glanced at him, grabbing a random book. “leehan is a nickname that just… stayed. donghyun is my real name”

“it’s pretty” it slipped out of your lips before you could realize, so you just hung your head low and decided to think of a strategy on how to resort the books. leehan smirked and put the book he was holding on one of the shelves. to break the awkward tension you accidentally created, you cleared your throat “uh, did you take care of that bowtruckle back then?”

“bowtruckles aren’t really my thing so i took it to hagrid. he promised me to get it back to its home tree” he hummed, reaching for another book. he ran his fingers over the navy colored cover, the remaining letters of a handwritten title barely there anymore.

“so what is, then?” you asked. 

even though you didn’t have to be quiet, you two kept talking softly. you couldn’t put your finger on it but maybe it was the overall atmosphere of the library. alas, you wouldn’t say you minded. it was comforting.

“sea creatures” donghyun answered with a soft sigh. did you irritate him? 

“sorry. you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. i’m just curious about you” you mumbled. 

your shoulders were touching and you felt his arm move now and then whenever he reached out to put away a book. 

leehan hummed in deep thought, far away with his thoughts - hence, he didn’t hear you.

he never would have thought that he would be conversing with you. you were just so out of his league and intimidated him. good grades, friends with everyone… but deep down it was your organization skills. you just had it all together. despite all those side things you took care of, you still managed to find time to study. heck, you even liked it? he recalled your conversation from the hallway. what did you say about ancient runes…?

“they are quite relaxing to me, it’s just… i write them all over to remember how they look. once i nail that i feel like i can read them properly. but just the writing itself… is, yeah. time consuming but fun.” 

how can one find thousands of new icons to learn, memorise and remember… relaxing. he was a bit jealous that you did it so effortlessly. 

and sure, he heard you complaining about tests and exams. but you still passed with ease. unlike him, who no matter how much he studied, still barely passed. 

“ouch!”

a soft thump of a book falling brought him back to life. 

he leaned down to pick it up but only bumped against your forehead. 

blood rushed to his cheeks out of embarrassment. but you just giggled and took the book, putting it back. 

he must have been zoned out for a while because he noticed you did one of the shelves already. 

you grabbed another book. it had a black cover and no title whatsoever. you started flipping pages to check what even it’s about. leehan, who was peeking through your shoulder, saw a glimpse of an interesting drawing.

“the giant squid” he placed his finger before you closed the book. you were startled a bit and looked around to meet his face quite close to yours. 

yet, his brown eyes were fixated on the creature.

“do you know it’s semi-domesticated? on the chocolate frog cards its described as “the bane” of hogwarts’ students who wanted to go for a “dip in the lake”. it’s so dumb. first of all, it lives very deep in the lake, so even a small dip wouldn’t hurt. and secondly, it’s harmless. it…” he hesitated and a shy smile formed on his lips. you couldn't help but smile as well “it even allows students to feed it bread”

“really?” you asked in disbelief, turning your gaze to look at the drawing of a giant squid. donghyun’s low hum of confirmation made shivers ran down your spine.

“toast to be specific” he added and you felt a movement.

leehan stepped closer and you could feel his body almost pressing against yours, his breath softly fanning over your cheek. the hufflepuff leaned closer to read the information. right, of course.

“but you know, it must be because its magical. true giant squids, architeuthis i think, wouldn’t be able to stand our lake’s lack of salinity. and normally, it wouldn’t digest food” donghyun shrugged. you didn’t know what was happening to you - you couldn’t prevent your smile from growing. listening to him rambling about his niche sea creature interest really warmed your heart.

oh, this boy got you whipped.

“i think it’s a subspecies. like kneazles and mundane cats” leehan added, his finger tracing the black inked illustration of the squid’s tentacles.

your breath hitched. you wanted to reply, to throw a comment. but you realized you had no knowledge in this discipline, making you even more intrigued with donghyun.

“i really want to see it one day. maybe in summer. sometimes it plays with students, you know? lays out its tentacles out of the lake and just… lets the students mess with it” he tsked “hopefully…” 

“i’d like to see that” you giggled. you heard a faint gasp and glanced at him. his eyes snapped back at you, as if he just realized he’s been rambling. 

“i’ll take you with me, then. i planned on going at the end of the year, just before leaving for summer break” he shot you a soft smile, small crinkles forming around his eyes (and you swore your knees just went weak). 

“i’m in” you grinned and gently moved his finger out of the book. then, you closed it and stood on your tiptoes to put it on the higher shelf.

however, you couldn’t reach.

“let me help you” donghyun’s tender voice once again rang from behind you. 

soon enough, you felt his warm hand on your hip as he took the book from your hand and placed it for you. for a mere moment you could feel his chest pressing against your back, the smell of his cologne invading your senses like a swarm of butterflies whirling around you.

you didn't even realize when the hufflepuff boy was back in his position, putting back the rest of the books. and further on ramling about sea creatures.

“there was also a case of the giant squid helping a student that had fallen into the lake…”

sitting on a nearby bench, you were writing the ancient runes to form a sentence. actually, you were writing in your journal about today’s date with donghyun. his own notebook was laying next to you - he was afraid to get it wet. 

“ah, y/n, quick! a grindylow!” he yelped and you shot to your feet, dropping your journal onto the bench. with snow crunching underneath your feet, you sprinted towards the hufflepuff boy. he had his scarf and hat on, pink nose peeking from the layers. 

“how did it come here?” you asked curiously, quickly joining his side. 

leehan's  gloved hand grabbed yours and pointed at the quickly swimming creature. it was barely visible due to its dark color blending with the green shade of the lake but you could see its outline. 

“my bet is looking for food. they like fish. or maybe it was bored. or…” donghyun hesitated, looking over at you. you shifted your gaze at him, looking at his big brown eyes hidden behind his glasses. “or… it came here for its prey!”

donghyun suddenly wrapped his arms around you, lifting you off the ground and spinning around. you squealed, taken by a surprise. 

“they don’t eat humans!” you whined when he put you down.

“uh… sure…” he chuckled and reached to the pocket of his puffy jacket. he grabbed some dried algae and threw it into the water. you moved closer to him, suddenly scared. interlocking arms with his, you snuggled onto his side.

“it eats people?” you asked quietly as you saw the creature swimming closer to the food. its head poked out of the water surface, small, black, shiny eyes looking at you before taking a bite of the algae.

leehan snickered and grabbed your chin, eyes locking with you.

“only cuties like you” he grinned and moved his yellow and black scarf out of his face. then, he leaned closer and kissed you softly. even though his lips were cold, you felt warmth spreading through your body. you smiled into the kiss and pulled him even closer by the scarf. 

who would have thought that two days after the detention you’d gain the courage to ask him out. 

he pulled back slightly, first looking at your lips with a smirk and then back in your eyes.

“and humans. but only the grown grindylows and that one is still a baby” he grinned. and before you could even roll your eyes, he pulled your ravenclaw-colored hat down and covered half of your face. with a giggle, he pulled you closer.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm

[sweeterthanficstion]

— twelve dates 'till christmas || l.s.k ⋆⁺₊❅.

christmas party / fake relationship / re2r leon! ❆ for @leonsecretsanta event! ❆ gift for @calbloodypigeon ! <3

tags: no outbreak au, rookie leon, journalist reader, gn reader but if i've accidentally missed something please let me know so i can fix it up! --- lots of stupid hallmark christmas cliches, heavily inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days.

summary: when the leads you're chasing for your feature article for the local paper have gone ice cold, and you've just about given up hope, the rpd's newest rookie shows up like a christmas miracle and proposes a deal that might just save you. or blow up in your face.

word count: 6.1k --- i know i went over the word count IM SO SORRY 😭

a/n: CAL! HI! i'm SO beyond sorry this is late, i fucked up the timings so bad and stupidly miscalculated how much time i had left to finalise this and then i got roped into my own christmas fiasco so i was RACING against the clock to try get this out asap. BUT i hope you like it regardless!! i saw re2r leon as your wild card and my eyes LIT UP!! this was such a pleasure to write, i absolutely love writing rookie leon! (also yes i know the twelve days of christmas technically come after christmas day but shhhh) anyway, hope you have a wonderful christmas!! lots of love, amber xx

masterlist⭑AO3

It starts with a faulty office printer and a burnt cup of coffee.

You stare pitifully at the cup of coffee in your hand—if you can even call it that anymore. Half empty and completely unsalvageable, the acrid smell lingers in the break room like some unwelcome ghost of Christmas caffeine. If only you hadn’t slept through your alarm this morning, you could’ve avoided the morning rush (since it seems that nobody in Raccoon City knows how to drive through snow), and made a good cup of coffee to accompany you for the day instead of having to fight the shitty office coffee machine instead.

With a half-hearted sigh you turn the mug over and dump its contents into the bin, watching forlornly as the liquid soaks through shredded paper and old protein bar wrappers instead.

“Bad morning?” One of your coworkers, Claire, quips from across the way. A perfectly fine cup of coffee sits on her desk in a mug that reads Journalists do It With Integrity! 

You shoot her a withering glare, but before you can deliver any sort of witty remark, the printer across the room coughs out a single sheet of crumpled paper, and promptly dies. 

“Bad week,” you mutter, running a hand down your face before stalking towards the offending machine. 

The office, already buzzing with the chaos of holiday deadlines, feels like it’s working entirely against you. The case you’ve been chasing—a string of thefts tied to the Raccoon City holiday markets—has gone ice cold. Your editor is breathing down your neck for a feature piece that you can’t write without new leads. You’ve got twelve days left, twelve days until your editor wants that final copy on her desk.

And now the printer has decided to stage a mutiny. Just your luck.

You try to print out the documents again, but when the printer does nothing but splutter, and kicking it doesn’t seem to work, you decide maybe it just needs new ink.

You’re about halfway through jamming your hand into its guts when a voice, sweet yet awkward, startles you. You hit your head on the way up, only to find yourself staring into a pair of warm blue eyes beneath a mop of golden hair. 

He’s wearing a leather jacket over a navy button-down, his badge clipped to his belt. He looks familiar, like someone you might’ve run into at the bullpen when you’re down at the RPD.

“Uh, need a hand?” he tilts his head, same awkward smile unfaltering.

“I’ve got it,” you say, though you clearly don’t. The printer lets out a final, pathetic whine before dying completely. Well, now you just look stupid.

He grins, the kind of lopsided, sheepish smile that makes him look younger than he probably is. “Guess that’s a no.”

You sigh, looking over your shoulder to catch Claire hiding a smile behind her mug. You fold your arms. “Sorry, can I help you?”

“Names Leon,” He introduces himself, and it all clicks into place for you. This is the RPD’s newest rookie. The guy Claire’s been yapping your ear off about Chris yapping her ear off about. “I’m just dropping off some paperwork. But, uh… I overheard you talking to your editor earlier. You’re working on the market thefts, right?”

Your eyes narrow. “And what’s it to you?”

Leon raises his hands in mock surrender at your scathing tone, the picture of good-natured defensiveness. “Nothing! Just thought you might want some… unofficial insight. Off the record, of course.”

Your skepticism doesn’t waver. “Why would a rookie like you have anything I can’t get from public records?”

Leon hesitates for a moment, as if deciding how much to say. “I’ve been helping out on the case. They’ve got me running reports, talking to market vendors, stuff like that. Not exactly glamorous work, but I’ve been hearing things that don’t make it into the official write-ups.”

Now you’re interested. RPD isn’t exactly known for transparency, you know that much. You also know better than most that a lot can slip through the cracks of “official” documentation.

“What’s the catch?” you ask, suspicious.

Leon shifts, “Well, uh… There’s this Christmas party at the precinct. And I might have mentioned to my coworkers that I was bringing a date.”

You blink. “You’re blackmailing me with case information to play your fake-datw at a cop Christmas party?”

“It’s not blackmail!” Leon protests, his ears turning red. “It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement. You get your story, and I… avoid being the precinct punchline for another year.”

You’re still sceptical, but the desperation in his voice softens your resolve. Saying no to him right now would be like kicking a poor puppy.

You stare at him for a moment, weighing your options. It’s ridiculous, sure, but then again, so is everything else in your life right now.

“Fine,” you say finally, sticking out your hand. “Twelve days. You give me what I need, and I’ll be the best fake date you’ve ever had.”

Leon shakes your hand with a grin, relief written all over his face. “Deal.”

And just like that, the countdown begins.

On the second day of Christmas, Leon sends you flowers.

Big ones. Loud ones. The kind of bouquet you’d expect to see at a wedding reception or an apology press conference. They’re wrapped in glittering gold paper—Poinsettias, as Claire so graciously points out.

“Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” she singsongs, loud enough for half the floor to hear.

Your stomach drops. There, sitting right in the middle of your disaster zone of a desk, is the offending bouquet. It’s massive, covered in festive bells and ribbon, and the card sticking out of it reads:

“To my Christmas angel. – L.”

You mutter a silent prayer to whatever God might be listening, snatching the card up like it might explode before anyone else might see. Your coworkers are already murmuring around you, though, so that seems like a bit of a lost cause.

Claire leans back in her chair, still grinning. “So when were you gonna tell me you’re dating someone?”

“Firstly, that is none of your business,” you snap, grabbing the entire bouquet in a desperate attempt to get it out of sight. The glitter gets everywhere, including your coat, your desk, and, somehow, your coffee. “And secondly—” You start, but backtrack when you remember that the deal you struck with Leon may require some confidentiality. Damn you for not figuring out boundaries sooner. “—that is also none of your business.”

You turn on your heel and you don’t stop moving until you’re outside the building, your fingers already dialing a number you swore to yourself you wouldn’t use unless absolutely necessary.

Leon picks up on the third ring. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me,” you hiss, pacing in the cold December air. “What the hell were you thinking sending me flowers? To my office?”

Leon hesitates for a second, and you can almost hear him cringing through the phone. “Uh, I thought it’d make things more… believable?”

You stop in your tracks. “Believable?”

“Yeah! You know, if people saw that you’re, like, dating someone, it might help sell the whole… thing.” His voice trails off, and there’s a pause before he adds, quieter, “Was it too much?”

“Too much?” you echo, your own voice rising in disbelief. “It’s not even lunchtime and I’ve already been asked twice if I’m engaged. At least take me to dinner first!”

There’s a beat of silence on his end before he says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

You stop in your tracks. “Do what?”

“Dinner,” Leon says, like it’s obvious. “Tomorrow. You said I should take you to dinner, so… I’ll take you to dinner.”

You blink, your annoyance faltering for a second, only to give way to mild confusion. “Are you asking me out, or are you making this part of the deal?”

“Can’t it be both?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the sheer absurdity of the situation that makes you smile, but you sigh and say, “Fine. Dinner. But you’re picking the place, and it better not be one of those sad 24-hour diners cops hang out in.”

Leon laughs, the sound warm enough to cut through the winter chill. “Deal.”

On the third day of Christmas, Leon takes you to dinner.

And yes, it is a sad diner.

It’s the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t updated its decor since the 70s, with faded garlands drooping from the light fixtures and a suspiciously sticky Rudolph figurine parked on the counter. Which is fine, in honesty. It’s perfect for this not-date, because that’s what this is. Not a date. Absolutely nothing about this screams romance.

Well, except maybe the crooked twig of mistletoe hanging over the entrance, but even that you’d pointedly avoided much to Leon’s amusement.

“So, remind me what I’m doing here,” you hum, pushing around your leftover pancakes on your plate. Leave it to Leon to convince you pancakes for dinner is an entirely acceptable meal choice.

“Well, we’re on a date,” Leon states matter-of-factly.

Across from you, he looks all too comfortable. You, on the other hand, feel like you’ve just agreed to help pull Santa’s sleigh blindfolded.

“Yeah, well, a date’s pushing it, rookie,” You all but scoff, setting your fork down before meeting his gaze properly. “Look, if we’re gonna do this, we probably need to set some ground rules.”

Leon raises a brow, lips curving into a half-smile, “You’re serious? This isn’t Fight Club.”

“Can’t believe you just broke the first rule of Fight Club,” you shoot back, matching his half-smile with your own self-satisfied one. “Okay, first off, who gets to know?”

“That this is fake? No one,” Leon says all too firmly, “I don’t need this blowing up in my face.”

“Likewise,” you hum. “Okay, next, how often are we gonna see each other outside of office hours? Are we really trying to sell this?”

