#didn’t get my roommate a christmas gift or welcome

[fappellmoan]

kind of an awful. sister roommate friend student etc rn. sorry loved ones

[devskindawritingblog]

Hand in Hand

cate dunalp x fem/gn reader Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

summary: The first time that Cate touches you without her gloves on. Basically pure fluff.

AN: I’ve been wanting to write for Gen V or the boys so this is my first one!! My own idea, it’s not an original idea obviously I’m sure someone else has thought of it but it’s my own words.

word count rounded: 1.9k

Since her first day at God U Cate has tried desperately to fit in. After being locked away from the world for so many years, she was desperate for some time of human interaction beside her parents, not that her parents paid her much attention. She was conditioned into keeping on her gloves at all times. After her brother, Cate was sure that she didn’t even trust herself without them. So she rarely took them off around people she cared about.

After some time, she got used to the idea that the gloves were a part of her now. She had multiple pairs, and she even got a pair as a little Christmas gift. As thoughtful as it was, opening a gift and seeing those gloves was almost upsetting. She tried so hard to gain trust in her friends and peers, and still, she knew better than to try. For the first time in her life, she had friends and people who cared about her.

And then she met you…  

It was her second year in her superhero management class. You weren’t friends per se, but you were friendly. The first day of that class, you arrived late because your roommate had unplugged your alarm clock to charge their laptop. Funnily enough, they were the ones to wake you up by being way too loud. You sprung out of bed and threw on an outfit, barely having enough time to get yourself ready before you ran to class.

 You were only a few minutes late when you swung open the door and awkwardly closed it behind you as the class turned around to look at you. The teacher welcomed you back, ushering you to sit down. The only spot left was next to Cate. You walked over to her, placing your bag down under the table and taking your seat. She glances over at you, giving you a small smile. 

“Hey… You're Cate, right?” You say turning to look at her. She looks back with a look you can’t quite place. "Yeah, you're not new. I’ve seen you in my other classes." She states, quirking her brow. “Oh… yeah.. Sorry. It's my second year; I just don’t do well with starting conversations…. And it would be best if I didn’t call you the wrong name." You say, laughing awkwardly. Luckily, she laughs back, smiling a little as she brings her attention back to the prof.

It might have been short, but that interaction stuck with you for days. You knew her name; everyone knew her name. You just wanted to talk to her, and you weren't always the smoothest at flirting. But that new spot in your class next to the prettiest girl was enough to make you wake up early every other day. Soon your “friendly” awkward interactions in class became group projects together and movie nights in her dorm room. 

The two of you became "close,” almost best friends in a sense. You had countless sleepovers in her dorm. At the start, you were so nervous to sleep in that tiny bed next to her, so you slept on the floor with a few blankets and pillows. After a few uncomfortable nights, Cate invited you onto her bed. You were a little hesitant, but after you got into that small ass bed together and she watched you with those sparkling eyes, you loved it. 

 The small bed was scary at first, but after countless nights, you grew closer and closer. Not even closer as friends, but as the sleepovers became more frequent, you became closer literally. You used to be scared of touching her, even if you weren’t the one with mind control. You both slept on both edges of the bed, shoulder to shoulder. That was until Cate had a pretty shitty day and had invited you over. The both of you watched a movie on the couch together. You knew that there was no way she would touch you first, so you decided to rip off the bandage. 

"Hey, Hey…you okay?"  You ask softly, nudging her out of her trance. Her eyes snap over to you before she awkwardly adjusts herself, scooting further into the soft couch. “ y-yeah….” she says before you raise your eyebrow, reaching over to take her gloved hand in yours. “Okay…… I’m not. I just had a shitty day. Class was slow, and honestly, I really needed this." Cate sighs and smiles. You give her hand a little squeeze, and she is suddenly brought back to her hand. 

She looks down at your hands and back at your face. You had already turned back to the movie, so Cate laced her gloved fingers with yours as you lay your head on her shoulder. She stiffens a little but quickly relaxes as she wraps her arm around you as well. That soon transforms into tangled limbs and lingering touches. Those movie nights turned into make-out sessions after you asked Cate to be your girlfriend. 

You'd come over, and Cate would put on some Vought movie; somehow there was always a new movie to watch. Not that you were complaining; the two of you would only make it through the first 10 minutes before she scooted into your lap. She would always tighten her gloves, ensuring that she wouldn't slip up. You would always notice, but you never really commented on it. You knew it was a touchy subject for her, and you didn’t want to upset her. 

 The two of you have been dating for a few months, and you knew she was always so nervous about letting herself touch you. But after seeing the real Cate, your Cate, the Cate who loved movie nights and order in pizza and you, she knew she could just be herself and trust you; she just wasn’t sure she could trust herself yet. The idea that she would somehow take advantage of you or influence your feelings would cause her mind to race. She hated the possibility that she would hurt you and that you would break up with her and leave her alone. It haunted her nights, and tonight was one of them.

You had come over like usual for “movie night." It had become a weekly thing for you and Cate, almost like a date night type of thing. A night to wind down and forget about all of the assignments the two of you have. You were both lounging on the couch, wrapped up in a cozy blanket. Your fingers carded through her soft hair as you laid her head on your shoulder. You're both scrolling through all the movies you can watch before you hear three knocks at her door. Cate gasps, sitting up quickly off your shoulder, her eyes darting to the door and then back to you. 

“The food’s here!” Cate squeals, kissing you on the cheek before she bounds toward the door. Slowing down to a stop before she swings open the door. She pays the poor driver who had to find his way around the campus. She shuts the door behind her and makes her way back over to the couch as you clear the table. Cate places the warm paper bag on the table, taking out the food as you both ramble on about how hungry you are. 

Cate slips off her gloves and places them next to her on the couch. She took off her gloves sparingly, especially around other people. But she never liked getting her gloves dirty. The two of you ate together, discussing what movie the two of you should "watch." As the two of you finish eating, you clean up the bag and sit down next to Cate for the movie to start. She quickly reaches for her gloves, but you stop her. 

“Cate”. You say softly as you lean over, grabbing her arm, careful not to hurt her. “You don’t need to wear those around me." You say as Cate looks back at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she blinks. “What? But… What if I can’t control it? I..I sent my brother away. What if I hurt you too?”. She says, turning back at you. 

“You won't. Cate, I trust you so much. You're my girlfriend, and I know you don’t like them. I mean, you always complain about your hands being sweaty." You say, sincerely laughing a bit at the end as she rolls her eyes. “I'm being serious though; I trust you more than anything, Cate....and if you want, you never have to wear your gloves around me." You say, making sure she knows that you are being serious.  

Cate sighs “I-I don’t know, babe. I really don’t want to lose you." She says as she looks between her gloves and you. “You won't; I believe it. I really do. But if it's too much, we can take it slow, you know. I'm not saying we have to hold hands skin to skin." You ramble on before she cuts you off. “I-I want to. I want to." She repeats herself more firmly as she sighs, clearly contemplating. “I want to. I want to hold your hand and feel your skin against mine." She says as she puts down her gloves.

 “You sure?” You ask, to make sure that Cate is 100% ready. “I’m sure”. She repeats it back. You smile and reach out your hand, and Cate scoots closer to you, hesitantly taking your hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, and as you both relax, she starts to smile. “This is nice, and I'm not controlling you…right?" Cate says nervously giggling as you nod .She lets go of your hand, holding it in her other hand as she traces the lines on your palm. You smile back and lean forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

It almost opens a new part of Cate, a part that is vulnerable and not worried about hurting you. She smiles and reaches up both her hands to cup your face before she pulls you into a kiss. You kiss her back as she pushes a strand of hair away from your face. You sigh softly before leaning forward again to give her a kiss on the nose. She smiles back and shifts to sit in your lap. You push back on the couch, opening your arms as she settles onto your thighs. 

“Comfy?” You ask as she settles, and you give her a little pat on her thigh. “Yeah…it's perfect”. She sighs, grabbing your hand again and running her fingers along your palm. “Your skin is soft." Cate comments as she runs her fingers along your arm and then up to cup your jaw. “I put on lotion, I guess." You say, laughing a bit at the weird change of subject. She giggles back as she continues to run her fingers down your arm, tracing random swirls and shapes.

“Can we stay like this... all night?” She asks, tucking her head into your shoulder. “Sure, whatever you want, baby." You smile, turning your head to give her a kiss on the cheek. You grab her hand, and she intertwines her fingers with yours. The two of you relax as the movie continues to play in the background.

[twiishaa]

Hii thank you for the slumber party invite!!

i brought pink fluffy socks and we can watch a romcom and we should totally do karaoke after! may i suggest cool with you by new jeans? (post timeskip haikyu, and surprise me on the character!)

! 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 twisha’s 100 followers slumber party ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ - you and me, on my mind (quiet moments at the coffee shop)

semi x reader, wc approx. 600

check out the event!

—

your boyfriend’s cafe was like your safe little haven. small and atmospheric, it was quite a stark contrast to the other shops lining the streets, but it had its little charm. pushing the door open, the bell rang as you entered; you were hit with a flurry of warm air— it was always cosy in here.

“hello, welcome- oh! i thought you had work today,” your boyfriend, semi, said, looking up from behind the counter.

“oh, everyone was going out for drinks and i’d just much rather a vanilla latte than whatever cheap alcohol they’re getting.” you sat down at the stools.

semi chuckled a little. “well, you’d be in luck, because i actually already had a vanilla latte waiting for you,” he quipped, handing you a mug with your drink in it, warm to the touch.

“oh, you know me like no other,” you said in response, taking your latte. savouring the first sip, you looked around, admiring the decorations that were so familiar to you.

the interior of the cafe reflected your boyfriend perfectly. the walls were a shade of cherry red, adorned with vintage guitars and vinyls. the stools and furniture were made from mahogany, and in the corner was a vinyl player, currently playing cool with you, by newjeans.

but within the dark, loud decor, it was the quiet moments with semi that were the best.

moments like sitting at the counter, drinking your coffee while watching him add the finishing touches to the little pastries in the display. moments like getting to taste, trial and refine new flavours semi came up with.

—

you first met him in your last year of university, hunting for a new place to study. at first, you thought he was too… edgy, but your opinion completely changed after he let you stay after closing time, to study for a final the next day. he listened to you throughout most of the whole night, about your annoying professor, your roommate who threw a house party at your apartment even when you refused which was what led you here, even though you were supposed to be ‘studying’. ever since then, you started showing up every day to his coffee shop to study or to just keep him company while he worked.

semi, someone who you didn’t like to begin with, soon became the centre which your life slowly began to revolve around. the two of you were so close, the line between friends and lovers became blurred, dating just felt like the natural next step. even the old lady in the small antique shop thought you two were lovers! the day he asked you out, it was christmas eve. you had just left the cafe, when he had some sort of newfound determination: he couldn’t let you leave before he asked you out. maybe it was the festive air and christmas music getting to his head; but it was was long due. he ran after you, the crisp cold air leaving him breathless, and asked you out under the city lights. since then, it’s been history, i guess.

—

semi’s head perked up after hearing the song start.

“hey, you like this song, right? cool with you?”

“yeah, don’t you remember? the his was the song playing when we first met,” you smiled, looking at semi. the leather jacket he was wearing was your christmas gift to him last year.

—

your boyfriend’s little coffee shop was like your safe little haven. the crackly music from the vinyl player, and the memories of how his lattes warmed your hands, and over time, your heart too.

notes iris my love!! i hope you like it <33 i LOVE coffee shop aus so this was definitely fun on my part :)) it’s not really based off cool with you but more,, loosely inspired .. i hope it’s okay 🥹 thank you i love you all !! <3

[dreamylittlesugarcube]

Delivery

Genre: EXO AU

Characters: Yixing x Female Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: Your holiday stint as a food delivery worker isn’t going as well as you’d hoped. Will a chance meeting with a handsome bartender be just the gift you need? 

A/N: A very happy Secret Santa reveal to my giftee, @leewalberg. I hope this brings you some holiday cheer! It’s been great getting to chat with you about Yixing and our mutual love of baking and food! @exols-silver-christmas

*Please note: I do not own the image used, so credit should go to the original creator/owner.*

~*~

“I specifically said ranch, not mustard, you idiot!”

Sauce packets bounced off your helmet and for the millionth time tonight you wondered why you were subjecting yourself to this. 

Oh, that’s right–Christmas presents. Times were tough in this economy and gifts didn’t buy themselves. 

“ –um, HELLO, are you even listening to me?” Unfortunately. 

Restraining yourself, you fished a copy of the receipt out of your pocket and held it up for her inspection. “I’m sorry ma’am, but the receipt specifically said mustard and–”

“ –well you should have known what I meant!” she sputtered. “Who eats mustard on a pizza anyway? That’s so stupid!”

“Ma’am, I don’t tell anyone how to eat their food, I just deliver what’s in the bag.” You started to back away towards your moped, ready to be done with this conversation. “If there’s a problem with your order, please contact Food2You support and they’ll be able to offer you assistance.” With that, you got on your moped, strapped on your helmet, and backed out of the driveway, as the customer continued to scream about “lazy, good-for-nothings, don’t think you’re getting a tip”. 

And true to her word, you did not get a tip. She’d gone into the app and removed it. Sigh. 

Thankfully, the rest of your deliveries went without a hitch. You’d even scored an extra large tip from a heavy order of sushi platters to a penthouse suite downtown. With enough cash to add to your Christmas Fund, you figured you deserved a little treat of your own for what you’d had to deal with tonight. 

The craft beer passport burning your roommate had gotten you for your birthday was just burning a hole in the button of your purse, so you figured you might as well use it. Flipping through the pages, you noticed one included location was not far from here: The Black Sheep Bar & Bistro. It advertised itself as having local, custom brews paired with bites to complement the individual notes of each beer. Right up your alley.

As busy as it was downtown, you were lucky to find a parking spot not too far from the bar. From the outside, the bar looked welcoming with festive Christmas lights Upon entering, you were greeted by a friendly host, a tall dark-haired man who told you his name was Chanyeol. The dining room was dimly lit with pale yellow twinkle lights on the ceiling and a variety of booths and small tables that gave it a cozy, intimate atmosphere. Situated on the other end of the room, was a shiny, mahogany bar. The low hum of conversation was quiet, surprising, since it seemed like all the tables were filled. 

“It looks like we’re fully booked tonight, so unfortunately I don’t have a table for you.”

You were about to say “no problem”, when Chanyeol’s gaze shifted over your head. He paused for a second, then smiled. 

“ –unless you wouldn’t mind sitting at the bar? Looks like a spot just opened up.” 

It must have been your lucky night, as you soon found yourself promptly seated at the shiny, wooden bar, perusing the many drink and food options. Beer flights, specialty cocktails, and appetizer pairings with an array of global dishes that changed monthly, according to the menu. 

“So, what can I get started for you?” 

You looked up to see a handsome man, probably in his mid-twenties to early thirties. Blonde hair, dark eyes. Cute. Not that you were looking. He’s here to ask you for your order, not for you to ogle like a piece of meat. 

You cleared your throat. “Ummm…it’s my first time here and there’s so many good choices…do you have a recommendation?”

He took the menu and flipped through to the entree page. “We do small plates here, but some are more generous than others. If you’re hungry, the beep tenderloin with garlic potato puree is very popular. More adventurous, I’d recommend the bison barbeque sliders. And finally, my personal favorite, the loaded mini hotdog bites. They’re stuffed with cheese and caramelized onions.”

You scratched your chin in thought. “Hmm, I think I’ll take the hotdog bites, you made that sound really interesting.” 

“And to drink?”

“Whatever you have on tap that would go well with the buns.”

He finished scribbling on his little pad of paper. “Sounds good, I’ll go put this order right in. I’m Yixing, by the way, in case you need anything else”. He winked then walked away. 

You watched him as he went. Yixing. You knew his name!

After hanging your ticket at the kitchen window, he went about his business, taking orders, making drinks, chatting with guests who were clearly regulars. It was calming to watch him move about the bar; it was rhythmic and he flowed as though a dancer might. 

Finally, he came to you again, holding a pint of pale liquid and a plate of little bites made of what looked to be puff pastry. He presented them to you with a flourish. “Our brewmaster recommends a nice, amber ale to cut through the richness of the meat and complement the cheese and caramelized onions. Both the chef and the brewmaster are very open to feedback, so please let me know if it isn’t to your liking.” 

You dutifully followed his instructions, and mindful of his watchful gaze, attempted to take a some-what elegant bite out of the steaming mini hotdog bites. Not expecting to heat, you reached for your beer and chugged a third of the glass. Smooth. 

“Sorry, sorry! I should have warned you. People usually wait for them to cool off a bit.” Yixing said, pressing his hands together in repentance. 

You swallowed. “That’s okay, it’s my fault. They just looked so good that I couldn’t wait.”

“I’m the same way,” he said, grinning. “I’d rather look like a fire-breathing dragon, than wait a whole five minutes.”

You smiled, staring at his face and wishing you were better at small talk. Come on, think of something. You did improv in high school and this is what you have to show for it?

“...well, enjoy your first couple bites and let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

You tried to say something to get him to stay, you really did, but all you could manage was a small smile and a thumbs up. Oh my god, really, that’s all the game I have? 

He raised an eyebrow, returning your thumbs up with one of his own. You could swear you heard him chuckling as he walked away. 

You tried to eat your food slowly, taking small bites and even smaller sips of your drink to make your time here last longer. After an hour, you’d finally finished your food, taking your time to people-watch, well person-watch, without making it too obvious.  The bar had pretty much cleared out and only a few diners lingered in the restaurant. 

“Kitchen’s closing in five minutes, so last call for orders. Do you want anything else?” Yixing asked. He stepped towards you from the other end of the counter where he’d been drying glasses. Which you had not been watching him do. 

You were, in fact, very full. And honestly, at this time of day, you’d typically smash a bag of salty kettle chips and call it a night. 

“I think I’m good, I usually finish out my night with junk food, so I’m not used to eating rich food so late. I’ll take another order of the hotdog bites to go though, my roommate would kill me if I didn’t bring anything home for her.”

Yixing nodded and headed over to put in the order, but instead of stopping at the window, he went through the doors and all the way into the kitchen. Moments later, he was back and walking towards you. He stopped and thought for a second before bending down behind the counter. You heard rustling, as though he was looking for something. Finally, he popped back up with a look of conspiracy on his face. His eyes darted around, as though making sure the coast was clear, before shoving a small box across the bar to you. 

Peering in the box, you saw a variety of packaged snacks: Lay’s chips, rice crackers, Pocky, Kit-Kats, cream wafers, pretzels, and many more snacks you’d never seen before. You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what was happening. 

Having seen your confusion, Yixing leaned forward, to whisper. “I love junk food, but the brewmaster, Xiumin, is my gym partner and he’s very strict about food. I hide these here so I can eat them when he isn’t watching. You want one?”

Mesmerized at his closeness, you reached into the box and grabbed a snack, not caring which one you actually ended up with. You smiled, fingering the waxy material. “Well, then I appreciate you sharing your secret stash with me.”

“And you can’t tell Xiumin, okay?”

“Of course. I will guard your secret with my life.” You made a serious expression, thumping your hand over your chest in promise. It didn’t even matter that you had no idea who Xiumin was. You just liked the moment you were sharing. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you jump and you looked up to see a short dark-haired man with glasses wearing a chef’s uniform. He held a white, to-go box, no doubt your hot dog bites. His gaze shifted between you and Yixing, almost like he knew something was up. “You better put that away before Xiumin comes in here and sees that.” He jerked his chin towards the box of contraband. 

