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onsomenewsht · 3 months ago

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Took a loan on a house I own

About when she panics and you’re very patient, but out of t-shirts

《 shout out to @p0orbaby, who turned this shit around and back on the fun side of the road

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: 3k

》 commitment [noun, law]: a written order of a court directing that someone be confined in prison; mittimus

“Accept the Arsenal deal”, your agent encourages, his client’s best interests – and transfer fee – close to his heart.

“At least it’s not Manchester”, your father comments, still wishing for your comeback as saviour of your hometown club.

“What can go wrong?”, your childhood friends resonate with sincere smiles and rolling eyes at your unjustified hesitation.

Turns out, signing for the Gunners puts you in the Ballon d’Or shortlist after the first season and Leah Williamson in your bedroom.

One night you two are sharing a ride after a shameful celebration, you’re way too drunk to even remember how to walk in a straight line and she finds herself thinking way too much about your carefree giggles – if anyone asks, she just wants to make sure you don’t get kidnapped or fall on your pretty face tripping over nothing.

The following day she’s still in your house, wearing your clothes and sharing questionable stories of failed dates just to hear you laugh.

A week after she’s in your bed again, this time naked and cracking up at the worst jokes you got.

It’s not like you planned such development in the relationship with the skipper or tried to win her over with infallible pickup lines, it just happened.

Not that you’re complaining now.

Another season ends, but you keep finding each other in compromising positions at the worst possible moments, avoiding friends and teammates teasing comments with really not much effort.

Her mother, the wiser when it comes to Leah’s debatable life choices, asks about you all the time and went as far as personally inviting you over for Christmas. You declined, obviously, but made sure the Williamson family received your presents.

Your best friend demanded to have a private conversation with the blonde the first time he visited, probably embarrassing you with made-up memories and pointless threats. She took it all more seriously than needed, teaming up with him at your expense by the end of the night.

“Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow to sleep in?”

A sense of domesticity fills every interaction with the English woman nowadays, feelings you’re way too pleased to indulge but even more scared to address.

Knowing her, like a stray cat enjoying the sun and the offered food, a too-close approach or unexpected movement could provoke a runaway.

You move your eyes from the laptop slowly, taking in her freshly showered body and the wet blonde locks dropping water on the floor. She knows you hate that.

“Top drawer on your left, dry your hair before going to bed”

“What do you have against air drying?”

“What do you have against respecting my silk sheets?”

When she misses the opportunity to quip back, like she always does when your sleeping habits are mentioned, you give up any chance of reviewing the last away game to find Leah cautiously studying the furniture.

“Why are my clothes here?”

“Would you prefer to have them lying around the apartment?”

“It’s a lot of clothes”, she states, digging through all the tops and shorts and even some designer pieces stocked in the drawer.

It’s not really that much, honestly.

“You leave behind a lot of shit”

That makes the younger girl react, recovering from the shock of her things being carefully folded somewhere other than her closet – and occasionally a strategically placed chair in her room.

The cat is bothered.

Closing the laptop, you rise from the bed to slowly approach her. Cautiously.

“I just don’t understand why you put my clothes in your drawer”

“You have a lot of things here and I quite like the idea of a clean place”

“That’s not true! I–”, she fumbles for the right words to explain herself in her own mind.

You guide the blonde to the bed, sitting her down like you’d do to explain to a kid that Santa looked a lot like their overweight uncle because was, indeed, their overweight uncle; or that no, they can’t walk the dog for the last journey to Heaven.

The next words are going to be crucial.

“Leah, you basically live here”

“What?!”

Bad choice, noted.

She literally jumps so high you have to take a moment to appreciate your own cat metaphor for such spot on accuracy.

As the freshly nominated Arsenal’s captain, the goddesses and gods of football bowed to Kim Little, she shouldn’t risk her knees so mindlessly. You have to calm her down before some questionable network buys the rights for a high-budget documentary of how you managed to kill the equivalent of Princess Diana for the football community.

“I’m sorry to be the one that broke it to you, but at this point only you don’t–”

“You’re not making any sense, really, I–”

“Please, walk me through your day”

Easy.

The past two weeks have been dedicated to national duties, training camp and a friendly overseas. Not too bad, you both manage to keep in touch despite the time difference and your own commitments.

The trip back is uneventful, she sleeps for most of the flight and annoys Beth for the rest of it.

You pick her up at the airport.

Just because you’re closer than her mom and offered to.

You drive her to her apartment, but the blonde leaves the suitcase somewhere in the living room to deal with another time and comes back to the car in under three minutes.

Just because you promise to make dinner, she is supposed to refuse?

You two cook together, even if she’s still forbidden to use the air fryer and your wine accessories after the shrimps accident.

But we don’t talk about the shrimps accident.

The food is good, the company is even better. Stories are shared, memories are created with a questionable playlist in the background and laughs front and foremost. Plans are made to go see a film you’ve been waiting a year for and to find a dress she needs for a charity event.

Just because.

She takes a shower after, finally washing away the fatigue with her fancy shampoo you somehow have around in the bathroom. There’s also her favourite lotion, the delicate scent she can now smell with her eyes closed when she misses you a little too much for some reason. Even getting to the point of applying the scar cream she uses when her knee bothers, just because you know–

Oh, shit.

“Oh, shit”

“Yeah, ‘oh, shit’, indeed”, the smile on your face grows as you see the realisation crashing over Leah.

The English capitan may be a clueless idiot sometimes, but you’re already too into it to pretend not to like it.

“I basically live here”

The thought of her finally realising she moved in with you is not something you’ve indulged too much. An unconscious but lingering fear is the faithful companion of ruthless nights, lying in bed with Leah and her commitment issues.

Most nights she falls asleep holding on to you, and most mornings she wakes you up with a freshly made coffee. But she runs away and disappears for days after sharing a way too intimate moment.

By now, you know her well enough to know when to push her limits and when to let her be.

Yet, the confused and almost uncomfortable frown creasing her features hurts.

“I have to go”

“Leah–”

Without giving you the possibility to say anything to reason with her – or just protesting, for what it matters –, the footballer is putting on the first t-shirt she finds and fleeing the scene.

It’s one of your favourite tees, but maybe this it’s not the time to point it out.

“I need to go, I–”, she mutters as she tries to simultaneously put the shoes on and open the front door.

“Are you planning to walk back to your place?”

“Maybe?”

“It’s a ten minutes ride by car, you’re not that kind of athlete”

“I’ll call a taxi”

“With the phone you left on the nightstand?”

For the first time, probably ever, you sound exhausted and not amused at all about the situation – she notices it too. It’s not like she’s completely clueless about the loose attitude, the blowing hot and cold.

You look at her, never dropping your gaze as your head shakes and a tired smile doesn’t reach your eyes. You hand her the phone you picked up when she was too concerned with running away from whatever therapist’s comment was echoing in her mind to realise what she was leaving behind.

Literally speaking, obviously.

“Please, wait here for the taxi. It’s dark outside”

“I’m sorry, I–”

“We can talk at training in a couple of days”, you ease her worry with a quick side hug and a kiss on the forehead, closing the bedroom’s door behind you.

A couple of days later, you don’t talk at training.

She’s avoiding you.

Well, kind of. Everyone at Arsenal, even the chocolate-coloured dog Win, can tell she’s torn up inside and always on the verge of a mental breakdown or, probably worst, ready to rant an apology speech she rehearsed in front of the mirror a concerning amount of times.

The usually composed skipper is panicking whenever found around you, trying to approach and chickening out despite the mental pep talks.

“Care to tell me why she’s sleeping on my couch?”

Lia insisting on pairing for the drill was a trap, you should have seen it coming.