“Well a coffee or two wouldn’t hurt,” Leon suggest. “And, uh… Physical stuff?” He asks, a generous blush dusting his cheeks.

You can’t hide your smile. “Afraid to hold my hand or something?”

“No! No— just… Don’t want to make this any more awkward than it has to be.”

“Alright, so no kissing unless absolutely necessary. And I’m talking someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary.”

He lets out a laugh, soft and boyish, and you can’t help but feel the corners of your mouth tug upwards.

On the Fourth Day of Christmas Leon takes you ice-skating. Well… Sort of.

You’d come to pick up some paperwork about the Christmas Market case Leon had promised you—an errand you figured would be quick and painless. No mingling, no unnecessary chit-chat, and absolutely no run-ins with anyone who might make this fake-dating charade any harder than it has to be.

The first hiccup comes the second you step into the precinct. You immediately spot him, leaning against the reception desk with an easy grin, chatting with some colleagues. You only recognise one of them, from the photo sitting on Claire’s desk no-less. Chris Redfield. The woman beside him, who’s donning a festive antler headband, looks oddly familiar as well, though you can’t quite place it.

Fantastic. Just what you needed.

“Leon!” you call, keeping your tone as casual as possible. You walk briskly, plastering on a tight-lipped smile, trying your best not to look like a deer caught in the headlights and to very pointedly avoid any eye-contact with Chris.

Leon turns at the sound of your voice, his expression brightening instantly. “Oh, hey! What’re you doing here?”

“Paperwork,” you reply, holding up the empty manila folder in your hand like it’s your golden ticket out of this situation. “You said you’d have it ready for me?”

Before Leon can answer, the woman next to Chris perks up—it’s then you recognise her as none other than Jill Valentine. You chalk it up to the antlers making it hard to recognise her.

“Paperwork? Wait, is this who you were talking about?” She elbows Leon in the ribs, earning a flustered yelp from him.

“What?” you echo, narrowing your eyes. Great, so he's already started mentioning you to colleagues.

Chris leans forward, “Wait, you’re Leon’s partner?”

You feel your stomach drop, the word partner ricocheting around your brain like a pinball. 

Leon is already mid-spiral, his cheeks flushed red as he stammers out a reply. “Well, I didn’t say that— I mean, I said some of that, but not like that!”

Jill crosses her arms, smirking. “Well, now we have to meet you! What are you two doing tonight?”

“Nothing!” you and Leon blurt at the same time, a little too loudly.

Chris raises an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Jill before grinning even wider. “Perfect. You guys should come ice skating with us tonight, most of the Precinct will be there.”

Your mouth opens, ready to reject the idea outright, but Leon beats you to it.

“That sounds great!” he says, his voice breaking slightly on the last word. Stupid, stupid, stupid. If you could hit him over the head with this manilla folder right now, you would.

“Great,” Jill says, clapping her hands together. “Meet us at the rink at around seven tonight.”

“What the hell was that?” you hiss once both Chris and Jill have had enough teasing and they’re out of earshot.

“I panicked!” Leon whispers back, looking genuinely apologetic.

“You just signed us up for the least romantic fake date activity imaginable.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You owe me so much for this, rookie.”

“I’ll buy you hot chocolate?” Leon tries, sweet boyish smile and all. You hate how you feel your resolve begin to soften already.

 “You better make it with extra marshmallows.”

He nods, his expression softening as his smile melts into something tentative yet determined. “Deal.”

You’ve decided you don’t like ice skating. Chalk that up to the fact you haven’t been to the rink since you were eight and using a push-along penguin to keep you upright.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, wobbling precariously as you step onto the ice. “Totally fine. Nothing humiliating about face-planting on ice.”

“You’ve got this!” Leon cheers from a few feet away, his enthusiasm wildly misplaced considering he’s not doing much better. He looks like a newborn deer, legs flailing every time he tries to take a step.

“Don’t patronize me,” you hiss back, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

Behind you, Jill glides past with all the effortless grace of an Olympic figure skater, followed closely by Chris—who despite a few wobbles—isn’t much worse. They’re laughing at something—probably you and Leon—but you’re too busy trying to avoid an embarrassing collision with the ice to care.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” Leon says, inching toward you with the kind of determination usually reserved for hostage negotiations. “You let go of the rail, and I’ll catch you if you fall.”

He looks just about as stupid as he sounds, you decide. “That’s assuming you don’t fall first.”

He grins, cheeks ruddy from the cold. “Have a little faith, would you?”

Against your better judgment, you release your grip on the rail, immediately flailing as your skates slide out from under you.

Leon lunges to catch you—a valiant effort, truly—which would be heroic if it didn’t result in both of you landing in a tangled heap on the ice.

“Well, that could’ve gone better.” Leon groans, pushing himself to his knees and wincing.

“You think?” you say, trying—and failing—to suppress a laugh as you roll onto your side. Your knees are sore, your pride is bruised, but when you look over at Leon—cheeks flushed, smile sheepish— it all feels a little less mortifying.

“Here,” he says, extending a hand to help you up, and there’s something strangely endearing about the gesture. You hesitate for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t let go right away, steadying you as you find your balance.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

“Yeah,” you reply, surprised to find that you actually mean it.

And somewhere between all of this chaos a group of kids barrels past, laughing as they race each other in a blur of neon jackets and mis-matched scarves. You and Leon instinctively jump out of their way, your skates sliding in all the wrong directions. You nearly crash into him again, grabbing his arm for balance as he steadies both of you.

And suddenly, you’re close. Closer than you’ve been all night.

His face is just inches from yours, his breath visible in soft clouds in the frigid air. His cheeks are bitten by the cold, his boyish grin tugging at his lips, and his eyes—God, his eyes—are the kind of blue that could rival a frosted winter’s lake.

You swallow hard, heart giving a little flutter you’d rather not think about. Brushing it off with a laugh, you take a step back, releasing his arm. “Okay, new rule: avoid the speed demons at all costs.”

“Agreed,” Leon says, but his voice a little softer now, his gaze a little firmer.

The rest of the night is chaos, as expected, and by the time you stumble off the ice, breathless and pink-cheeked, you’re smiling so wide and genuine that your cheeks hurt from it all.

On the sixth day of Christmas, Leon comes over for a very professional movie night. 

The plan was simple enough: a low-key night to sort through leads and discuss the finer details of the article. Nothing more than that. Just two friends (are you even really friends?) mocking bad Hallmark movie tropes and terrible one-liners. But—as fate would have it—somewhere between the half-hearted scribbles in your notebook and the opening credits of the first movie, the evening takes a sharp left turn.

Popcorn crumbs litter the coffee table, and the air hums with laughter as you and Leon pick apart every ridiculous trope on the screen.

“New rule,” you declare, pointing at the screen with a handful of popcorn. “No more movies where the leads magically fall in love because of forced proximity. It's lazy writing.”

Leon raises a brow, smiling at you over his mug of cocoa. “Do you just... make up rules for everything?”

You shoot him a look, though your lips twitch in betrayal. “Rules are important. They keep things from going off the rails.”

“Sure they do,” he says, grinning. “But I think you might have a thing for them. Maybe it’s your love language”

You toss a kernel of popcorn at him, which he catches with an annoyingly quick reflex. The movie continues, but your attention drifts, his sweet smile lingering in your thoughts longer than you’d care to admit, and all at once you want to suffocate yourself with a pillow.

By the time the credits have rolled, the conversation has veered wildly away from work and movies. You find yourself talking about everything and nothing between here and there, the space separating you both narrowing in a way that feels very not-professional. Your leg brushes against his and his hand brushes against yours.

You didn’t make a new rule about that. Maybe you should have.

On the eighth day of Christmas, you finally chase down some of those leads for your article. 

Or at least, you try to.

The holiday market is bustling with lights, laughter, and the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts. It’s picturesque enough to be a postcard: striped tents draped in garlands, vendors bundled in scarves, and the faint hum of Christmas carols floating through the crisp evening air.

You’re here for work. This is professional business. Totally, totally.

“Professional” is exactly why you’re letting Leon lead you to a vendor handing out roasted chestnuts in steaming paper cones.

You raise a brow at him. “Seriously?”

“You’ve gotta try them. It’s tradition.” He says as if it’d be crazy to deny him.

And before you can even think about protesting, he’s already handing you a cone, the warmth seeping through your gloves as you eye the chestnuts—then him—warily. You pop a few in your mouth, only to find yourself pleasantly surprised.

“Good, right?” he asks, smug as anything. You scrunch your nose in response.

Next is funnel cake. Leon orders one to share, dusting himself in powdered sugar as he pulls off a piece and offers it to you.

“I could’ve got my own,” you reason, but take what he offers you anyway.

“Well that wouldn’t make me a very good date.”

“Fake-date,” you correct.

“Uhuh,” Leon hums, but he’s not even looking at you when you glance back up at him, already dragging you towards the next stall, and the next. 

“I’m serious!” You call after him, trying to keep up as he weaves through the crowd like he’s trained to do this. Well, he probably is.

You don’t even realise how long it’s been until you're walking past empty market stalls, every other vendor packing up for the night. Leon leads you out into the street, strings of warm white lights swaying gently in the winter breeze.

Leon’s hands are stuffed into his coat pockets as the two of you walk side by side, your boots crunching softly against the thin dusting of snow on the pavement.

The streets are mostly empty now, save for a few stragglers heading home, but Leon leads you straight into the middle of the road without a second thought. You hesitate for half a second, glancing both ways like a habit.

“There’s no one out here,” he says over his shoulder, that lazy grin curling at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not scared of breaking the rules, are you?”

“Isn’t it your job to enforce rules?” You argue, but follow after him anyway.

When you tilt your head up, you feel the breath escape your lungs all at once. “You can actually see the stars tonight,” you murmur softly in awe, your breath clouding in the cold.

Leon doesn’t say anything right away, but when you glance over, you catch him watching you instead of the sky, his gaze softer than you’re used to. He quickly looks up, clearing his throat as if he hadn’t just been caught.

You don’t know what’s worse: the way his cheeks flush from something other than the cold or the fact that your stomach flutters in response.

And you don’t know what to do with the quiet that stretches between you, either, the sound of your steps filling it up like placeholders. You hadn’t meant for the day to linger this long—hadn’t meant to still be here, walking home with him.

Leon breaks the silence first. “You know, I thought you’d be sick of me by now.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I am.”

He laughs then, genuine and bright. “Oh thank God, I’d hate for this to actually be enjoyable for either of us.” Sarcasm laces his words in a way that makes you laugh in kind.

He’s grinning like he’s got all the time in the world as he turns to walk backward in front of you, and suddenly all at once this feels like something out of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies you swore to yourself you’d never recreate. 

“You still haven’t thanked me for helping you today.” He says.

“Helping me?” you snort. “All you did was get funnel cake powder on my coat and in my cocoa.”

“Hey,  I got you a quote from the candy vendor, didn’t I?” he defends, arms spreading wide.

“You mean the guy who told us about his grandma’s cookie recipe?”

“Hard-hitting stuff,” he shrugs.

You shake your head, but you’re smiling, and you hate that he notices. He spins back around to face the road ahead, walking a little slower now, like he’s dragging his feet.

“So,” you say after a moment, picking up your pace to fall back into step with him. “Why do you care so much about this Christmas party, anyway?”

Leon doesn’t answer right away. You glance over, and the grin that’s usually on his face has faded into something smaller, quieter.

“Guess I just… don’t want to look like a total loser,” he says eventually, his voice low but even. “It’s been a long first year. People talk.”

You frown at that. “They don’t have anything better to do at the RPD?”

“Apparently not.” He shrugs like it doesn’t bother him, but you can tell it does, at least a little.

The two of you walk in silence for another block, and when you speak again, your tone is softer. “You know, you could’ve asked someone who actually likes you to be your date.”

Leon glances over, and for some reason, his answer catches you off guard. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “but then it wouldn’t have been you.”

You look away too quickly, your chest tightening in a way you can’t explain. He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t push him for more.

Instead, you both keep walking, the street stretching out ahead of you, the night colder and clearer than it’s been in weeks. The faint glow of your building comes into view up ahead, and for a moment, you wish it was just a little farther away.

On the tenth day of Christmas, Leon does something so absurd you briefly consider chucking him—and his ridiculous ideas—into a snowbank.

Leon shows up at your door, determined and annoyingly cheerful, with a Christmas tree strapped to the roof of his car and a twinkle in his eye that should’ve been your first warning. You don’t have the heart to turn him away or give him a lecture about how this is breaking at least three of your fake-dating rules.

Dragging the tree up the stairs is a disaster, his optimism only barely keeping the whole endeavor from collapsing. Decorating it? Worse. Leon’s enthusiasm for tinsel is unmatched, his ornament selection downright offensive. A plastic Rudolph here, a lopsided snowman there—it’s a full-scale disaster in red, green, and glitter.

By the end of the night, the tree looks more like a festive crime scene, fairy lights as police-tape and all, but you can’t bring yourself to care. The two of you collapse as you both watch the twinkling lights. A ribbon is tangled in your hair; Leon has tinsel stuck to his sleeve. The quiet settles in like freshly fallen snow, and for a moment, you forget this isn’t supposed to feel real.

You spent the eleventh night at Leon’s place. It was his idea to go over the finalities of this agreement, set your story straight in case anybody at the party asks too many questions. Make sure you're both on the same page.

But when you rocked up at his little studio apartment, it felt like he’d compensated for much more than a quick flashcard night.

Cinnamon scented candles burned and flicker, accompanied by a plate of cookies on the counter. Your half-crumpled notes quickly joined, as well as two cups of cocoa that have long-since gone cold.

“Alright, one more time, how’d we meet?”

Leon props his head up on his palm, looking like he’s had more than enough of your pointless flashcard game. “Coffee shop. You spilled hot chocolate on me, laughed, then walked away.”

“I offered to buy you a replacement!” You shoot back, hitting him atop the head with your stack of cards.

He winces dramatically, swatting our hand away. “Well I think it’s more believable if I pretend you didn’t and you bicker back. Y’know, like an old married couple or something.”

You reach for your cold cocoa to hide the way you splutter. “Woah, rookie, I only signed up for a fake-date, not a fake-wedding too.”

Leon grins, but something about him still looks oddly distant.

He kicks his feet off the barstool, takes your cup of cocoa and his to clean them away. “Have you finished your article at least?”

“Nearly,” You hum, but you’re more lying through your teeth. You’ve barely worked on it despite all the extra input Leon’s given you. Something, something, a very distracting Christmas fiasco got in your way. “I should be done by the end of the week.”

“And what happens once it’s done?” He asks, and you know in your right mind he means what happens to you. Promotion? New story? Next assignment? But instead your mind stupidly jumps to the idea that he’s asking about the both of you. What happens to us? written between the lines in invisible ink.

“Well, I suppose I find a new story to chase.” You clear your throat, “and you?”

“Go back to handing out speeding tickets,” Leon smiles through a sigh, “and I guess we drop this whole fake-dating thing, huh?” He asks, and you refuse to let yourself believe there’s any hope in his voice.

“Don’t see a reason to keep it going,” you shrug, to which Leon simply nods.

“Anyway, don’t try changing the subject on me,” you clear your throat, shuffling back through your pile of cards. “Next question: what’s my favourite holiday tradition?”

Leon shelves the now clean and dried mugs, “stealing Christmas cookies when no one’s looking.” He hums smugly over his shoulder.

You blink, “I never told you that.”

“Don’t need to, I pay attention.” He grins, pointedly flicking his gaze to the now empty plate of cookies. But you’re still hung on his words, the casual admission throws you entirely off kilter, and it seems by the twelfth day he still has you feeling that way.

You feel entirely out of place standing in the RPD. The precinct is sparkling with every Hallmark Christmas cliche imaginable—oversized tinsel, plastic mistletoe (that you’re still doing your best to avoid), and a garishly large tree that stands off to the side, completed by a shining white angel on top. 

Leon, of course, has dressed the part. And damn him for looking so good in a navy suit and deep red tie to match your own attire. His presence is steady when you feel out of depth—it’s funny how he does that, despite usually being the one who requires an anchor.

“Are you alright?” He asks, leaning closer to be heard over the obnoxiously loud Christmas music. His voice is low, warm, entirely too distracting. 