Yixing nodded, the box disappearing as though it had never been. 

The chef placed your food on the counter and slid it towards you. “Here you are ma’am, have a wonderful night and thank you for stopping at The Black Sheep Bar and Bistro.”

Taking that as your cue to leave, you slipped on your coat and grabbed the box. Looking up, you locked eyes with Yixing. “Thanks, uh, for the recommendation,” you held up the box and your bag of snack, “ –and um, thank you for the chat.” 

Yixing smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. Feel free to come back anytime. I’m always here.”

You nodded, feeling almost light-headed, before awkwardly stumbling out the door. Chanyeol bid you farewell, smiling slyly as you left, like he hadn’t just watched you stare at his bartender all night. 

Outside, you leaned against the wall, fighting off an existential crisis. He wanted you to come back. To see you again. Had he been flirting? Or was he just being nice, the same as he was to all customers? Did he give special secret snacks to all the girls at the bar? You hoped he didn’t. You texted your roommate that you needed some “girl talk”, hoping she’d catch on that there was an emergency here. 

Trudging up the stairs to your apartment, you let yourself in. And as expected, Jessica was waiting up with ice cream and an expectant expression. Handing off the takeout, you went to change your clothes, happy to get into some comfortable sweats. 

“Hey, did you meet a guy or something?” Jessica shouted from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, why?” you shouted back.

“Come take a look.”

You padded out to the kitchen, where Jessica was waiting with a gleeful expression. 

Look!” she exclaimed, turning the open takeout container, so you could see the open lid. The open lid with numbers written on it. Numbers that looked suspiciously like a phone number. 

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” you asked. 

“Yes!” Jessica squealed. “OMG spill, what happened? Because last time I heard from you you had mustard packets thrown in your face. This is SO much better than that!”

Jessica wouldn’t let you out of the room before you spilled all the dirty details. Not that there were any. 

“This is JUST like what happened in the drama I’ve been watching!” Jessica said, stamping her feet in excitement. “You HAVE to text him.” 

“And say what? ‘Hi, I’m the girl that you gave prohibited junk food to at the place of your employment that was staring at you all night because I think you’re hot?’ Besides, how do we know he even meant it for me?”

Jessica sighed. “Maybe because he wrote it on the back of your takeout container? Who else would it be for?”

“Okay, but what do I say?”

Jessica cracked her knuckles and patted you on the shoulder. “Thankfully, Big Sister Jessica is here, I don’t watch rom-coms for nothing.” She grabbed your phone and proceeded to type. 

You peered at the screen over her shoulder. “ ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl.’  That’s what you came up with? No, ‘Hi, it’s Chips Girl, thanks for tonight, what are you up to? Want to get married?’.”  

“Nope, we’re giving an air of mystery, darling. He has to make the next move.” 

Your phone buzzed in Jessica’s hand. Jessica squealed while you tried to remember to breathe. She handed you the phone, staring pointedly, as you read what was on the screen.

“Hi Chips Girl ;). I was hoping you’d get my message. I was wondering…if you wanted more chips…maybe tomorrow at 6:00 at the movie theater next to the bar?”

“He asked you on a date, OMG!” Jessica screeched, running into your room. “Come on, let’s go,” she called, “outfits don’t plan themselves.”

You sent off a quick “Yes, that sounds nice!” text, holding the phone to your chest. 

Smiling to yourself, you thought perhaps this day hadn’t been bad at all. “Merry Christmas to me,” you whispered. A perfect present for a perfect Christmas. 

~*~

I hope you enjoyed reading “Delivery”. I love writing food and restaurant themed fics for EXO because it just fits so well! Thanks for reading!

XOXO, 

Emmy

[lilolilyr]

Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat!

Thank you! Happy Halloween to you too :D

Ask box trick or treat

You're getting my first draft to a part of last year's Bering and Wells Advent calendar :D

On Christmas day, Myka woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of quiet Christmas music playing in the living room. It was early, but at least it wasn’t 5am - she smiled, happy that Pete and Claudia stuck to the compromise she had agreed on with them last year, when they had woken up at the crack of dawn and noisily called out to open presents, annoying everyone else who wanted to sleep in for once.

Myka sat up, never one to lounge around in bed for long when she was already awake. It would be fun to see what everyone had gotten each other. She didn’t think most people in shared houses exchanged gifts, but she, Leena, Pete and Claudia were much closer than just roommates, and they were lucky that Steve and Helena had so seamlessly integrated into their family.

Helena!

Myka almost fell from her bed in shock when the events of the past days came back to her, waking her up more fully and abruptly than a whole can of coffee could’ve.

She quickly put together her outfit for today - thankfully, she had already planned her Christmas morning outfit in advance and so didn’t have to worry about what to wear - and took the box of gifts from underneath a pile of paperwork inside her desk drawer, one of the least likely spots for Pete to try and look for them. She had gotten Helena a book, back when she had still been trying to ignite the whole crush-situation, and it seemed a bit of a lackluster present now that they were together, but Myka hoped she would still like it. It wasn’t like either of them had had time to go shopping yesterday, after their date Myka had been roped into baking Christmas cookies and Helena had been called into the office for some last minute meetings to make sure she could at least have Christmas day off work, so Helena wouldn’t have gotten a gift for Myka as her girlfriend either, just one for her flatmate as Myka had for her. Maybe, they could exchange gifts again at their one month anniversary or something. And of course Valentine’s Day would be coming up soon after that! Myka perked up at the thought of still being with Helena in February, and getting another chance to get her a more personal gift as well.

While she was going through the bag, making sure she had all the gifts, there was a quiet knock on the door.

“Yes?” Myka asked just as quietly, confident by the noise level that it wasn’t Pete on the other side of the door, and quite hoping for it to be-

“Helena.”

“Good morning, darling.” Helena quickly sneaks into her room and closes the door behind her. “I’m glad I was able to catch you, I was hoping to give you your first Christmas gift in private…”

“I didn’t get you anything- I mean, I did, but just as a friend gift, I mean, before - before yesterday…”

“Ah, don’t worry, I didn’t exactly get you another gift either, and I admit I was holding back when I was shopping for you as I wasn’t yet certain how welcome you would be of my advances - but

Xx not what meant

Xx kiss

Xx happy Christmas

Xx walk in hand in hand

Pete I knew it! Xx

[intofclklore]

erin’s never been to a harrington family christmas party, nor would she like to attend one, but she can assume that they’re unbearable without something to drink to get through it. this is more or less proven as fact for her when a very drunk steve harrington calls her at the end of the night. 

it’s around eleven, on christmas eve. she’d been in bed with a book, unable to sleep but knowing she should be trying. it’s weird being back in this bed, even though it’s only been a few months since she left for school. she’d just gotten used to her new room, her new mattress, and now she’s here again. steve’s voice is a welcomed distraction from that. she can hear the rustle of sheets in the background of steve’s slurred speech and knows she’s not the only one in bed.

“you could have woken my parents with the phone, steve,” she chastises him, but her tone’s not harsh. he didn’t, so it’s fine. 

they don’t have a landline in their room. it’s just in the kitchen, and in erin’s room. ‘so you can talk to all your friends,’ her mother had said when she insisted they put the second phone in her room a few years ago. it had felt like a waste at the time since she didn’t speak to anyone on the phone regularly, and it felt like an even bigger one now that the phone occupied the room and she didn’t. 

“‘m sorry… wanted to talk to you… wanted to say merry christmas…” even drunk, he manages to make erin’s stomach do flips. 

she reminds herself she’s the one who had told him they needed to slow things down, she needed more time. a couple of good weeks weren’t going to fix everything between them. but she can’t deny… sometimes she really can’t remember why she’d ever make such a dumb decision. 

“merry christmas, steve,” she says back to him. she’s whispering, both for the sake of her sleeping parents, and because she feels the need to match steve’s own soft spoken, low voice. it sounds particularly deep over the phone, she can almost feel the rumble of it. it makes her palms sweat. 

she asks about his family’s party. he asks what her own plans are. he wants to know when he’ll see her, if he’ll see her, before she leaves again.

he has a gift for her.

more stomach flips.

“you don’t have to give me anything,” she insists. “i didn’t… i didn’t get you anything.” she tries not to remember the last time she gave him a gift, how things had fallen apart so quickly after that. no correlation, but she still connects the two things in her mind. it’s hard not to. 

“that’s okay,” he says, and she believes him, but she still hates receiving presents if she’s not giving something in return. it leaves her with a sick, guilty feeling that lingers into the new year. 

money’s been tight with the munson family. it always is, but the past year has been especially rough with everything happening in hawkins plus erin going off to school. her scholarship covers most things, but she’s still working a part time job in between classes and soccer, and her parents have been helping. her gift buying money wasn’t as much as she’d have liked. that meant homemade gifts for the girls on her team and her roommate at the dorms, thrifted things for her parents, and the one nice gift going to eddie. she thinks he deserves it the most after everything. 

“i’d feel bad,” she admits to him. then she pauses, curiosity getting the better of her. “what is it though?” 

his laughter makes her heart race. “you’ll see,” he tells her. 

and maybe it’s just because it’ll be an excuse to see him, but she doesn’t argue. she’ll steal something from the kitchen to take him in return. there’s nothing home baked, but the store bought christmas cookies are better than anything her or her family members could possibly make would be. 

instead of telling him this, or saying anything else sweet, she tells him, “i’ll bring you the coal you deserve.” 

it’s her version of flirting, but it’s not even true. steve deserves holiday cheer and gifts more than almost anyone in hawkins. in all of indiana, even. he doesn’t seem to take it to heart, laughing again. 

but then, his tone shifts as he asks, “yeah? have i been naughty this year?”

something warm turns in the pit of her stomach, and she almost coughs into the phone, choking on her own breath. steve’s voice is low, almost… no. 

she doesn’t want to say it’s suggestive. 

but it kind of is. 

erin absolutely does not know how to respond to this, not in the way to escalate something like this. he probably does, and thinking about him knowing how to do this makes her cheeks burn even more. 

“erin?” he prompts, when she’s silent for too long. 

her voice cracks when she speaks. “yeah?” she clears her throat. “yeah, sorry. uh, no. you’ve… you’ve been a really good guy this year.” 

if she’s trying to have a touching holiday moment, steve isn’t picking up on it. “yeah? have i been a good boy?” 

her eyes go wide. “steve!”

he cackles, sounding like he knows exactly what he’s doing to her. 

“you’re drunk, go to bed,” she tells him.

“i’m in bed,” he replies, petulant. 

“you know what i mean. go to sleep.”

he does, but not right away. neither of them hang up yet, erin managing to stumble through the goodnights and goodbyes while her face slowly cools. they make plans, for a day in between christmas and new years. and then for new years eve, too. steve knows someone throwing a party, and erin reluctantly agrees to go. it feels bizarre, thinking about showing up to a party where steve will actually not only be seen speaking to her, but be seen arriving with her. 

if she thought this past year was wild, the next one is already shaping up to be something else.

[garagebandvanfleet]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Pairing: Josh x female!reader

Warnings: swearing, cliche Christmas story, slight juck slander

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Christmas time fluff of meeting Josh for the first time (sort of)

Notes: I haven’t written in years so please go easy on my poor heart. That being said, I will always welcome polite feedback! This was supposed to be so much shorter I got carried away. -

You hummed along to a Christmas tune as you rolled out the dough for cookies, prepping to cut them out in the shapes of trees, Santas, stars, and bells. You laughed to yourself, catching your appearance in the window above your kitchen sink. Flour covered your cheek and forehead. You leave the flour on your face, proof to yourself of all the baking you’ve done today. 

You jumped slightly when the door to your apartment opened, your roommate flashed you a smile as she attempted to carry more presents than she should without dropping them, toeing off her snow-covered boots. 

“Want some help?” You laughed as she nodded. You took some presents from her and helped her carry them to the living room, placing them under the tree. She turned to you and gave you an overly sweet smile. 

“Yes, I’ll help you get the rest of the presents from the car.” Knowing your friend so well meant knowing she had no control when it came to buying her loved ones gifts for the holidays. 

“Have I ever told you you’re the best?” She asked as she slipped her boots back on. 

“Oh you have, but it’s always nice to hear. Or be reminded through amazing Christmas gifts.” You gave her an exaggerated smile as you slipped on some Birkenstocks. 

“Y/N what are you doing? It’s like 20 degrees outside and it's snowing. Put on some real shoes before you lose a toe to frostbite.” She scolded you. 

“I’ve worn less in colder.” You simply shrugged, turned her around, and lightly pushed her out the door towards the car.

You both unloaded most of the presents and placed them under the tree. Your friend did indeed buy more presents than necessary, telling her she’s lucky she has a well-paying job and no kids to take care of. 

On your last trip to the car, you slipped slightly on a patch of ice in your driveway, but you managed to stay on your feet. “Watch out for that patch of ice!” You warned your friend who already had her arms full of presents. Once you grabbed the rest of the gifts you shut her car door with your hip, making your way back towards your apartment. 

The mound of presents in your arms made it impossible for you to see right in front of you. The patch of ice you warned your friend about earlier decided to try a second time to get you to fall on your ass and fall on your ass you did. 

Your foot was swept from under you, causing you to fall straight back on your butt then down on your back. You peeked up to see you hadn’t dropped any of the presents, internally patting yourself on the back. 

You began laughing. The fall, thankfully, didn’t hurt and you were just thankful no one was around to see your embarrassing tumble. 

“Oh shit, are you alright?” Before you could respond someone was standing above you. You couldn’t see his face that well, the only light coming from your motion sensor light by your front door. 

Even though you couldn’t see him well you could tell he was pretty. He was wearing a winter hat, some curls peeking out from underneath. Thick eyebrows pulled down in concern cast shadows over his eyes, if you had to guess you’d say they were brown. He had a red and white checkered scarf pulled up over his chin. His upper half was covered in a thick black winter jacket while he wore khaki-colored pants on his lower half and a pair of beat-up white shoes on his feet.

Your laughter died down to giggles, cheeks red from both the cold and embarrassment that someone had indeed seen you fall. You realized you never answered him, so you nodded and he seemed to relax a bit - a smile slowly spreading on his face.

God, even his smile was pretty.

“Let me take some of those so you can get up. Aren’t you freezing? You aren’t even wearing a coat and you’re wearing sandals!” The man said as he grabbed a couple of presents from you. 

“I’m cold just looking at you.” You heard another voice say. You sat up and saw three other men standing not too far behind the pretty one. You didn’t think you could call him the pretty one anymore. As you looked at the other three men you could tell they were all pretty too. 

“Did you all see me fall?” You asked, suddenly aware of the snow going down the back of your shirt causing you to shiver from the cold. 

“Oh no…Sam didn’t.”

“Yeah, I was looking at the dog across the street,” Sam said. Sam. Why did that name sound familiar?

The other three men came over and grabbed the remaining presents from you. The one who originally came to your aid held his hand out to help you up. He pulled you up and helped you brush some of the snow from your shoulders and back. 

“Want us to help you take the presents inside?” The one with long chestnut-colored hair asked. 

You thought about it for a moment. Should you let four random guys who were randomly in your driveway at night into your apartment? You weren’t sure what it was, but they seemed trustworthy. 

So you nodded, beginning to walk towards your door, and motioned for them to follow. “If you guys turn out to be robbers I should let you know I’ll put all my energy into beating you up.”

You could hear chuckles come from behind you. You turned your head to look over your shoulder and made eye contact with Sam. Now with the lighting of your stairwell, you could better make out their faces, although they were still partially covered in their winter gear. You knew you had seen them before, but you couldn’t place where.

“Shoes off!” You said as you entered the kitchen. The four men complied with your request, unwrapping their scarves and discarding their hats onto the counter. When you could see their faces a lightbulb went off. 

“Hey! I know you guys. We met at Kate’s New Year's Eve party last year.” Kate was your upstairs neighbor. And unlike some, you had a great relationship with her. You both always said hello in passing and have invited each other to one another’s get-togethers. 

“Was waiting to see how long it would take you to realize.” The one, you think his name is Jake, snickered as Sam handed him a five-dollar bill. 

“Did you make a bet on me remembering you?” You laughed loudly, finding pure amusement in Sam’s sour expression.

“Eh, you were pretty hammered when we last met. Personally, I’m impressed you remembered it at all.” The pretty one said, for some reason, his name wasn’t coming to you. To this day your mind still hasn’t fully pieced together that entire night, what you do remember is waking up the next day with your makeup smeared all over your face and an intense headache. 

You let out another laugh and nodded your head. “Presents go in the living room, under the tree.” You said, pointing towards your living room. 

They nodded and made their way in the direction you pointed. After the presents were placed where instructed they came back out into the kitchen. You thanked the four of them as they slipped back into their shoes and grabbed their hats. Sam took a right out your door and started to walk upstairs towards Kate’s apartment. 

You looked at the remaining three with a confused expression. 

“Our flight got delayed until tomorrow and we thought instead of paying for a hotel we’d crash with Kate - Danny’s cousin,” Jake said, smiling as he saw your expression turn into one of understanding. 

“Sorry, you thought we were some random weirdos in your driveway,” Danny said with a small smile. 

“Sorry I threatened to beat you up.” You lightly laughed. 

“It’s okay.” The pretty one said while shrugging. “We’ll just come back and steal some cookies later.”

“Deal.” You said with a bright smile, liking the idea of getting to see him again. 

You thanked them again as they headed up to your neighbor's apartment. When the door was shut you raced to your friend’s room, slamming the door open. She let out a shriek and covered her bare chest as she was in the middle of changing into her pajamas. 

“Relax, I've seen your boobs countless times.” You said, waving a dismissive hand at her. 

“I heard men’s voices and thought it was one of them coming to rob me of my innocence!” 

You let out a loud laugh. “You and I both know you lost your innocence a long time ago.” She gave you a look that said ‘good point’ and continued getting dressed. 

“Okay listen! I was outside grabbing the rest of the presents and I fell - the presents are okay - and this angel of a man came to help me but I couldn’t see his face and there were three other guys whose faces I couldn’t see and they offered to help bring the presents inside and so they did and then when I saw their face I realized we met them at Kate’s New Years Eve party and I’m pretty sure I embarrassed myself in front of them at the party because they remembered me so that obviously means I did something to humiliate myself and now they’re upstairs crashing at Kate’s because apparently, she is Danny’s cousin!” You said all that in one breath, chest heaving as you took in air. 

You looked at your friend whose eyes were wide. She blinked a few times before smiling. “Are any of them cute?” She asked with a toothy grin. 

“Of course they’re cute! That’s not the point.” You whined, flailing your arms about. 

“Did you at least flirt?” She asked as she brushed out her wet hair. 

“They watched me fall straight on my ass, no, I did not flirt.”

Your friend rolled her eyes. “You haven’t been on a date in months and you don’t flirt with four attractive men?”

“First off, if I recall, two of them have girlfriends that they were at the party with. Second, I can’t even remember the name of the pretty one!” Your roommate raised her eyebrows at your nickname for the not-so-stranger, stranger. “I think it starts with J…Jake? Nope, that's the other one. Justin? No that’s not it. Juck? That’s not even a name, that’s the car he drives. How do I remember the vehicle he drives but not his name?”

“If a man drives a Jeep truck you never forget it, that fact burns into your brain.” Your roommate said. “It’s Josh by the way.”

“Josh! Yes, thank you!” 

“Pretty sure you threw up on his shoes too.”