“She found out she moved in”, you let her know, an amused smile lighting up your features for the first time this week.

It’s easy enough to put aside the bruised ego when the situation is as ridiculous as the one you’re currently in, one can laugh at their own misery.

“Finally?”

“I think she panicked”

“Of course she did, she has commitment issues and an apartment she’s not staying in– not even now!”, she passes the ball back to you, completely missing the point of the exercise you’re supposed to do, “Why is she sulking in my house?”

“Can’t tell you, she’s avoiding me as if I signed for Tottenham”

“Don’t joke about that, she may have a heart attack”

You both burst out in giggles, knowing too well it’d be a real chance. Or Leah could find the motivation to approach you – to kill you, sure, but she’d need to be close enough to do it with her bare hands.

“Be patient with her, she’s trying”, Lia gently says after composing herself.

The curious relationship you are building with the blonde may be questionable and unhealthy for some people, but it’s filled with respect and care. It resonates with genuine laughs and whispered secrets, it cherishes with caring hands and firm holds. It’s love.

The kind of love two people give each other despite the fears and the doubts.

“I know, I’m trying too”

After two weeks, the most awkward goal celebration in a London derby history, and an even more embarrassing phone call with Leah’s brother, you definitely have enough.

It’s not too bad, really.

She doesn’t flee the room as soon as you make your entrance anymore, the conversations start quietly but progress in the usual easy and carefree way. Sometimes she leans into you in the middle of a night out, other times your hands find each others without a real reason if not the comforting feeling that such a simple action can provide.

It’s not perfect, but you can tell she’s trying and she has a lot going on in her head already. You just want to be there, that’s all you have ever wanted.

It’s not too bad, there’s a reason for everything.

There’s a reason for your shopping list to still include her favourite bread and that inexplicably expensive shampoo, there’s a reason for the warm coffee with your name scribbled on it in the changing room every morning.

There’s a reason for saving a spot next to the other during tactical and video sessions, on the bus for the away game, or on the table at your go-to restaurant.

There’s a reason for the smiles secretly shared in the middle of a stupid debate going on between your teammates.

There’s a reason for you to sleep with the jersey she gave you the first time you played against each other and for her to still be squatting on Lia’s couch wearing your tee – the Swiss woman makes sure to send pictures and updates every night.

It’s not too bad, but it’s game night at the Williamson, and you’re not going to put your victory streak at risk because Leah is freaking out about her housing situation and ghosting her therapist too.

“Are you planning to hide here all night?”, you ask after tapping at her car’s window.

She looks surprised, even if she’s the one parked in front of her mother’s house for the past ten minutes – lights turning off as soon as she spotted you on the side of the road.

The window rolls down comically slow, and the blonde relaxes immediately when she gathers enough courage to look up at you just to find your amused smile. Hands still grasping around the steering wheel, turning white as her cheeks get redder every second.

She’s aware she’s been ridiculous.

“I didn’t know if you’d have come tonight”, she admits.

“I can leave, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in your own–”

“No!”, she shouts immediately, “I mean, you’re already here. I want you here, I–”

“Good, I really want to defend my champion’s title and I can’t do it if my charades partner is playing hide and seek by herself”, you say, taking a step back to invite her to exit the car.

The teasing smile, that faded just for a moment, is back on your face and she couldn’t be happier to realise nothing really changed – you still look at her with unconditional affection and care, you still look after her heart in the most gentle way you possibly can.

“Hurry up, Williamson, I’ve been talking with your mother more than I’ve been with you lately so I kinda own her to lose a game or two”

She sighs and finally opens the door, getting out of the car with all the enthusiasm of a kid heading to the dentist without the promise of ice cream afterwards. And there is the t-shirt you’ve been looking for.

How many of your clothes did she manage to steal without you realising?

That’s why there’s so much of hers in the damn drawer.

“I wasn’t avoiding you”, she mumbles, more to her feet than to you as she drags them even slower.

It’s going to be the longest ten metres ever.

“Right, and Mariona isn’t asking me how to befriend the stray cat wandering in her apartment”

“I’m sorry, alright? I freaked out. The whole ‘basically living together’ thing just–”, she stops in the middle of the road, waving her hands around as if trying to catch the right words out of thin air, “It just hit me, I haven’t seen it coming”

You gently but firmly pull her safely to the other side of the road before answering, “I figured when Lia cornered me in the middle of training”

“I knew she’d tell you”, the footballer groans, rubbing her face, “She said you’d understand, but I was too scared to talk to you and–”

“I do understand, Leah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make you suffer for abandoning me and tricking Lia and Mario into adopting you”

She laughs at that, the sound loosening the tension in her shoulders and deep into your stomach. You may be more at peace with your love for the blonde, more confident in this relationship, but you have doubts too.

It breaks her heart to make you insecure, you who always go above and beyond to make sure she’s comfortable when it comes to the feelings and the moments you’re sharing – the future you’re building.

“Can we go slow? Like, really slow?”, she looks at you, her eyes softer and the panic fading to be replaced by a new sense of certainty.

“I think we can’t go any slower even if we tried, took you half an hour to exit the car and for us to make literally ten steps toward your mom’s house”

The punch that hits you is strong enough to make you wince.

“Fine, I think we can compromise”

“Your terms?”

“I get visitation rights to my own apartment and free access to your closet”, she proposes, holding out her hand.

“You already have those”, you raise an eyebrow at her cocky smile, “You have to promise not to air-dry your hair on my silk sheets ever again”

“Deal”, Leah smiles as you shake hands, “I’ll just have to get my own pillows for my side of the bed so you can stop complaining”

She laughs oh-so-carefreely at your stunned expression, finally stepping closer and leaning into your embrace, still holding on to you as she approaches the front door.

“I’ll text Lia I’m going home with you tonight”

“Good”, you say, kissing the top of her head, “But let’s be real, you just need an excuse to steal more of my clothes, don’t you?”

“Maybe, but it looks better on me”

She’s saved by her own mother, opening the door and happily taking in the lovely scene with a knowing grin. The older woman pushes you both inside, commenting about the delay and claiming it is a tactic not allowed – all the games are going to be played, doesn’t matter how late it turns.

“You better let me win if you don’t want to be the one sleeping on a couch tonight”, she whispers in your ear as you take the seat by her side.

“Don’t push your luck, Williamson. We’ve got a long way to go, and you still have to find out about the pair of keys with your name on it hidden in the drawer”

fine.

#woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #lw6 #arsenal women x reader #arsenal women #here we go again #this is for the girlies with commitment issues and good jokes #love you all #but please call your therapist #my wo(rd)so

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riiwrites · 11 months ago

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boyfriend!dazai who…

a/n : for my love @perfectlyjollyland who requested this ages ago but i didn’t see until recently because i only pay attention to my inbox! im so sorry ill be checking comments too next time, hope you’re well! <3

a/n : also i hope you’re okay with the pre-boyfriend/before boyfriend part, i just thought that’d be cute i love lovesick!dazai sooo much.. more boyfriend dazai under the cut!!

chuuyas version | atsushis version

dividers used belong to @/benkeibear

masterlist | taglist | main page

pre-boyfriend!dazai who at the start asks you for a double suicide (as per usual), but when you give him the cutest smile and giggle and say no, he knows he’s too deep in now.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who becomes head over heels when he first meets you and now has a new mission, making you reciprocate those feelings.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who loves the cliches, the random ‘anonymous’ love notes on your desk when you’re at work or the random flowers delivered to your workplace/home - he loves it all.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who respects your boundaries if you were to tell him to lay off or if he was making you uncomfortable.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who finally gives up..gives up throwing hints and just decides to take his shot.