“Fine,” you lie with a sickly sweet smile, downing the last of your punch, “totally fine.”

Leon doesn’t buy it, and you’re starting to think he’s getting too good at reading you (which is your job, not his), but before he can press any further, your worst nightmare seems to come to fruition.

You're pulled then pushed, and before you can register what’s even happened you're colliding with Leon’s chest.

“Mistletoe,” he mutters, and when you finally lift your gaze you catch the offending sprig. Jesus Christ.

Honestly, this is your fault. You should’ve accounted for something like this. Nothing like a good bit of rookie hazing at a work party, right? Dammit. The rest of the precinct seems to cheer and chant, and you’d foolishly thought you’d left this behaviour behind in high school. 

God, you wish the ground would part beneath your feet and swallow you whole right now—

“Well, this doesn’t break any of your rules, does it?” Leon asks then, and you can hear the smile in his voice, something about the way he says it makes it sound like he knows the answer.

And he does. Because if Leon’s good at one thing it’s remembering the finer details. No kissing unless absolutely necessary, you’d said. Like someone-shoves-us-under-mistletoe-and-starts-chanting levels of necessary, you’d said.

Okay, now you really want the ground to swallow you up.

Leon seems to pick up on your unease, and ever the gentleman drowns out the obnoxious chanting of his colleagues to focus on you.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he offers.

You shake your head. “It’s part of the deal.” You say firmly. You’re not going to back down now, you’re a stickler for rules, deals, and contracts. Totally not because you’ve been wondering what Leon’s lips might taste like for the past five minutes. Totally.

He counts you down, which feels stupid, but does actually help quell your nerves. What doesn’t help, though, is the way his hand slides to your jaw and his lips slot against yours so effortlessly. You forget the world exists, heart beating out of your chest before you let yourself melt into it, your own arms looping around his neck just before he pulls away.

He’s got blush on his cheeks, his eyes bright, smiling widely like he’s just one the powerball. And suddenly, all at once, your brain catches up to your heart and you realise how none of this seems to feel fake anymore.

Three days later, and your article had gone live that morning. Your editor had been quick to praise it, Claire more than proud when she’d shown up with a mini Christmas gift basket for you. But still, as the day wore on, the victory felt hollow. The article might have just been your best work, but now that the dust—or snow, rather—has settled, all you can think about is Leon and the strange ache left in his absence.

You glance out the window of your tiny office, the skyline glittering with holiday lights. It’s quiet, save for the distant hum of the city and the rhythmic tapping of your pen against your desk.

“You know, I expected a little more Christmas cheer from the person who just saved Christmas,” a familiar voice says.

You jump, spinning around in your squeaky office chair to find Leon leaning casually in your doorway. He’s dressed down from the last time you saw him after the party, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, but the sight of him is enough to send your heart racing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice caught somewhere between surprise and something softer.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he shrugs, pushing himself off the cubicle wall and stepping inside.

You raise a brow. “The precinct is five blocks away.”

“Exactly,” he says with a grin. “Neighborhood.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He steps closer still, and you feel the air shift.

“Look,” he starrs, running a hand through his hair like he’s still trying to work up the courage. “The other night, you said that after this was over, we wouldn’t have to see each other again.”

You swallow hard, your heart already knowing where this is going but your mind refusing to believe it. You remember how casually you’d thrown that out there, as if the thought hadn’t stung more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. I remember.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” he says simply.

Your breath hitches, but he keeps on going.

“I don’t want to go back to pretending this was all fake,” he continues, his voice steady but his eyes searching yours. “Because it might’ve started that way, but it didn’t end that way—not for me.”

The words hang in the air like softly drifting snowflakes, fragile and perfect, waiting for you to catch them.

“Leon…” you try, but your voice falters.

“I know,” he cuts in quickly. “I know this wasn’t the plan. But plans change, right? Rules get broken—and I know you hate that but hear me out—if there’s one thing I’ve learned these past twelve days, it’s that maybe breaking a rule or two isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

You laugh softly then despite yourself, a mix of nerves and something lighter. “You do realize you’re ruining my perfectly crafted narrative, right? Fake dating, falling in love…” you click your tongue, “this is all so cliché.”

He grins, stepping closer until there is almost no space left between you. “Then let’s give it a good ending.”

Before you can even give what he’s said a minute of thought, his hand is on your jaw again, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s unhurried and undeniably real.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours. “So,” he hums, his voice soft and teasing, “how’s that for a rewrite?”

You can’t help but laugh, your chest light for the first time in days. “It’s a start.”

The city sparkles outside as you stand there, snowflakes fall, the faint hum of Christmas carols from the office speakers bleed with the quiet rhythm of his breathing. Whatever comes next, you know one thing is for sure: this story isn’t over yet.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[leonw4nter]

Warmth For The Winterfall

ID!Leon x GN!Reader ; roommates/house decorating || Leon Secret Santa || 🎁: @uhlillie 🎄: @leonsecretsanta <3

Leon's operations always proceed as follows: infiltrate, carry out, and slip out covertly. It's always that easy in principle, but in practice, things never turn out the way he had hoped. He's tired of it all; it's the holidays, goddamn it, but work won't let him take a break for even a moment. A gloved finger releases the safety catch as a far-off, rhythmic vibration brings him out of his reverie. He is driven insane by the absence of any other sensory cues than touch, sound, and sight, as well as the darkness trails behind him where his flashlight isn't focused. The experienced agent feels as though he is heading down a path with no assurance of return since the tunnel seems to go on forever in front of him.

“Hunnigan, are you sure this is the right one?” He asks into his comms, voice low. “I’ve been walking for 30 minutes but I did hear a noise earlier.”

He hears her type into a keyboard and click a mouse before she responds back to him. “Yes, I’m tracking you now and you’re exactly where you need to be. The tunnel is purposely long to throw any wanderers off; years ago, there were functioning gate systems for every kilometer walked but it appears that they’re not employed anymore and haven’t been for a few years now. Stay vigilant Condor One, I’m picking up a heat signature somewhere in the system. Stay safe.”

“Copy,” he responds before turning it back off to listen to his environment better. He sighs before he continues forward, unable to speed through things and wrap it up for the year– he can’t afford to do that.

After a few more minutes of walking, he reaches a seemingly unassuming manhole in the ground and after receiving instructions from Hunnigan, he opens it with some effort and descends down the narrow opening. Before he can totally reach the ground, something grabs him by his ankle and yanks him down with enough force to smack him down; the impact forces air out of his lungs, stunning him for a moment as he tries to take in large amounts of air. He recovers quickly though, retrieving his loaded gun and aiming at his beastly assailant: an alligator as tall and long as a double-decker tour bus in the roads of LA, its scaly body covered in green grime and some sort of slime mold. The BOW lunges at him, its hideous maw wide open as it charges but Leon dodges the charge, aiming expertly at fatal points but his bullets do little damage to its thick hide; he realizes this, also recognizing that using a grenade in this space would kill him as well, opting to run to safety to avoid the gator as much as he can. Luck not being on the agent’s side, the alligator is a lot more intelligent than he thought it was, using its tail to slam Leon and send him flying into a wall, landing awkwardly into his forearm before a particularly nasty fall. Pain struck through him like a thunderclap, a resonant ache too powerful for Leon to ignore, amplifying the sickening awareness that something had been horribly misaligned. His consciousness was ebbing, bending to the will to cave into the fresh surge of torment, yet he managed to retrieve a grenade from his gear. With his good hand, he pulled the pin and sent it to the gator’s direction. Right before it explodes, he gathered whatever strength he had left to find the most secure spot around to duck in. A white-hot brilliance is followed by a roar that interrupts the air, from the grenade or the BOW Leon isn’t sure but he’s relieved that the damn beast is in chunks and bits now, turning on comms again to relay information back to HQ.

“Mission cleared,” he grunts. “Request back-up… broken arm…”

“Report your status agent,” Hunnigan asks to repeat.”

“Just said my arm’s broken,” Leon repeats with a slight edge of impatience. “Rat bastard flung me against the wall… goin’ to fucking pass out…”

“Copy,” she responds. “Hang in there Leon, I’ve dispatched a rescue team and they’ll be there in 20. Stay with me.”

“I’ll… try…”

He groans a little more, trying to limit movement in his bad arm as he props himself up from his previous ball curl position. Such a simple injury shouldn’t render him this weak but that hit was just too strong for him to make it out unscathed, his consciousness beginning to give way to a creeping desire to fall asleep. The world began to darken around him, vision unfocusing but he kept his resolve steadfast: if he could make it through this one, he won’t let the holidays pass without him letting you know your laugh, your kindness, and your mere presence had kept him fighting. He’d trade his silence for vulnerability because if he could survive this madness, he’d be able to survive the terror of telling you that he’s loved you from the start. He admires your mind, how your thoughts could dance between profound and playful, how you could say something so wise and crack him up with a stupid joke at the same time; he adores the way you make him feel understood and be his truest self, and how enchanted he is with the way you can be fiercely independent and also nurturing– your existence is proof that the universe fought tooth and nail to bring such a blessing in his dark life.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor, and a soft pillow supporting his head greets Leon as he stirs awake from his unconscious state. The blinds are drawn around his bed and his bad arm is now in a black sling, taken care of by the doctors who tended to him. He quietly groans, running his hand through his face and feeling the prickly stubble that’s begun to grow on his cheeks and chin. Somewhere in the room, he hears Hunnigan’s faint voice conversing with someone and since it sounded like she’s the only speaker present, it must be over a call. He doesn’t have the energy to eavesdrop, preferring to close his eyes and fall back asleep for a little longer but his FOS agent interrupts his plans, pushing aside the curtains and greeting Leon.

“You’ve been out for nearly an entire day,” she points out. “How are you feeling?”

“Crusty.” He deadpans, earning a nod from her.

“Makes sense.”

Silence fills the room again before the FOS agent speaks up again. “Called HQ today and field for a 2-month rest and recuperation period for you. You deserve it after 7 years of non-stop work. They’ll still need a written report from you though but I told them to cut you some slack since your arm’s broken and the holidays are right around the corner.”

She purposely leaves out the part where she nearly instigated an argument because her and Leon’s higher-ups refused to let him off, standing her ground fiercely and convincing them to let the man off the hook otherwise she’ll personally email the President herself and send in documented reports of over fatigue, violation on ethics, and liability regarding an overworked employee being denied a recuperation period; Leon certainly wouldn't like hearing about her nearly getting nasty with his boss so she decided to keep this to herself.

“Thanks, Ingrid. I appreciate it,” he says with a closed lip smile. “So, uh… when do I get discharged? And the hospital bill?”

“You’ll be discharged in about… 4 hours and the agency’s got your bill covered, just focus on getting better soon. Anyway, how’re things between you and them?”

A barely perceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lip though briskly concealed carelessly with a clear of his throat that gave away the simmering nervous excitement beneath his nonchalant exterior.

“I’ll do something about it soon,” he carefully responds, it being his tender affections kept lock-and-key in his heart. He looks up at Hunnigan whose arms are crossed, looking down at him with a look that shows that she doesn’t quite believe that that is all he has to say.

“What?” Leon asks with a shrug. “You look like you want me to say more.”

“Because I know there’s more than just that,” she points out. Leon looks down and stays silent, remembering the promise he made to himself moments before he passed out. “Don’t act like you don’t spend your work break talking to me about them and texting me at ass-scratching hours of the night because Jill and the Redfields are sick of you not doing anything.”

“Guilty as charged,” he says with a half-smile. He took a moment to collect himself internally, to shift in his hospital bed that will display a convincing feigned indifference that will redirect attention away from the telltale crimson burning in his ears. “But I… I promised myself that I won’t let the holidays pass me by without letting them know that I’ve loved them for so long, so that's something, right?”

“Mhm.”

“They deserve to know how incredible and precious they are to me but there’s this voice that tells me they’re better off not knowing, and I hate how much I listen to it. It sounds selfish of me but I don’t want them to walk out of my life just because I couldn’t keep myself in check.”

“Why do you think that they’re better off not knowing? Sometimes we assume that silence is safer but it can create a distance when there doesn’t need to be any,” Hunnigan begins. “It’s okay to feel scared but don’t let it rob you and them of a chance to experience something genuine. Do you trust them to treat you well, Leon?”

“Yes–”

“Then trust that they’ll handle your feelings with care. Certainly you’ve got reasons on why you trust them and I’m sure that it’s because you’re treated kindly and valued so why not trust them with your feelings? With your heart?”

Chapped lips parted with the intent to say more words but instead, a soft sigh of resolution is released. Hunnigan gave him an encouraging pat to his shoulder before walking to the other side of the bed, letting the nurse who came to do their rounds in. “Good to see that you’re back with us, Mr. Kennedy. How are we feeling?”

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the meantime, he will have to accept rides from friends or use public transit a bit more frequently; his beloved XDiavel will have to spend the next six months gathering dust in the basement parking of his apartment complex. It will take some time to get used to using his left arm, and asking for help from others will make it even more difficult. He is unsure of how he will handle this aspect of his life for the time being, but he is aware that he will need to practice putting on shirts with his less dominant hand, especially sweaters and button-ups now that the weather calls for layering clothes. He will definitely miss the thrill and breeze that riding his bike brings him, but it's a welcome change if it means allowing his arm to heal properly. 

The car ride to Leon’s apartment is filled with comfortable silence, neither agent energized enough to start small talk, especially at 2:17 AM. As he looks out the car window, blue irises meeting the sight of ice white like the sclera of eyes, he internalizes the fact that he’s lucky to make it to the end of the year, still alive to see another Christmas; the year has been rough, like last year and the year before last year, but he’s amazed at how long he’s kept going despite it all. Instead of the weariness and stench of his line of work sticking to him, it’s the stingy scent of hospital disinfectant that clings to him like a distant memory. He leans his head against the window, the coolness of the external environment oddly grounding as he thinks of his dear roommate and a clandestine focal point of his most tooth-rotting indulgent domestic dreams– you, who unknowingly filled in the cold and empty spaces of his life. Even when he’s out in the field, hyperfocused on the mission objectives, his thoughts always find a way to circle back to you: he swore to protect you from the horrors he’s faced, even from afar, yet he’s too terrified to ask for more of you. For the longest time, as a man who is no longer a stranger to losing people he cares about the most, the idea of being your trusty roommate was enough for him.

“Catch some sleep, Leon.” He cranes his head to look at his coworker from the corner of his eye.

“We’re still a few minutes away. I’ll wake you up once we’re there.”

Leon mumbles a faint ‘thanks’ before settling cozily into his seat, succumbing to the bone-deep exhaustion and dozing off to a light slumber.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

He tries to keep his footfalls as light and muted as possible, a conscious effort to make the pads of his heavy combat boots lighter. Now, he stands in front of the door; he’s sure that you're fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the world around you as you’re somewhere in dreamland. Carefully, he unlocks the door and steps inside a dark home before locking it once again behind him; everything is neat and in order, just like how he left it 3 months ago, though the couch definitely looks a lot cleaner, the throw pillows have cases he’s never seen before, and the air smells faintly of mistletoe room spray. He walks down the hall, careful to avoid bumping into anything, and turns the corner where the bedrooms would be– yours to the right and his to the left. He doesn’t mean to be creepy or unsettling but as he stands near your door, he listens closely for any noise and to his relief, he only hears soft snores which ever so slightly tilts the corners of his lips skyward. Once he realizes that he’s grinning fondly, he brings a hand to rub at his stubbled chin as he chastises himself for foolishly folding for something as simple as a soothing slumber of the one person who unknowingly occupies all 4 chambers of his heart.

“Mushy,” he inaudibly scolds himself while still sporting a stupidly-in-love grin.

Shaking his head to rid his mind of such soft thoughts, he decides to head into his room and have the first proper sleep he’s gotten in months. He forgoes a shower– too tired to have one, fuss around with his sling, and wait for the water to run warm. Grabbing a clean blanket from one of the cabinets inside his bedroom, he kicks off his boots then lays down on his bed and drapes it over himself, laying on his bare mattress in his Levi’s and the same black shirt, his leather jacket now on the ground somewhere near his boots. 

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Morning comes, prompting you to start your day a minute before your alarm disturbs the tranquility. After your morning rituals, you cook yourself a packed lunch to bring to work in order to save up for a gift for Leon– that is, if work won’t hog him until Christmas. You’re not even sure what he likes aside from sleek watches and neat jackets, something within the bounds of your salary. A shaving set? Premium leather cleaner? A gift card to a popular barbershop in town? Something for a grill? Does he even own a grill?