You made a noise close to a squawk of a bird. “I did what? Oh God, this day just gets better and better. If you need me I’m going to finish making the cookies and maybe I’ll fall into the oven and burn to a crisp.” You pouted, making your way back towards the kitchen. 

“Fire extinguisher is under the sink!” Your friend called out. “Oh, and you have flour on your face.” 

- 

You were putting the finishing sprinkles on the cookies when you heard a knock at your door. Wiping your hands on your apron, you opened the door to see Kate.

“Hi, neighbor.” You greeted. She returned your greeting but didn’t say anything further. “Come to borrow a cup of sugar?” You joked.

Kate laughed. “Actually I’ve come to ask a huge favor.” She fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater. You smiled at her and nodded your head for her to continue. 

“Well, I kind of overestimated how big my apartment is and underestimated how much room my cousin and his friends take up. Could two of the guys possibly stay here with you? They said they remember you from my party and so I figured it wouldn’t be as weird.” You could tell she felt uncomfortable asking you. 

You have always been a giving person. So while you wanted to say no to save yourself from further embarrassment, you found yourself agreeing. “Yeah, of course, I’ll leave the door unlocked so they can just come down whenever.”

Kate smiled brightly and pulled you into a tight hug, thanking you as she bounded up the stairs and back to her apartment. 

You decided to take a shower, ridding your face of flour and icing. When you emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in your plaid flannel pajama pants and an oversized white t-shirt you could hear voices coming from your living room. 

You looked to your left and saw your friend’s bedroom door is closed. Assuming she’s already in bed you shoot her a text letting her know of the situation so she isn’t surprised seeing two guys in your apartment in the morning. 

You went into your room and did your nighttime routine before you made your way into the living room, seeing Jake and Josh. You see one on each couch, wrapped in blankets they got from the back of said couches. Jake looked at you and smiled, wiggling his feet that were hanging off the arm of the loveseat. 

“Uh uh.” You said, shaking your head. The two looked at you, clearly confused. “You’re not sleeping on the couch. You guys can take my room and I’ll take the couch. I just washed my sheets too so everything is clean.” You turned to go back towards your room to grab your favorite blanket and a pillow. 

When you turned around the two were standing there looking at you disapprovingly. “Y/N we can’t take your room, this is your place,” Josh said while moving his hands about in a wild manner. 

“Not up for debate.” You said, pointing at them. To which they responded by holding both their hands up in surrender. 

You had a rule, whenever you had a guest over they slept in your room - no acception. You found it rude to make someone sleep on your couch just because you and your roommate couldn’t afford a three-bedroom in the area. 

They both began to strip off their shirts. You quickly averted your gaze as a deep blush rose to your cheeks. 

“Night guys.” You said, stealing a glance at them both before making your way to your living room. The Christmas tree was still lit, creating a soft glow in the room. Settling into the couch, you get comfortable and attempt to fall asleep. After 30 minutes of tossing and turning the best you can on the narrow couch, you give up and turn on the TV. You search through streaming services until you land on Jim Carrey’s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas.

Now nearing the end of the Polar Express you still felt wide awake. You check your phone to see 1:36 am. Letting out a sigh you let your phone fall to the carpet, shifting to your side. 

Just then you heard a creak of the floorboards. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw Josh tiptoeing out of your room, thankfully with a shirt on. 

“What are you doing?” You whispered to him. He jumped slightly, putting his hand over his chest.

“Jeez Y/N you scared me! I thought you were asleep.”

Simply shrugging your shoulders you continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer to your question. 

Josh chuckled. “Couldn’t sleep. Jake snores, so I thought I’d come out and steal a cookie. If that’s alright of course.” He looked slightly embarrassed that he was caught. 

Smiling brightly you nodded. “Only if you grab me one too, please.” He returned your smile and nodded before making his way towards the kitchen. 

“Alright, I didn’t know what shape you wanted so I brought one of each.” He stated as he set a napkin with four cookies onto your coffee table.

You sat up slightly and moved your legs so that he could sit down. He thanked you before taking his seat at the opposite end of the couch. 

“The Christmas tree ones are the best.” You said as you plucked the tree-shaped cookie from the napkin. 

“Hmm, I’d have to disagree. The stars are superior.” He countered with a smile. You’d like to think that smile is quickly becoming one of your favorite things. 

“Agree to disagree.” You said as you clink your cookies together, the same way you would two beer bottles.

“Favorite Christmas movie?” Josh asked after he swallowed his bite of cookie. 

“Home Alone for sure. Once when I was like six I put a bunch of booby traps around the house as he does in the movie. Let's just say my parents were not impressed.” Josh let out a loud laugh, quickly placing his hand over his mouth to not wake up Jake and your roommate.

“What about you?” You inquired. 

“I’m a man who appreciates the classics. It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, occasionally Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.”

You smiled and grabbed the remote from your coffee table. You pulled up It’s a Wonderful Life and hit play. Josh and you sat in comfortable silence, attention focused on the movie playing.

“So, I’m assuming you don’t remember our encounter at Kate’s party?” You didn’t make eye contact with Josh, being able to tell by his voice that he had a large grin on his face. 

“Not initially, but I was informed.” You said, trying to keep your face neutral. 

“About what part? The emptying of your stomach contents onto my shoes or you trying to kiss me at midnight?” 

That got your attention as you whipped your head towards him, eyes as wide as they would go. “I tried to do WHAT?!” Now it was your turn to cover your mouth with your hand. 

Josh tried to contain his laughter but you could tell it was difficult for him. “If I remember correctly that was post-vomiting and pre-Danny having to carry you down to your apartment.”

“This truly is the most embarrassing day of my life.” You mumbled, shaking your head.

“Oh yeah, definitely embarrassing for you. I had to throw my shoes out.” Josh joked, pointing down to his feet.

“Alright, Josh I get it.” You laughed, despite your embarrassment, you found it funny. 

“I will admit, I still wonder what it would’ve been like to kiss you at midnight. If you hadn’t just gotten sick and if you had been sober.” Now it was his turn to blush a light crimson. You decided it was a good look on him - blushing. 

“Maybe one day you’ll get to find out.” Josh looked your way and you shrugged, trying to play it off like you didn’t want to get up on your coffee table and do a happy dance at the idea of Josh wanting to kiss you. 

You both settled back into a comfortable silence as you finished the movie. At one point you felt your eyelids getting heavy. You fought off sleep, wanting to soak up as much time with Josh as you could - even if there was no conversation passing between the two of you. 

You felt Josh’s hands lightly wrap around your ankles as he gently tugged your legs to rest over his lap. He covered you both with a blanket before turning to look at you and smiling. 

“Go to sleep Y/N.” He whispered, his own eyes struggling to stay open. 

Not having the energy to argue, you nod. Before you let sleep overtake you, you mumbled a quiet “Goodnight Josh.” Not staying awake long enough to hear his answer. 

-

Jake woke up before anyone else, not seeing Josh sleeping next to him, he assumed his twin was in the kitchen making coffee. He made his way out of your room as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. What Jake didn’t expect was to see you and Josh still fast asleep on the couch.

Upon further exploration, he found Josh still asleep in an upright position, and your legs still laid over his lap. Your hand rested on your stomach, Josh’s hand placed overtop yours. Even in his unconscious state, his thumb rubbed soft circles into the flesh. 

“Well, that’s cute as shit,” Jake said as he pulled out his phone to take a photo, already planning on how he’d tease Josh about it later.

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Christmas Week 2021 - Day 1: Everything that could've went wrong went wrong this year.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: The pandemic has ensured that you're not going home for Christmas. At least you have your roommate Pietro to keep you company.

Rating: Teen and up

Word Count: 4179

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Christmas Masterlist.

Taglist: @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @ifilwtmfc

Taglist info.

Notes:

Warnings: swearing, mentions of COVID and lockdowns.

I did research on the stuff related to Hanukkah etc because it's important to me that Pietro is Jewish, but apologies if I got anything wrong. I have Jewish heritage but I wasn't raised Jewish.

---

“Shit!” The word was accompanied by a loud clatter. Curious, you exited your room to find Pietro, a suitcase dropped unceremoniously at his feet.

He was dressed in his coat and shoes, staring hard at the phone in his hand. You frowned. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“What?” He looked up at you, scrunching up his nose in a way that you found painfully adorable. Having a major crush on one of your best friends and roommates really sucked sometimes.

“I said are you leaving without saying goodbye?”

“No.” There was no humour in his voice or his expression. You had been smiling playfully at him, but your face fell. “I’m not leaving.”

“…What?”

“My flight has been cancelled.” His tone was completely flat.

You stared at him. “Can you book another one?” It was the December 20th. There was still time. Maybe.

“They’ve all been cancelled. New COVID restrictions.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was holding all of his stress in his shoulders, you could see it.

“… Shit.”

He sat down heavily on the sofa, still wearing his coat. “I was about to leave. And I was going to say goodbye, by the way.”

“I know,” you said gently. You sat down beside him, an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Slowly, you pulled your phone out of your pocket and, with trembling fingers, checked your emails. Your heart sank. “Mine’s been cancelled too.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, blinking back tears.

Pietro put his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. He smelt faintly of aftershave and shampoo and his firm chest was warm and solid under your cheek.

“I am sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s not your fault.”

And it was true. You had ruined Christmas, not him. The rest of your roommates, including Wanda, had all left to go home to their families at the beginning of winter break, but Pietro had to work, so you’d stayed a little longer.

Maybe it was because you didn’t want him to be alone. Maybe you wanted to be alone with him. Either way, he had welcomed the company. And now you were both stuck here in lockdown for Christmas.

He shifted slightly, leaning back so he could look you in the eye. “You’re here because of me.”

“That’s not true. I’m here because…” He gave you a look, and you trailed off.

“Well… What do we do now?”

*

Your family had been upset, but there was nothing any of you could do about it now. As a Christmas gift, your parents contributed some money for you to have your own Christmas.

You had roped Pietro into obtaining, putting up and decorating the tree. He hadn’t been enthusiastic about it to begin with, but the idea had grown on him.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You hummed non-committally. You were balancing on a footstool, trying to attach a paper chain to the wall.

“You’re not looking!” he said petulantly.

“Busy,” you said, your voice muffled by the Sellotape you were holding in your mouth. The floorboards creaked behind you, a tell-tale sign that he was sneaking up on you. “Don’t, Pietro, I might fall off this stool and die.”

“You will not die,” said Pietro, directly behind you now.

“You don’t know that.” Paper chain now secured to the wall, you turned to look at him, and immediately started giggling.

He had many, many strings of tinsel draped over his shoulders and arms, and some tied around his waist.

“Where did you even get all of those?”

“The store,” he said, shrugging. He had taken one last trip to the supermarket to get the basics, as well as some decorations. “You said to get some.”

“Exactly. I said some, Pietro. Not enough to make yourself an outfit with.”

He threw up his hands. “You know I don’t know Christmas! You should’ve been more specific.”

“You can think of this as a learning experience.”

You’d been learning a lot from each other recently. During Hanukkah, about three weeks ago, you’d had plenty of questions for Wanda and particularly Pietro. Part of you had worried that you were annoying him, or crowding him, but he was always patient and told you everything you wanted to know. You’d watched him light the menorah every evening, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was cute when he thought no one was looking at him.

So now you were returning the favour.

He was looking at you now, a look of amusement on his face that made your stomach tingle. Feeling your skin heating up under his gaze, you turned away quickly. Too quickly, in fact.

You overbalanced, slipping off the stool and crying out. Behind you, Pietro swore, and then his arms were around your waist. It wasn’t enough though. You toppled him, and the two of you landed in a pile on the floor next to the Christmas tree.

You were on top of him, sideways on, your forearm leaning on his chest.

“Ow,” he said, wincing.

“Sorry.” You tried to roll off him, but his arms were still around you. “P?”

He gave you one of his signature boyish smiles. “We could just stay here. I could use a nap.”

You cracked a grin. “On the floor?”

“I’m resourceful. I can nap anywhere.”

“I know you can.”

“But I like napping with you best.”

Your heart fluttered. It was stupid. Pietro was a touchy-feely guy. He had napped with all of your roommates at one point or another. Well, apart from Nat. Nat would’ve stabbed him if he’d even asked.

It didn’t mean anything.

“The couch is right there,” you said.

“I know, but-”

You unclasped his arms from around you. “I’m going to finish the tree. You can help, or you can nap. That’s up to you.”

Pietro let out a tut of disappointment as you got to your feet.

*

You scrolled through the online supermarket, feeling more daunted with every passing moment.

“Are you going to get turkey?” asked Pietro, looking over your shoulder.

“No. There’s only two of us.”

“You could get turkey slices.”

“I could,” you said, feeling uncertain.

“How are you cooking the potatoes?” The two of you had agreed that you, being more experienced with Christmas dinners, would take charge of the cooking and he would be your sous chef, assisting in whatever way he could.

“I… I don’t know.” You scrubbed a hand over your face. Tears were prickling at your eyes threateningly.

There was a list of dishes that you’d written on a piece of paper in front of you. They were all things your parents would usually cook, but only now were you considering the logistics of cooking all of those things. You had no idea what you were doing.

“What’s wrong?” Pietro sat down beside you on the sofa, watching your face.

“I…” Your breath hitched and you saw Pietro’s expression change from confusion to alarm as the tears spilled over.

Tentatively, he said your name. You couldn’t look at him. In your peripheral vision, you could see him hold his arms out in the offer of a hug. You shuffled into them, feeling humiliated.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated as you buried your face into his warm chest. You were practically in his lap, but you were trying not to think about it. He was your best friend. He was comforting you. This was normal. It didn’t mean anything.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” The words burst out of you suddenly, and once the dam was broken, you couldn’t stop. “I don’t know how to make any of this stuff. I wanted to have a Christmas – a real, normal Christmas – but I can’t because I’m useless and I’m starting to wonder what the point of any of this even is.”

Pietro’s hand had found its way into your hair, tracing soothing patterns into your scalp. You leant into his touch.

“You are not useless,” he said firmly. “Most people doing all of this shit have way more planning time than you’ve had. You are not useless, you just have less time.”

“Huh.” It was a good point. You leant back a little, looking up at him.

“You said you wanted a real, normal Christmas,” he said. “What does that mean?”

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. The two of you adjusted your positions, so that you were sitting next to each other, but his arm was still around your shoulders. You were staunchly trying to ignore the heat building under your skin.

“Well… On Christmas morning, my siblings and I would wake up to see if Santa had come. We’d take our stockings of presents to our parents’ room. As kids we’d all get into their bed together, but it’s a bit of tight squeeze now. And then we’d all open our presents from Santa.”

“Uh-huh,” said Pietro. There was a small half-smile on his face. You realised that you were smiling too. “Go on.”

“And then we’d have breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs. And we’d drink champagne and orange juice.”

“What else?”

“Well… My parents would get started on cooking Christmas dinner. Me and my siblings would help prepare the vegetables and set the table, and we’d also watch Christmas movies. We’d usually open presents throughout the day, so we didn’t use them up all at once.”

Pietro was grinning at you now. “I understand. At Hanukkah we’d receive a present every day. Some of the presents were boring but it was always exciting to get something. What would happen after dinner?”

“Movies, usually. Games. Like charades. Playing with our new toys. Chocolate. It’s just a time to relax and spend time with our family.”

Suddenly, the reason that you were telling Pietro all this came back to you, and you frowned. You wouldn’t be spending time with family this year, except maybe on a Zoom call. It stung.

“What if we forget the Christmas dinner?” suggested Pietro.

“What?”

“It seems complicated. It will only stress you out. We could do it the Jewish-American way and order Chinese food.”

“But you’re not Jewish-American.”

“I’m Jewish, and I’m in America. It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing,” you said, but you were smiling. There was a tinge of disappoint to it, but you knew he was right. Even if you made the perfect Christmas dinner, it still wouldn’t feel the same as if you were spending Christmas with your family. So you would do something different. “I’m down. I love Chinese food.”

*

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, you were pretty sure you were ready for the main event, but an air of melancholy had settled over the whole apartment. By 6pm, you were lying back on the sofa, flicking aimlessly through the TV channels, trying to find something that wouldn’t depress you. The spirit of Christmas and the importance of family were everywhere.

“Hey,” said Pietro, coming to sit down on the arm of the sofa.

“Hey…”

“What are you watching?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Can I sit?”

There was a whole other sofa a couple of feet from the one you were on, but you obliged, lifting up your legs so that he could sit down beside you. Once he was settled, you laid your legs across his lap.

“Talk to me,” he said softly. “What is upsetting you?”

You dropped the TV remote on the coffee table and looked at him.

“Just the usual. I’m feeling depressed. I miss my family.”

His big, warm hand stroked your shin tenderly. It was a friendly gesture, but your mind immediately jumped to the possibility of him sliding his hand up between your legs and you had to push the thought away.

“I understand,” he said. “It really hurt that I wasn’t home for Hanukkah this year.”

Hanukkah had fallen in early December, meaning that Pietro and Wanda had both been in the midst of classes and exams, and so were unable to go back to Sokovia. You and your other roommates, Nat and Clint, had all done your best to cheer them up, but you could tell they were still unhappy about it.

“And I thought,” he continued, interrupting your train of thought, “that at least I could go home over winter break. But I can’t. And part of me is happy for Wanda that she managed to get out before the lockdown, but the selfish part wishes that she was stuck here too. I know that makes me an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole,” you said. Sometimes it felt as though the twins could communicate telepathically. Their rooms were side by side. They hated being apart.

“I am an asshole. You’re stuck here because of me. You’re missing Christmas because of me.”

“I’m not-”

“Don’t lie to me.” His hand on your shin had stilled. You felt its firm presence there – not quite holding you in place, but almost – and had to suppress a shiver. “You can pretend that you stayed because you didn’t want to spend all break with your family, but I know the real reason why.”

Your heart was in your throat. Pietro was staring at you, his blue eyes piercing into yours. “Why?”

“Because you felt sorry for me,” he said, slumping back against the sofa. He had released your leg, leaving you feeling a little bereft. “You didn’t want me to have to spend a week alone before I got to go home, so you stayed with me, and you got stuck.”

You watched his face. He was leaning back, his head tilted against the back of the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

“If I did do that – and I’m not saying I did – then that was my choice to make. It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not, but it’s because of me.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you decided to change the subject. “What would you be doing right now if you had managed to get your flight?”

“I don’t want to-”

“Please, Piet.” He turned to look at you then, his blue eyes big and shiny. You only broke out that nickname in the case of real emergency.

“I don’t know. Playing a board game, maybe? Or watching a sitcom.” He wrinkled his nose.

“So let’s do that.”

“I don’t want to watch a sitcom.”

“Fine.” You got to your feet and walked over to the board game shelf. You grabbed ‘Settlers of Catan’ and dropped the box on the coffee table. “I seem to recall that I won last time we played. I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself.”

Pietro straightened up. In spite of himself, a smile was spreading across his face. “You’re on.”

*

You woke up on Christmas morning to a bunch of texts from various friends and family members wishing you well and commiserating that you were stuck so far from home.

On Facebook too, you were getting a lot of comments on a photo that you’d uploaded the night before. It was of you and Pietro, your faces so close that his stubble was scratching your cheek. There was tinsel looped around both of you, and you were looking into the camera with soft expressions.

It had been meant to assure anyone who was concerned about your wellbeing that you were fine, you weren’t alone, and you were content with your situation. Most of the comments, however, ending up being of the ‘OMG you guys are SO CUTE’ variety.