“So..say, if a handsome stranger who’s kind of not a stranger since you know him as an acquaintance asks you out because he’s given up with all of the deadpanned hints he’s been giving you for the past few months but he’s kind of scared of being rejected..what would you say?”

You stare him with a few blinks as he looks at you with a great smile on his face, although you can see subtle drops of sweat dripping down the side of his temple.

"..Is this said handsome stranger you, perchance?”

Dazai let’s out a single laugh, placing his hands on his hips.

“Ha! How bold of you, though..I am charmed your first thought of this handsome stranger would be me, bella~” He coyly smirks, closing his eyes in what you can’t tell is either pride or suspense.

You furrow your eyebrows with a little smile, fixing up your paperwork as you place them on the desk. “No, I just figured since it was you who’s been leaving such persistent and eager notes on my desk as of late.”

You watch his expression slightly change as he lets out a cough of embarrassment, locking eyes with you now.

“Well..” He starts, then gives up halfway through.

“..Is it a yes?”

pre-boyfriend!dazai who not only is taken by surprise by your response, but his heart does a few jumps in joy as his efforts became a success, making him now your boyfriend.

boyfriend!dazai who has his hand down your back pocket whenever you two are walking together.

boyfriend!dazai who’s love language is both physical touch and acts of service, always having his hands on you in the littlest way and also providing the most he can to his s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who has the reputation of being quite the flirtatious one, gives it up to his precious s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who googles cheesy and dirty pickup lines to try and rizz you with, always ending them in a winky face.

boyfriend!dazai who sends you little messages every day now that he has your number, little words of affirmations and talks to get you ready for your days.

boyfriend!dazai who if he had a tiktok account he’d make slideshows of you two and repost videos of couples relating to you two.

boyfriend!dazai who you spend all of your holidays with, especially christmas and new years.

boyfriend!dazai who practically lives at your house now, but nobody’s complaining.

boyfriend!dazai who has a box of every little thing you’ve given him, so when he’s feeling down he can look at it and smile.

boyfriend!dazai who tries to keep you away from his past, to protect you from the ugly truth.

boyfriend!dazai who opens up about oda, not all of it but most of it since he believes oda would’ve liked you.

boyfriend!dazai who takes you to the places he has the fondest memories in. the lupin bar, the art gallery, the agency.

boyfriend!dazai who appreciates the little things, as he’s not someone who can afford much he tries to give you the best he can.

boyfriend!dazai who always argues that he loves you more trying to get the last word and when you think you have it, you hear a little mumble of “I love you more” as you walk away.

boyfriend!dazai who loves your hands, tracing the lines of your palm and fingers and creating little shapes on them makes him feel at peace.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive but in a good way, he has good reasons to be possessive.

boyfriend!dazai who when he sees someone give you a half lidded smirk or bedroom eyes, he gives them a deadly stare that could imprint on their skull as he wraps an arm around your waist.

boyfriend!dazai who constantly babbles on about you at work with the agency, always telling Atsushi about the cutest things that you did the night before or what you did the day before that.

“Ahh..and the way they just clench their fists at their sides when they are angry with me! Ah~ I could melt..”

“That’s..really nice, Dazai-san..”

“Oh! And the way they grab my hand so tightly when we’re in public ahhh~ I could melt!”

“D-dazai-san..-“

“Ahhh, and the way the-“

boyfriend!dazai who ends up with about 14 wounds all over his body because of kunikidas beatings..kunikida says he’s lucky it wasn’t 15.

boyfriend!dazai who you take care of at his lowest.

boyfriend!dazai who sometimes can’t understand why you put up with him, but you reassure him with words and kisses all over his face.

boyfriend!dazai who peppers your face with kisses back and gives you a small smile despite how sad he can feel.

boyfriend!dazai who watches the fireworks with you and doesn’t think of going out just as beautifully because why would he let such a precious thing slip out of his hands like that?

boyfriend!dazai who doesn’t care about himself or his mental health, but cares the most about yours.

boyfriend!dazai who once felt like he was drowning, but then found his light to the surface who has a smile of diamonds and a heart of gold.

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi

white = unable to be tagged :(

@/riiwrites - reblogs are highly appreciated ❤︎︎

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tiddygame · 8 months ago

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ghost’s civilian wardrobe is nothing but hawaiian shirts. soap is in utter disbelief the first time he sees it. ghost says they’re good bc:

it’s so fucking ugly, no one can stand to look at it for too long so he doesn’t draw attention

No one thinks the ghost would wear something so bright and stupid meaning he’s completely under cover every time he’s on leave

they’re cheap and an easy thrift

but he just really fucking likes how goddamn ugly they are

…

at least, that’s what he tells soap. and himself. in reality, they were always tommy’s thing. he always wore them to the point everyone knew that the safest gift to get him was the ugliest patterned shirts they could find. in every family photo, tommy was the easiest to spot with the brightest eye sore worn proudly with a smile.

after that cold night in december, all of their stuff was either donated or thrown away.

one day, ghost was thrift shopping (because even though now he had more money, habits from being raised in a poor home die hard) and saw one of them. he froze. at first, he thought it was just one that looked similar. but when he inspected it, it even had that old tear tommy had gotten simon to fix and sew up for him.

he grabbed it in a daze. he searched every rack in that store and found a few more hawaiian shirts. if they were tommy’s or not didn’t matter. he bought them. for days, he hunted through every thrift store in town buying every stupid patterned shirt he saw.

knowing that the few shirts he collected was the only thing he had left of his baby brother finally broke him. he probably looked insane, sitting in his old beat up pickup truck, surrounded by shopping bags from different stores, crying into a yellow and orange button up with flowers on it, and one sewn up tear on the sleeve. but it was tommy’s. and it was all he had.

at first, they were hidden away in a box. he lied to himself that it was because he wanted to keep them safe, but in reality, he couldn’t look at them without either wanting to cry or punch holes in the wall.

but, one christmas, he finally pulls his head out of his ass and grabs them. visits the cemetery in a stupid yellow and orange monstrosity of a shirt and complains that tommy couldn’t have had a better fashion sense.

he wears another when he has to go grocery shopping. and again when he runs errands. and again. and again. and again.

the first time one of them got something on it, he almost cried and pulled every trick his mother taught him about removing stains. the shadow of it persisted but the pattern covered most of it.

eventually, they became a staple of his wardrobe.

years later, soap watched ghosts careful routine he had for washing the shirts. they were always washed separately on delicate and air dried with routine inspections for any holes or tears. it would click later, when finding an old family photo, one with a young boy on simon’s shoulders and another man next to him in a familiar yellow and orange shirt, that perhaps simon hadn’t been entirely truthful when he said he just liked them.

simon was scared the first time soap did his laundry, but johnny always washed them with the same level of care, following the exact same routine. he still made fun of him (lovingly, of course), saying that crimes against fashion must run in the family.

…

and further down the line, years later, they will be old and graying with wrinkles, wearing matching hawaiian shirts. johnny will complain about how ugly they are yet will still wear it happily (and tune out simon reminding him that it was johnnys idea to start matching)

#he also wears those skull and wolf shirts tucked in with a studded belt purely for the despair in soaps eyes #soap fell in love with a fashion disaster and ghost will spend the rest of their lives making him regret it #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #i can’t tell if this is nice sappy or hallmark cash grab sappy #sorry if it’s hallmark cash grab sappy #discount bin thots

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aplaceinme · 1 month ago

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@bucktommypositivityweek

Little ficlet that I wrote for the “bucktommy positivity bingo!”

Prompts that I used: Pickup lines; Tommy & the 118 friendship; and Free space (I chose Drunk!Tommy and I used one from this list).