“I swear, Leon, you’re so going to get Vaseline lip balm from me because I don’t know what you want that I can afford,” you tell yourself as you flip the food over to thoroughly cook the other side. “What the hell do you even do for a living to earn 6 figures? How are you still living in an apartment and not in some mansion at a mountain overlooking an ocean, seriously. Might just be a man thing.”

“Not really a big fan of huge houses,” a raspy and baritone voice coming from behind you responds.

Your heart leaps and lodges into your throat, turning quickly as your breath hitches while you come face-to-face with the owner of that voice with your eyes wide. A soulful, honest-to-god scream coming from the depths of your chest crawls its way out of your chest and it’s now Leon’s turn to be wide-eyed and off-guard, his face nearly mirroring the same shock from your own face.

“Easy, it’s just me!” Leon explains, voice tinged with his own nerves– too much for just having woken up in the morning.

“You scared me! Why are you freaking out?!” You say with a flinch. “What the hell, Leon?!”

“Smelled something good cookin’ so I got up,” he begins to explain as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. “Missed your cooking.”

Unable to form coherent words with the overwhelming blend of emotions, you opt to go in for a hug. In your haste, you don’t notice the black sling that nearly blends in with his shirt. To your confusion, he steps away an inch and politely extends a hand to place some distance between you both.

“Arm,” he points to his injured left arm. “I just got it treated yesterday so uh… we’re gonna have to find an alternative to the usual hugging.”

With the dramatic overload of information dumped on you all at once in under a minute, you end up sobbing instead and you’re certain you don’t look a single bit attractive which definitely won’t work in your favor if you want to woo your roommate.

“Don’t scare me like that again!” You sniffle as you wipe your tears with the back of your hand. “And your arm too, that looks like it hurt like a bitch.”

He chuckles and steps closer to you, bringing you into a one-armed hug as you press your face to his chest and cry a little more at him being back home safely, at the injury he sustained, and at the unintentional scare he gave you.

“It’s so good to see you again, Leon. I was wondering if you’d even be back for the holidays,” you say as you begin to calm down.

“Yeah, me too. I’ve missed seeing you,” he regrets his words when he sees your eyes subtly widen at his phrasing. “And uh… I’ll be here until March so you can have me as long as you want. Feels good to not be bothered for a couple of months, y’know.”

“That sounds great. You’ll finally be able to watch the DVDs you have stacked,” you motion to the neatly kept stack on the center table beneath the wall-mounted TV.

“You can watch them with me if you want,” he instantly offers. You’re not sure if his cheeks have always had that subtle flush in them or if his pupils are normally large, but you agree to take his offer anyway.

You finish up cooking your miraculously unburnt lunch, packing it in tupperwares as Leon watches from the dining table while he nurses a mug of instant coffee; it’s a little sweeter and creamier than how he usually has his but he doesn’t mind, you cared enough about him to even share some of the sugary coffee you enjoy. You chatted about whatever happened in your life while he was gone– being a contender for a promotion, a plan on adopting a kitten around the new year, unproductive coworkers making workload heavier, and other random things that come to mind. Leon chuckles and offers his own commentary, missing your voice more than he previously thought; he notes how your hair is now a little longer, there’s slight bags under your eyes, and you’ve got a new bracelet; he wonders from who.

“Sorry but I’m going to cut my yapping short, I gotta clock in to work now.”

He nods, getting up to place his mug in the sink before walking you to the door.

“I’ll be here waiting, it’s not like I can go anywhere with this arm.”

You smile and give him a kind pat to his right shoulder. “Right. Welcome home, Leon. Feel free to grab some sweets by the way, they’re in the left cabinet.”

He nods and watches you leave, only shutting the door once you’re out of his sight. Looking down at himself, he decides to take a shower but first: he’ll have to figure out how to put on the waterproof cast by himself and thoroughly clean himself up.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

In the days leading up to Christmas, your routine merges with his in order to help him out; frequently seeing Leon shirtless becomes the norm along with helping him put on button-up shirts, slip his arms into cozy sweaters, changing his slings, and cooking meals for two… almost like how couples do. Despite how often you see his chiseled midriff, fingers cautiously ghosting over scar tissue and lean muscles, you always require a breather afterwards in order to rid your face of that telltale redness. Just hours ago, your cheek brushed against his and you swear you felt him rein in a sigh from escaping his lips; you wished that he was feeling just as clammy and nervous as you were, hearts synced in beats and powerful emotions. His eyes trailing your movements as you secure his sling doesn’t help your confusion too, causing you to frequent ‘signs that he is in love with you’ articles each night. On a more surely positive note, his fast food intake has been reduced and he’s been enjoying healthier meals that you cook: constantly giving you compliments and his detailed praises for each dish and technique. You cringe at yourself whenever your mind automatically drifts to your wild imaginations at being happily married to him. 

Leon finds himself unable to fall asleep; he’s tried everything– white noise, a sleeping mask, and getting off of his phone but to no avail. Each time he sleeps a little deeper into his slumber, images of the grotesque and macabre dance through his mind and drive him mad. It’s not like he can even get into his usual sleeping position due to his arm, preventing him from fully getting comfortable, so he sits up with a groan before slipping out his room and into the living room; christmas decorations are half-up, some adorning the room in festive reds and greens but there are some that appear as if they were placed there without a care, a little more of the decorations still in boxes. You did note that you’ve been busy covering shifts and working overtime, leaving no time and energy to finish furnishing the house in time for Christmas. Struck by a brilliant idea, he takes the initiative to complete the rest of the decorations so you’d wake up to a Hallmark movie dreamscape in the morning… and it’ll all be thanks to him and you’d smile real wide and call him charming– he’s getting ahead of himself, a mindless smile once again gracing his features. He gets to work on what he can, finding little to no trouble on using one hand for this task.

He shocks himself with how good and fitting his pairings are: the decorations, tinsel, wreaths, and holiday charms complementing each other a lot better than he expected. Maybe he should come over to the Redfields and help them put up decorations, Chris could seriously use some lessons on coordinating and matching. One break per hour turns into two then three and eventually, he’s conked out on the couch with a box of christmas balls on his lap and tinsel on his free hand; his mouth his open, head thrown back and some brunette fringe curtaining an eye. You’d love to spend the entire day giggling and describing the state you found your endearing roommate, teasing him to no end– the poor man woke up confused, seeing the first rays of daylight filter in and hear your muted chuckles as you took pictures of him.

“Fell asleep decorating?” you ask, though it’s a little pointless to ask: you know the answer.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck before setting aside the box and standing. “I couldn’t sleep last night so I decided to get busy. Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I seriously don’t mind. I could use some help since I’ve been so busy and tired so you’re heaven-sent for putting some of it up, thank you again. You’ve done so much for me already–”

“No, you’ve done so much for me already. Don’t give me all the credit,” he says with a timid grin.

You walk around, stopping around the walls and tables and in front of the tree. “You’re really good at this! You even swapped out some of the things I already put up– no biggie though, it looks even better now. Who knew Leon Kennedy could make a–”

“Hallmark movie dreamscape?”

“Yeah!”

The entire thing isn’t particularly funny or the pinnacle of comedy but you both find yourself sharing a fond chuckle and you feel your hummingbird heart rattle against its bone-cage and Leon already knows he’ll be obsessing over this moment all day long.

“You’re great at this, Leon– genuinely. It’s so… pretty and magical and basically the stuff of dreams. I love the arrangements, I don’t know what’s better to keep staring at: you or this Christmas wonderland.”

He’s sure to yap Hunnigan’s poor ear off all afternoon while you’re out.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

From that day on, he spends most of his days (and sleepless nights) planning the perfect confession: writing it down on paper, pacing around the room acting it out, and mumbling the words he’ll use. He knows he’s acting and treating this like a silly teenage boy with an out-of-league crush and in a way, he thinks you are: you’re heaven-sent, God’s apology for all the evil and scum in this world. He giggles and chuckles at the prospect of confessing to you, getting all wiggly until an ache in his bad arm cuts it short and causes him to wince for a moment before getting back to where he left off. Claire calls him delusional, Leon thinks he’s being a romantic visionary. 

The sight of Leon’s brightened, reinvigorated puppy eyes stuck with you until you reached your workplace; those bedazzled eyes, coupled with his perfect smile, is the kind of thing that belongs to someone who has it all: charm, looks, and confidence. If there were already others interested in him, surely you can’t compete: he deserves someone bolder and more upfront, not just someone fumbling with half-hearted attempts to be seen by their secret darling. Every attempt to flirt and hint at your affections seemed to go unnoticed, his responses always polite but never suggestive of anything more; maybe you weren’t clever enough to capture the attention of someone as effortlessly suave as Leon Kennedy

“It’s not his fault,” you bitterly thought to yourself as you bit on the edge of your pen. “I’m just not that outstanding for him to leave an impression…”

“Who’s fault?” your coworker asks, peeking over their cubicle.

“Nothing,” you quickly dismiss the slip-up. “Work must be getting to me, I’m talking to myself now, haha...”

There’s already an ‘incident’ wherein you took the time to shape the foam in Leon’s coffee into a heart. “Thought I’d sprinkle some love for your day.”

“Lattes aren’t really my preference but thank you,” he responded that one embarrassing morning. “Mm, this is really good.” Despite him enjoying the coffee enough to take it to work, it still left you red-faced and ashamed of yourself.

Unwilling to let other embarrassing memories like these get the best of you, you push those thoughts down before they have a chance to simmer up and bother you so you occupy yourself with work.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“I can do it myself,” Leon mutters half-heartedly though his predicament betrayed his words: the remaining sleeve of his favorite sweater dangling around his neck like a sad scarf.

You ignored his stubbornness, hands gentle as you fumbled with his sweater as you fixed it up for him before slipping his bad arm inside with tender care.

When the sleeve finally aligned, it’s as if your heart overrode your ability to logically reason with yourself and so, you placed a hand on his stubbled cheek to steady him. The touch lingered for a little longer, the seconds stretching on a little longer. Leon’s breath camps out in his throat, too terrified to make a little move and shatter the magic. Unfortunately for him, you took your hand back as if his face was a cup of hot cocoa too hot to hold.

“Sorry,” you whisper before backing off, leaving an achy emptiness in the blue-eyed agent’s heart. “Is it all okay now?”

“Huh? Right– yes, it’s fine now. Thanks, by the way.”

You nod, excusing yourself from his presence to occupy yourself with something else, the awkward void palpable than ever though you both know that you felt a shared crackle of something precious.

The night is all so perfect and cozy– a delectable Christmas feast, soft Christmas sweaters, and a comforting atmosphere settling over your shared apartment with Leon. You don’t want this night to ever end, for this feeling to dissipate come morning time. It’s now or never, so you direct Leon to stand with you in the arch of the doorway. Taking a deep and steadying breath, you let your feelings be known before the fear can ruin everything again.

“I know you probably think that this is sudden,” you carefully begin. “But it’s not. It’s been simmering for a year and 3 months now– each time you come home from some work-related thing or when I make you smile or when I help you out with your sweaters and shirts, there’s this feeling that threatens to crumble me deliciously and it’s all because of you.”

Leon tilts his head, unconsciously mimicking a confused puppy. “What do you mean…?”

“Under this stupid mistletoe that I placed while you were taking the pies from the neighbor, I can’t let this moment pass without me being honest to you: you mean so much to me– so much that if I lost you, I’d go insane. I’m completely, overwhelmingly, and all-consumingly in love with you and honestly, it’s impossible not to.”

Your voice trembled and if even the slightest thing didn't go your way, you’re certain you’ll cry from the immense pressure on you. You laugh softly, trying to soothe yourself as a nervous warmth flows through you.

“You’re not the only one,” Leon speaks up, voice thick with emotion, “who’s been thinking about this moment.”

He steps closer, cautiously perching his right hand on your hip.

“I was going to say something first but you beat me to it first,” he adds while sporting a tantalizing smile. “I planned on telling you later tonight but guess I’ll have to let you win this time.”

Your eyes locked with his, the weight of formerly unspoken feelings suddenly lifting and giving way to something charged. Taking a tiny step closer, you cup his face in your hands again and you sigh at how perfect the fit is.

“So… what did we learn?” You jokingly ask.

“That we both suck at keeping secrets?” He jokes back.

A shared and equally shy giggle erupts between you two like you’re both teenagers new to the whole shtick of love.

“So… you do know what being under a mistletoe requires us to do right?” he softly asks.

Beneath the mistletoe, time seemed to stop and the seconds that flowed were tinged with genuine nervousness intensifying as your faces drew ever nearer.

“I love you,” Leon says before meeting your lips with his, gentle and feather-light with hints of hesitation. It was slow yet sweet, sweeter than all the combined holiday treats you both had. The shared warmth and affection blurred the rest of the world into insignificance; each brush of lips were delicate like falling snowflakes. As you both pull away to catch air, you rest your foreheads together and share a giggle in the tingly aftermath of your first kiss.

NOTE - Happy holidays everyone <3 I would like you to give yourself either a tight hug, a pat to the shoulder, or both for making it to the end of the year. The year certainly wasn't smooth or easy for some of us but I'm proud of you for ending the year with me and the rest of us who deeply care about you. I hope that every single one of you are warm and cozy in your homes, with stomachs happily full from a tasty dinner, and content with your lives right now. If you're currently going through something, please hold on and stay strong: things will all be okay in the end and if they aren't okay right now then it's not the end just yet-- rest and slow down if you must but never give up <33 You got this and I know you do because I believe in you, sending virtual hugs and kisses to every single person who sees this post on their dashboards *<]:D !! If you're seeing this, thank you for taking time to read and interact with this post :3 I <3333 UUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune (the moving red line divider), @bernardsbendystraws (the Christmas lights divider), and @wcnderlnds (the red and blue snowflakes) + the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[silencesscreams]

hiii, idk if ur still active but I love ur writing and I was wondering if u could maybe do a james smut with a Christmas theme! tyyy💓

Merry Christmas, I miss you

james potter x f!reader

summary: you and James have been broken up since Halloween. Until he calls you on Christmas Day after finding out that you both were spending the evening alone. (muggle+modern day au)

warnings: use of y/n, reader is shorter than James, swearing, smut (MDNI!), afab reader, nipple sucking, oral/fingering (f receiving), praise!!!, penetration, multiple orgasms(2), slight dom!james, reader has hair long enough to be stroked, kind of make-up sex tbh, unprotected + use of the pill, creampie, not proofread at all 😭

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting! I immediately thought of this song, hope you like it <3

You hated spending Christmas alone.

When your family was getting plane tickets two months ago, you said you’d spend Christmas with James, who also cancelled his plans with his family, just for him to break up with you two weeks later.

There was no one you could spend the end of year holidays with, all of your friends were with their families or together.

James absolutely hated the silence in his apartment.

Sirius and Remus were spending the holiday together at cabin they found online and Peter had gone home to his family.

James hated having brought this upon himself.

Were you with somebody else out there? Were you meeting their family? Were they in your apartment?

It was killing him.

What he hated most of all was breaking up with you during a stupid fight which he didn’t even remember the reason why it happened. He just remembers being drunk and stupid.

So he called Sirius, because that was what he usually did when things went to shit, and also because Sirius was close to you and he would probably know what James had been asking himself for the past hour.

The phone rang about six times until he finally picked up.

“What do you want?”

“What do you think y/n is doing right now?” He heard Sirius groan.

“Why do you care about what she’s doing?” James didn’t answer. “She’s alone at her place, don’t call her.”

“You think I should call her?” He decided to ignore any advice that went against whatever he wanted.

“God, he’s so fucking confusing.” he heard Remus say.

“Moony, do you think I should call her?”

“James, you’re going to do whatever you want, aren’t you?”

“Always, but that’s not the point.”

“Do what your heart says and leave us alone pleeeeaseee!” Sirius said and hung up.

James dialed your number on his phone, he memorized it so there was no real meaning to why he deleted it a while ago.

When you read the name on your phone’s screen once it started vibrating you thought you’d faint.

You wished that he had butt dialed you, or that maybe he called the wrong person. You knew you were wrong.

“James?” You said as you picked up and paused the TV in front of you.