And they were right. You and Pietro were adorable. But it made your stomach twist to think about it, because you looked so much like a couple, but you weren’t.

There had been another picture that you’d considered posting but decided against. The two of you were side by side, but instead of looking at the camera, Pietro was looking at you. There was a warmth and tenderness in his expression that made the picture feel too personal to post. This one was just for you.

At that moment, there was a quiet knock on the door.

“Yeah?” you called out, and it opened a crack. You could see a portion of Pietro’s face through the gap.

“Are you coming?”

“Coming where?”

“For presents.”

Your stomach dropped. “But we already exchanged presents?!” You, Pietro, Nat, Wanda and Clint had had a little mini-Christmas celebration before everyone left, and you’d given each other presents then.

Had Pietro gotten you more presents? You hadn’t got him more presents. Shit.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I know. Come with me.”

“I need to get dressed.”

“No you don’t. It’s Christmas. Just trust me.”

“Okay?”

You got out of bed, thankful that your pyjamas were cute and covered most of your body. You felt a little exposed without a bra, but when Pietro opened the door, he was just wearing a t-shirt and shorts, which made you feel a little better.

“Santa came last night,” said Pietro, shoving a Christmas stocking into your hands.

“I- What?”

He turned and walked back over to his own bedroom, gesturing at you to follow him. “Come onnnn.”

“I’m coming.”

You followed him into his room. It was the neatest you’d ever seen it. Normally there were clothes all over the floor and sometimes dirty plates and bowls stacked up on his desk and bedside table, but it was spotless now. Even the bed was made.

Speaking of his bed, there was another Christmas stocking on it. He led you over to the bed and then sat down on it.

“You said that you opened Santa’s presents in your parents’ bed at home. So let’s open the presents.”

“Piet,” you said softly, your blood rushing to your cheeks.

“Come and sit down.”

You perched on the bed, and he sat cross-legged in front of you.

“I’ll go first,” he said. He reached into the stocking and pulled out a pinecone. “Wow. A pinecone. Isn’t Christmas magical? Your turn.”

You put your hand into your stocking and pulled out a small wrapped gift. You ripped the wrapping paper off to reveal a travel-sized bottle of moisturiser.

“Oh. My hands have been so dry with all of the sanitising. This is really useful.” Opening it, you squirted some into your palm and moisturised your hands.

Pietro pulled another pinecone out of his stocking, and then gestured for you to continue. Your second gift was a vaguely familiar half-full bottle of nail polish.

“Did you steal this from my room?” you asked incredulously.

“I did nothing. These gifts are from Santa.” You raised your eyebrows at him. “And maybe,” he conceded, “because of COVID, Santa’s present options were a little… limited this year. Maybe Santa was only able to gift things that he could find in the house.”

“Uh-huh,” you said. Your chest felt indescribably full. It was like the sensation of sinking your feet into warm, wet sand, but it was your heart, and Pietro was the sand.

“Keep going. Santa will be upset if you do not open all of his presents.”

Amused, you complied. By the time you were done, as well as the two you’d already opened, you had gained a key-ring that you were sure Pietro had taken off his own keys, a handful of chocolates, a toy car and an orange. Pietro’s stocking had contained five pinecones.

“Did you… I mean did Santa get these from the yard?” you asked, examining the smallest pinecone. There was a small patch of green space outside your apartment that could generously be called a yard.

Pietro put his hands up. “I do not know. He works in mysterious ways.”

“That’s God, I think.”

“No, it’s definitely Santa.”

You cracked a grin. “Am I allowed to get dressed now?”

“Fine. But meet me downstairs soon.”

“I will. After I’ve had a shower.”

*

When you stepped into the kitchen, freshly washed and dressed in comfy clothes, you found Pietro at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan.

“What’s this?” you asked, but he shooed you away.

“No peeking,” he said. “Go put on a movie.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, amused. As you turned towards the living room, you almost missed the blush that spread across Pietro’s cheeks.

You had just put a Christmas showing of ‘Horton Hears A Who’ on when Pietro appeared again, placing a plate of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs on the coffee table in front of you.

“Is this-”

“Breakfast,” he said, putting his own plate down. He disappeared momentarily and returned with glasses, a carton of orange juice and a bottle. “I couldn’t get Champagne so I got prosecco. I hope that isn’t a problem.”

You smiled coyly at him as he poured you a glass of prosecco and orange juice. “You got prosecco, or Santa did?”

“No, this was definitely me,” he said, setting the bottle down.

“You’re adorable.” You tucked into your breakfast. It wasn’t exactly how your dad made it, but you didn’t mind, because Pietro had made it, and that made it all the more special. You could feel him watching you as you ate. “What?”

“Nothing.” He looked embarrassed, not meeting your eyes. “I just… Is this… Is this right? Is this what you wanted?”

Your heart swelled. “Oh Piet, this is perfect.”

He looked down at his food, a smile playing on his lips. “Good.”

*

After breakfast, the two of you went back to your own rooms for extended Zoom calls with your respective families. It was nice to see them, even though you felt obligated to talk to them, and it hurt a little to see them enjoying Christmas without you.

COVID had splintered your family up for Christmas, with everyone in their small groups. It was better that way, for you, at least. At least they weren’t all together without you.

*

After you and Pietro had eaten as much Chinese food as you could physically fit in your bodies, you sprawled across the sofas, watching Home Alone. He had tried to persuade you to play a two-person game of charades, but it had ended up being pretty lacklustre since you were both so full and sleepy. It was dark outside, and you were pleasantly sated and content.

Even when no more savoury food would fit inside your stomach, you were sharing a box of chocolates.

You must’ve dozed off for a little while, because you awoke to Pietro saying your name. He was standing at the foot of the sofa.

“Huh? What?”

“Were you sleeping?” he asked, grinning at you.

“No,” you lied. “What is it?”

He cleared his throat, looking embarrassed all of a sudden. “There is… There’s one last thing. A surprise. For you.”

“Piet, you’ve given me so many surprises today, I’m eternally grateful.”

“No. No, it’s… This is not like…” He coughed awkwardly. “Can I just show you?”

“Okay?”

“It’s in the hallway.”

Confused, you got to your feet. You were about to step into the hall that led to your front door when Pietro grabbed your arm, keeping you there in the doorway.

“Wha- Oh.” You had begun to speak, but then you noticed the sprig of mistletoe hanging over you. “Oh.”

Pietro was staring at you, assessing your reaction. You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face.

“… Can I…” He seemed to be struggling to get the words out. You helped him by grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into you, pressing your lips against his.

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you as close as he could possibly manage. You carded your hands through his soft hair, savouring the way it felt between your fingers. His stubble scraped at the skin of your face, sending tingles down your spine.

Without warning, he leant down and grabbed hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you off your feet. You let out an undignified squeak. He adjusted his grip, allowing you to wrap your legs around him.

He didn’t stop kissing you as he walked you over to the sofa. The two of you only broke apart briefly so that he could carefully lay you down, and then he was on top of you, kissing you hard.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” you murmured between kisses.

“Hah.” He started to kiss your neck.

You made out lazily, because you had all the time in the world. When the position became uncomfortable, Pietro shifted behind you, spooning you as you turned your attention back to the TV.

His hands stayed firmly at your waist, sometimes stroking over your hips. His lips occasionally strayed to your neck and then up to your ear and back again. You’d never been more turned on in your life, but Pietro seemed to want to take it slow, so you didn’t push him.

“Hey Piet.”

“Hm?” he mumbled, kissing the back of your neck.

“This was the best Christmas ever.”

You felt a puff of warm breath against your skin as he laughed.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Merry Christmas, Piet.”

[carolmaximoffs]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way. 

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

 Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones. 

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.” 

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward. 

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird. 

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them. 

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer. 

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!” 

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly. 

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.” 

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.” 

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.” 

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.”  You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.” 

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep. 

“Yes, Wanda?” 

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires. 

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you. 

Things make so, so much more sense then.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

bright lights and baseless worries - q. hughes

When ya girl is finally on a monthlong break from school, she’s able to get in more than one piece a week. I knew I wanted to do some holiday piece for Quinn, and 100% got this idea in the shower the other day and just sat down and got to writing. In my totally unbiased opinion, it’s very cute, and I’d love to hear what you think - I love reading the tags on reblogs and having y’all in my inbox!

word count: 3.3k+

“Do you want to meet my parents?” 

Your fork stopped halfway to your mouth, the spaghetti threatening to fall off the end. “Do I want to what?”

Quinn laughed, taking a sip of water as he sat across from you at his dining room table. “Do you want to meet my parents? They’re flying in after the next roadie, in a week and a half or so. They really want to meet you, but I get if you don’t want to, or you feel like it’s too soon. I’ll make up an excuse for you, say you were called into work for some big project or something that you can’t get away from.” 

You weren’t sure if there was some unspoken protocol for when was too soon to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but you were pretty sure six months wasn’t pushing it. “Quinn, I’m still in university,” you said with a laugh. “There’s no work for me to get called into. And I’d love to meet them, if you’re sure that’s what you want. I don’t want you feeling like you have to because your parents want to meet me. I want it to be because you want it too.”

“Of course I want you to meet them,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Almost more than that, I want them to meet you. Sure, you’ve seen each other over FaceTime and they know what I’ve told them about you—”

“All good things, I hope?” You quipped.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Nothing but the best. But you’re incredible, and I want them to be able to meet  you, so they get to see how amazing you are in person and don’t think I’m crazy any more for how much I talk about you, So there’s that.” 

You ducked your head, tapping your fingers against the dark grain of the table. “Well, I’d love to meet them, Q. Anyone who’s spent any length of time around you knows how much you love your family, and I’m so excited to finally get to know the people who raised you into the incredible man you are today.”

Quinn blushed shyly. “It’s going to be great.”

---

Vancouver in December had always been one of your favorite things. Vancouver any time, really, but the holiday season really let your hometown shine something special. Literally. From the first of the month, all of downtown was decked out from tree to storefront to lamppost in yards of bright, sparkling lights. And then there was the massive, hundred-foot tall Christmas tree that lit up the square in front of the art gallery, throngs of couples and little kids running up to its branches in a bid to get their picture taken. It had finally started to snow a few weeks ago, so a light dusting covered the sidewalks, giving way to the shoe prints of the hundreds of passersby. 

Downtown was where you found yourself now, wandering around on a Wednesday afternoon after you had been let out of your final, your purse on your shoulder and nothing but sheer worry in your heart. Quinn had come back from the road trip that morning; his parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning. His parents were set to fly in tomorrow morning, well under 24 hours away, and you had no clue what to get them. You had been in clothing stores, homegoods stores, souvenir shops, but were no closer to figuring out what to buy. You had been about to buy a nice bottle of wine, one of yours and Quinn’s favorites, but then you wondered if maybe it was weird to give wine at a first meeting, or if they’d look at you funny for gifting a bottle of pinot grigio when you were only 21. And it had to be something they could bring back on the plane, so nothing that was too fragile or something that might spill or anything with over 3.4 ounces of liquid. You should have thought about that before considering the wine. 

You had texted your roommates in a panic, but letting them know that i’m meeting quinn’s parents tomorrow and I have no idea what the FUCK to get them please help hadn’t yielded any particularly useful suggestions. Aliya had suggested a tie for his dad, which Sara had vetoed immediately, saying that a tie was both far too formal and far too strange a gift to extend. Sara, who was the apartment’s resident caffeine addict, had recommended a few of her recent favorite types of “artisan, hand-roasted coffee.” It had seemed like a good idea at first, with everyone and their mother getting into craft versions of every drink imaginable, but then you started overthinking it, thinking that maybe they wouldn’t like the roast, or the undertones, or it would be too bitter and they’d drink it and hate it and then they’d hate you and — 

You huffed, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and leaning up against the column of some storefront you had spent less than five minutes in. Quinn chose that exact moment to call, and his timing couldn’t have been any more welcome. “God, I’m such a mess right now,” you said by way of greeting. 

“Everything good?” He asked lightly, but you could hear the concern laced under his voice. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “but I’ve been to at least a half-dozen stores in downtown and I’m starting to get worried because I still have absolutely no clue what to get your parents tomorrow and nobody seems to have any good ideas.”

“You realize you don’t have to get them anything, right?” Quinn asked. “Seriously, they’re not expecting it, and I promise they won’t think any less of you if you don’t.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Q, my mom’s going to skin me alive if she heard I showed up empty-handed to meet your parents, but that’s besides the point. I want to make a good impression.” Your voice cracked. “I really want to make a good impression.”

He sighed on the other end of the line. “I know you do, babe, but I guarantee that no matter if you buy my dad a Rolex or show up in your pyjamas, they’re going to love you.”

“But how do you know that?”

“They’ll love you because I love you.” He spent a few more minutes on the phone with you, trying his damndest to reassure you that Jim and Ellen weren’t nearly as scary as you somehow thought they were, that they’d welcome you with open hearts and open arms just like his brothers had. The Devils had played in Vancouver the month prior, and much to Quinn’s delight, you and Jack had gotten along like a house on fire. Jack had made good on a promise he had made while he was in British Columbia, sending you a cache of Quinn’s baby photos as soon as he got back to his apartment in New Jersey. 

You slid your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, feeling marginally more reassured that his parents wouldn’t immediately demand you break up with their son if you didn’t spend the equivalent of a year’s tuition on welcome gifts for them, but nervous nonetheless and no closer to your goal than when you drove into downtown hours before. 

---

You tapped your heel nervously on the floor of Quinn’s living room, fingers nervously twisting your rings around as Quinn leaned up against the couch, glancing between you and his phone. “Mom says they’re almost here.” Quinn would have picked them up from the airport himself, but he had had a morning practice, and then they decided to get settled into their hotel room, so them coming over to his apartment before you were all set to go out to dinner was the first time either of you were going to see them. He looked at you, your brow still furrowed from overthinking. “I know you’re still worried, and I get that, babe. I was terrified when I met your parents for the first time. But you’re going to do amazing.” Your parents lived in Surrey, forty minutes away in the same house you’d grown up in, so it was a much less formal affair when they had asked to meet Quinn. You went over to their house for brunch one weekend, and that was it; Quinn was right, though. That hadn’t meant he was any less nervous. If anything, it only amplified his worries because if he wasn’t able to make a good first impression in one of the most low-stress environments a person could think of, what would that say about him? What would your parents think? But just like he said, it had been such a non-issue that by the end, he was wondering what he had been worried about in the first place. 

“I know it’ll be fine,” you conceded, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “It just seems different, somehow. Like, I’ve met people’s parents before, friends and exes and people at school, and of course I wanted them to like me. I think it’s just…” You paused, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gather your words, “I think it’s because I see this, us, going somewhere. I see it lasting. So if you’re going to be in my life for the foreseeable future, then so are they, so it just seems that much more important that I like them and that they like me.” 

Quinn bent over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Don’t worry.” The doorbell rung, and you took the thirty seconds it took for Quinn to go over and open it to turn your phone on, checking in the camera to make sure you didn’t have a piece of kale stuck in your teeth. You didn’t, but you really should have known better. Quinn would have told you. 

You stood up, plastering a smile on your face as he pulled the door open and his parents stepped into the entryway. His dad had just hugged him when his mom pulled him in, rubbing his back as she greeted him. “So good to see you, Quinn, Chag sameach.”

“Chag sameach, Mom,” Quinn said back, before stepping back and nodding to you. You stepped forward hesitantly, Quinn’s warm hand on the small of your back quelling your fears as much as he could. 

He had barely opened his mouth to introduce you before his mom burst forward. “Is this her?” 

You relaxed slightly, nodding. “In the flesh. So nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Weinberg-Hughes.”

She waved you off. “Ellen, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’s so nice to finally get to see you in person!” She pulled you into a hug that looked just as heartfelt as the one she had given her son, and it only took a few seconds for you to relax into her touch. 

“Jim,” his dad greeted you with a warm handshake. 

You turned back towards the coffee table. “I, uh, got these for you two when I was downtown the other day.” You handed his mom a gorgeous bouquet of flowers and his dad a potted succulent, something you originally hadn’t been too sure about but Quinn had assured you his dad would love. “It’s got a travel-safe box that came with it, so it’ll be good to go on the plane ride back,” you said. 

His dad smiled. “Quinn told you I’m not much of a green thumb, hm?” Quinn’s eyes widened; his dad laughed. “It’s true, I love plants but I seem to somehow kill everything I touch, so this really is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” 

“Did you light the candles yet?” His mom asked. 

Quinn shook his head, nodding to where his menorah sat on the sideboard. “I wanted to wait for you.” If his mom was going to be there for the first night of Hanukkah, he was going to wait for her if he valued his own well-being. The candles were already in a box off to the side; Ellen opened them and placed first the shamash, then the first candle all the way to the right as Quinn went into the kitchen for a lighter, coming out a second later. You made to move out of the room, unsure if it was disrespectful to stay. You got your answer quickly. 

“Stay,” Quinn said. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“It’s part of the tradition that the whole family — whoever’s around, obviously, stays for the lighting. That’s you, now,” Ellen explained. Your cheeks burned, but not out of embarrassment. Out of the fact that Quinn had been exactly right, just like you knew he would be, just like he had told you he would be. His parents welcomed you quicker than your own best friend’s had, and five minutes after meeting them in person for the first time his mom had already all but called you family. You were giddy inside. You perched on the couch as she and Quinn recited the Hebrew blessings, a soft smile on your face as you watched the interaction. You knew your boyfriend loved his mom. That much was clear, from the times you were both on FaceTime to the phone conversations you overheard to the way that he spoke about her with Brock, or Elias, or really anyone who would listen. But it was something special. 

You gathered in the living room after the menorah was lit, your heels abandoned by the door and your body curled into Quinn’s as the four of you waited for the candles to burn down. Ellen and Jim supplemented Jack’s childhood stories of Quinn with some of their own, one of which had your boyfriend groaning into your shoulder, asking his dad if you really needed to know that story in particular. Jim just laughed, clapping his son on the back, telling him that the embarrassing anecdotes were really a litmus test of sorts. “If she doesn’t run after hearing this one, you’ll know that she’s a keeper,” he said while winking at you. You stayed. 

You had a 6:30 reservation at a restaurant downtown, some place one of the other guys’ girlfriends had recommended when you sent a message in the group chat earlier asking where to take Quinn’s parents because I def don’t want to seem pretentious but like they also need to know that I have taste. He drove with his dad in the passenger’s seat, leaving you and his mom to share the second row. “Have you ever seen his freshman year roster photo from Michigan?” she asked, pulling out her phone. 

Quinn groaned from the driver’s seat. “Mom, do you really need to show her?”

“You’re so young, it’s cute!” Ellen protested.

“I was 17 and didn’t know how to do my hair yet and was so nervous for the photographer to take it that my smile looks like it was frozen onto my face.”

You ducked your head, poorly concealing a snort of laughter. “Okay, if it’s half as good as Quinn makes it seem, I’ve got to see this one.” Ellen handed her phone to you just as Quinn pulled into the parking lot; you handed it back a minute later, the grin on your face still evident as he parked the car, walking around to your side to open your door. 

Picture didn’t scare you off?” he asked jokingly. 

You stood up quickly, pressing a brief kiss against his cheek. “Not at all.”