After getting incredibly and disastrously drunk at Chimney’s bachelor party, Buck made a promise to himself not to drink that much for at least a year. Besides, he wasn’t getting any younger, and each year the hangovers were getting worse.

That was why Buck was appointed as the designated driver when they all decided to go out tonight to celebrate that Karen and Hen were going to get Mara back officially.

They had dinner at Bobby and Athena’s new place, but after they said their goodbyes, Karen wanted to go to a bar to continue the celebration.

They all insisted on inviting Tommy, with Hen telling Buck, “Tommy is our friend as well. Assume that whenever we organize something, he is invited too.”

Buck had been thrilled to get that confirmation. Not that he would even consider breaking up with Tommy if his family didn’t approve, but it felt amazing to know that Tommy not only had their approval but that Tommy was also considered an actual friend of theirs. It was a great feeling.

In all the emotion and happiness of the night, it never crossed Buck’s mind that he would get to see a drunk Tommy.

During the dinner, Athena had kept filling Tommy’s glass up, while they discussed different types of wine. Buck already knew that Tommy had quite the wine knowledge, but seeing him talk about it with Athena, had made him feel tingles all over his body.

When they arrived at the bar, Karen had immediately ordered some shots along with their other drinks. An already-getting-into-tipsy-territory Tommy didn’t stand a chance.

Tommy played a drinking game with Hen and Karen, joined Maddie and Chim in singing at karaoke, and unsuccessfully tried to be Eddie’s wingman.

Buck had taken lots of pictures and videos for blackmail material, and had laughed until his belly ached.

Seeing his boyfriend getting along so well with Buck’s most important people in the world, being a part of their family, helped to cement the thought that Tommy was the one.

Just as Buck was starting to get a bit annoyed about hardly spending any time with his boyfriend so far this night, a flushed and stumbling Tommy appeared by his side.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Tommy said loudly even though he was right next to Buck’s ear.

“Hey, yourself,” Buck grabbed Tommy’s arm and helped him sit down right next to him.

Tommy was looking intently at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Here, have some water, babe,” Buck said while handing him a glass of water.

Grabbing the glass absent-mindedly, Tommy placed it back on the table, making Buck pout.

“What are you-?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Tommy breathed out, interrupting Buck.

Buck could feel a blush creeping up his neck. Even after all these months of dating Tommy, he still got all flustered and giddy whenever Tommy complimented or flirted with him.

Not waiting for a reply, Tommy continued, “Is it Christmas? Because All I Want for Christmas Is You.”

Snorting, Buck looked at him in fond disbelief.

“Tommy, it’s October. And that's just awful.”

A big, radiant smile illuminated Tommy’s face as he reached out and softly caressed Buck’s birthmark.

“Angels should be in heaven. Did it hurt when you fell?”

“Oh my god! That’s so cheesy! You gotta stop,” Buck giggled.

“Wow,” Tommy said, lifting his hand to Buck’s jawline. “You're so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down. Will you let me?"

Eyes as soft as the smile tugging at his lips, Buck grabbed Tommy’s hand and intertwined their fingers, “I will. But first, I think it’s time we go back to your place so you can sleep this off.”

With that, Buck stood up and after waving goodbye to the others who were by the pool tables, made his way to the exit, Tommy letting himself be pulled along.

“Evan, Evan, Evan,” Tommy insisted when they reached the sidewalk.

“What is it, babe?”

“You need to feel my shirt,” Tommy smirked, “because I'm boyfriend material.”

Unable to help himself, Buck burst out laughing, head falling back, exposing his long neck.

Taking advantage of the position, Tommy stumbled closer and started to leave soft kisses along Buck’s neck.

Buck allowed himself a couple of seconds to enjoy it but then he stepped back, making Tommy whine like a puppy.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Buck told him, “You’re the one who is absolutely adorable. But right now, I need you to stop. You can carry on later, once we are home, ok?”

“Promise?” Tommy mumbled.

“Promise,” Buck said, sealing the deal with a soft and tender kiss.

As he helped Tommy inside his truck, Buck couldn’t help but think about how he was not going to let Tommy live this down, even if he was utterly adorable.

#bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #kinley #tevan #sorry for any mistakes

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ajortga · 10 months ago

Text

always for you

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

thank you for your support! honestly i'm so so grateful you guys like my writing<3 this was from a request that i loved making, (especially the texting part.) requests are packed! theres so many more so i won't be checking inboxes till i'm finished with the majority of them! to whomever requested, i hope you like this!

can I request another soft!jenna x r?? I know your requests are closed, and you can do this anytime if your free. I can wait.

Where r's phone is acting up but doesn't want to buy a new phone cause r is broke, jenna sees r struggle with the lag and buys r a new phone

(shes so cute)

Jenna always thought you were too thoughtful and selfless, you always thought of others before yourself, you gave love to every person you possibly could before you could even love yourself.

You gifted Jenna the new black noise canceling headphones for Christmas, you loved music as much as she did. But even with your immense love, you still managed to have wired earphones, though they were tangled almost everyday.

There was a day the brunette noticed the way your phone had been acting up. She won’t mention how you dropped it in the bathtub while trying to give your cat a bath, and she’ll leave out how it somehow didn’t crack the numerous times you dropped it on the table or carpet. But whenever she texted you, you’d take longer to respond, apologizing endlessly.

“goodmorning my love! my phone was glitching again, it keeps bringing me back to this stupid dancing vegetable i put on for nephew cash last week. It took me a while to finally get back to messages! i'm sorry:((.”

“oh my god it did it again, now it’s a piece of radish dancing”

Sometimes you’d respond halfway and then stop there too cause your phone would crash

"y/nnnn, baby, i used the damn salt for our cookies instead of sugar and i put so much and i wanted to make a pickup line for you. i was literally pretending you were there and said "you're as sweet as a cookie" and i bit into it and it tasted so salty and i coughed so much"

“HAHA oh my gosh your like the silliest person i know, you literally remind me of-”"

10 minutes later

“MY PHONE CRASHED AGAIN”

“it did it again, it kept bringing me to different tabs so i had to get back in here. baby i can’t even talk to you properly anymore, i think we should-”

25 minutes later

“THE DANCING VEGETABLE IS ON MY SCREEN AGAIN”

"jenna? are you there?"

"i amm here"

"IT'S FRUIT NOW"

"baby 😭"

She did talk to you about getting a phone, she knew that you wanted to spend your money on others until yourself. You saved a little portion for yourself, so your portion made you a little broke. But you insisted that if it still worked and was helping the way it was supposed to, it would be okay.

It was funny to her, she would try charging both your phones before you snuggled to sleep together, but she always struggled on charging your phone because it wouldn’t charge.

You could hear her grunting as she cursed under her breath, “You have to use the first charging port and twist it at an 80 degree angle to the right, the phone has to be facing up.”

As it finally charged, she made a small sigh and smiled as she looked at you, softly saying, “You’re always too thoughtful Y/N, there’ll be one day where life will give it all back to you.”

You nuzzled into her chest, “As long as I can make others happy, that’s all I need to make myself happy,” you said drowsily as you rested on her chest. She kissed your forehead as you dozed off, cradling you to sleep.

The next day, Jenna got up so early and unattached herself from your grasp, making you make a small noise as you subconsciously looked for her embrace.

The bed creaked as you made a small murmur, looking up at Jenna barely awake.

You yawned, really sleepy, “Where are you going??” You said sadly, a little tired pout forming.

You sounded so drowsy as Jenna giggled, kissing your temple, “I need to pick up some strawberries, we need some pancakes for our breakfast and some other goodies sunshine. It’ll be packed in the afternoon, it’ll be quick, I promise.”