“y/n. Hi, merry Christmas.” He sat up straight on the couch. “What are you doing?”

You couldn’t believe him.

“What?” You asked, even though you heard him clearly the first time.

“What are you doing tonight?”

So he was booty calling you on Christmas, was that it?

“I’m currently watching every single sitcom Christmas episode I can think of. You?”

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for the past three hours. Are you by yourself?”

“Yes.” You replied, almost whispering. You couldn’t understand him.

“Me too. Can I come pick you up? We could maybe watch every single sitcom Christmas episode together. I have some food here.” He was already getting up and putting on his shoes outside of the apartment.

“Sure.”

You sighed after hanging up, what could go wrong? You’d go, you’d eat his food, you wouldn’t hook up with him and you’d be home by midnight. It was fine. Everything was under control.

Until you got into his car.

Until you felt his smell, the three in one shampoo that had the sweetest smell a three in one shampoo could ever have.

“Hey, you look great.” He said, looking at you as you put on the seatbelt.

“Thanks, you too.”

“Did you change your hair?” James asked, starting to drive.

“Kind of, yes.” You looked out the window and then back at him. “You look the same.”

He let out a small laugh. “I do.”

It was usually a 10 minute drive from your apartment to his, in which you awkwardly played with the hem of your skirt and made small talk.

“I have some frozen pizza at home, we could make popcorn too if you like, I bought one of those air popping machine things a few weeks ago. Actually, Sirius got that.” He said as he parked the car on the empty street in front of the apartment complex.

“I’d like that.”

Maybe you believed everything was still in control until you entered his apartment, the floor was cold and you left your shoes at the door. He locked it behind you.

“You remember the place don’t you?” You nodded. “There’s a few blankets and a sweater on the couch and you can turn on the TV if you want to. I’ll take the pizza out of the freezer and get the popcorn machine ready.”

You decided on starting with The Office’s season two Christmas episode, then you watch the other eight. Or you’d move to New Girl, then maybe Brooklyn 99, possibly Seinfeld.

“Bad news!” You heard James say from the kitchen. “Theres no corn to pop” he said, coming out and looking at you sitting on the couch.

“It’s alright, how about we watch this one and then I can help you out with the pizza?” You moved to the right side of the couch, inviting him to sit on your left.

You did realize you had no control over anything once he sat and instinctively wrapped his left arm around your shoulder. That might’ve also been when he realized he had no control.

“What are we watching?” He asked as you covered your legs with the blanket on the couch, he pulled some of it to himself and shared with you, your knees touching under it.

“I thought we could start by the office, we obviously won’t watch all of them, so we can move to New Girl afterwards, then maybe we could do Brooklyn 99 or Seinfeld because I know you like those two.” You looked at him and he hummed.

“That’s a good plan.” You smiled at him and started the episode.

When Micheal started talking about the Yankee Swap, James took his left arm from off your shoulder and put it under the covers to scratch his calf. You missed the feeling of him over your shoulders, until he rested his hand on your upper knee.

You felt your entire body go hot until the end of the episode, when he took the blanket from off you both and supported himself on your thigh to get up from the couch, ‘accidentally’ giving it a light squeeze. You thought you were about to go insane and paused the TV, maybe it really was a Christmas booty call.

“I only have pepperoni, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you put it in the oven? I’ll get us something to drink.”

“Sure.” He brushed his hand against your waist as he moved behind you to open the fridge.

“There’s Diet Coke, wine and orange juice.” He looked back at you.

“Wine.” You answered, watching him take the bottle out along with a can of Coke.

“Aren’t you going to drink with me?” You grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and moved next to him.

“I have to drive you home.” He smiled at you.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” You smiled back at him.

“I can’t let you walk or uber home.” He put your hair behind your ear.

“I could crash here, if there’s space for me.” You almost whispered, looking at him doe eyed.

“There’s always space for you in my bed.” He stated, his voice low as he poured wine into both of the glasses.

He watched you take a sip and realized you were holding back a laugh.

“What is it?” He smiled.

“This sucks.” You giggled softly. He took a sip from his glass and made a face.

“Oh my god,” he laughed “you have to blame Remus though, I don’t think I bought wine more than once in my entire life.” You smiled, remembering the bottle he brought to your house on your third date. He moved closer to you, resting his hands on your waist.

“I’m sorry about the wine.” He whispered and you felt his breathing against your face, you hummed and looked up at him, moving your hands to the back of his neck, gently stroking his hair.

“Fuck.” He whispered, looking into your eyes. He slowly leaned in, you could feel your heartbeat as he got closer to you. You felt his lips brush against yours and then his phone’s alarm went off, scaring the both of you.

“The damn pizza” he muttered, turning off the oven but not taking the food out. You leaned against the counter and looked at James, who put his hands on your waist again, asking you “Where were we?”, making you laugh for the first time in a while.

You threw your hands over his neck as he hugged you so tightly that you thought maybe you both could merge into one.

“I missed you.” You whispered into his ear.

“Yeah?” He teased you and you hummed. “I missed you so much, love.” He started kissing your neck, holding you tightly by your lower waist.

“I’m so sorry. For everything.” He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “Let me make it up to you, please.” You nodded.

He brought his lips to yours and kissed you quickly.

“Use your words.” He muttered against your mouth and your breath hitched.

“Yes, please.” You replied and he brought his lips back against yours, this time you parted your mouth and he let his tongue slip into it. His lips moved hungrily against yours, the hands on your waist quickly moving to cup your ass firmly. Before you knew it, you were moving against him, glad you’d chosen to wear a skirt as breathy moans slipped from your lips against his.

All of a sudden James pulled his lips away from yours,

“Go to my room, I’ll be there in a second.” He said, pointing to the corridor.

You left the door open and sat on his bed, waiting for him. Everything was the same, except for the photograph of the both of you he had framed and left on his desk, which was now nowhere to be seen. He came into the room with something behind his back.

“I got this for you in November, in case we saw each other today. I know it’s not much but it reminded me of you.” He handed you a black corduroy box, which had a gold necklace with a small heart pendant.

“Oh James, this is so pretty.” You looked at him smiling and closing the box and putting it on his nightstand “I’ll put it on later, thank you so much.”

“Let me make everything up to you, I truly am sorry.” He said, taking off his glasses and sitting in front of you on the bed. You put your hands behind his neck and pulled him in, kissing him gently as he moved closer to you, his knee between your legs.

You laid down and his mouth started to make its way to your neck, giving it soft kisses then gently biting and sucking, making sure to leave a few marks. Meanwhile, his hands trailed their way to your breasts, going under your already loose bra and playing with your nipples. He quickly helped you take off your shirt, also removing his own.

James quickly kissed your mouth and started to trail small kisses from it to your right nipple, which he brought to his mouth and sucked on, nipping at it with his front teeth every once in a while, meanwhile his left hand stimulated your other nipple.

Your hands moved to his hair, stroking it and tugging on it every once in a while, leading to groans that would send vibrations to your breasts.

Suddenly, he pressed his knee against your damp underwear as you desperately tried to get more friction from it, until he held down your hips.

“Let me help you, baby.” he hummed against your chest. “I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry.”

He helped you take off your skirt as you raised your hips, tossing it next to the bed and kissing your tummy, making his way down to your underwear, lowering it and kissing the skin right above your slit, almost where you needed him the most. He started to kiss your inner thighs, going up to your clothed core, pressing another kiss right on top of your covered clit, making you moan as he took off your panties, carefully placing them on top of your skirt on the floor.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his breath fanning against your pussy.

He started slowly at first, licking from your entrance to your clit, sucking it in the most careful way he could. Until you couldn’t hold back your moaning and you remembered how James Potter gave head like a starved man.

He held your thighs open as he sucked on your sensitive bud and fucked two fingers into you, making your back arch and causing you release the most incoherent sentences from your mouth, a mix of swearing, the word god and his name, but really, in that moment, the later two were probably the same to you.

Your hands tugged onto his hair as you reached your high, he looked up at you and kept stimulating your clit with his thumb, inserting a third finger into your hole.

“Cum for me, honey.” He said, sensing you were close to your high and going back to sucking your bud.

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you moaned out his name, squeezing his head in between your thighs as he carried you through your orgasm.

Once you were finished, James moved up to kiss you. His mouth moving hungrily against yours.

“I want you.” you said as you pulled away, looking into his eyes.

“You already have me, sweetheart.” He smiled, getting up to get something to clean you up with. You pulled him back by the wrist.

“No, I want you in me. Please. ‘Need more.” You said lowly, giving him a quick peck.

“You sure?” You knew he wanted it too, he just wanted to make you feel good and forget about himself for the rest of the night.

“Yes, please James.” You replied, pulling him by the wrist again once he went to reach for a condom in the nightstand drawer. “I want to feel you. I’m on the pill, please.”

He smiled, taking off his sweatpants and going on top of you, his knees pressed against the mattress next to your thighs as he kissed you, tilting your head to deepen it.

He started kissing your neck, giving soft pecks on the marks he had left behind earlier, while taking his length out of his underwear and lining himself up against your entrance, teasing you with his tip as you practically begged him to get inside of you.

“Patience, baby.” He muttered, slowly starting to thrust into your needy hole whilst pulling your right leg up and bending it, almost making your leg shin touch your thigh as he tried to go as deep as possible.

You couldn’t help but moan out his name once he started thrusting and kept hitting the most perfect spot he could whilst stimulating your bean with his thumb. You clenched around his cock as he started to thrust rapidly into you.

“That’s it baby, you’re doing so good.” He’d whisper in between grunts in your ear while you scratched his back in pleasure. “So- mhm so good for me, baby.” He said, his mouth clashing against yours, his tongue entering your mouth as you opened it. You clenched your pussy around him and you both can’t help but moan into each other’s mouths, his thrusts getting faster and his grunts and moans only louder, showing you how close he also is.

You felt your second orgasm building up as he pinched your clit and you squealed onto his tongue, your teeth clashing, causing him to pull away and smile against your mouth, his teeth against your lips.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered and you replied with a nod, your nose against his cheek. He thrusted quickly and made circular motions on your clit at the same pace. “Hm, cum for me baby, cum on my cock.” He commanded as you reached your second high, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss you again. The kiss was sloppy as he shot his load into you and you clenched around him, his thrusts faltering.

He collapsed right next to you, grabbing his glasses on the bedside table to look at you properly.

“You’re so beautiful.” He praised you, smiling as he stroked your hair. “Thank you for picking up. Thank you for being here. For everything.” He whispered.

“Thank you for calling.” You smiled.

“The pizza’s probably cold.” He muttered, looking at his bedroom door.

“I don’t care.” You gave him a peck. “Merry Christmas, James.”

“Merry Christmas, love.”

[fandomgirlz01]

The Most Perfect Christmas Ever

JJ Maybank X Routledge Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: Yes: (1) "Cute Christmas socks." (2) "Are you going to stay out there in the cold all night?" (3) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (4) "Is that my scarf?" (5) "Be careful you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here." (6) "Ah. The ground is so slippy.!” (7) "Call me elf one more time!" (8) "Chaos has come again." (9) "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone." (10) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (11) "Everything I want I can’t have." (12) "Here. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree." (13) "How long ago did (Character) fall asleep?" (14) "I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real. I think there may be something in that." (15) "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

Style of Writing: Single Fic 

Rating: PG ~ For all the fluff and cuteness, but a few adult comments…

Edited: Not edited so it may change around later guys. 

Word count: 6,717 

Post Date & Time: December 25th 2024 at 1:45 AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here 

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}.

Summary: You, your brother John B and JJ (Jackson Jessy "Maybank" Groff) spend another Christmas together, your first Christmas without your father after he’d gone missing. This Christmas however is different than all the others that the three of you have spent together. 

Authors Note: I got these amazing prompts from a fellow writers page @bonniebird Bonnie is an inspiration to me as well as an amazing writer and artist. I did change some of them up so they fit the story better, but I did try to keep them pretty close to the original prompts. Anyway, Bonnie’s work never fails to make me smile and feel all the feelings that I should when reading. I WISH I could write as amazingly as she does, but I’m nowhere near her level yet, I hope and pray that one day I will be. Ladies and gentlemen please go give her love and support because she really deserves it. She’s one of my many inspirations and I’m so so happy to use her prompts because they really pushed me to write this fic even though I was blocked for all of my other works. I feel like it helped me break out of it, so THANK YOU Bonnie for everything 🩵🩵🩵

Also this is our first JJ Maybank fic. We have so much coming out for JJ he will eventually be added into our main people we write for so be on the look out for when we add that in. We both hope you guys enjoy this one. 🩵

You hum softly to yourself along with the Christmas music you have playing as you lay out the decorations. Every Christmas, you, John B, your dad, and JJ would enjoy Christmas together. When you were growing up and found out what JJ’s dad did to him (you didn’t tell them of course, because that’s JJ’s place to tell people about it), you begged for JJ to start spending the holidays with you. Ever since that very first time they agreed, he’s always come over. It’s always been your absolute favorite time of year. How could it not be? When you have JJ and John B around you, your two favorite people? This year is different though, because it’s the first Christmas without your father since he had disappeared only a few months ago now. 

“Hey. Wow. You’ve really got everything ready,” John B comments in shock as he looks at everything you’ve laid out so far. 

“It’s Christmas, JB, of course I’ve got everything ready. Don’t I always?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him and shrugging. 

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and we’re only now decorating…” you shake your head and he chuckles. 

“I know normally you have it all started the last week of November,” he comments, amusement clear in his tone. 

“I know right! I’m so behind. This year has been a lot… it’s been one stressful year…” you mutter out with a roll of your eyes and he again hums in amusement as you bite your lip. 

“Hey. I get it. It definitely has been wild,” John B agrees and you sigh. 

“It’s just… it’s the first one without dad. We should still celebrate, be happy to still all be together right?” You ask, unsure of your own words. 

“Of course, bug. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” he tells you as he stops you for a moment to pull you into a hug. 

“Plus, I’ll have my two favorite guys with me. I’m happy and I refuse to not be happy during my favorite time of year,” you push away from the hug as you ramble while continuing to lay stuff out, not bothering to spare a look at your brother. 

“Hey. I get it. I do. No need to preach it to me, bug,” he reverently tells you, giving you a small shrug. 

You continue to lay ornaments and many other decorations out on the table. You step back to look at your handiwork, proud of how it looks. You get pulled out of your thoughts when your brother laughs, making you look at him instead. 

“What?” You ask him, eyebrow propped and he points down at your feet. 

"Cute Christmas socks," he tells you though chuckles and you look down at them, pushing up onto your toes. 

“Oh, really? Good, I got both you and JJ a pair of your own,” you inform him with a giant grin and his face falls. 

“There’s no way JJ will be wearing those…” he tells you and you giggle. 

“Who says! They’re cute!” You cry out and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Sorry to tell ya, bee, JJ doesn’t do cute,” he tells you with humor lacing his tone. 

“Fine. You’ll wear them though, right?” You ask, giving him puppy dog eyes. 

“Not a chance. Puppy eyes don’t work on me anymore, bee,” he tells you and you smirk even though he’s not looking at you. 

“Really? Then why won’t you look at me, huh?” You teasingly ask and he huffs. 

“No reason. No reason at all. Speaking of your two favorite people, where's the other?” John B asks with a hint of humor, changing the subject as he picks up an ornament to look at before carefully setting it back down. 

“Actually, he was supposed to be here about thirty minutes ago…” you comment as you finally look up at the clock. 

“Don’t worry, bug. It’s JJ, I’m sure he’s just running late,” John B tries to comfort you, but you shake your head, rushing over to start putting your jacket on. 

“Exactly. It’s JJ. He’s never late this time of year. He loves having Christmas with us,” you comment as you shove your feet into your shoes. 

“Bug? What are you doing?” John B rushes over to you and you shrug as you stand while zipping up your jacket. 

“I’m going to look for him. What if he needs us?” You counter as you wrap a scarf around your neck and John B sighs. 

“I’m coming with you then,” he informs you as he grabs his own jacket. 

You give him a look of exasperation before shaking your head once more. You pull the door open before starting down the porch, but John B pulls you to a stop. You go to yell at him, but he raises his hands in surrender before pointing over at something and you turn to look where he's pointing. You see JJ sitting curled up on the dock and you sigh in relief. 

“You go talk to him. I’ll finish setting up, okay?” John B offers and you smile softly at him. 