The food was incredible, not like you had expected any less. The salmon was maybe the best you had ever had, and the crème brûlée you and Quinn shared was nothing short of spectacular. You had left the last bite for him, knowing how much he loved the dessert, but he shook his head with a small smile, gently pushing the bowl back to you. The gesture hadn’t been missed by his mom, who had poorly concealed her happiness at her son’s kindness. You headed back to Quinn’s apartment after a walk by the harbor with his parents, a little after nine. “We got you two a little something,” his dad said as his mom reached into her purse. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” you said quickly as Ellen pulled out a small, flat wrapped package.

“It’s nothing big,” she promised. “Just something we thought would look nice in here,” she gestured around the living room with her spare hand., holding it out to you. “Happy Hanukkah.”

Your face burst into a grin as Quinn looked over at the photo, his thumb moving absentmindedly over your shoulder. “Happy Hanukkah, Ellen.” You ran your thumb carefully under the seams, popping open the paper with as much precision as the moment was affording you. You unfolded it, looking up at your boyfriend. “Hang on. Is this…?” 

He nodded. “I think so.” You were looking down at a picture, set in a silver frame that shone so much you could see your reflection. But it wasn’t a normal picture, one that you’d throw up on your Instagram story or delete from your camera roll without a second thought. It was from that September, a few months after you and Quinn had started dating and the first time he had taken you to meet the boys. You had already met Brock and Elias a few weeks earlier when they came back into town for training, but it was the first night he had really let you into his life in that way, started to take down some of his walls and trust you with every part of himself. You had been curled up with Quinn on a couch in Brock’s living room, towards the end of a party he had thrown to welcome everyone to the start of a new season. You didn’t even remember what Quinn was talking about, but as you looked down at the photo, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist and your head resting on his chest, you realized that it could have been Poptarts or Disney movies or the deepest darkest secrets from the furthest parts of your soul, because it was you, and it was him, and that’s all that mattered. You didn’t even realize you had started to tear up until Quinn handed you a tissue. “Thanks,” you mumbled. You looked back up at his parents, crumbling it in your hand. “Seriously, Jim, Ellen, thank you for this. I don’t know why I’m reacting like this, but thank you for getting it. It means a lot.” 

His dad gave you a hug as his mom moved over to Quinn’s kitchen, plucking her bouquet out of a vase and walking back over to hug first her son, then you. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re half the woman Quinn says you are, and I think you’re more, then you deserve the world.” 

Your cheeks heated as they walked through the front door. Quinn gently took the picture from you, admiring it as he padded over to the sideboard and placed it next to the menorah, whose candles had long since burnt down. He walked back over towards you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulled back, a wry smile on his face as your foreheads pressed together. “Do you finally believe me?”

He didn’t even have to explain his words, because you knew. Finally believe him that you didn’t have anything to worry about, finally believe him that his parents would love you, finally believe him that thing you had going on wasn’t one he wanted to give up on. Not now, not ever. Your head nodded before your words could catch up to you, spilling out of your mouth like they had always been there. “Yes.”

[grittyreadsfic]

haha welcome to my newest rec list, what a run we had tho, a collection of all of my favorite nate bastian/mikey mcleod fics. rip superbuddies, they're not dead, nate's just in fuckin SEATTLE

the only hard part of making this list was not just listing out every fic ao3 user lotts has for the pairing which i did consider doing. so.

all that by lotts

summary: If Mikey gets a soulmate soon, he’ll have to explain the whole Nate situation.

Not– not that there's a real Nate situation, per se, but it’s just– Mikey has Nate, and it’s kind of a thing.

(Or: there very much is a Nate situation. There's also a Mikey situation. Eventually, they realize this.)

why i love it: to me, this is the superbuddies fic-it’s got the perfect pacing from friends to lovers with just the right around of blurred lines between what’s normal for friends and what’s something more, and their characterizations are just *chef’s kiss* it’s also such a great take on soulmates, and it really covers the different ways people can feel about their soulmates/the concept in general

kiss the night air by clementiae

summary: Jersey, Jersey. Whispered into the warmth of their laced fingers like a prayer.

It was a stupid dream. Mikey wanted it to last.

why i love it: never has under 1.3k words made me want to cry as much as this fic has. the way talking about their dream of playing together evolved, the narrative structure that builds? absolutely hits, very good if you want to cry about the expansion draft

sure thing by bitter_leaf

summary: In the history of hockey, there’s no way something like Nate suggested has never happened before and Mikey feels out of control following that thought down the rabbit hole, how he’d be powerless to stop it if it did, and that’s if he’d even want to stop it. The terrifying thing is that even though he can’t see it happening—they’re both straight, this whole fucking thing is just a thought experiment, pretend—now that Nate’s painted the picture for him, he can’t stop thinking about it—whether he’d even notice the signs until it was too late.

__

Sick of their teammates chirping them, Mikey and Nate pretend to date.

why i love it: i’m SUCH a sucker for fake dating aus, and this one does it so well. It really leans into the messy and complicated feelings part of fake relationships that i don’t think gets explored enough, and it handles it so, so, so well.

you let him wonder but you never let him sink in his teeth by anonymous

summary: Mikey didn’t really pay attention much in biology— didn’t have to, not really— but he vaguely remembers something about doing heat by yourself in a pinch. There were lots of warnings about it.

“You can’t just be alone,” he says and Nate lets out something that sounds like laughing.

Mikey is just trying to be helpful, and Nate is just trying to get through it.

why i love it: i really love omegaverse fics that invert the usual takes on the tropes (and this is one of them!) and it just really is a great look at their dynamic. i really like this take on mikey and nate as a whole, as well

though far away, we’re still the same by rathands

summary: Mikey wishes he wasn’t in love with Nate, because everyone knows that juniors shit—it doesn’t work out. Like Dylan and Mitch.

why i love it: lots of fun bad communication between nate and mikey, and i think this one really handles the emotion of it all so well. absolutely peak idiots to lovers, and i really love that it gives us both of their point of views

so i don’t have to keep imagining by preciousthings

summary: “It was a mistake. That’s— I didn’t mean that, and that’s it.” Mikey says, but he can’t quite meet Nate’s eyes. “That’s where I’m at, I guess.”

“That’s what I thought. So, we’re on the same page.” Nate nods.

(or: lost gold medals, ill-advised snapchats, love confessions, meddling teammates, and a whole lot of miscommunication.)

why i love it: i just think the premise of this works so, so, so well for them-it’s another great idiots to lovers vibe for nate and mikey, and the whole concept of drunkenly telling your crush you love them via snapchap? yes, good, correct

there is a bridge over a river, and some days it is lovely by lotts

summary: “What are you doing here?” Mikey asks, trying and failing not to stare, but Nate’s staring right back, like he’s also not sure what’s going on.

“I figured I’d meet you here,” Nate says. “Put a familiar face on the Binghamton welcoming committee.”

Mikey looks around. “There’s no one else here.”

“Well, it was either a familiar face or no face,” Nate says with an uncertain smile, like he’s not quite sure he’s allowed to make a joke.

why i love it: perhaps i love it because i like to hurt my own feelings, but this is really just a well done fic that really just hits. it’s honest and emotional and you can feel the weight of that throughout it, but it does have a pretty light hearted ending that is good and hopeful. bonus points for being one of my favorite break up make up fics ever and currently my most read fic of 2021

a catch in the curse by aliquis

summary: Mikey McLeod is gifted — or cursed — with the power of psychic persuasion. With the ability to bend people’s ears to his will, Mikey is well aware of how dangerous a power he wields, and the responsibility he bears to not abuse it.

Though he rarely uses his gifts, new developments in his friendship with Nate Bastian may threaten his control. Mikey would do anything to protect his best friend, including finding a way to get rid of his powers for good. Luckily, Newark’s own witch in the woods may be able to help.

why i love it: magic au!!!! i cannot stress how fantastic the world building is in this series (you don’t have to read the tknp fic that’s first to follow what’s happening, but it is worth the read) and mikey’s feelings towards nate and his own struggle is just!!!! honestly i’m just a series of exclamation points about it all

Invisible string by philatoi

summary: Mikey has known he’s liked guys since the first time Nathan Bastian smiled at him. That’s the thing, almost everything about Mikey’s sexuality has involved Nate — which isn’t necessarily bad. In Mikey’s humble opinion, Nate is the perfect person to fall in love with. Highly recommended. Mikey doesn’t regret putting all his eggs in that basket for the last six years.

why i love it: the pining in this, the emotions of it all-just absolutely top notch all the way around, and really just what i wanted out of a superbuddies fic. it really just feels so right for nate and mikey, and i just love it

you are a diamond and i’m just coal by hannah_baker

summary: When Mikey learns his roommate Nate isn't going home for Christmas, he drags Nate back home with him for break.

Or, the one where Mikey thinks all of his feelings for his roommate are platonic, and everyone laughs at him for it.

why i love it: me picking between this and hannah_baker’s other christmas centric superbuddies fic was like picking a favorite child. this is one of my all time favorite takes on mikey in any fic, and i always love a good college roommates au. just such a wonderful fic

turn the lights off, i’m in love by awoogah123

summary: “I can’t go to sleep yet,” Mikey murmured against Nate’s mouth, “I’m not tired.”

Nate knew this couldn’t be true, his and Mikey’s season had just finished and they were both exhausted. Still, Nate knew what Mikey meant when he said he couldn’t go to sleep yet, that he was too wired up, because he felt exactly the same way.

“I think I’ve got a way to make you more relaxed,” Nate said, mouth curving into a smirk as he brushed a hand over Mikey’s cheek. Mikey’s mouth smiled against his own.

***

Nate and Mikey are there for each other when the Devils don't make the playoffs.

why i love it: do you ever just need some soft comfort to cope? yeah me too! this fic is that and i was very 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 about it when i read it

[sweetjekyll]

Under The Same Roof, part 2 — BBH

pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

genre: Roommate / Flatmate AU, one-shot, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, blind date rating: teen and up warnings: tiniest and slightest bit of angst and jealousy, slightly suggestive towards the end word count: 5.2k

summary: Baekhyun and Y/N have been flatmates for a while and romance is in the air.

Requested: Part 2 was highly requested by both known readers and anons, so I hope you all enjoy the continuation of the first part! (keyword “roof” + sentence “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.” from this writing game post.)

Masterlist — PART 1

A/N: aaaaah it’s finally here! Merry Christmas everyone and happy holidays. I hope you’re healthy and surrounded with love, and I hope all of you are having a good time even if you don’t celebrate Christmas. Thank you to everyone who supported the first part of this story and patiently waited for the second part, I hope you will like this one as much as the first if not more! I made it way longer than the first part and added a bonus ending. Have fun reading! stay safe ❤

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

The guys could’ve spent practically all night playing games, but Chanyeol had other plans in mind after the short chat he had with Sehun and Baekhyun about the latter’s crush on his roommate. Sehun was never one to turn down an invite to drink with his friends no matter the day of the week, so the fact that he agreed immediately to Chanyeol’s suggestion when he asked the two if they wanted to go have a drink at the bar Y/N and Baekhyun worked, it was an easy “yes”. You would’ve had about an hour and a half until it was closing time at 11PM, as it was a Thursday anyway.

Baekhyun on the other hand wasn’t that easy to convince. He was supposed to work the following morning and be at his best to serve freshly brewed coffee to university students, professors and other customers who liked to linger in the early hours of daylight. Also, Thursday nights were one of the few times he got to relax after working shifts from morning to late afternoon.

“I know you two,” Baekhyun scowled at his friends, who were waiting in the doorway to his bedroom while he pushed one of his legs in a pair of old black jeans. “It’s never just one drink with you… I’ll end up wasted under one of the tables and then Y/N will have to carry me home.”

“For someone so eager to get dressed and walk out of the house, you’re complaining too much.” Sehun smirked as he nudged Chanyeol with his elbow.

“Don’t worry, it’s just one drink,” Chanyeol reassured him as Baekhyun was finally done getting dressed. “Besides, you literally live a couple of blocks from your job and neither of us has to drive. We’ll call a taxi.” There was a faint yet lingering smile of satisfaction on the taller man’s face. He wasn’t really a patient guy and his mind was still in a frenzy after coming up with a plan to get Baekhyun and his flatmate to go out on a date.

Baekhyun threw on a leather jacket and brushed back his bangs with his fingers, ready to step out of the apartment. He was about to lock the door after switching off the lights but then stopped as he thought about something for a brief moment. “Hang on, I forgot something.” He let his friends know as he hurried back inside and into the bathroom.

Once he was back and finally locked the door, both Chanyeol and Sehun got a whiff of something in the air. “Is that… Perfume?” They asked inquisitive.

Baekhyun furrowed his brows as he walked past them down the corridor. “And what about it? Y/N gifted it to me for my birthday.”

“This is going to be easier than I thought,” Chanyeol hummed as they headed towards your workplace at last.

The cafe turned into bar during evenings looked cozy in autumns and winters; some Halloween decorations lingered here and there although it was past October and halfway through into November, but the fake vine leaves painted red, yellow and orange warmed up the walls nicely. You liked the fall decorations, but you loved even more winter and Christmas decorations, although it was a hassle to take everything down and put new things up, it was still satisfying as the end result.

You spotted Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Sehun out of the corner of your eye as soon as they entered the bar thanks to the bell ringing on top of the door. “There you go, Lucas,” you placed a glass of cold beer on top of a napkin in front of one of your regular customers and looked around, quickly facing the three new friendly faces once you made sure that no one else needed your services. “Good evening guys!” You said cheerfully, a warm feeling spreading through your chest to see Baekhyun keeping his promise to come pick you up after work, even more so considering he was rather early for it.

“Ah, my favorite bartender!” Sehun mused as he leaned against the counter with a smirk on his expression. ”You look a bit overworked although there aren’t many customers.”

Baekhyun noticed it as well and looked behind the counter and around the familiar workplace. “Where’s Minseok? Weren’t you two supposed to work tonight’s shift together?”

You inhaled a long breath as you glanced down with busy eyes to grab a rag from a hidden surface on your workspace, then picked it up and cleaned the countertop in front of the three men. “I think he had something for dinner that upset his stomach to the point where he was nauseated.” You winced as you explained to them without much detail as you didn’t know how your coworker was doing after he left. “I told him to go home and rest just in case… But anyway,” you smiled once again. “What can I get you guys to drink?” You asked as you returned the rag in its previous spot and placed three napkins on the counter.

“For starters, I’d say shots of soju and then beers?” Chanyeol looked at his friends but Baekhyun shook his head when he heard the doorbell signal the arrival of more customers.

“I’ll help Y/N,” he said and promptly walked behind the counter to join you. He picked up one of the aprons matching yours from a hanger on the wall and put it on after he took off his jacket.

“Don’t worry Baek, it’s your night off,” you tried to persuade him to just enjoy the night with his friends but he just gave you his usual warm and reassuring smile that made your heart flutter with content.

“Nonsense,” he shrugged as he spun around to softly bump his shoulder into yours and looked into your eyes, “I’m happy to work with you.” You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and you could barely hide the smile that graced your lips once your coworker welcomed the new customers with a loud and cheerful tone.

Your reaction didn’t go unnoticed to the two friends sitting on the other side of the counter, across from you. Chanyeol nudged Sehun with his elbow and whispered to just play along, after he made sure that Baekhyun’s ears were out of reach for what he was about to say. You placed two shots of soju on the napkins and turned around to fill two glasses with beer. “So, Y/N,” you looked over your shoulder for a brief second at Chanyeol, “are you single?”

The question wasn’t new to your ears, especially after working as a bartender, but it still caught you off guard coming from him. “I did not expect you to ask me something like this, Mr. Park.” You confessed with a chuckle while walking back to take away the empty shot glasses and placed two glasses filled to the brim with foaming beer. “Why do you want to know?”

“Well, are you?” Sehun questioned with a raised eyebrow, carefully picking up the glass to take a sip from it while holding your suspicious gaze.

You let your shoulders slump with a sigh as you averted their eyes and, without meaning to, you looked in Baekhyun’s direction. “Yes, I’m single.” You nodded as your smile faltered, you looked around at the other customers while feeling a bit nervous.

“Perfect!” Chanyeol beamed as he clapped his hands once and leaned closer to the counter, you just eyed him with suspicion. “There’s this very nice guy, he’s a bit talkative and playful,” he began explaining but kept it quite mysterious, “A friend of ours, you know… I would like you do go on a blind date with him.”

“I’m sorry… What now?” You were taken aback by his sudden request that you didn’t know how else to react. It was a nice gesture, sure… but you already had feelings for someone else and weren’t sure if a blind date would be a good idea, not at the moment at least.

“I promise he’s a very friendly and good guy,” Sehun added, playing along to Chanyeol’s plan although they didn’t even talk about it beforehand. He licked his lips to get the residue of the beer foam and arched his brows at you. “Unless you like somebody else already.” Blood rushed to your face and you felt hot under your clothes, hesitant about answering your foot started bouncing nervously and you crossed your arms. Should you be honest and tell them or should you keep it for yourself? Well… “There is someone I like.” You confessed, but it just made you sad to say it so you continued before they could ask anything else about this crush of yours. “But I don’t think it’ll work out so I might as well go on a blind date with your friend.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Baekhyun’s curious voice made you slightly jolt on your feet and you flashed him a nervous smile. “Are you going on a date?” You tilted your head unsure of what to say since he was the one person you didn’t want to find out about this blind date, at least not like this… or ever. You thought you could maybe just go at the date and never call back Chanyeol and Sehun’s friend, but then another question popped in your head. Does Baekhyun know this friend of theirs? Would he mind? It’s not like he had feelings for you, so why were you so worried about it?

Thankfully, you heard the voice of one of your customers call for you and used it as an excuse to leave. “This is a discussion for another time, I gotta go back to work!” And just like that you were gone in an instant, meanwhile Baekhyun faced Chanyeol and Sehun with a half disappointed and half irritated expression.

“A blind date?!” He hissed under his breath.

They both nodded with pleased smirks. “She said yes, so you better make this work, otherwise you’re truly hopeless.” Chanyeol replied and finally let himself taste the beer that’s been sitting in front of him on the counter for a while.

Baekhyun’s anger dissipated immediately, his eyes widened in surprise and his mouth fell agape. “You set us up on a blind date?” He whispered while stealing glances in your direction. His heart rate began speeding up while he watched you smile politely at a couple who were paying for their drinks, getting ready to leave.

“Although…” Sehun inhaled a long breath as he looked down at his drink, his smile faded. Baekhyun’s attention was immediately on him, feeling his heart drop at the man’s words. “She did say she likes someone.” Chanyeol gave him a hard nudge with his elbow, eliciting a pained groan from the man sitting next to him. “What?! I’m just saying, she didn’t say who… Y/N thinks it’s not going to work out so you don’t have to worry.”

Baekhyun sighed and scratched his head, too many thoughts were running through his head in that moment and he didn’t know how to process the fact that there indeed was someone you liked… You’ve been friends for a few years and were roommates as well, so why did you not talk to him about this person you seem to like so much?

He became rather quiet that night and even the following days, he was practically sulking since he was stuck with the thought that the blind date was going to be a disaster. That didn’t stop Chanyeol from insisting on taking care of all the details about the date, he went as far as borrowing both yours and Baekhyun’s work schedules to set up a perfect timing for you to meet. You noticed immediately the change in his behavior, he wasn’t avoiding you, he would never do that, but he was acting too distant. You tried asking but didn’t push further because maybe he needed some time for himself, otherwise he would have opened up to you, at least you hoped.