You made a sad noise, your hands reaching up for her and scrunching her arms as she hugged you, taking her giant stuffed animal and letting you hold it.

Soon enough from her scent on the stuffy, you were asleep, snuggling it.

Jenna changed into a sweater, jeans, and wore her headphones you gave her as she was off.

She was going to buy you that phone, no matter what you said.

Her footsteps crunched against the leaves as she listened to her music, getting a new idea as a proud smile sneaked on her lips.

She entered the electronic store, buying you the latest white phone that she had as well. She also went to the head gear section and bought you Sony headphones, a white one that would look so pretty on you. Her fingers signed the signature as she payed with her card, buying you guys two matching phone cases with two black cats on them.

Two hours later she came home, opening your bedroom door as she walked in.

“Y/N, sunshine, I’m here,” she whispered as you made a small murmur again, opening your eyes.

“Mhh…”

A small grin appears on her face as she shows you the new phone and headphones as you stare.

You were so tired you stared at it in disbelief and confusion.

Then you looked at her, your eyes teary as you pouted, “Baby.. Why? You didn’t have to-”

“You deserve it, you always think about me and all your friends hardly before yourself. And you deserve the world. I want you to be able to use your phone and those headphones. I like seeing you happy.”

Your pout turned into a wide smile as you pulled her collar to your level and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to do that for me," you said, your voice happy as you nuzzle into her, not wanting to let go.

“Always.”

“I love you.”

Jenna smiles, her soft lips pressing to your temple, "I love you too."

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x y/n

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sweatervest-obsessed · 3 months ago

Text

Yes, Mr. Darcy

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

wc: 1784

cw: anxiety, swearing, fluff

a/n: been in such a Harrington Mood Lately.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, for the love of god, we need to leave. Now.”

You were standing in front of her mirror, changing out your earrings for the third time. Nothing seemed to match quite right, but these seemed to do the trick.

“You did not just use my full name, Buckley.”

“You were supposed to be ready thirty minutes ago.”

“You and I both know that we’re actually leaving on time, and you tried to trick me so we could just get there earlier so you could get there to hang out with Steve.”

Robin rolled her eyes and crossed her arms–silent though.

“And she doesn’t deny it.”

“Oh fuck off.”

She was just lounging on the couch, head hanging off the side, and one leg over the back. The sound of your heels alerted Robin that you were finally done. She looked up from her phone and her jaw dropped.

“Shut. Up.”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re gonna kill Steve, babe.”

You smiled. “Good.”

“Now let’s get a move on because, again, we were supposed to be on our way by now.”

Robin hopped up from the couch and smoothed out her pants legs, trying to desperately combat the wrinkles she just creased in them.

“You’re too tall in those shoes.”

You gently shoved Robin's arm as you pulled on your overcoat.

“Let's head out then?”

___________________________________

“Steve, let’s get a move on.”

Steve walked out of the kitchen and into the foyer, where his friends were pacing around, waiting for him. He was fiddling with the gold watch around his wrist–it just wasn't sitting right on his wrist. Why wasn’t the watch sitting in the right place?

“Oh be still my beating heart.” Eddie clutches his heart and turns to face his best friend. “You look so handsome.”

Dustin shoves Eddie and rolls his eyes. “We’ve been waiting forever.”

He gave them a flash of a smile before adjusting the signet ring on his pinky finger, twisting it around and around and around and around and arou—

“Max, Lucas, Will, and Mike are there already, with Nance and Jonathan.”

Steve huffed and fixed his hair.

Eddie reached forward and picked some lint off of his collar.

“You seem nervous."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh do I?"

"Alright Jackass, ease up." Eddie crossed his arms. "There's nothing to worry about."

Dustin nodded in agreement vigorously. "There's quite literally no universe in which she says no Steve-"

“Alright. Alright." Steve waved the two of them off nervously. "Let’s go then.”

___________________________________

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you”

You whipped your head around, before smiling at the man behind you. “Did…Did you just use Jane Austen as a pickup line?”

“Would you be mad that I did?”

“No, No, I quite….I enjoyed it”

Steve laughed to himself and took your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and softly kissing it.

Cheeks tinging red; this man still knew how to make you blush after four years of being together.

“You are too much Steve Harrington, simply too much”

“Too much in general, or too much for you Miss Y/l/n because–”

Your lips were on his before he could even comprehend the rest of his thought.

“I didn’t even know you knew who Jane Austen was..” Slowly moving from his lips and up his cheek,, kissing the corner of his lips, you hummed. Steve inhaled, snaking an arm around your waist.

“I listen to you, ya know…” he murmured, praying to whatever god was listening that he would be able to keep quiet. His eyes darted around, making sure that no one in the banquet hall was paying attention to the twenty-three-year-olds in the corner.

Even though everyone was there as a potential surprise engagement party disguised as a holiday party.

The massive Christmas Tree in the front of the room caught Steve’s eye. It was perfectly decorated, just like the rest of the room–nothing out of place. The perfectly placed white string lights reflected across the room, across their families. Their picturesque perfect families danced slowly across the dance floor.

Your lips kissed the spot beneath his ear, causing Steve to groan quietly, and squeeze your waist.

“Babygirl….” Steve mumbled, “Not in front of the whole party. Behav–”

A smirk passed across your lips as you pulled away. “I’m so sorry handsome, it’s just that when you quote one of my favorite novels at me….”

“Yeah, Yeah. let me fix your lipstick baby” Steve slowly dragged his thumb under your lip, effectively fixing the smudging on her lips, edging the line that you clearly want to shove him over.

“Want to dance with me, darling?”

You smiled and nodded, slotting your hand in his.

He squeezed it tightly as he caught your friends looking over at the two of you, with expectant faces. Steve tried so hard to communicate “not yet” with his face without you noticing.

That was not the case since you stopped short.

“Babygirl, what’s up.”

“What was that look?”

“What?”

“The look Eddie and Dustin just gave you.”

He scoffed, his chest starting to tighten up. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

“You’re up to something.”

His chest ache spread across his shoulders and down his arms. “No.”

You take a small step back and look over his face.

Your face shifts from curiosity to concern as Steve’s eyes become panicked.

Unfortunately for Steve, he completely misread the look on your face.

It started small, with some erratic breathing. For some reason, he couldn’t breathe. Then, he couldn’t focus. The longer you looked at him, the heavier the little box in his right pants pocket got.

Steve was freaking the fuck out. It was as clear as day to you, even in the dim lighting. He was sure you were trying to say something because your lips were moving and your other hand had moved up to his arm.

But Steve couldn’t hear anything beyond his heartbeat.

“Steve, is everything okay? Do you want to go out and get some air?” You gently cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb up and down, trying to get a sense of what was going on. Steve rarely acted like this, and as your eyes flashed across his face, searching for an answer, you couldn’t find it.

His feet have not stopped shifting since you started looking at him.

“Steve?”

He couldn’t take it.

“Hey Steve, Baby–”

The string lights started to become too bright for him.

“Steve.”

The world was spinning.

“Hey–”

Was everyone staring at him? Why was everyone looking at him? He needed to escape. He needed to get out of the suffocation. It was too much.

So when he shoved past you and tore out of the hall, you were beyond stunned. So were all of your friends and family who managed to notice the little scene in the corner.

But he didn’t notice because he couldn’t breathe and he needed air as soon as physically possible.

“Is everything okay?”

Your eyes flitted between where Steve exited and Robin walked towards you, still shocked. “I don’t…I don't know what happened Rob—I’ll be..” You started to follow him. “I have to..”

“Did he..?”