“Don’t you wanna go over?” You ask, popping an eyebrow at him and he pauses with lips pursed in thought. 

“No. It looks more like a you and him moment,” John B answers with a small soft smile. 

“Okay. If you’re sure, birdy,” you tell him, giving a side eye to see if he changes his mind. 

When he doesn’t show any signs of changing his mind, you firmly nod at him before starting to walk over to JJ as John B heads back inside. It’s a cold night so you bring your cupped hands up to your mouth and breathe into them, hoping to warm yourself up a little. Once your hands have warmed up, you move them under your armpits, trying to keep them that way as you move closer and closer to JJ. 

“Jayj…” you call out softly and you can see your breath in the air. 

“Hi, cupcake…” he mutters, not looking at you which makes you frown. 

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You ask as you sit next to him, your feet dangling over the side of the dock. 

“JJ, talk to me…” you mutter out when he doesn’t answer and you move to cuddle into his side, but he uses his shoulder to shove you off, still keeping his face out of view. 

“JJ. Seriously, what is wrong?” You ask as you grab his shoulder, trying to pull him to look at you even though you have an opinion on what’s going on. 

“Just leave me alone cupcake. Please?” He practically begs, still turned away from you and you frown even harder. 

“Jayj, please…” you whisper out to him once again and he sighs, finally turning to you not liking the hurt sound of your voice. 

“Oh, JJ…” you gasp when you see his face full of black and blue bruises, you had a thought that’s it be about his dad, but you had no clue it’d be this bad. 

“See, that’s why…” he mutters, looking away from you once more. 

“I don’t want you pitying me again… you do it far too often,” he mutters after you haven’t said anything.

“I don’t pity you, JJ. If anything I think it makes you incredibly strong…” you tell him with a firmness to your tone and he feels himself getting choked up. 

“Yeah… whatever…” he responds, not believing you as he shoves you off again. 

“I’m really sorry, JJ…” you mutter softly, not knowing what else to say to get him to believe you. You frown with a shake of your head as tears well up in your eyes.  

“What do you have to be sorry for? You didn’t do this…” JJ asks as he still refuses to look at you and you reach out for him again. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. I’m sorry you got dealt such a bad hand in life. I wish… I wish I could force Luke to see you. To actually see you,” you explain as you're finally able to pull him to look at you. He wishes he could wipe your frown off but only smiles softly at you. 

“It’s not so bad. I’ve got you and John B. It could be worse I guess,” he tells you with a shrug as he looks away again and out to the water. 

“I mean, you are right. Having us is pretty awesome,” you agree playfully, bouncing your eyebrows and he chuckles to himself, shaking his head. You smile, seeing his tough exterior finally starting to break down.

“It really is,” he softly agrees as he still looks out over the water and you hold back a sigh. 

“Well, are you going to stay out here in the cold all night and stew in what happened? Or are you going to come in and have fun with your favorite person?” You goad him while nudging him with your shoulder. 

“Oh, John B’s my favorite person now, huh?” he playfully asks, his own lips forming a bit bigger of a smirk now and you gasp. 

“Umm, no. I was actually talking about myself,” you respond with a deadpan look that makes him smile even more as he laughs, shaking his head. 

“What makes you think you’re my favorite person?” he asks you, all smiles now and you can’t help but smile alongside him. 

“It made you smile, didn’t it?” You answer him with a shrug and he’s shaking his head in disbelief again. 

“Yeah… yeah. It did,” he chuckles, continuing to smile softly at you.

"Well come on, then, let's get inside. We have a tree to decorate still and many other Christmas festivities,” you tell him with a beaming smile as you go to get up, but he reaches out and stops you. 

“Can we maybe just stay here for a moment more?” he mutters out and you blink at him for a moment.

“Yeah, of course, Jayj…” you softly tell him and he smiles a small smile at you. 

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before JJ, who's not wearing a coat, starts to shake a little bit."Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up," You tell him as you hold your coat open to him. 

“Thanks, cupcake,” he mutters as he slides in under your arm and you smile warmly at him. 

“Of course, Jayj. It’s us against the world,” you whisper to him as you bring your pinky up and he smiles again before bringing his up as well, wrapping it around yours. 

“Us against the world, cupcake,” he agrees and you sigh, laying your head against his that now lays on your shoulder. 

“Hey, is this my scarf?” he asks after a while of silence as he lifts one of the sides of the scarf up. 

“Umm. Yeah, I think it’s the one you left here last year. I found it in my winter clothes. You can have it back if you want,” you answer with your cheeks burning hot and you try to hide your face. 

“Nah. Keep it. It’s a better fit on you than me,” he tells you softly and again you can’t help but blush. 

He says nothing else after that, just cuddles back into your shoulder and you squeeze his shoulder. The two of you stay sitting there, cuddling while looking out over the water in silence and just enjoying each other’s presence. 

“Hey, tweedledee and tweedledum, are you two going to stay out there all night and make me decorate alone? Or are you going to come be of some help?”John B calls out for the two of you from the edge of the dock and you both roll your eyes. 

“Well, you ready to go in?” You ask him and he smiles at you before nodding. 

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agrees before pulling away and the two of you start to stand. 

"Be careful cupcake, you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here,” JJ tells you as he stands up and you cross your arms. 

“I’m not that clumsy!” You fight back and he hums in amusement. 

“Okay. I’ll believe that when you're not tripping over thin air,” he jokes back with a smirk and you scowl at him. 

“Whatever…” you tell him as you roll your eyes before turning and taking a step to head back to the house. 

You let out a small gasp as you start to fall back, but JJ, knowing you well, was already reacting and quickly pulling you back up. You stare at him in shock for a moment before you slowly start to smile, making him smile too. 

"You were right. The ground really is so slippery,” You joke, eyes wide in shock and he playfully rolls his eyes at you. 

“Never change, cupcake. You’re truly one of a kind,” JJ tells you with a grin that’s utterly infectious. 

“Only if you promise never to change yourself, Jayj. You’re one of a kind too,” you request and he nods in agreement. 

You both stare at one another for a moment, your eyes staring into the blue pools that are his eyes that you’ve come to love so much over the years and you have a burning need to kiss him. You can feel his heart going what seems to be a mile a minute as he watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up to his eyes, his eyes doing the same. He squeezes your waist gently with a million thoughts of how your lips might taste flying though his mind and he wishes he could just kiss the adorable frown off your face, but he knows he can’t, making him frown too. You frown even deeper before opening your mouth to ask him why he’s frowning, but before you get the chance, you get cut off. 

“Hey! Would you two stop making eyes at each other and come help me decorate!” John B calls out again, interrupting the moment and you almost groan. 

“Thanks for catching me, Jayj,” you whisper out and something flashes through his eyes for a moment, an emotion you can’t quite decipher before he grins again letting you go. 

“I’ll always catch you, cupcake,” he promises with a light smile before the two of you start to walk over to John B. 

You slip a little bit once more, but you reach out and grab onto JJ’s arm. He looks down at you and chuckles as you cling to him like a koala bear, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you to the end of the dock safely,” he promises with a laugh as he laces his fingers through yours and continues to walk over to John B. 

"Chaos has come again, man!” JJ announces as you and he walk into the château before he’s letting go of you to walk over to John B. 

“Don’t think that’s a good thing man,” John B deadpans and you fight to hold back a giggle as JJ pulls back from the guy hug the share looking offended. 

“Fine then, I take it back. You’re definitely not my favorite person. It’s cupcake,” JJ says as he pulls you into him from behind. 

“Oh so now I’m your favorite,” you ask, crossing your arms and giving a faux annoyed look. 

“Let’s be completely honest bee, I think you always have been even when he lies outta his butt and says you aren't,” John B comments with a roll of his eyes as he picks up an ornament and hangs it on the tree. 

“It’s disgusting sometimes really,” John B continues with a fake gag as he hangs the ornament up on the tree. 

“Ohh. I wanna do the Angel!” You happily call out clapping your hands and John B chuckles. 

“Don’t you always do it? This year’s no different, Bee. It’s your one job,” John B comments in amusement making you pout. 

“It’s not my only job! I have others,” you fight back and JJ chuckles, slinging his arm around your shoulder. 

“Yeah, JB her other jobs lookin pretty,” JJ comments as he hugs you into his side and you fight a blush as you groan pushing him away. 

“I extremely dislike both of you,” you comment, crossing your arms with a look of dismay falling on your face and they both grin. 

“That’s not true. You LOVE us,” both of them singsong to you and you uncross your arms shaking your head. 

“Okay maybe I do, but let’s get this show on the road,” you finally cave and agree with them before walking over to start decorating the tree some more. 

“Okay miss head elf,” JJ jokes with a roll of his eyes and John B laughs. 

“Oh that’s a good one Jayj. She really is a snappy head elf this time of year isn’t she?” John B agrees before pushing the joke a little further and you pause crossing your arms. 

"Call me elf one more time!" You seeth out through clenched teeth and they share a look. 

“Awe come on elffie. It’s a cute Christmas nickname that’s all. Plus you're the perfect height for it,” JJ tells you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he squeezes you affectionately and you huff, shaking your head. 

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get decorating already…” you tell them in annoyance and JJ snickers along with John B. 

Together you, JJ and John B all dance around and decorate making you completely forget about everything that’s been going on the past few months. For a moment it’s just you and your two favorite people living happily with nothing and nobody to take it away from you. You’d give anything to live every single day like this. You walk away still laughing at something JJ had said and walk back in with the scissors. You stop and fondly watch as John B and JJ fight over who gets to put an ornament on a certain branch. Blue Christmas by Elvis starts to play and without realizing it you start to cry. 

“You okay there cupcake?” JJ asks as he turns around to see you crying and worry flows through him. 

“I’m okay Jayj…” you tell him softly with a gentle smile on your face as you set the scissors on the table. 

“Then why the tears?” John B asks and you giggle wiping at your eyes. 

“I just wish we could all live like this everyday. Just us three having the times of our lives with nothing to worry about,” you start pausing to catch your breath a little bit and to sniffle. 

“Both Kie and Pope have their parents. I’m happy to just have you two,” you explain more tears welling up in your eyes and JJ clicks his tongue coming over to give you a hug. 

“I’m happy we have each other too, Bee, but unfortunately we can’t have it everyday. There’s always going to be good and bad days,” John B agrees with you as he to comes over to hug you. 

“I know, I just wish it could be that way,” you sigh out and JJ squeezes you once more. 

“I think we all do, cupcake. Let’s just try to live in this moment then yeah? Enjoy the time we have?” He asks and you grin up at him. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree and he smiles happy to see you back to your happy go lucky self. 

You gasp as the song’s lyrics perfectly fit the moment. “But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas without you,” you sing along to Elvis as you sway and JJ shakes his head, but smiles as he watches you enjoy the music. 

“Perfect timing, much?” He jokes propping an eyebrow making both you and John B burst out laughing. 

“Yeah… definitely don’t quit your day job bug,” John B jokes and you shrug seemingly unfazed by his playful insult. 

“And what day job would that be birdy? Hunting for gold?” You playfully ask back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“Okay. Okay… you win,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I always win,” you say in a devious tone with an equally devious look. 

“Don’t I always win, Jay?” You ask, turning to JJ who looks between you and John B in a panic for a moment. 

“Sorry JB. I have to say she is definitely a winner in my book,” JJ tells both of you and you let out a cheer pumping your fist in the air. 

“Eat it birdy!” You cheer out as you do a little dance. 

“So not fair! JJ’s only on your side because he’s crushing hard. Let’s bring Sarah in as a tie breaker,” John B complains and you pause your dance crossing your arms as you prop an eyebrow at him. 

“How would that break the tie? One. Sarah, so would choose me too and second that’d only make it tied even more even if she did choose you,” you comment very pointedly and he shrugs sticking his tongue out. 

“At least it’d be more fair. Again, JJ only chose you because he’s crushing on you,” John B again points out and you shake your head. 

“And Sarah is so crushing on you,” you point out and JJ lets out an “ooooohhh” making you laugh. 

“She got you there JB,” JJ comments with a smirk that’s infectiously making you smirk too. 

“Okay birdy, you win. I take it as a compliment that my favorite person is crushing on me though,” you happily reply, leaving a kiss on JJ’s cheek and he blushes before awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“Okay. Okay. Enough fighting you two. I think it’s time to put the angel up right?” JJ cuts in only wanting to change the whole subject as he holds the Angel up for you to take from him. 

“Yeah, okay.” You agree as you take the Angel from him. 

You look down at the Angel in your hands, the angel you and your mom had picked out together when you were five. You don’t remember much of her, John B does because he’d been a little older (he’d been seven) when she left, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when you think about how she’d just left the three of you behind. John B and your dad had told you so much about her that sometimes she felt like a phantom to you, like someone that was there for a second, someone you knew so well, then gone the very next. Tears well up in your eyes and you look up at John B. He immediately knows what you’re thinking and lets out a sigh, sad for you as always, he always felt sad you couldn’t fully remember her like he could. 

“I know, bug. I miss mom too,” John B sympathizes with you and you wipe under your eyes as JJ squeezes your shoulder. 

“I just wish I’d gotten to actually know her a little more,” you mutter and JJ pulls you into a hug knowing that’s the only sure way to comfort you. 

“Here, cupcake. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree.” JJ tells you after pulling away from the hug and he bends down before slipping his head between your legs lifting you as he stands. 

“You better not drop me Jayj!” You squeak out before giggling hysterically as you’re now sitting on his shoulders one hand in his hair the other holding the angel and he stands straight. 

“I would NEVER dream of it cupcake,” he sweetly tells you as he holds you a little tighter to make it known he definitely won’t drop you. 

You grin as you put the Angel on the tree before looking down to see JJ looking up at you. You then nod at him and he bends to let you down slowly. Once you have both feet on the ground he stands up straight next to you. You smile at him before suddenly you're letting out a gasp pushing JJ away just the slightest but in your excitement. 

“What? What’s wrong?” JJ asks immediate worry, taking over as he looks at John B for help, but John B just shrugs just as confused. 

“It’s If Everyday Was Like Christmas my favorite Elvis Christmas song,” you happily explain and JJ lets out a sigh of relief shaking his head. 

“We should have known,” John B playfully rolls his eyes 

“Oh we really should have dude. She is an old soul,” JJ agrees and he chuckles as you start to sway again just as you had with Blue Christmas and JJ shakes his head again too as you hold a hand out for him. 

“What?” JJ asks with an arched eyebrow and you grin making his heart melt at seeing you so happy. 

"I want to dance with you. Come on. Dance with me Jayj,” you beg, holding your hand out to him more insistently. 

“Okay, but you should know I’m not a good slow dancer sweetheart,” he informs you as he takes your hand in his and you smile as you help him get into position. 

“It’s okay J. Just sway with me. We don’t have to be all that fancy, we’re Pogues, remember? Not kooks,” you remind and he throws his head back laughing before calming as he sways with you. 

“P4L. Never a kook,” JJ happily agrees, proud that you feel the same way he does. 

You lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and his leans against yours. He looks at John B for a moment over your shoulder who seems to be watching the two of you fondly. John B then surprises him by putting his hands up in surrender before leaving the room and JJ melts against you a little more. 

When If Everyday Was Like Christmas ends both of you slowly come to a stop and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. You smile softly at him and again there’s a moment where you lock eyes. His bright brilliant blue eyes shining with happiness and another emotion that makes you think you might just kiss, but just like all the other moments over the years where you’d been close John B walks back into the room. 

“And what’s going on here?” John B asks ever the overprotective brother that he is and you roll your eyes. 

“Nothing birdy. Are we watching die hard or not?” You ask changing the subject as you push away from JJ and he fights not to frown at the missing feeling of your body heat. 

“Not. I thought we could open a gift or two,” John B tells you and you arch an eyebrow at him. 

“I thought we all agreed on no gifts this year?” You ask and John B shrugs. 

"I’d be down. I know we said no presents this year but I wanted to get you both something special to show you how much I appreciate you, so I uhh did…" JJ admits with a shrug in agreement and John B grins shrugging along with JJ. 

“My gifts really aren't much. Just one to open tonight and tomorrow for each of us. All have super special meaning that’s all,” John B informs you and you grin shaking your head. 

“Well I really can’t say much. I did the same thing,” you admit with a giggle when they both give you a shocked look. 