It went on like that for a couple of days until you couldn’t take it anymore, you missed Baekhyun being his usual playful and loud self, he was the source of your serotonin and it affected your mood as well. It was the last few days of November, the shop was closed for the day due to the fact that you needed to take down the autumnal decorations and brighten up the place with Christmas ones.

“Baekhyun, we really need to talk.” You told him with a preoccupied tone, hoping he wouldn’t try and dodge the conversation as he had been doing for nearly half of November. He didn’t look at you from his high place on the ladder, instead, his pupils were fixed on his fingers unrolling the fairy lights and hanging them on the wall, supported by nails that had been stuck into the bricks for who knows how many years.

“Alright, alright,” he nodded and hummed for a moment, pausing his work to look down; your hands were securely holding onto the ladder for him and keeping it in place so he felt safe to be up there, occasionally passing him Christmas decorations from the boxes piled up next to your feet. “I’ll clean and decorate the bathrooms.”

You scoffed, incredulous that he actually managed to talk about anything else but his feelings. “I’m not talking about the bathroom, but since you said you’re going to do it, I won’t stop you.”

“Damn!” He chuckled with a shake of his head and went back to fixing the lights. “Okay, let’s talk, but I warn you, if this is about me—“

“It’s precisely about you! You’ve been avoiding my questions, I’m concerned about you. Something happened and you haven’t openly spoken to me ever since that night at the bar.” You interjected and heard him complain with a groan of your name, to which you let go of the ladder, making the man almost scream in fear.

“What are you doing—“ High pitched words reached your ears as you crossed your arms and just gazed up at him with arched brows, feeling so done with his behavior. He dropped the fairy lights without meaning to and wrapped his hands on both sides of the ladder, holding on for dear life. “No, no, no— Okay, fine! I’ll tell you, just please don’t let go of the ladder.” You held onto the ladder once more and watched him climb down until he was finally to your eye level. “There’s this girl I like, I’ve liked her for a while now actually.” Baekhyun let out a long, defeated sigh. “Turns out she likes some other person and I don’t know why I thought I could—“ He stopped himself from saying anything else as he ran one of his hand over his face, frustrated that he was confessing to you how he felt, except he was still hiding the actual truth. What a coward, he thought. He was convinced now more than ever that the blind date was truly a bad idea, he just didn’t know how to tell Chanyeol that he didn’t have the balls to go through with it and accept your rejection once you found out he was your secret date. “I like her a lot.” He added.

You felt you heart fasten at his words, it was drumming so hard that the pulse in your ears felt deafening… Baekhyun liked another girl, you repeated to yourself in your head. For a short moment and in a totally awkward silence you felt like an idiot; an idiot for feeling jealousy when he mentioned another girl, when you should’ve said something to comfort him. You were frowning, unable to move or say anything coherent until you forced yourself to say: “I’m sorry.” You bit your lip and looked down at your hands. “She’s an idiot.” You spit out with slight anger lacing your words.

“Why do you say so?” His tone softened when he noticed how upset you were over what he told you, he didn’t think you would care that much about a girl not liking him back… and the worst part was that you were that girl. “She’s allowed to like someone else, it’s just that I’m a coward and I didn’t tell her that I like her because I’m afraid of her rejecting me.” It felt so surreal that he was running his mouth like that, actually confessing the truth to you but you still had no idea.

Your head head snapped up towards him with your lips parted, ready to fight back his insecurities, except you didn’t realize what you were saying until it was already too late. “Well, she’s still dumb! Because what other girl wouldn’t like you? I like you!"

"You do?" He whispered almost breathless, too stunned to say anything else as soon as he processed your words; the corners of his lips curved up in a genuine and shy smile, yet you barely saw it since you looked down and bent you body forward to pick up a box with decorations and left him standing there. Your face was burning so hot with embarrassment it almost felt like you were going to combust. "Y/N, hang on, let’s talk it out—“ He tried to go after you, but you walked past the counter and entered the women’s bathroom, closing the door behind you. You dropped the box on the counter by the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror, cursing under your breath ad at yourself for being so careless with your words.

“Wait, hold on…” One of your friends, Hana, laughed at you on the phone for the second time that night, after you explained to her what happened at the coffee shop.

“I swear to God, Hana, there’s nothing to laugh about.” You mumbled, holding your phone against your ear with you shoulder; your hands were too busy going through the clothes in your wardrobe, searching for anything remotely cute and appropriate for a blind date.

“There actually is,” she continued laughing at your misery. “You confessed to Baekhyun that you actually like him, that’s a good thing isn’t it? I mean, he didn’t have a bad reaction, so where’s the problem, Y/N?” You groaned as you threw a pair of torn up jeans on the floor of your bedroom and took your phone in your hands.

“That’s the point, I chickened out!” You walked to the foot of the bed and let yourself fall on your back, bouncing on the mattress. “He tried to talk to me about it but I just couldn’t do it, so I locked myself in the bathroom. I’m the clown of the month!”

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re unbelievable.” Hana’s laughter rung in your ear with disbelief for the situation you got yourself into, but soon quieted down to a serious tone. “Listen, you have to face him at some point. You can’t just avoid him forever.”

You sat up on the bed and thought about what she said, your eyes burning holes into the door leading to the living room of your shared apartment. Baekhyun wasn’t home yet, he was still setting up decorations at the bar with Minseok and going over December’s inventory. “What about this girl he said he likes?” A pout formed on your lips, like a child whining to their parent.

“You won’t know until you talk to him.” You sighed out loud and eyed the mess on your bedroom floor, clothes lying on top of each other as if your wardrobe got stormed by a hurricane. “Earth to Y/N, are you there? Promise you’ll talk to him?”

You snapped out of your daze and rubbed your eyes as you replied to her. “Yeah, sure, I’ll talk to him,” you replied in defeat. “But it’ll have to wait until after this stupid blind date. It’s tonight and I don’t even know what to wear…” You heard a noise come from the living room and gasped out loud, jiggling of keys made you jump on your feat and run towards the door until you pressed your side against it. “He’s here, I gotta go. Bye Hana!” You whispered with your heart drumming in your chest and said goodbye to your friend, before hanging up the call. “Baekhyun?” You carefully called out his name and waited impatiently for a reply.

His muffled voice came from the other side of the door, and as careful as you had been, he called out your name. “Are you okay? Can I come in?” He was right outside of your bedroom, your nerves were killing you and you didn’t know what to do, yet against your better judgement, you moved away from the door and opened it. You bit your tongue as you met Baekhyun’s reassuring smile, somehow eliciting a smile from your lips as well. Seeing as you had not replied to his questions, Baekhyun let his eyes look past you and onto the pile of clothing on the floor. “Getting ready for the blind date?”

You looked in the same direction his pupils did and chuckled with a slow nod. “Yeah, I just don’t know what to wear yet…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll look beautiful no matter what you choose to wear.” The sweetness of his words made you hyper aware of the way he was looking at you now, and you weren’t sure why it seemed… different.

“Thank you…” You almost stuttered. Your heart was ramming against your ribcage so hard you could have passed out from the lightheadedness it caused you, but you forced yourself to break the eye contact and walked further inside your bedroom. You picked up two dresses from the wardrobe, one filled with cute floral patterns and the other was a solid dark blue color. “Which one looks better for a fancy dinner?” You asked him, unsure whether it was a good idea but Baekhyun actually pointed at the dark blue dress with a cheerful smile. It was weird to say the least, he appeared to be more excited for your blind date than you were, and you didn’t even know who Chanyeol was trying to set you up with. “Okay, this dress it is then.”

“By the way, I need to go out in a bit.” Baekhyun caught you off guard and you just stared at him with slightly widened eyed. “Is there anything that you need before I leave?”

“Mmmh, no… No.” You show your head and flashed him a reassuring smile even though you were still nervous. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, see you later, Y/N.” He reached out for the handle and closed the door after himself.

As soon as you heard the lock click, you exhaled a long, shaky breath and dropped the dresses on the bed. “And there he goes…” You whispered, choosing to replace the deafening silence with some music from your phone.

Baekhyun stood in the hallways while holding onto his breath, ears listening to you shuffling around your bedroom before any other sound was drowned out by you favorite playlist. He had been dreading this blind date for so many days and now that it was happening — especially after he found out he was the person you liked and not some other guy — Baekhyun felt elated. He was ready to get dressed and run out of the door to get you flowers, unfortunately not your favorite ones because they were out of season, but he was still gonna get something pretty. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you were going to react once you met him at the restaurant as your date. Too much energy was coursing through his veins in that moment, he could barely contain himself.

Everything was perfect. Baekhyun had to remember to thank Chanyeol for taking care of the reservation, the restaurant was truly lovely and felt intimate, soft fairy lights were hanging from the red brick walls, adding to the romantic atmosphere of slightly dimmed lighting, a small candle was illuminating the table at which Baekhyun sat. A bouquet of pink and white chrysanthemums rested on his right side as he, on the other hand, couldn’t help but nervously fiddle with his fingers under the tablecloth. A shy smile graced his joyful expression while his eyes darted to the watch on his left wrist, growing restless as you were late to your date.

Baekhyun’s smile faltered when he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his elegant blazer, he shut his eyes tightly and prayed that it wasn’t Chanyeol the one calling him with bad news, saying you stood up on the blind date at the last possible moment. You wouldn’t do that, would you? “Hello?” He answered his phone still keeping his eyes shut, but they immediately shot open once he heard your voice greet him on the other side of the line. “Y/N? What’s wrong? Where are you? Shouldn’t you be at the date?” He showered you with questions to which you didn’t know what to answer.

“Uuh—“ You hesitated for a long moment, unsure of what to say. “I’m outside of the restaurant, I’ve been for the past 5 minutes. I don’t want to go inside and meet some guy that I don’t know.” He listened to you talk really fast, almost tripping on your words as your tone dripped with nervousness and regret. “I just don’t want to meet a new guy and I’m so sorry to Chanyeol, cause I said I would do this—”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” He tried to help you calm down over the phone, resisting the urge to just stand up from the table and run to meet you outside. “Everything’s gonna be alright, okay? Do you trust me?”

Baekhyun listened to you on the other side of the line as you tried to get through your panicked state, quietly repeating short and reassuring “okays”. You released a deep breath and finally replied to him. “I trust you. Will you come pick me up, please?”

He almost chuckled at the softness of your voice, instead a warm smile returned on his face as he told you what to do. “I will, but first I need you to walk into the restaurant, it’s cold outside and you’re wearing a dress.” You agreed to do it and his eyes quickly moved towards the door, as he was sat on the opposite side of the restaurant.

Baekhyun watched as the door opened and you stepped inside, brows furrowed with worry yet you still managed to look effortlessly beautiful; long black coat shielding your body from the cold of the last weeks of autumn. He could see the dark blue of your knee length dress peeking under the coat, a small purse swaying by your side from a long chain on your left shoulder as you glanced around and were greeted by a waiter. “I’m in.” You mumbled as your eyes looked frantically around.

“Look to your right, other side of the room.” And you did, you looked towards him and nearly dropped your phone, your jaw went numb for a moment as your lips parted in disbelief. One of the waiters helped you remove your coat and accompanied you towards Baekhyun, to your table. “You’re beautiful,” the words rolled off his tongue almost like a foreign sound, he couldn’t believe that you two were actually on a date, even if he had to keep it a secret for such a long time.

You were at a loss for words, yet your chest was flooded with immense happiness. “The girl you like a lot…” You began saying and he nodded before you could finish your sentence. “A very nice guy, a bit talkative and playful,” you giggled as you quoted Chanyeol’s words when he spoke about the friend he wanted you to meet.

“Yep, that would be me.” Baekhyun picked up the flowers and slowly stepped closer to you. “I know they’re not daffodils, but I hope you like chrysanthemums too.”

“You know what I like more than flowers?” You stepped even closer to him until you could feel his hot breath on your skin, completely forgetting the rest of the world as you felt a rush of bravery while gazing into his eyes. “You.”

When Baekhyun leaned forward to steal a kiss it felt like the most natural thing in the world, as if he had done it so many times before and you were out tonight celebrating an anniversary rather than a first date. The gentlest of touches left a lingering sensation of his lips on yours. The red of your lipstick transferred slightly on his lips and if you focused hard enough, you could see that his cheeks turned the same shade out of shyness and adoration.

“Hmm, what do you think?” You asked, tilting your head to the side while staring very hard at the Christmas tree.

You were currently in your new apartment with Baekhyun standing by your side, eyes focused ahead of you. “It’s crooked on one side.” The living room was bare of furniture except for a coffee table, the tv stand with the television on top of it and the Christmas tree you spent at least three hours on decorating with your boyfriend. Moving boxes were scattered all around the place.

“I think if we spin it around towards the corner of the room none of the guests will notice.” You suggested and Baekhyun hoped quickly towards the tree, being careful to avoid any boxes and discarded ornaments still lying on the floor. He crouched on his kneed and wrapped his fingers around the base of the fake pine tree, rotating the crooked side towards the corner of the room.

“What about now?” He asked as he looked up at the tree for a moment and back at you.

“Light it up.” Baekhyun took the end of a cable beneath the branches of the tree and struggled to plug it into the wall for a moment, making you giggle, but as soon as the tree was lit up, he stood up and walked back to stand by you. “Now it’s perfect!” You beamed while he wrapped one of his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to kiss your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Baekhyun whispered in your ear, your smile became bigger and brighter when you looked into his loving eyes.

You pecked his lips with a soft kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Merry Christmas to you too, Baek—”

You didn’t even have time to finish saying his name because all of a sudden he snaked his arms around your waist, making you screech in surprise when he tried to lift you up from the floor and yelled at the top of his lungs: “To the bedroom, now!”

Loud giggles escaped you as you struggled to stay serious, but it was impossible when he was in a playful mood like this. “But we don’t have a bed frame yet—“

“We have a mattress and that’s enough for me!”

[kumkaniudaku]

Simple Syrup

You asked for Daveed smut and I tried to deliver. At least this one time. Enjoy!

Warning: Sexual Content. 18+. 

Daveed Diggs x Black!OC (Olivia Jenkins)(Yes, the MC/ OC is black. Representation is important.)

"Yo, open up!" Heavy fists beat against the door of Olivia's downtown apartment, making her roll her eyes. "I know you can hear me, girl! It's your favorite pop-up roommate!"

"You've been evicted, Diggs!"  

"I paid you rent, though!"

Turning the stove on low, Olivia shook her head as she wiped her hands on a dishtowel. Daveed always found a way to surprise her with his presence. He never texted before showing up at her door but frequently sported a backpack or suitcase full of clothes or Rafael for an extended stay. He and all his baggage were welcome anytime, with or without notice.

Stepping to the door, Olivia bit back a smile before responding. "I didn't receive any payments this month."

"I got it in my bag."

"Bag or bags?"

"Open the door to find out."

Daveed took a step back as the locks began to turn, waiting for Olivia's face to greet him with faux anger the way she did the last time he showed up out of nowhere and stayed for three weeks. Despite stopping by six months ago, it felt like a lifetime since he'd been in her company. Bi-weekly phone conversations weren't enough. He needed to be near Olivia while she watched whatever Housewives franchise had her attention for the month.

When the door opened to reveal the long hallway leading to her living area, Olivia stood with a hand on her hips and a grin on her face.

"Where is my money," she asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Just as she expected, he stood in the hallway with a suitcase that she knew cost a fortune to check at the airport and his worn Jansport full of junk and work.

Daveed laughed and bent to rifle through his backpack for a crumpled white envelope that he handed over with exaggerated purpose. "Here you go, Miss Jenkins. Sorry to be late on rent for, what, 8 months? I hope this is enough."

"Boy, you didn't really need to pay me. You're not on the lease."

"Good," he answered as he pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. "Because those are just Chick Fil A coupons."

Olivia stood with her mouth open as Daveed brushed her to roll his luggage to the first bedroom on the right.

He listened to her insult his "stupid face" and instruct him to hurry up while he scanned the room he had called home more times than he could count. All of Daveed's belongings were in the same place, with almost unnoticeable shifts to show that Olivia had cleaned once or twice. His favorite throw blanket was folded at the edge of the bed with his initials elegantly embroidered in the corner. The air smelled of the vanilla candle she kept on the nightstand next to a framed photo of the crew enjoying a roller coaster at Six Flags. His favorite trinket, Olivia's homecoming crown from undergrad, sat next to a single gold medal from Daveed's days competing in track and field. To him, it symbolized their bond from the beginning. To her, it was probably just a space to hide old items.

"Daveed, get in here! I need you to cut!"

All at once, Daveed's sense of self returned to center him in reality. He quickly kicked off his shoes once he remembered Olivia's rules and started off toward the kitchen to answer the call for his help.

Even with the windows open, he could smell savory and sweet aromas combining for a smell that reminded him of the holidays. However, the calendar placed them square in the middle of an excruciatingly hot summer. He could see the open bottle of BBQ sauce on the center island next to a mixing bowl full of things he couldn't recognize but knew they would taste great. Bushels of greens sat in a pot on the stove, boiling amid smoked meat and seasonings to complement the food cooking in the oven. Daveed felt excitement take hold of his face and forced the apples of his cheeks up toward his eyes. Olivia looked up from her task at the cutting board and smirked.

"I thought you were vegan now."

"My business is my business, Liv. We talked about this last week."

"We also talked about you heading directly to Toronto after your job in Atlanta and, yet, here you are." She studied Daveed's face for answers but found nothing but a growing smile. "Come over here and cut up these strawberries while I sauce the ribs."

Daveed followed directions without complaint, lazily strolling to the island and nudging Olivia away. He'd been her help in the kitchen before to open pesky jars or stir while she tended to the more time-intensive parts of the meal. On more than one occasion, he had fucked up, and each time she invited him back into her safe space with open arms.

"How's Rafa and the family," Olivia asked with her back turned while she bent to take a peek into the oven.

Daveed kept his eyes on her backside for a moment too long before answering. "Rafa's good. Amy sends her love and says that you are more than welcome for Friendsgiving this year. She volunteered you for pies."

"You volunteered me for pies, Daveed," Olivia corrected, knowing how much her friend loved her desserts. "What about my babies? Is Santiago the best big brother to Emelia?"

"He's...trying. But he did send a gift for the lady with the bald head. His words, not mine."

Olivia ran a hand across her tapered fade and chuckled. "I feel like he heard Rafael say that."

"No, Rafa calls you Thick Mr. Clean."

"Yeah, because that's what you said when you were drunk on New Years," Olivia accused as she gestured toward the cabinet housing her wine glasses. Daveed nodded before answering.

"I said it with love!"

"Mhmm, I'm sure."

Together they watched half a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc be transferred into the separate glasses, waiting for the moment they could take a sip. The last time they shared a drink, they ran through two 12- packs of beer with Rafael and ended up dancing with street performers in Times Square. She hadn't been able to stomach the smell of a Budweiser since then and fully transitioned to fruity notes and sparkling Rosé with Daveed occasionally coming along for the ride.

Taking another long sip from his glass, Daveed leaned against the island counter to watch Olivia stir a mixture for skillet cornbread.

"What's got you so stressed?"

Olivia shrugged but didn't look away from the bowl. "Nothing. I'm fine."

"The last time you cooked like this, you were writing your dissertation. And the time before that, it was your mom."

The room fell quiet outside of the spoon, ricocheting off the sides of the mixing bowl. After several seconds, Olivia took a deep breath and looked up at Daveed.

"Daddy's getting remarried. Omari and I are his best-kids," she laughed. "I'm not stressed. Just a bit...sad, I guess?"