“Did he do what?” You looked back at him.

“Did he start…”

“Panicking for no reason? Yeah.”

Robin just nodded her head as you placed a hand on her arm and muttered something about Steve, following out after him. You missed the way all of your friends started catastrophizing.

Snowflakes dusted his hair as Steve stepped into the parking lot. His footprints left a cartoonish path as he created a circle in the new snow on the ground, pacing around. The little box in his pocket was getting heavier and heavier until he couldn’t bear it anymore.

Steve pulled it out, and stared at it; his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Why wouldn’t they just stop shaking?

“I thought we agreed on you quitting?”

The box fell to the ground as he jumped. “Jesus– you can’t just sneak up on me like that.”

“Yeah, well you kind of just….you know, ran off.”

“Shi–Babe, I’m so sorry. I’m just. I needed some–uh, air”

“Yeah Steve, I know. You started hyperventilating.”

Steve nodded but didn’t say anything else.

You slowly started walking towards him, stopping right before the cover of the building ended. She was right in front of him, he could feel her body’s warmth. Steve just studied her face, watching as she watched him.

“I love you, you know that…”

A nervous laugh passed through your lips.

“B-But you know right?”

“Steve….”

“I promise I’m…”

“You’re not smoking?”

“Yeah...” A dry chuckle came out of his mouth. “Have a little faith in me, god.”

“Steve I–You just froze up and ran out of there–It looked like—”

“I know what it looked like.” He snapped.

“Tone.”

Steve huffed and ran his hands through his hair, making it more of a mess than it had been. “I’m sorry.”

“Steve, what is going on?”

“This is not how I wanted this to go?”

“What are you tal–”

Steve bent down on one knee and pulled the box out of the snowbank right next to his foot, trying to dust off the snow on it. It was a deep red velvet, and on the inside was a beautiful silver band–simple, with three distinguished, yet tastefully small gemstones encrusted in it.

“Y/n–”

“Yes.”

“Y/n, please–” He laughed nervously, “P-Please let me get through…I’ve been, um–”

“–Yes—Shit, sorry. Sorry.”

She placed her hands over her mouth, using every muscle in her body to restrain from interrupting Steve. It wasn’t working very well since she was nodding the whole time.

“Y/n, I–we, we have known each other f-for so long, an-and I—fuck. Why can’t I get through this?”

Y/n grabbed his hands and pulled him up off the ground, tears waiting to burst.

“Steve…”

“No, I–fuck I had this whole fucking speech and I-I can’t even–” He started pacing again, ring box in his hand. “I’m ruining it. I’m ruining your proposal and I just–”

“Steve Harrington, will you do me the absolute honor of being my husband.”

Steve froze.

“W-What”

And he slowly turned to look at her.

Y/n had taken out a small box from inside the pocket of her dress. She was holding it in her palm, open. It was a soft green velvet box with a simple silver band, engraved with a barely noticeable design on the top–it matched her ring perfectly.

His lips crashed to hers, ring boxes precariously held in one another’s hands.

“You stole my moment.” He muttered against her lips, before pulling away.

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bookyeom · 11 months ago

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A/N: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a special Merry Christmas to my boo @gyuminusone. This is my Christmas gift to you!! I hope you have the best holiday, M! Sending love across the country!!!

Parties and Pickup Lines

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader Genre: friends to lovers Rating: PG (because of the swearing.. i think that's the only reason? also alcohol consumption) Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: kissing, alcohol consumption, reader & squad celebrate Christmas somewhat traditionally (Westernized)? Um... there's a kiss and some swearing also

“Mingyu.” You drag out the last syllable of his name, aggressively dropping your head against his arm as he continues to carry on conversation with Joshua, your host for the evening. He had hosted a dinner party that, in true Joshua Hong fashion, was full of expensive and foreign wines. It was great, but now you’re sufficiently tipsy, tired, and ready to go home, and Mingyu and Joshua just won’t shut up.

“Are you giving her a ride?” Joshua nods in your direction and you narrow your eyes at him from your place against Mingyu’s side. All he does is smile back.

“Yeah,” Mingyu responds with a dramatic sigh, and you can feel him shift as he turns to look down at you. You want to lift your head to glare up at him, but you’re tired.

“Of course you are,” Joshua quips. “Don’t know why I even asked.” He’s teasing, and you can’t see Mingyu’s reaction, but you imagine he uses his free hand to flip the other man off.

You’re used to it — the way everyone teases you and Mingyu. Sure, you’re a little bit in love with him, but isn’t everyone? Sure, you’re always together, and you take care of each other, and sure, every time he looks at you, or smiles at you, or laughs because of you, you feel yourself falling just that little bit more. Sure, the two of you might be on the edge of something more than friends, but you don’t know what, and you don’t know how to get there.

All you know is that right now, you want to go home.

Mingyu finally stands up from the couch, pulling you with him while bidding farewell to an amused Joshua. As he tugs you by the hand through the apartment towards the door, he calls out goodbyes to everyone you pass. You somehow manage a few hugs and waves yourself before you reach the exit, where Mingyu hands you your coat, and then you’re finally out in the fresh air.

“Our Uber is two minutes away,” he informs you.

You nod and regretfully let go of his hand, pulling your gloves from your coat pocket and squinting down at your fingers as you clumsily put them on. You can feel him watching you as you wait, and you meet his eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up when you catch him looking, and you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you manage — quite smoothly if you do say so yourself — but all he does is smile bigger.

“I have lots of those.”

You gasp. “Blackmail is a crime.”

He ignores you and looks away, eyes scanning the road for your ride as he says, “It’s not my fault that you’re so nice to take pictures of.”

You stare at him, and even in your tipsy state, you feel it again — the overwhelming affection that blooms in your chest. You want to push him on it, you want to know, but for the millionth time, you can’t seem to get the words out. So you say nothing as your Uber arrives and drives the two of you back to your place.

Your apartment is basically Mingyu’s second home, and the same goes for you with his. “It’s just easier, convenient to know someone on the other side of town when you need to crash,” is the excuse you tend to use the most. You never say that it has a lot more to do with the way he looks in your kitchen in the morning as he makes your coffee, or the way he always makes you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch, or the way he knows exactly where you keep the popcorn for movie nights.

He knows where you keep everything else, too — makeup remover included.

“I personally don’t care if you take your makeup off or not,” Mingyu points out from his spot by your bathroom door, “but you are going to care in the morning, and I am going to be on the receiving end of your wrath if I don’t make you do it now.”

“Well then, help me,” you say, and it comes out as a whine. You’re too tired to care, and you say as much. You miss the way Mingyu’s entire being softens when you pout dejectedly, exhausted, and lean back against the mirror from where you sit on the counter. He lets out a dramatic sigh, but you know you’ve won when he moves to stand in front of you.

“Sit up,” he instructs, reaching over your shoulder to open the cupboard above the mirror as you do what he says. He’s careful not to hit your head with the door as he takes out your makeup wipes, doting as always. You watch as he opens the package while you sit there waiting, eyes intent on him and his movements. You try to stay still as he lifts a hand to your face, holding your breath as he gently begins to clean your makeup off. His free hand lifts to your chin to steady you after a moment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You wish you could blame the alcohol for the intense desire you feel to just… kiss him, but it’s not the first time, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.

You realize it again, then, as you watch him — that your feelings for him run so irrevocably deep.

You don’t know how long it takes as he stands between your legs, thoroughly cleansing your face with gentle motions. Once or twice, he catches you staring; the first time, he teases you, and the second, he pulls a face that’s meant to make you laugh (it works). When he announces that he’s done, adding on something about how grateful you should be for his hard work as he leans down to find your trash can, you can’t help it.