“Bee! It was your idea!” John B cries out and you smile sheepishly. 

“Oppps,” you shrug feigning innocence, shrugging "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone else right?” You ask with a lopsided grin and John B lets out a chortle shaking his head almost in disbelief. 

“I mean she’s not wrong dude,” JJ happily chirps out and you smirk, bouncing your eyebrows. 

“I’m never wrong Jayj,” you joke with him poking his side and he playfully scoffs. 

“Okay. Yeah, whatever you want to believe cupcake,” he humors you as he rubs at the spot you’d poked him in. 

After opening gifts you’d all decided to watch the movie so you cuddle up next to JJ and John B decides to sit in the chair off to the side. As the movie plays JJ lays behind you his strong arm wrapped around your waist like normal and anytime he laughs you feel the warm air from his mouth over your neck making goosebumps rise on your arms. You fight the whole movie not to fall even more in love with him and the way he holds you, but just like any other time the two of you cuddle you do. 

“Well, I’m beat. I’m going to bed,” John B announces as he slaps his hands down on the arms of the chair and pushes himself up. 

“Goodnight JB,” you call out as he walks toward his room and he turns around. 

“Goodnight bumblebee. Sleep tight,” he replies with a soft smile your way. 

“So cupcake, you heading to bed too?” JJ asks and you look up at him. 

“I’m not really tired. I might go lay in the hammock for a little while,” you inform him and he nods letting go of your waist. 

“You could come join me if you want, but you definitely don’t have to,” you tell him biting at your lip, nervous he might say no and he chuckles. 

“And skip out on our special hammock time?” He asks like he is offended and he smiles when you perk up. 

“Really?” You ask in excitement and he smiles even more. 

“Really cupcake. I love our hammock time. Let’s go,” he promises softly as he pushes up off the couch and grabs the blanket the two of you always use. 

He then turns to you and looks down at you sitting up before reaching a hand out to you. You smile almost shyly as you slip your hand into his and he pulls you up from the couch. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and together you walk out of the château. You both walk down the stairs and over to the hammocks. 

“After you princess,” JJ tells you as he bows like a butler would and you giggle shaking your head. 

“Why thank you. You're a very kind Prince, you know that?” You ask him as he lays down with you now and he holds his arm up for you to cuddle up to his side. 

“Well it’s easy to be kind to a princess like you,” he tells you and you roll your eyes at his flirty ness as he uses his other hand to put the blanket over the two of you. 

You giggle as he struggles to lay the blanket out evenly over the two of you and you reach out to grab the other side, pulling it over yourself. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before finally relaxing and he squeezes you softly as the two of you look up to watch the very prominent stars in the sky. 

“Can I tell you a secret cupcake?” He whispers out to you after a few minutes as he uses his fingers to rub your arm. 

“Of course Jayj… you can tell me anything. You know that,” you promise as you cuddle into his side even more. 

"I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real... I think there may be something in that." He whispers and you slowly grin, turning to smile up at him. 

“You might actually be right… I mean who’s to say he’s not real?” You ask and he chuckles, shaking his head loving the fact that you just agree with him. 

“I think I may have everything I want right here right now,” you whisper out as you cuddle back down into him with a hum of contentment. 

"Everything I want I can’t have." He admits and you frown pushing up to look at him again. 

“What do you mean? You don’t have everything you want? What else could you want?” You ask with a frown, sad that he could possibly not be as happy as you thought he was. 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before letting them open once more. His blue eyes stare into yours and you almost lose yourself in them. 

“You,” he whispers almost nervously and you’ve never seen JJ at his nervous before as you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Jayj. You have me. I’m not sure why you think you don’t,” you tell him in confusion and he huffs in anger, but not in anger at you, no he’d never be angry at you, but he is angry you're not getting it. 

“No princess. You don’t get it… I want us to be… uggh,” he groans out reaching up to rub at his chest and your eyebrow furrows even more as you reach up moving his hand before rubbing his chest for him. 

“Jay. Just calm down and tell me. It’s okay… you want us to be…” you prompt him to continue on as he seems to calm a little more. 

“Okay… uhh… I want us to be more than friends and I know Pogues don’t Mack on Pogues, but I’ve wanted to be so much more with you for years…” he admits hesitation clear as he once again for the second time in the night refuses to look at you and you smile. 

“Jayj… look at me please…” you whisper out and hit takes him a moment, but soon he’s doing it. 

"It was always you, through everything it was always you Jayj. Nobody else,” you whisper again with a grin growing on your face as you watch him slowly realize exactly what you’d said. 

“Wait… really? But wait… what?” He asks in confusion and you giggle. 

"I'd always choose you Jayj.” You softly promise and nuzzle into his chest bashfully and he chuckles bringing his hand up to your head to massage at your scalp. 

“I’d always choose you too Princess,” JJ promises just as softly as he leaves a kiss to your forehead. 

“You missed…” you tell him with a confident grin as you sit up to look at him and he chuckles again shaking his head. 

“Oh my bad. Let’s see if I can fix my mistake then,” he jokes right back with his own smile growing. 

Before you know it his hand trails from your hair and to your neck, lightly pulling you to him while tilting your head ever so slightly. He moves slowly and treats you so gently making the butterflies erupt even more in your stomach. There’s a thick anticipation that falls over you with how slowly you move closer together, but it’s the kind of anticipation you really don’t want to end. Finally his lips meet yours in a firm yet delicate and maybe a little desperate kiss. You are a little surprised thinking it would have been a little more heated with knowing how JJ is, but the delicacy of which he kisses you proves to you just how much he’s wanted this. 

He worries if he makes it anymore heated like he normally does with other girls he’d ruin this whole moment and he really doesn’t want to lose you. You're the most important girl outta all the ones he’s ever been with so if he messes it up he’s scared he might lose you all together. You take a leap and kiss him a little harder, surprising him for the smallest of moments, but he smirks into the kiss before reciprocating it even more. You smile into the now heated kiss as you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck and play with the hair at the nip of his neck making him groan. You then maneuver a little more so now instead of laying side by side you lay on top of him and he squeezes your waist after his hands move from your neck. 

Slowly you pull away breaking the kiss almost unwillingly and he chases your lips giving them another peck making you giggle. He then leans his forehead against yours and you grin wide as both of your heavy breaths mingle together. 

“Wow…” you whisper, biting your lip and he grins at you. 

“Definitely wow. I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits and you grin as you use your thumb to trace his lips. 

“I know it may be early, but I love you Jayj. You’re my favorite Christmas gift,” you tell him as you scoot down and lay your head on his chest. 

“It’s not early at all, princess. I think we’ve loved each other for a while now. We’ve just been too scared to tell each other,” he tells you as he kisses your head and pulls you even closer then before. 

“Oh and you're my favorite gift too sweet girl. I love you,” JJ adds on and you sigh happily. 

“Merry Christmas Jayj…” you mutter out as tiredness takes over your body. 

“Merry Christmas cupcake,” JJ parrots you again, squeezing you a little closer. 

It’s a little while later and JJ smiles when he realizes you’re breathing has evened out meaning you’re happily asleep in his arms. He yawns, but refuses to fall asleep quite yet, just wanting to enjoy having what he thought he never could. 

"How long ago did, bug fall asleep?" He hears a whisper making him look up at John B. 

“Only a little while ago. She’ll probably sleep in a lot more than the last few years. I thought you went to bed?” JJ whispers not wanting to wake you as you sleep soundly on his chest. 

“I did, but I knew you two would come out here and I wanted to check up on the two of you to make sure you're all good before I actually fall asleep,” John B whispers back and JJ smiles a thankful smile at him. 

“Thanks man. We’re good,” JJ tells him and John B nods pausing to watch your sleeping face. 

“You take care of her, you hear me JJ. You break her and best friends or not I will break you,” John B says in a serious whisper and JJ’s eyes widen for a moment. 

“Don’t worry dude. I don’t plan to and if it ever does happen I’d break myself before you even hit the chance,” JJ whispers honestly and John B smiles at his best friend. 

“I know, but now that the two of you got wise and got together I still need to make it known. I’m her big brother first and foremost,” John B informs him with a shrug and a happy smile at seeing his sister happy as well as safe and sound in his best friend's arms. 

“Goodnight JJ. Sleep well buddy,” John B tells him before turning and starting back to the château. 

“Night man. You sleep well too,” JJ tells him in a happy whisper as he nuzzled into your hair. 

John B knows without a doubt that JJ is good for his little sister and you are for JJ too. He’s so happy the two of you have finally confessed and made it official. He’s had to watch the two of you pine for one another for years and it was painful sometimes because he cares for both of you so much. First and foremost though as he’d told JJ you are and will always be his first thought. It’s just a big brother thing to protect his little sister. 

JJ watches until John B makes it into the château before deciding to hold you close for a little while longer. Before he knows it though your soft, even breathing lulls him into his own slumber and his eyes close, but even in his sleep he holds you close never ever wanting this Christmas to end; the most perfect Christmas ever for the both of you. 

The End…

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[sugarushwriting]

“look what you made me do”

stalker jungwon part 2

adult content featured

yes there will be a part 3

you awoke with a startle after a nightmare. you sat up quickly on the bed that you were tucked into, the windows covered by thick curtains.

you looked around quietly, swallowing air, as you tried to remember what happened.

blood. chipper. maya.

shoot! when you removed the comforter from your legs and went to move off the bed and stand, you fell to the hardwood floor below.

“ouch!” you screamed in agony, tears coming to your eyes as you hugged your leg in pain.

you forgot all about the bear trap around your leg.

with a thud, jungwon came running up the stairs and threw the door open to the bedroom, a look of panic on his face.

he had originally been watching you through the nanny cam, but went outside to handle some business. he came back in and heard you cry out.

“hey, you’re okay!” he rushed to your side, helping you up gently, lying you back on the bed.

you sniffled, and your eyes went wide noticing the blood on his neck. “stay away from me, you, you freak!” you yelled, trying your best to scoot away.

jungwon wasn’t fazed nor was he mad. you were traumatized and he was slightly to be blamed for it. his smile faded to a thin line, eyes of worry focused on you.

all you could think of was poor maya in the wood chipper, asa and danielle hanging in the barn. if that was even still the case.

“what did you do to them?” you silently sniffled, trying to hold sobs.

jungwon bit is lower lip, “do you mean asa and danielle?”

you nodded slowly. jungwon hesitated to tell you. but he kept it simple with the truth. “they’re alive.”

you sucked in a breath. could you believe him? “how do i know you’re not lying?”

“i can show you.” he replied. you thought about it. could you stomach the way they looked? you barely could stay awake when the trap got you.

“why are you doing this?” you whispered so softly, he barely heard you.

jungwon went to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, it caught you off guard, you flinched. he slowly put his hand down with a frown.

“why the blanket? how did you get those pictures of me?” you continued. the blanket he covered you with before he snatched you.

pictures of you at work. in public. in your apartment. naked.

“you can guess how i got those pictures, squid.”

squid. why did that name—nickname—sound so familiar? jungwon noticed your body react to the nickname he gave you when you were close. before your accident and losing your memory.

“have you been stalking me? us.” jungwon nodded, unashamed. “why, jungwon? i—i understand how we treated you in high school was so bad—and i’m genuinely sorry for it—,”

“let’s not talk about that, right now.” jungwon cut you off immediately, his tone and mood changing.

“what did we do so bad that made you want to stalk and kill us?”

jungwon hurriedly stood up and started pacing. it really wasn’t you. or even asa. little less danielle. maya and kelly were originally his main targets.

“you three never knew the torture i went through with maya and kelly.” jungwon says, running a hand through his hair. “it wasn’t just the teasing from all of you. kelly and maya deserved what they got. to be honest, they got off easy in my opinion.”

“jungwon, what did they do to you?”

“not now squid.”

“why do you call me squid?”

“it doesn’t sound familiar? like at all?” jungwon stopped pacing to look at you with hope in his eyes.

you shrugged. “it triggered something through me, but no, not really.”

“are you hungry? i can make you food.” jungwon changed the subject. before you could decline that you weren’t hungry, your stomach betrayed you and rumbled.

“oh, um, sure.” you nodded, unsure how you’d even be able to get up at this point. you could barely stand up on your own, let alone run away from this psycho.

“i’ll bring you breakfast in bed. you need to rest that leg. when i got you, the trap was pretty deep and the wounds don’t look good under the bandages.”

jungwon walked towards the bedroom door, and you noticed a dog sitting there waiting for him. you smiled unknowing at the dog, just happy to see something alive other than jungwon.

your thoughts were clouded from the night beforehand. he really killed maya. was he going to kill danielle and asa next? what about you? you had to stay alive. you were going to fight to stay alive so you could get help.

what did maya and kelly do so bad to fuck jungwon up like this?

footsteps padded against the hardwood, jungwon coming in with a plate of breakfast. your favorite breakfast.

he placed it in front of you slowly, you picked up the fork and slowly took a bite, moaning in relief at how good it tasted.

jungwon swallowed, his adams apple bobbing up and down at hearing you moan.

no. he wasn’t going to that to you. with you. not now. the pictures and videos he had were enough to help him rub one out when needed.

“uh, jungwon, this is really good. thank you.” you politely replied with a nod.

jungwon took a seat at the edge of the bed and stared at you while you ate. “do you really not get any type of memory from the nickname squid?”

you shook your head at him. “enlighten me.”

“i don’t want to freak you out.”

you snorted. “you stalked and kidnapped me and and my friends. killed one of my friends in front of me, jungwon.”

jungwon laughed softly. “guess you have a point.”

“just tell me why do you call me squid?”

“because when we were younger you got inked on by one, and ever since then you never liked them.”

“younger?”

jungwon sighed, “that’s enough trip down memory lane for now. finish eating.”

“will you take me to go see asa and danielle?”

“only if you promise not to throw up.”

about an hour later you had finished eating, and was prepared to go out. jungwon helped you walk down the steps, outside. you went slowly, but jungwon seem to not mind.

when you got to the barn, your heart sank in pure anxiety of what you may see in front of you.

jungwon, face plain of any emotion, opened the barn door and helped you hobble in there.

thankfully asa and danielle were no longer dangling from the ceiling chains, but rather seated in hay and chained to poles beside them.

both were left in the undergarments, and you knew they had to be cold. they hadn’t moved when you two came in.

“i gave them something to help them sleep. rest.” jungwon stated. “they’ll need their energy.”

“why?” you whispered out.

“it’s hunting season.”

you turned to look at jungwon with pure disgust. “please, jungwon, just let them go.”

jungwon’s lips went in a thin line as he stared at you. “why should i?”

“maya and kelly were your main targets, okay? the rest of us learned our lesson. just please let them be.”

“i’ll have to ask my coworkers.”

“coworkers?”

jungwon nodded. “ni-ki and kai. need to make sure they’re okay with it too.”

“it was all three of you?”

“mainly me, but they helped.” jungwon stated.

you looked at him in disbelief. “i’ll do anything if you just let them go. please.” you begged.

“i’ll think about it.” jungwon said before turning around walking back to the house. he left you to hobble behind him slowly, your leg still in pain from the trap.

you got to the porch steps, jungwon held the door open for you. “actually fuck this!” you snapped. “tell me right fucking now why you are doing this!”

jungwon laughed. “or what?”

you looked around the yard, and saw a big rock. you leaned down carefully to pick it up.

“what? you’re gonna throw it at me? try to kill me with it?” he taunted.

“no. i’ll bash my own head in!” you yelled, ready to drop the rock on your head as you held it above.

jungwon ran as fast as he could down the steps and tackled you to the ground, making the rock fall out of your hands.

little did he know, there was another big rock behind you. so when you fell, your head landed on the rock, instantly knocking you unconscious.

“no, no, no! wake up!” jungwon pleaded, trying to shake you awake. blood covered his hands from the back of your head. “no, you can’t do this. i can’t lose you again.”

he cried holding you close. jungwon quickly picked you up and ran to his truck, putting you in to drive you to the emergency room.

while the doctors worked on you, he had texted ni-ki and kai who were actually visiting in town, and asked them to clean up the barn mess. no other text was sent or explanation needed.

he couldn’t say too much and incriminate himself or them. they texted back with a simple ‘ok’ and ‘no problem.’