Daveed understood the issue without needing more context. Five years ago, he was the one sitting beside Olivia on the floor of her brother's home office after the news came that their mother had in the hospital. He was there for the saddest funeral he'd ever experienced and the months of reconciliation that the family struggled through on the way to some sense of normalcy. The idea that her father had found love again was heartwarming, but Daveed knew the occasion was bringing up old feelings.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged again and moved the skillet to the oven. "There's nothing to talk about. I said I'm fine. I wish she was here, ya know, but I know she isn't upset. She always told us to move on once she's gone. She sure as hell would."

Daveed chuckled at the idea of Mrs. Jenkin's moving on in the afterlife. "She was funny like that. I remember when she met me for the first time and kept calling me Devante."

"Yes," Olvia exclaimed, a spark of joy returning to her eyes. "She'd call me and be like, that boy Devante is smart! Ask him if he can put me in a movie one day!"

Olivia's voice warped to imitate her mother as best as possible before she burst into laughter with Daveed.

"One of the last things she said to me was that I need to make sure you keep having fun. She didn't want you to stop enjoying life on account of her."

"Yeah…" Daveed watched Olivia down the wine in her glass with her eyes closed, waiting for her to continue her thought. "Well, you're doing a good job. We could work on your definition of fun, but solid effort so far."

"How can I do better? I'm open to criticism."  

Daveed kept his eyes on Olivia while he reached across her body to grab the wine bottle for the final drink. Her breath hitched while alcohol buzzed through her system, creating the perfect storm for sudden arousal. She fought her thoughts by shaking her head to recover.

"You can start by grabbing those strawberries and bringing them over to the stove."

"Don't skip the question." Daveed's smirk as he followed her to the other side of the counter made Oliva hot with embarrassment, but she kept a calm exterior. "Are you still having fun with me?"

"I always have fun with you, D, you know that. Who else is gonna play Bop It with me at 2 AM on a Wednesday? The question is, are you still having fun with me, superstar?"

"Don't start that. I come and stay at your house because I miss you, not because I can't find somewhere else to sleep. You're my person."

"For now," Olivia added as a rebuttal, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at hearing the way Daveed felt. "What happens when you get married? You're gonna have to go be a family man like Rafa. Then we'll only see each other on Friendsgiving and Christmas."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Hm." Olivia's short but skeptical laugh effectively ended the conversation. Still, Daveed had already made up his mind to return to the discussion later in the week. "So, how long are you here this time?"

Daveed used one of his large palms to push a few curls off his forehead in search of relief from the heat in the kitchen. "I was thinking a couple weeks. Three or four."

"That's longer than normal! I get to have my favorite guy here long enough to help me put wallpaper up in the guest bathroom?"

"Am I only muscle to you?"

"Of course, not," she answered with a sweet smile, making Daveed mirror her expression. "You're also a taste tester. Open up."

Before Daveed could object, Olivia swiped barbecue sauce across his bottom lip for his opinion. The tip of his tongue appeared to taste the tangy brown sauce, finding an explosion of flavor that reminded him how much he missed Olivia's cooking.

"What's the verdict," Olivia asked over her shoulder as she turned off the eye under her simple syrup mixture.

"Tangy and sweet. I'm not sure why you don't bottle this up for sale. My dad would love some."

"Meh, I like having it as a treat for the people I love. All my hobbies aren't for profit, my friend."

Daveed dramatically threw a hand across his chest and gasped. "Did Mean Ole Liv just imply that she loves me? I-I'm gobsmacked. Utterly shocked and eternally grateful."

"Diggs, you're pushing it," she laughed. "Come taste this syrup before I start on the lemonade."

From experience, Daveed knew what to expect. But he humored Olivia anyway if only to see pride light up her face when he told her how amazing the sweet mixture tasted. After washing his hands in the sink, he skimmed his middle and pointer fingers across the top of the syrup to pick up enough to coat his fingertips.

He eyed the liquid for a moment, watching it slowly trickle down the side of his long fingers while he thought of his next move. Olivia stood at the refrigerator with her back turned, humming a song from The Wiz. At the same time, she gathered ingredients for the beverage.

"Hey...hey, Liv." Daveed had already started to close the short gap between them and stood waiting for Olivia to respond to his call.

"Wha -" A sudden swipe of syrup across her bottom lip confused Olivia. "D, what is your problem?"

Stepping forward, Daveed took her chin in his to bring their lips inches apart. "Is it still cool if I taste?"

Olivia stared at Daveed without blinking, fighting her brain for a competent answer to his question. Instead, she nodded in a daze with her jaw slack. His fingers took gentle meandering paths across the peaks and valleys of her face before using his thumb to part her lips.

Daveed's first kiss was a tentative peck to test the waters. When he received no resistance, he pulled Olivia closer for full access to her mouth.

Neither of them expected to fall into the kiss so easily. Olivia didn't expect to melt into Daveed's body while he dictated the pace and intensity. Daveed didn't expect to feel an overwhelming desire to consume the one person that always felt so close but far away. He wanted to feel and taste every part of Olivia while he had the green light. She reveled in Daveed's attention, even if it was only for a moment.

Taking a step backward, Daveed used his knowledge of the kitchen to guide them back toward the stove. Their lips remained connected to taste the last bits of each other. Olivia was the first to break the lip lock and move her head upward, directing Daveed to choose a spot on her neck to explore.

The cold, sticky simple syrup came next, the thick glob landing on the center of her chest and sliding to her cleavage.

"I've thought about this a lot," Daveed spoke barely above a whisper as he used a finger to spread simple syrup across Olivia's chest. "Kinda wild to say, but I have."

"How long?"

"A year. Maybe two."

Olivia released a shaky gasp once Daveed's tongue began licking from the space between her breast to the base of her neck to catch the simple syrup. As quickly as it disappeared, he replaced the sugar mixture with another round at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He groaned as the tart strawberry flavor mixed with the sweetness of the sugar and Olivia's skin. She grasped the back of his head for stability, allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a few seconds.

"How does it turn out? In your thoughts, I mean?"

Daveed paused to kiss Olivia's lips again and run his hands down her back. "Doesn't matter. We're here now, and I can't think of anything outside of how good you taste drenched in strawberry sauce."

"Simple syrup," Olivia answered, smiling as she sneakily dipped her finger into the pot behind Daveed. "It's simple syrup, and I haven't gotten a taste yet. Open your mouth."

They kept their eyes on each other while Daveed opened his mouth, waiting for whatever came next. Olivia took her time to coat his tongue in syrup, imagining how it would feel to experience the concoction from his mouth.

There started the mad scramble to get closer, taste more and touch longer. Separate but equal desires to completely consume the other person had the pair maneuvering around the kitchen. They remained attached at the lips until they reached the solid wood breakfast table near the large casement window. Daveed was the first to remove clothing, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere behind him. A split-second decision had him rushing back to the stove to retrieve the syrup pot. He carefully placed it on the table while Olivia slid the straps of her summer dress down her arms to let the fabric pool at her waist. Daveed watched with a flirtatious smile, marveling at the expanse of her warm brown skin. Olivia returned the sentiment, letting her eyes rake over his broad chest and toned midsection.

One after the other, Daveed and Olivia added bits of syrup to different body parts to lick and suck the skin clean. A handful mistakenly dripped onto Olivia's thigh, and they watched the sticky liquid carry small chunks of strawberries to the inner portion of her leg.

Daveed regarded the sight with wonder before carefully dropping to one knee for a better look. He maintained eye contact with Olivia as he kissed his way to the sweetest spot, lingering in places that earned the most desirable response. The scratch of facial hair combined with his lips and tongue's soft, silkiness made Olivia keen for more. She could feel the blood rushing to pool at her inner thigh for a bruise that would leave evidence of a dream achieved. She smiled at the thought of seeing it when she was getting dressed and how her stomach might feel with butterflies from the memories.

Daveed mumbled praise after praise into the supple skin of Olivia's thigh before starting a journey back to her lips. When he returned, he slowly pushed the waistband of his sweats down his hips and legs.

"Oh," Olivia spoke, eyes wide while she fought the natural desire to let her gaze travel. "I...wow, okay. I feel like I'm violating you."

"I'm kind of asking you to," Daveed laughed as he stepped closer.

"This is so fucking weird. Are we really about to do this?"

"Only if you want. I mean, I want to, but we can stop whenever you say the word."

He was closer now, dropping kisses on her shoulders while he pressed their chests together to reduce the space between him.

Olivia's legs naturally hooked themselves around his waist at the same time that her arms circled his neck.

She leaned forward to speak against Daveed's lips with her eyes hooded in lust, "I want this."

Passion and the hint of strawberry coating their lips intensified the moment between Olivia and Daveed. He held her writhing hips steady while he stood on his toes to push forward. Simultaneous moans of pleasure rang out in the kitchen, surely gaining the attention of nearby neighbors.

Their hips bucked an even pace, repeatedly meeting to build tension in their bellies. Daveed felt the strain of each stroke in his thighs and calves but found the desire to fuck his friend on her kitchen table to override any other immediate discomfort.

"Are you a talker," Daveed asked randomly, making Olivia's eyes snap up from the action below her waist to focus her attention on him.

"What?"

"A talker. Do you like to talk during sex?" His question came between labored breaths and grunts holding a mixture of exertion and indescribable pleasure.

"Daveed, are you trying to have a conversation with me right now?"

"I mean, I like to - fuck - I...I like to talk sometimes. Is that cool?"

A high-pitched moan ripped through Olivia's throat before she could gather her senses to respond. "It's your c-call, Diggs. Just don't stop."

He followed directions without skipping a beat, digging into his strength to pick up speed when he sensed they could move to the next level. He peppered in filthy statements that stimulate Olivia's mind while driving into her with expert precision.

They held on to each other as they reached separate peaks with no regard for the climbing noise level.

"I wanna do this forever," Daveed whispered into Olivia's ear before nipping at the lobe.

"Not look into my eyes lovingly and write songs about me?"

Daveed chuckled and snapped his hips forward, earning a near-silent moan. "Can I use you calling me daddy on the hook?"

"You got a lot of work to do before that happens."

"I'll put in overtime."

Splaying his hand across Olivia's torso, Daveed pushed her to lay flat on the table before leaning to hover over her body. He used his waning energy to give her all the power in his hips, searching for a climax. When she thought she couldn't come anymore, Olivia felt her body jolt off the table once the pad of Daveed's thumb began rubbing tight circles on her clit. Daveed smiled at the reaction but felt it disappear as soon as his hips falter mid-stroke. He rushed to pull out of Olivia, fearing that if he stayed inside for a moment longer, he would expedite his journey to fatherhood.

Olivia helped his cause by curling her fingers around his length and joining his pumping effort while she propped her body up on her elbow. He came with a choppy moan and heavy breathing on her belly, his chest rising and falling rapidly in time with the stove's timer beeping for attention.

Both Olivia and Daveed dissolved into laughter.

"Please, don't let this dry on me. It's sexy now but a pain to get off later."

Daveed's laughter climbed to hysterics at Olivia's mention of the mess on her stomach before reaching across the table to grab napkins out of the centerpiece component.

"Sorry," he apologized sheepishly as he helped wipe her clean. "Condoms next time?" 

"Or my mouth."

Daveed stood shocked for a split second while Olivia worked to readjust her clothing and hurry to the stove. He followed her lead and pulled up his sweats before clearing the syrup pot and grabbing wipes to disinfect the surface.

The room was silent while they arranged hot dishes on the counter and privately grappled with having sex for the first time. A sense of "now what" hung in the air, which made Daveed more and more uncomfortable.

After plates were fixed, they chose opposite ends of the table to enjoy the meal.

"You know," Olivia started, laughing as she swallowed the last piece of cornbread on her plate. "That simple syrup recipe is my mom's. This whole meal was her favorite thing to cook, and I made it because I was really fuckin' sad and needed her nearby. Then you showed up."

Daveed's eyes snapped up from his plate. He wasn't sure what to say and remained silent in hopes that Olivia would elaborate.

"A couple weeks before she died, she told me that she would still be directing my love life from Heaven. She grabbed my hand and said, 'Dammit, Bean, I'm gone get you a man even if I gotta do it during bingo with the good Lord.'"

"You think she's up there winning the grand prize?"

Olivia shook her head. "I think she forfeited it to send you to me."

Her answer made Daveed still to watch Olivia's eyes meet his set from across the table. She reached a hand across the table with her palms facing upward, beckoning Daveed to place his palm in the center of hers.

"We have three weeks to figure this shit out," Daveed said, smiling before bringing Olivia's palm to rest on his cheek.

She looked at him for a minute to take in the way his eyes reflected the sun before using her head to gesture toward the pot still resting on the counter.

"And all night to finish off mama's recipe."

[bopbopstyles]

1. December 26th, 2016

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.4k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

A/N: welcome to chapter one of THE ONLY EXCEPTION! i’m so flipping excited i could scream!!!!!! this fic is going to be a long boi so buckle up. also thank you to @meetmeinfleetwood​ for supporting this fic from the start ilysm!!!! xoxo, willa

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Y/N’s dad had been having these Christmas parties for the past five years or so, each time on the 26th of December, each time packed with music industry people and lots of bottles of tequila and red wine. Her first time had been two years ago, and she had found it surprisingly enjoyable—she had expected it to be boring and to want to leave after the first hour. Instead, it was full of people she had known since she was a kid, musicians and producers and her dad’s old A&R guys who she had grown up hanging out with in recording studios and backstage at her dad’s shows. They had come to family dinners before and after her parents’ divorce, and so when she ran into them at the parties it was easy to catch them up on her life and suddenly it was after midnight and the party was emptying out. 

This year she had volunteered to help set up. Her dad had rented a massive house out in the hills and it came already decorated, but it was on Y/N to make sure there were chairs set up for the music circle, a massive bar laid out and plenty of glasses ready. Her dad’s friend was making the food, eager to use the opportunity to promote the new restaurant he was opening, so when Y/N opened the door it already smelled like garlic and olive oil, her favorite scents on earth. 

“Karl!” She called through the house, shutting the heavy oak door behind her. Her arms were laden with boxes of plastic glasses—her dad was too scared of the guests breaking glass ones—and she wandered into the kitchen. The tall ceilings of the entryway where a massive Christmas tree sat adorned with ornaments gave way to a modern, sleek kitchen. Karl twirled around to greet her, a grin on his face. “Smells delicious in here.”

He set down his spatula and came over, grabbing a box and giving her a kiss on each cheek. “Hello, darling. Are there more in the car?” 

She shook her head, unwinding her scarf from her neck and placing it on the counter. Karl had been her father’s college roommate and somehow they’d stayed close over the years, every one of Y/N’s birthdays spent at one of Karl’s restaurants with all of her favorite dishes made special, a birthday cannoli with a candle in it for her to blow out. “This is all of the glasses. Dad told me to get the bar ready—he’s bringing the booze in a bit.”

“Hope there’s a glass of wine in there for the chef,” Karl said and Y/N chuckled—there always was a bottle of Karl’s favorite expensive wine set aside when he did one of these things and he knew it. It was part of the pay, her father always said. “Want to taste test?”

“Always.” Y/N joined Karl at the stove, eagerly tasting the sauce he was cooking. It was a simple sage butter sauce, but Karl always excelled at the most simple dishes. “Delicious, as usual,” she said. 

Karl jabbered her ear off about the updates on the restaurant—they’d run into problems finding a good sous chef and he was about to do the job himself if he didn’t find someone soon—while Y/N decided where to set up the bar. Finally, she settled on a high table against the glass wall in the wide hallway between the kitchen and the sprawling dining room, which opened up onto the patio. She tugged open the accordion glass doors and breathed in the cool Los Angeles air, thankful for a relatively cold evening, since she always got overheated at parties like this, where people were crammed into every corner. Her dad seemed to know more people every year. Satisfied with the position of the table, she set out the glasses and paper napkins, before asking Karl if he had an extra cooler he’d brought with. She’d forgotten to ask her dad for one before she had left. She filled it with ice and set it next to the table with a scoop, and grabbed the special shot glasses her father had told her to bring, placing them on the table next to a bouquet of flowers. 

Her job done, she wandered through the rest of the house. It was gorgeous—she wondered how her father had found it. If she remembered correctly, he had said something about it being an official venue for music and parties, he’d done a private gig here a few years back and the owners had loved him enough to offer it for this party. It’s not like anyone really had gigs on December 26th anyway. She closed all the doors to the back bedrooms, remembering her father’s request, and set up a coat closet of sorts out of the bedroom closest to the front, before heading to change into her outfit for the evening. 

“Y/N!” She was securing her favorite pair of earrings in her ears when she heard her father’s voice through the halls of the house. “Where ya at, sweetheart?”

“One sec, Dad!” She grabbed the hanger she had kept her top on and shoved it into her massive purse, settling it into the back corner of the room for safety. Her father was waiting for her in the kitchen with Karl, also getting a sample of the sauce she had tried earlier. 

“Hi you,” her father said when she came in. His salt and pepper hair was balding a bit, but his bright smile was what drew people in, olive skin that tanned easily in the California sun. Y/N had selected his suit for the evening, a maroon red and a black tie, something a bit out of the ordinary for him, but Y/N loved it. “Look gorgeous.”

She hugged her father tightly. She had spent Christmas with her mother, as usual, so this was the first time she’d seen her dad during the holidays. “Not too bad yourself, captain.”

“Ha!” Her father pinched her cheek softly, just as he had when she was a child. “I’ve got your present in the car, come grab it with me?”

“Sure.” They had decided to exchange gifts at the party and Y/N had hers tucked in the back pocket of her jeans—dinner on her at Karl’s new restaurant, something she’d discussed with the owner a few weeks ago. Her father’s car sat in the driveway, trunk open where boxes of alcohol laid waiting to be carried inside. “That my gift?”

“You wish,” her dad answered, and Y/N gave him a pouty look that he just shook his head at. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out an envelope. Y/N couldn’t help but hope it was cash—she needed a new computer and was running a bit short. She knew her dad would help if she asked, but she hated asking him for money. 

She took the envelope and opened it, a sheet of paper and something thicker hiding between its folds. She opened the letter and found a homemade coupon of sorts, just as she had done for him. 

TWO TICKETS TO ANY SHOW IN LA - NON-REFUNDABLE, FUN REQUIRED!

“Papa,” she said, giving him a beaming smile. “My favorite!” She threw her arms around his neck and he chuckled, hugging her right back. 

“Just give me a few weeks heads up, okay?”

Y/N nodded, and looked back down at the letter, eyes running over her dad’s sweet words of love and pride. It was their thing—homemade cards always, never store bought, despite that neither of them could draw. “Thank you.” 

“Welcome, sweetheart.”

“Now yours!” She reached into her pocket and pulled out his envelope, aptly addressed, Dad, and handed it over. Her father read her card as well, and chuckled at her drawing of them at dinner together. 

He kissed her forehead gently. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Merry Christmas,” she said, squeezing his side. “Now let’s get all this booze out of your car before I drive away with it!” Her dad laughed and followed her to the back of the car, them each grabbing a carton of wine. There had to be enough for over a hundred people, Y/N thought to herself. Who would be new this year?

The party was in full swing, her dad’s favorite music playing softly through the speaker system, people littered all over the house with the alcohol flowing. Karl was cooking up a storm in the kitchen, his food a massive hit, and Y/N couldn’t have been happier for him. She’d caught up with her dad’s friends and people who were essentially her godparents, sharing how her job was going (fine) and her relationship prospects (non-existent), sipping tequila and red wine on rotation. 