Your hands have a mind of their own. As soon as he straightens from throwing the cloth into the trash, they gently find his face, and he stills. He doesn’t pull away. He just waits, eyes wide and imploring, and you let his silence spur you on. You don’t say anything as you begin to map his features out with your fingertips, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time. The high of his cheekbones, the beauty mark on the very edge of his nose; his mouth, lips softly parting as you brush over them, barely noticing the breath he’s holding as you do.

“You are so beautiful,” is what finally breaks the silence. “I think about you and how beautiful you are all the time.” It’s you that says it, and it takes you a second to register that you said it out loud. You vaguely register an alarm going off in your brain, a loud fuck! Fuck! Fuck! in quick succession, but you don’t take it back, because it’s true.

Mingyu blinks, staring back at you for a few moments before he finally looks away.

“Thank you,” he says as he grasps onto your wrists to pull your hands away from his face. “And you’re drunk.”

“Both of these things can be true,” you quip, and he lets out a laugh at that.

“Come on, brush your teeth. I’m not doing that part for you.”

A week passes, and you’re not avoiding Mingyu, per se, but you’re not not avoiding him, either.

The morning after your slip-up, when you wake up sober and embarrassed, you think maybe you’ve fucked up your friendship for good. You get a text from him, explaining that he’d gone to the gym and that he’d text you later, and all seems relatively normal — everything except for the fact that you’d blatantly ogled him and called him beautiful to his face the night before. He doesn’t say anything else about it.

Throughout the week, his texts seem to be coming in slower and fewer, though you imagine that might have something to do with the short and accidentally-on-purpose delayed responses from you. He hasn’t asked, and you’re grateful. Thankfully, your work had actually been a welcome distraction in the daytime since you were rapidly approaching a deadline. You had only needed to fill your evenings so that you weren’t thinking about him. Today is Friday though, and that means another work week is over — and another holiday festivity is waiting for you at Seokmin’s.

Unfortunately, your feelings for one of your closest friends are waiting for you there, too.

You don’t know if it’s better or worse that Mingyu is already a few drinks deep when you arrive.

He greets you at the door as if the place is his own, ushering you in before pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. You sink into him, eyes squeezing shut briefly before he pulls away, eyes bright as he holds you by the biceps.

“Hi!” He beams. “I missed you.”

That thing in your chest shifts and jumps around as he smiles at you. You are my favourite person in the entire world, you think. And I have no idea what to do about it.

“I missed you, too.”

You had wondered if Mingyu would notice the space you’d taken from him over the week, the space you’d needed to try and gather your feelings, but if he had, he doesn’t show it. He’s just Mingyu, who stays close to you the whole night while remaining the life of the party. Tonight, he doesn’t comment when you don’t return his physical touches or flirtations. You wonder if it’s because of the alcohol or just how excited he is at the idea of Christmas being so close — because Mingyu usually notices everything, especially when it comes to you.

You finally get a reprieve when he’s called into the kitchen to help clean up a spill, and you let out a sigh as you sink further into the couch cushions. You would never have the heart to ask him for the space you need, not when you know how affectionate he always is, but at least you can breathe a little right now. He hasn’t said a word all night about last weekend, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

“Gyu said you had a busy week. You okay?”

You’re startled when Seokmin plops down next to you.

“Yeah,” you affirm, smiling tiredly over at your friend. “But the project is finally over now.”

“Congrats!” Seokmin lifts his glass in a toast, and you lift your wine glass to clink it with his. His eyebrows furrow as he eyes your drink. “Isn’t that the exact same amount of wine you had an hour ago?”

“No.”

You’ve never been a good liar.

“What’s up? You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want it, obviously. No sober shame here.”

You laugh at that. “Yeah, thanks, Seok. I know.”

He continues to look at you, and you wish this was one of those times that Seokmin decided to let something go, but you’re not so lucky. Curse him for loving his people so much.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

You get distracted when your eyes catch a glimpse of Mingyu as he pops his head out of the kitchen to call for Seungcheol, and they linger on the doorframe long after he’s gone.

“Ah.”

“Hm?” You turn back to Seokmin, cheeks flushing at being caught.

Instead of teasing like you’d expected, Seokmin’s smile is gentle. “You should tell him.”

You almost drop your wine. “Seokmin—“

You don’t get a chance to say anything else because Mingyu reappears over the back of the couch, his arms lazily hanging around Seokmin’s shoulders as he rests his cheek on the other boy’s head.

“Can we go home? I’m tired,” he pouts.

You don’t hesitate for a second.

You stand up with a nod, all wariness from the moment in your bathroom last weekend flying out the window as you take his hand. Because this is what the two of you do. He takes care of you, and you take care of him. No questions asked.

“Bye, Seok,” you offer, and he sends you another smile as he lifts his glass. “Thanks for hosting.” He glances between the two of you, at your joined hands, and you shrug with a sad smile before turning to leave.

The walk to Mingyu’s from Seokmin’s isn’t very long. It’s cold, but you’ll manage. You feel warm all over from the way he refuses to let go of your hand, anyway.

“I love Christmas.”

You smile over at Mingyu, who’s been fairly quiet since you left Seokmin’s apartment.

“I know.” You squeeze the hand he has attached to yours, and he smiles back. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight of it.

It’s quiet for another few minutes as you walk slowly down the sidewalk before he speaks again, pulling you to a stop and catching you entirely off guard with his words.

“What does Santa say to Mrs. Claus when she dresses up nice?”

You hold back a laugh. “What does he say, Gyu? Tell me.”

He giggles, and then with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he leans in close and he says, “‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’.”

“Incredible. Great joke.” You tug on his hand, hoping he’ll decide to keep following you — because you’re not getting his ass anywhere without him wanting to go — but he plants his feet even more and shakes his head.

“Wait,” he whines, “hang on. I’m Santa!”

You snort. “Of course you are,” you try to appease, gesturing for him to start walking. To your relief, he finally takes a few steps, but his hold on your hand only gets tighter.

“No,” he pouts, and you almost groan as he pulls you to a stop again. “I mean, I’m Santa in this story! And you’re Mrs. Claus!”

“Gyu, I’m not following. And it’s cold—“

“‘Ho ho ho-ly shit, you look good’,” he repeats the punchline, but this time, he uses his free hand to emphasize your outfit. “Do you get it now? I’m Santa and I’m saying that to you!”

You blink as you process. A pickup line?

All night, you’d managed to avoid… this, for the most part, because people were around and he was busy. Now, it’s just the two of you. Your body feels warm all over at the silly flirtation, at the insinuation, and you’re not sure how to respond. You don’t even get a chance to open your mouth, though, before he’s speaking again.

“I don’t care what Santa says… you’re at the top of my nice list.” He winks, pulling you in closer to him so quickly that you stumble a little. It’s freezing outside, but you suddenly feel far too warm.

“Can we please go home?”

Mingyu begins to giggle, and you half think he’s going to kiss you as he leans in. Then his forehead is falling into the crook of your shoulder, laughing into your scarf, arms sliding around your middle. You can’t do anything but hug him back while he calms down, your cheeks burning, until he stands up straight again and nods, smile still on his lips.

“I’m sleepy.”

You don’t know how you make it the rest of the way, but you do. When you arrive, you head into the bathroom to try and compose yourself.

“Hey!” Mingyu says abruptly, startling you when you exit his bathroom. He’s got his phone in his hands and he squints down at it, giggling to himself before meeting your expectant gaze. “Are you the Grinch?”

You blink. “Pardon?”

“Because you’ve stolen my heart.”