“mr yang?” jungwon stood up when the nurse called his name.

she smiled. “your wife is doing great. a little drowsy and confused, but she’s awake and alert, and the doctor is with her. follow me.”

you two weren’t married. but they didn’t need to know that. they didn’t ask for a marriage license or proof. jungwon just knew he had to be the one only to know about your condition.

he walked into the hospital room you were in, the doctor finishing flashing the light in your eye. your eyes went wide seeing jungwon, but you stayed silent, fear in your eyes and body.

“hello mr. yang.” the doctor greeted. “mrs yang, your husband has been so worried about you!”

the doctor and other medical staff left the room, leaving you and jungwon.

“wi—wife?” you stumbled out.

“you say anything else, and i will make sure you never see outside again.” jungwon threatened.

you hung your head in silence, twiddling your thumbs, afraid to say anything further.

jungwon spoke, “they said you hit your head pretty hard but you should be okay. you’ll be here for a while as they keep an eye on you. and i’ll be right by your side.”

you kept silent. you got comfortable in the hospital bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin, your back facing jungwon.

this seemed to be a nightmare that would never end.

[ya-zz]

Ramattra Drabble

Christmas Special >:3

“Are you not going home for the holidays?” The omnic asks, watching as you sip your hot beverage.

“Not this year. Family is a little all over the place.” You admit. “We’ve all got our own lives, our own families now.”

“And you?” Ramattra tilts his head. “Your family?”

“Here. With you.”

Ramattra seems taken aback by the statement, his systems momentarily frozen. It takes him a few seconds to buffer before he finally responds. “With me?”

“Yes, silly. You are my family.” You smile warmly at him, taking his hand in yours. “And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

His optics scan your features as he heats up, system errors popping up within his HUD.

“Then… I hope I get to spend more holidays with you.”

“As do I, Ramattra…”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

[candyswirls]

This is actually a sort of two part ask, but if you dont do those its fine. Clonegrim reuniting with Lion and Gulliman, and then Clonegrim meeting the Sons of the Phoenix for some nice bondng time (Sons of Dorn my ass, Cawl.)

I actually have story on this in the works :3 it’s just not ready yet

BUT ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE

His hair was a mess, grime and dried viscera covered him, he wore a a tattered mess of random imperial rags and a Necron style tunic.

His eyes had dark bags under them and they looked tired. It there was a look saying “I can fight and will if I must.”

Guilliman had prepared various speeches and replies to say when he saw Fulgrim. But this version? He looked younger. Had it not been for the determination in him, he would have called it pathetic

Fulgrim tried to stand tall, balancing on the spear he had.

“Roboute Guilliman,” he spoke, trying not to let his voice falter. “I am a clone of your brother, Fulgrim. I have most of his memories… before corruption. I do not know why I was made. But I am not corrupted by chaos or the warp. I will be… better than the first. He… disgusts me. I hate him. I hate what he’s become… and I hate what he stands for. I am against him. I am still loyal to the imperium and Father. I have escaped from Necron clutches and fought tooth and nail to… get here. I am still… a Primarch. I can fight… I can be useful… I am on your side… and I am…”

The clone collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, tears pricked his eyes.

“You are exhausted,” Was the only thing Guilliman could say.

The clone looked up at him with disdain and snapped, “Of course I am! I… golden throne… I just crossed half… the galaxy! Everyone trying.. to kill me! Wouldn’t listen! I… please let it be over… Roboute… brother… please… I’m good. I swear I am. I won’t betray you. Not like him… I want to do right… I want to see father again… I just…”

There were so many things he wanted to say. To yell at him… but this wasn’t the original. This was a clone. He even looked young.

Guilliman knelt and put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “I do not fully trust you. I can’t. But you can rest now. You’re in my custody now.”

Fulgrim let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed forward, caught in his brother’s arms.

Their reunion was brief. Guilliman led the Lion down towards the stratagium deck.

“A clone?” He questioned. “And you trust this?”

Guilliman nodded, “We’ve been able to bond. He acts like a teenager with his age, but he’s saved my life. He is loyal. He is more like Fulgrim than the original. He will be pleased to see you.”

The door opened as they walked in.

“Are you sure?” Lion asked.

Before Guilliman could answer a voice called out, “Lion!”

Lion froze as a slightly shorter version of the third Primarch practically leapt into his arms.

He was stunned for a moment before speaking, “Fulgrim? Fulgrim!”

Excitement overwhelmed his suspicions. He hugged his brother and lifted him into the air.

“You look younger,” he laughed.

Fulgrim smiled back, “And you brother look older.”

Guilliman chuckled, “What a relief this is. I have two of my brothers back.”

All three embraced.

“I will warn you,” Calgar said. “They were most upset when they learned of who their geneseed really belonged to. Some are still in denial and insist they are sons of Dorn. Granted this was before you came back.”

Guilliman placed a hand on Fulgrim’s shoulder, “They will love you.”

The clone sighed, “I certainly hope so.”

As they exited the Thunderhawk rows of Purple, white, and Gold armor stood in neat succession. Those without helmets had pale blonde, white, or silver hair. Eyes were down shade of purple or a close blue.

Fiery imperial defiance danced in their eyes.

Fulgrim stepped forward and scanned over them.

He smiled, “You are all a sight for sore eyes. Many of you already remind me of the loyal sons of the imperium during the heresy. I am not Dorn, nor am I the original Fulgrim. But I swear unto you that I aim to rectify the originals mistakes. To be better. Now please, show me your ways and customs of your chapter. I am not here to destroy it or make you a carbon copy of the third legion. You are already better.”

Shocked expressions crossed the sons of the Phoenix’s. Yet slowly, they approached their Primarch out of curiosity and the longing for their father.

He slowly rested his hands on the shoulders of his sons as they introduced themselves.

Guilliman sighed with relief.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

three cheers for your ego

hello mtt nation, i am here with my promised angsty christmas fic, as part of my defeat of my evil twin in the twinter war (i am the better twin now obviously). enjoy, and happy holidays >:3

When Sans comes back home from a tiring scouting mission, he immediately notices something is off. The food rations he’s so sure were left near the kitchen entryway are gone. That meager bits of fresh meat he’s scraped together for Gyftmas just simply… disappeared.

“what happened to the food?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

His younger brother, seated on the sofa in the living room, flinches but doesn’t look away from his intense blood red gaze. His hands twist nervously in his lap. “I… I GAVE IT TO THE BUNNIES.”

“you what?” Sans says, voice deceptively quiet. His whole body goes rigid and his fists clenches, threatening to break off the door handle he’s gripping.

“THEY NEED IT MORE THAN WE DID – THAN I DID,” Papyrus replies, his voice carefully laced with a tone of defiance that is not very helpful right now. “AND… IT’S GYFTMAS.”

Sans thunders across the room as he stands before papyrus, his teeth clenched so hard he can hear them grinding in his skull. “what does that even mean?! who the hell cares if it’s gyftmas?! that was all we had! do you understand what you’ve done?!”

Papyrus shoots up on his feet, his frame towering over Sans’ short stature. Sans unconsciously takes a step back, momentarily surprised by his brother’s reaction.

“I UNDERSTAND PERFECTLY,” Papyrus says, his voice low and steady. “THEY HAVE KIDS, SANS. LITTLE ONES. AND THEY ARE HUNGRY AND COLD. DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO NOTHING? TO TURN MY BACK ON THEM?”

“yes!” Sans snaps. “exactly that! if we starve, who’s gonna save us? who’s gonna keep you alive?!”

Papyrus’ face twists in discomfort, but he stands his ground. “I DO THINK ABOUT IT, BROTHER,” he says, his voice soft. “IT’S UNCOMFORTABLE TO THINK ABOUT. BUT, WHAT’S THE POINT OF SURVIVING IF WE’RE JUST… CANNIBALIZING EACH OTHER IN THE PROCESS, LIKE WHAT’S HAPPENING IN OTHER PLACES? IN SNOWDIN, WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A COMMUNITY, SANS.”

“oh, spare me the sentimental piece,” Sans growls. “do you know how hard it is to get food around here? and you just threw it away to some family who wouldn’t lift a finger to help us if the tables were turned!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” Papyrus shoots back, his voice slightly trembling. “KINDNESS STILL EXISTS! NOT EVERYONE IS LIKE YOU!”

The words hang in the air like a shotgun. Papyrus looks shocked at what came out of his mouth, but he doesn’t look sorry. Sans stares back at him, mouth open like he’s about to say something, but then he stops. Without a word, he turns on his heel and storms towards the door, anger rolling from him in waves.

“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Papyrus demands, rushing to block Sans’ path. Sans glares at him, irritated.

“where do you think?” he hisses, his eye narrowing dangerously. “i’m taking our food back.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO ROB THEM?!” Papyrus gasps, disbelief making way to horror. “THEY HAVE KIDS, SANS!! AND THEY HAVE NOTHING TO EAT!!”

“well, too bad then,” Sans spits. “no one steals from me. and the bunnies will learn real quick what happens when someone does. they’re gonna have a mad time.” A feral grin spreads across his face.

Papyrus stands in front of the door, defiant. “NO.”

“out of my way, paps.”

“NO! I WON’T LET YOU!”

“you think you can stop me? i can easily shortcut pass you.”

“I KNOW! BUT IT’S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING, AS YOUR BROTHER! IF YOU CROSS ME, I’LL WHACK YOU TIL YOU SEE SOME SENSE IN THAT CRACKED HEAD OF YOURS!!” Papyrus crosses his arms, disapproving.

“you think you’re so much better than me? you think you can survive on morals alone?”

“NO,” Papyrus replies, his voice soft. “I JUST WANT TO BE BETTER THAN THIS.”

After an eternity, Sans drops his coat and lies on the sofa, the tension in the room lessening but still palpable.

“well, merry fucking gyftmas then,” he mutters. “i hope you’re happy with this.”

The frozen streets are silent, blanketed with layers of dust and snow. The streetlights flicker weakly as Sans makes his way towards the party venue and his favorite spot in Snowdin – Grillby’s. The place is quiet and empty, but bears a feast of dusty wine bottles, cold cinnabuns, and some canned goods. Sans hums a strange, broken tune as he prepares the table.

“paps, do you think this will be enough?” he asks, holding up a container of homemade soup he made by himself. He turns to the younger skeleton lingering near the jukebox, whose face is skeptical but amused.

“I THINK THAT SHOULD SUFFICE, BROTHER!” Papyrus says. “NO ONE WOULD EXPECT MUCH FROM YOU LAZYBONES, SO NO NEED TO BE SO WORRIED!”

Sans chuckles, putting the soup container onto the table. “you’re right, paps. shouldn’t be too important how it tastes – it’s the intention that counts.”

He walks up to the jukebox to see if it still works. A bit rusty from underuse, but he can fix it in a flash, no problem.

As he works, Papyrus trails behind him, his voice teasing. “WOW, YOU’RE REALLY PUTTING IT ALL THIS YEAR OF ALL TIME, HUH? FOOD, DECORATION, MUSIC, ALL THAT JAZZ. NYEH-HEH-HEH!”

“ha, good one, paps,” Murder snorts, then in a softer tone he continues. “it’s gyftmas. it’s supposed to be a special day. i guess… i just wanted to do something different, something new, this time. something nice. for you. for everyone else too.”

The next minutes are draped in silence, but the more comforting kind as Sans tinkers with the jukebox. Papyrus’ voice breaks it for just a moment. “IT’S WEIRD SEEING YOU SO… SENTIMENTAL.”

Sans doesn’t answer, busying himself with fixing the broken machine and then with arranging cracked plates and mismatched cutlery. He tries to be as meticulous as possible, careful not to disturb the frail air of festivity he has created in this small space. It should be a wonderful day today after all.

When everything is done, Sans sits in his place, reserving the place next to him for his brother. No one has arrived yet, but he guesses he can always start the feast early, a private celebration between him and Papyrus.

He pours a glass of wine for himself, then one for his brother. Papyrus looks a bit affronted at being offered a drink, but he doesn’t complain, so that should be good enough.

“a toast.” Sans raises his glass. “to time. to the end of a year. to family. to… the ones we’ve lost.” He clinks his glass softly against Papyrus, who doesn’t pick it up but does sigh, an exasperatedly fond sound.

“to you, sans. to your newfound resolution. and holding on to your goal for once in your life.”

Sans drinks, and drinks even more. The guests start to pour in, their voices echoing around him but muffled as if he was underwater. Only Papyrus is clear in the cacophony – a beacon of light he can hold onto in this strange but joyous time. Sans laughs at the jokes coming from Papyrus, his voice bouncing off the walls of the bar. He smiles as he listens to Papyrus recount the things he can’t be sure are real in his inebriated state – childhood memories, plans for the future, a warmth that doesn’t spread to his snow-soaked bones anymore.

So, he drinks again. And again. And again.

As the nights wear on, some things start to slip through to his foggy mind. Plates that remain untouched. Wine bottles that remain unpoured. The soup he made sit alone on the table, growing colder by the second.

And yet, Sans still smiles. At his brother, who hasn’t changed at all. “thanks for staying this time,” he whispers, trying to touch Papyrus’ hand but stopping at the last moment, the distance between them so small yet so inexplicably big at the same time.

“OF COURSE, SANS,” Papyrus says, a faint grin on his severed skull. “I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

It has been raining snow a lot these past few days in the town. A normal monster would be freezing out in the snow, but, well, he’s hardly a normal monster anymore, is he? Few things phase him at this point, and the cold isn’t one of them.

He knows he isn’t supposed to get close to anyone, but he can’t help it when his friend hasn’t been here with him for months now and the light show in the snowy town is too tantalizing to pass up. So he goes in, wearing a large puffy coat and some hat and scarf to cover his whole face up – a perfect disguise. Now he looks like one of the children playing around near the big tree in the town center. Just a normal, socially awkward child standing near a building, watching his peers mess around from afar. It isn’t exactly fun, but it’s something to do to sate off the gnawing boredom in his chest.

And then, he sees them again.

A skeleton monster just like him – how peculiar. He was interested of course, but something has held him back, something nagging at him at the back of his mind. He can’t name it exactly, but it makes his SOUL pang uncomfortably in his ribs, as if warning him of something. So, he is content with just staying back, idly watching the scene play out.

The strange skeleton monster has been doing this for days – asking people around about their sibling, someone with a name that keeps slipping away from his mind. Again, how odd. Everything about this skeleton monster is odd, from the way they tower over most people yet never intimidate anyone, to the way they enthusiastically play and talk with the town’s children like it’s second nature to them. They’re an opposite of him, and yet-

Ah, whatever. It’s no use thinking about it anyway.

He watches as the skeleton monster again asking the townsfolk about their brother again. And again no one has any clue where the missing person can be. The monster looks dejected, but only for a moment. The resilience… it would be heartwarming to see if he had one.

He subconsciously takes a few steps when the monster finally stops at the giant tree with presents underneath it. He has taken some of the presents for himself, and no one seems to have noticed so far. The skeleton monster looks up at the tree, which has a star on top of it. When he gets just close enough, he can vaguely make out what they’re saying.

“-I WISH THAT THIS GYFTMAS, MY BROTHER WILL RETURN HOME! HE STILL HASN’T PICKED UP HIS SOCKS, NYEH!” the monster grumbles, then in a softer tone continues with a mournful sigh. “… I WISH I HAD SEEN THE SIGNS. HE HASN’T ALWAYS BEEN THE MOST CHEERFUL PERSON, BUT I THOUGHT HE’D TELL ME IF SOMETHING’S WRONG. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED… I DON’T KNOW WHY HE LEFT… I FEAR THAT- NO, THAT’S- I WOULD KNOW ABOUT IT, SURELY!”

The phantom watches the whole scene slow around him. There’s something about this monster that feels familiar to him yet fills him with dread. They’re… weak. Vulnerable. Sentimental to a fault. In this world, it’s kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. There’s no place for kindness when everyone is out to get you.

But, looking at this monster, whose eyelights sparkle under the lights, he feels an urge to avert his eyes, something clawing at his red-hot deadened SOUL. A memory flickers in his jumbled mind: his friend showing him the real stars on the surface, twinkling like their carefree eyes.

Ah, isn’t he forgetting something?

He turns away, boots crunching in the snow as he disappears into the shadows. This is just a distraction – a fun yet trivial thought experiment. But the image of the monster standing under the Gyftmas tree, wishing for something impossible, stays in his mind long after he’s gone.