You groan, ignoring the tingling feeling that shoots through your entire body at the stupid line. “Get changed,” you order, turning around to give him — and yourself — some space. “Where the hell are you getting these from?”

“From my brain,” he attempts. When you don’t say anything, he admits, “from Soonyoung.”

“Can you tell Soonyoung to shut up so we can go to sleep?”

“We?”

You turn back in surprise to find him already in his bed, sheets pulled up around his waist. He’s beaming.

“Yeah,” you stammer, “you in here and me out there.” You jut your thumb in the direction of the living room, and Mingyu pouts again.

“Oh. Well, hang out with me in here for a bit longer, then.”

“Fine. Fifteen minutes.” You cave, moving to sit next to him on the bed, leaving as much space between you as you can.

Mingyu isn’t having any of it, though, as he rolls over and snuggles into your side. He holds up his phone, giggling, canines on full display as he wiggles his brows, before he says, “Mind if we take a picture? I need to show Santa exactly what I want for Christmas.”

“Remind me to kill Soonyoung for this.”

“Rude.” Mingyu is suddenly pouting, the change so quick that it takes you a second to process. “I asked him to send them. I wanted to tell them to you.”

Oh.

“I’m going to go to sleep,” is what you respond with, praying that he doesn’t notice how flushed your cheeks are as you stand up.

He catches you by surprise though, his fingers reaching for yours as he speaks, gently closing around them in an attempt to keep you close. “How come you won’t talk to me about it?”

You tilt your head in question. “Hm? Talk to you about what, Gyu?”

His eyebrows furrow, and his frown deepens. With a tug, he’s pulled you back onto the bed next to him, his arm thrown over your legs as he presses his face into your side. You let yourself tangle your fingers in his hair, just one more time.

“This,” he murmurs, squeezing you gently on your thigh.

“Huh?”

You can feel it when he hums against you. “Us.”

Your hand stills its motions against his scalp, and the blood rushes to your ears.

“I’ve given you so much space,” he continues, his voice so sad that your heart sinks even lower. “And I don’t know what else to do.”

“Mingyu—“

“Do you like me?” He interrupts, sitting up abruptly. His honey eyes are piercing as he asks it, as he delves as deep into your soul as he can go. You can tell he’s sobered up quite a bit as he looks at you, as he waits for your answer.

“Yeah, I do,” you finally say. It’s quiet, soft, but he hears you.

Mingyu tilts his head, voice low as he presses on. “And do you really think I’m beautiful?”

You feel your cheeks flush even deeper. “You are.”

Mingyu sits back, shoulders suddenly deflating. “Then why won’t you talk to me about it? Why do you keep it to yourself?” He looks away before he adds, quietly, “I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.”

His name comes out in a whisper. “Mingyu…”

He sighs, falling back down onto his bed and throwing an arm over his eyes. “Y/N,” he mumbles back.

You’re frozen. Your mind is racing, heart stumbling over itself as you search for the right words. You can’t find them. “Goodnight,” you say softly.

Mingyu nods, but he doesn’t look at you again as he responds, rolling over and away from you. “Goodnight.”

Needless to say, you don’t sleep very well.

Y/N [9:13am]: morning

Y/N [9:13am]: I had to go home to prepare for Jeonghan’s party. I didn’t want to wake you up

Gyu [9:47am]: you should have woken me up.

Gyu [9:52am]: I’ll see you there

You’re a bundle of nerves when you reach Jeonghan’s, every nerve standing on edge as you try and prepare yourself to see Mingyu. You know that tonight is the night – you can’t ignore what’s happening, not when he means so much.

You greet the rest of your friends, trying to play it cool. You follow Chan into the apartment and to the table, freezing when you catch sight of Mingyu. He’s got on an ugly, green Christmas sweater with bells attached, and his hair is gently falling across his forehead as he chats to Jeonghan. Everyone turns as you walk in, but your eyes can do nothing but find him first. All he does when he sees you is raise his glass in your direction in acknowledgement, before he’s turning back to his conversation. It hurts, but you can’t say you don’t deserve it.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

His words replay in your mind over dinner and during the entire movie afterwards, where you happen to somehow be sat across from and beside anyone but Mingyu. It’s funny, you think, how you’re finally ready to face this, and you can’t even get close to him tonight.

The entire night, you can feel him watching you from across the room. Every time you look back, he just smiles a bit and looks away. He doesn’t go out of his way to try to come find you, and you can’t say that doesn’t hurt. Should you have stayed this morning? Should you have talked about it? Probably.

You miss him, but he’s in the same room.

I don’t want to keep it to myself anymore.

You know you have to be the one to initiate this time – you know that he was vulnerable with you yesterday. It’s your turn now.

When the movie ends, Mingyu is the first to start cleaning up. You follow him into the kitchen, ignoring the stares from your friends as you practically trip over yourself to get to him.

“Mingyu.”

He turns around from where he’s placing dishes in the sink in surprise. “Hey.”

You take a deep breath, debating starting with small talk – but you can’t do it. “Will you come outside with me?”

His hands stop halfway to the sink when you blurt the words out, abrupt, and you hold your breath. You don’t know if you’re imagining how tense he is. You hate this. You’re sure you’re about to be sick when he doesn’t respond for a moment, before he nods and dries his hands off on a towel.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

When you step outside, the awkward silence continues. Then the two of you are speaking at once.

“Mingyu, I need to—“

“We should—“

You let out a nervous laugh, biting down on your lip, and gesture for him to go first. He looks down, kicking at the ground with his boot, but your eyes are rooted to his face. Snowflakes are getting stuck in his hair as they fall, his lip drawn between his teeth, and you can’t look away.

“Did you mean what you said last night?”

Your heart leaps into your throat. “I was the sober one, Gyu. Of course I do.” you try to joke to lighten the mood, but he doesn’t take the bait.

“Did you say it just to shut me up, then?” His eyes fly to yours again, piercing. He’s tense, jaw clenched as he waits, and your stomach flips.

“Why would I do that, Mingyu?”

He shrugs. Then he shoves his hands into his pockets, the bells on his ugly Christmas sweater chiming as he does, and you’d laugh if you didn’t instantly recognize his reaction for what it is: a defence mechanism. A defence mechanism to protect him from you. You can practically feel your heart begin to shatter.

“If you meant it,” he says, voice soft and low, “then say it again.”

“Mingyu—“

You’re caught by surprise when he takes a step forward, cutting you off as he says, “I like you, and I need you to say it back right now if you meant what you said. If you don’t, I’ll never bring it up again, but I’m not going to keep guessing how you feel about me.”

“Of course I meant it.” The words come out so quickly, so desperately that you stumble over them a little. “I really, really like you, Mingyu. So much that I feel sick to my stomach about it sometimes.”

Another step closer. “So why did you leave this morning?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore. His voice is soft, almost uncertain. It’s you that closes the final step.

Your arms wrap around his waist and you pull him in tight, face muffled against his coat as you murmur, “I’m terrified about what this means for us.”

He moves back just enough to see you, hands finding your face. “What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t know.”

“I like you,” he says again, eyes intent on yours. Your eyes flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “And you like me.”

You nod, your hands lifting to rest on his chest. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“I know you better than anyone else.”

You open your eyes, leaning back so that you can look at him this time. “You’re my favourite person in the world,” you say, and you watch as his smile begins to grow. You feel all sorts of giddy, fingers grasping the material of his coat tighter as he beams down at you.

“Yeah?” He teases, and your eyes fly to his mouth.

“Mhm.”

His expression grows serious again, eyes flickering across your face as he asks, “Do you want to give this a shot, then?”

You hope the kiss you press to his lips answers his question well enough.

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it's what us writers rely on :)

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