Y/N leaned against the patio railing overlooking the hills, a glass of tequila on the rocks settled in between her palms. She could hear her father’s voice in the distance calling people to come and start the music, the scrape of chairs and strumming of guitars. It was about time for her to go in, but she lingered, relishing the quiet of the night and the biting air wrapping around her. Since she didn’t play an instrument, despite her father’s attempts, this part of the evening was the part where she just sat back and observed. And also usually got quite drunk since all she had to do was drink and sing along. 

“Y/N, right?” She turned around, eyes focusing on the person standing a few feet away. “I’m Harry.”

Harry Styles. How had he ended up here, and how had she not seen him yet? “Nice to meet you,” she answered, standing up straight and taking a sip of her drink. “Not going in to play?”

He shook his head. “Bit nervous, if I’m honest. Lot of talent in that room.”

She cocked her head to the side as he joined her at the railing. “You’re plenty talented,” she told him. It was true. She was a huge fan of his, had been for a while, following his work in One Direction since its inception, and now in the solo career her dad had mentioned. He was recording with some guys out at The Village a few months ago and called her at the end of the day, saying he ran into Harry Styles in the middle of a session doing some solo stuff. Said it sounded good, which she wasn’t surprised by in the slightest. 

But Harry just chuckled. “Nah, those people are legends,” he said. She knew who he was talking about, too. One of the Dixie Chicks was there, some guys who had written with John Mayer and Kanye West, a dozen other Grammy-nominated musicians, some record label execs who had practically formed the industry as they knew it today, the A&R people who had found them. It was intimidating, definitely, but for Harry she didn’t think it would be. 

“Just people.” She sipped on her drink, studying him. He was in a long black coat, a loose black v-neck silk shirt and red and white plaid pants that tapered at the leg, his cropped curls falling into his face slightly. He also had a tequila on the rocks gripped in his hand, rings adorning every one of his fingers. A skull, a red stone, a silver band, amongst them. “Having fun?”

He smiles at her, thankful for the change of topic. “Loads. Haven’t been at a party like this in a while.”

“What do you mean?”

The breeze passed between them, ruffling his hair a bit. “I don’t know. Just, people who didn’t really give a shit about me, if you know what I mean? Holidays can be a bit much sometimes.”

She nodded as if she understood what it felt like to be a popstar of his fame, which she didn’t, but she could imagine. “Didn’t go home?”

“My mum and sister came here, actually,” he said. “They were craving a respite from the cold English winters.”

“Well, this is definitely a respite,” Y/N said, and Harry chuckled.

Silence stretched between them and Y/N tapped her fingernails against her cup. Maybe it was time to go inside, she thought. “So, Y/N, what do you do?”

His question pulled her out of her head easily. “Brand strategy,” she answered, thankful for a comfortable topic. “I work mostly with fashion and product companies, preferably sustainable ones.”

“You like it?”

“Love it.” She did. She loved her work—she’d gone to school for it and thrown herself into it after school, loving pitching projects for clients and helping them understand their core purpose and how they could grow and evolve  most authentically. “It was that or books, but I decided this was a bit more profitable. Also wasn’t too keen on living in New York.”

Harry nodded, twirling his glass in his hands. She took the opportunity to run her eyes across his face—he was gorgeous in this way that you weren’t sure was real. It was interesting to see how much he’d grown up. At 22, his cheekbones were cut and his jaw defined, his former long locks he had recently cut and Y/N liked these more, she decided. “What are your favorite writers?” He asked, pulling Y/N back into the conversation. 

“That’s like asking which one of your children is your favorite,” she joked, and he chuckled, the sound music to Y/N’s ears. “Dunno, really. I read so much it’s hard to choose, you know? Reading a Louise Erdrich book right now that’s absolutely stellar. The Round House—you should give it a go if you’ve got the time.”

He pulled out his phone and she watched him type in the name to his Notes app, the action making her smile. “Been looking for a new book,” he said. “Just been reading The New Yorker and my mum about took my head off for not reading enough.” They both laughed, the sound filling the night air. 

“Harry!” A man was standing in the doorway to the patio, a guitar in hand. “Come sing, mate.”

Harry glanced back at Y/N. “Coming?”

Y/N nodded and followed him inside, refilling her glass on the way. Harry handed her his, and she did the same, giving them both another glass of tequila to sip on while they listened to the circle of musicians. Someone had decided to do some Christmas tunes she Y/N smiled when she heard her father’s voice—he’d made it a bit country, just like he loved to do with popular songs. He’d grown up on a steady diet of folk music and country, just as Y/N had, and he always joked it was in his blood. Harry took a seat next to his friend who Y/N didn’t recognize—probably some producer her dad had met recently, maybe one of the guys from The Village if that was how they’d connected, and Y/N grabbed the seat her dad had saved for her next to him. 

She joined in immediately, knowing this rendition of “The Little Drummer Boy” by heart, since it was the same one he had made up when Y/N was eight or nine. Karl was in the circle too, a plate of food in his hands and his bottle of red wine on the ground, and he gave her a warm smile. This was her favorite part of the night—feeling a part of something her father loved so dearly. When he gave her a kiss to her temple and introduced her to the group, she couldn’t help but find Harry’s eyes, his irises twinkling back at her under the lights. 

At one o’clock, people finally began filtering out of the party, and Harry decided it was probably time for him to head. Jeff, who had invited him to come with, had already left, exhausted from the holidays with family, but Harry had stayed, hoping to talk to Y/N for a little while longer. He had unfortunately failed to catch her, though, the music running long and after it had wrapped up people had tugged her in for hugs and conversation. Despite knowing who she was through her father, he was still in awe of how intimately she knew all of these people. He overheard snippets of her conversations, asking about children and partners, parents who had cancer and career-defining moments she’d missed out on because of work. Harry was in this world too, but many of the people at this party were a bit older than his usual set—they belonged to the group of his heroes, rather than necessarily people he felt were his peers. He was still getting his solo career together, still only a boyband member in their eyes. He tried not to feel less than, but sometimes it was hard when you were sat next to Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks with utterly nothing to say but awe-inspired ramblings. 

Finally, Y/N was alone, the older couple she was talking to having left for the door, and Harry seized the opportunity. “Y/N,” he said, and her head popped up from her phone to look at him. Her dark brown hair was soft against her skin, and he eagerly wondered what it felt like against his skin, brown eyes that searched his soul. “I loved talking to you earlier.”

She smiled and Harry loved it when she did. Lit up the whole room, just about. “Me too. Glad you came—with Jeff, yeah?”

He nodded. “He introduced me to your dad when we were at The Village.” Y/N nodded as well, obviously having figured out the story. “I—I was wondering, would you want to grab coffee sometime? I’d love to chat more, get to know you.” He restrained the urge to bounce on his heels, nervous in front of her. He felt like a kid asking out his crush, but that’s what this was, a crush. Even if it came to nothing, she was kind, interesting, and fit into the world he revolved in. It wasn’t the most important thing, but he appreciated it all the same. 

“Oh,” she said, tone somber. “Sorry, Harry, but I don’t date musicians. Get home safe, yeah?” She turned away from him, feet carrying her back into the living room, presumably finding her father.

What? She didn’t date musicians? “I’m sorry—what?”

Y/N turned back to look at him. “I just don’t. Bit of a rule.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Don’t feel the need to explain it. Bye, Harry.” Then, she walked away and Harry was left in shock. The abrupt change in tone was like whiplash—she had seemed so interested, involved in their conversation, only to tell him she didn’t date musicians? What the fuck kind of rule was that? 

He huffed and tugged out his phone to tell his driver he was ready, and went outside, leaving behind Y/N and her confusing rule. But this wouldn’t be the last time he saw her, he decided. He wanted to know why she had this rule, this stupid rule that was stopping her from getting to know him. It wasn’t like he even asked her to date him, just to get coffee for Pete’s sake. Harry sat down in the car and pulled out his phone, composing a text to Jeff. 

Could I write with Peter? Seemed like a great guy, really talented. Maybe if she got to Y/N’s dad, he could earn some brownie points. Maybe then she’d bend her rules for him, because despite their short conversation, Harry was intrigued. 

Definitely, Jeff replied. I’ll text him tomorrow.

Harry closed his phone and smiled. Hopefully this worked, because Harry was dying to know more about this rule of hers. 

Y/N’s eyes narrowed when she pulled into her dad’s driveway. There was another car sat in the drive, a black 4-door SUV she’d never seen before, the windows tinted so she couldn’t see in. It reminded her of those cars the FBI drives in crime dramas, which obviously led her to a part of her brain that was not necessarily a hopeful place. She scrambled to grab her bag from work and her keys, launching herself from her car and towards her dad’s door. 

“Dad!” She called into the house, slamming the door shut behind her. “Whose car is in the drive? Didn’t tell me we’d be having company!” Gripping the wall for balance she toed off her shoes and set her bag on the floor next to the door, shrugging off her coat and setting it on a hook. “Dad?”

“He’s in the toilet.”

Her head whipped around and found Harry Styles standing in her hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. As much as she had planned to forget about him after the party, never really expecting to see him again, she hadn’t been able to. And now he was in her house, hair pushed back from his face, a grin painted on his lips. It was irritating how gorgeous he was. “The fuck are you doing here?”

A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck and for a second Y/N regretted being quite so aggressive. “‘M writing with your dad,” he explained. “Guess he didn’t tell you.”

“No,” she answered. She brushed past him into the living room where, as Harry had said, it was obvious they had been writing. Her dad’s treasured old Gibson guitar leaning against his favorite armchair where he’d set it, computers out with GarageBand up for recording demos, papers with scribbles strewn across the coffee table. “Good session?” She decided that there was no way he was here just to pursue her—he was there for professional reasons, after all. Her dad and Harry must’ve hit it off at the party last week. There was also the fact that her dad was a really fucking good songwriter, so of course Harry would want to work with him. Ever since he’d stopped touring, her dad had started doing mainly writing, his songs appearing on records from everyone from up-and-coming artists the label found him to John Legend. 

Harry just nodded. Her eyes drifted to his own guitar, a soft brown wood that had obviously seen some heavy use and travel. She recognized it from her dad’s own guitars that he used to take on the road with him, the nicks and faded wood at the base of the bridge. 

“Y/N!” Her dad’s voice fell through the silence of the room as he re-entered. He was wearing his favorite old UCLA shirt, where she’d just graduated from not too long ago. “Home earlier than usual. Was going to give you a heads up about this one,” he pointed to Harry then, “but I see you’ve already found out.”

Her eyes drifted to Harry, who stood awkwardly next to the couch, unsure if he should sit or stand. “Finished my projects early and didn’t have any meetings, so thought I’d get out early and surprise you.”

“Well,” her father said, giving her a quick hug, “glad you did. I’m getting hungry, how about you?” She nodded, she was always ravenous after work. “Harry, would you want to stay for dinner?”

No, she thought. The last thing she wanted was to sit at a table with a guy she’d rejected and her father and eat an awkward dinner on a Friday night. She just wanted a massive glass of red wine, her delicious romance novel from her bedside table, and maybe lighting a fire in the pit in the backyard. 

Instead, Harry said, “Sure. Don’t want to impose though.”

“Nonsense! Y/N why don’t you go change and Harry and I can tidy up from working. We were about done anyway.” Her dad kissed the top of her head sweetly and she just did as he said, Harry a forgotten thought behind her as she went to her room upstairs. 

It was her childhood bedroom which she had been residing in for a month now. How her landlord could put her out for this long was beyond her, but she hadn’t had the energy to fight it—plus, it was an opportunity to spend some quality time with her workaholic father. So she was spending her evenings in her light blue colored room, sleeping between her soft pink sheets, and picking her work clothes that butted up against remnants from high school she’d left behind as memories. Y/N pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt that probably belonged to an ex-fling from college—Daniel maybe? Y/N couldn’t remember. Slipping on a pair of socks to keep her feet warm from the tile floors of the kitchen, she left her room, tugging her door shut so if Harry went exploring he wouldn’t stumble into her room. 

Downstairs, Harry was sat at the kitchen island with a glass of wine and a smile on his face, deep in conversation with her dad about Fleetwood Mac’s chord progressions. A glass of red was waiting for her on the counter and she picked it up, wandering over to where her dad was cooking

“Whatcha making?” She asked, peeking into the pot. 

“Pasta,” he replied. “Now stop being a nosy Nelly and talk to our guest while I try to focus on not burning the pasta.”

“Dad you haven’t even put it in yet.”

Her dad shooed her from the stove and she chuckled, backing away. “Get out of here, ya pest.”

She turned to Harry, realizing her dad was actively trying to get them to hang out. He was so annoying sometimes. “How do you feel about a fire?”

“Positively,” he answered and she led him outside into her backyard. 

It was chilly out, but nothing too bad. She set her glass on the table and went over to the stack of wood her dad kept against the fence, picking up some logs and carrying them over to the fire pit they’d had for years. At first it was so Y/N could roast marshmallows at home, her father trying to do anything to get her to come over to his house more after the divorce, and as time had gone on it had become her favorite place in the whole house. When her dad was out of town and she came over to check up on the house in high school, she’d bring her weed and smoke out here under the stars. 

Harry sidled up next to her and picked up a few logs, following her to the fire pit. “This is cool,” he said, words breaking their silence. 

Y/N dropped the logs into the fire and looked up at him. “Favorite part of the whole house.” A box of matches sat next to the door and she grabbed them, as well as some kindling, and brought it over to the logs, setting the kindling under the logs before lighting them. The fire leaped up, the wood nice and dry from the lack of rain recently. “So, who got in touch with who?”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Huh?”

She settled into one of the chairs set by the fire, wine tucked between her fingers. “The writing. You or my dad?”

“Oh,” he answered, joining her in the chair next to her. “Me, actually. Through Jeff.”

As expected. “And?”

“He’s really good,” Harry said, to which Y/N chuckled. 

“That he is.”

“What was it like growing up with him as your dad?” He asked, breaking the silence between them.

Y/N shifted in her chair. She’d been asked this question so many times over the years, but it still was hard to answer. “Hard, if I’m being honest,” she told him, truth surprising her. But she had a feeling Harry would get it to a certain extent. He was a hugely popular star, after all. She’d heard rumors that he was a part of a movie coming out this year, something historical. “Like, my parents are divorced, which I assume you know.” He nodded,  probably having figured it out by now. “And with my dad’s tour schedule when I was in school, I didn’t see him all that much, especially in elementary and middle school. He was gone all the time, even missed my birthday a couple times because of tour dates, so I just didn’t really know him that well, I guess. Fuck, sorry, this is a lot,” she breathed out, realizing she was rambling. Harry was just surprisingly easy to talk to, his eyes steady on her, intently listening to her every word. Boys didn’t usually listen to her like this.

“S’fine,” he replied. “When did it change, if you don’t mind me asking? Seem so close now.”

The fire, having grown by now, crackled in front of them. “Late high school, but mainly when I was in college. My mom moved to San Francisco for a job and I went to UCLA, so my dad was closest. Came over to do my laundry sometimes, have a home cooked meal, he’d take me to dinner, that stuff. Came to football games with me, sometimes, which he always tried to be interested in but never succeeded.” Harry chuckled at that and Y/N smiled at the sound. Harry was obnoxiously pretty. Like, impossibly pretty in this way where you couldn’t help but look at him again to make sure that yes, he was a real person. And it was really fucking distracting. “His touring kind of stopped when I went into college too,” she added, trying to refocus on the conversation. “Started writing mainly, putting out music only when it suited him. He’s a lot happier now, I think.”

“That’s good,” he said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m glad you guys were able to have that kind of relationship, even if it was later.”

Y/N blinked at him, his words so kind and honest. “Me too.”

“Always been one of my fears, if I’m being honest,” he said, words soft in the cool night air. Sun was starting to set and it was getting dark around them, the light of the fire putting an orange ember to his face. “About having kids with my career, you know? I want to be a dad, but it’s like…how do I do that while being gone all the time?” His honesty shocked her, but then again Harry Styles seemed to be excelling at that in every regard. “Sorry, that’s a lot to unload on you.”

“No it isn’t,” she reassured him. “Just told you about all my daddy issues, yeah?” He chuckled, and it lightened the mood just enough. “You’ll figure it out.”

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his wine and she did the same. It was her favorite, the one her dad bought multiple of whenever she came to stay. Even though they’d gotten closer over the years, his desire to make his house perfect for her never seemed to fade. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Shoot.”

“The rule—I—why is that?”

Well, fuck. This was the exact conversation she didn’t want to have, the one she was hoping he wouldn’t bring up. “It’s actually related to what you were just saying,” she said slowly. He’d get it after everything she’d explained and the fears he shared, right? “I don’t date musicians because they’re always gone.”

Harry was quiet, absorbing her answer. It was true, they always were gone—she had every right to her rule, she told herself. She didn’t want a repeat of what her parents had experienced, what she’d experienced. Her dad’s job had ruined everything in their family, ripping her parents apart, keeping him away from her for more of the year than he was home. She didn’t want the same thing for her kids. “That’s a pretty broad stroke, isn’t it?” Harry said though, pushing back against her. “Like all musicians. Kinda a generalization ‘bout us.”

“You said it yourself,” she said, leaning forward in her chair and resting her elbows on her thighs. “You’re gone all the time. How do you build a life with someone who isn’t there half the time?”

“Devil’s advocate,” Harry said, setting his wine on the arm of his chair, “but hypothetically you’re dating someone who tours all the time. But they make you a priority, coming home and seeing you, putting your relationship first. That wouldn’t matter? You wouldn’t even take the chance that it could work out okay?”

This time it was Y/N who was quiet. “I mean, musicians only have so much control over their schedules,” she said, remembering the excuses her dad used to tell her. “Plus, it’s not the relationship that’s the problem. It’s the part when you get to marriage and kids.”

“…So it’s better to just avoid the whole thing entirely?”

Y/N nodded, her logic laid out in front of her. She’d never had to do this before—most times, guys just took her at her word and dropped it all together. Harry pushed though, wanting to understand in a way the others didn’t care enough to do. “It’s safer.”

“But then you miss out on the opportunity to fall in love with someone,” Harry says, his words like rocks in her stomach. “And what if that person was a musician?”

Y/N had a feeling they were no longer talking in hypotheticals. “We can fall in love with tons of different people.”

“No soulmates and shit for you, then?” She shook her head. She didn’t believe in all that crap, never had. Relationships were about work, effort, time. The person was important, but the life that person led mattered more to her. How much they’d prioritize the relationship, the kind of life they wanted to build. “That’s kind of depressing,” Harry said. 

The fire crackled and popped. “I don’t think so. It’s…practical.”

“Love isn’t supposed to be practical, Y/N.”

Y/N found herself speechless. She didn’t have an answer for him. She’d never been in love before, that was for sure. Hadn’t found that kind of love that people like Harry write songs about and she’d often found herself wondering when it was going to happen for her. There just hadn’t been any guys that were right for her yet. 

“Y/N! Harry!” She turned and her dad was in the doorway, pasta sauce splattered on his shirt. He’d always been a messy cook. “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N took one last look at Harry before grabbing her wine and heading inside, Harry following at her heels. 

After dinner, Harry decided this was his last chance at Y/N. He couldn’t exactly use the same excuse twice and after understanding her rule, he was determined to be the exception. He helped Y/N clear the plates while her dad settled in at the TV in the other room, telling them it was his time to watch the nightly news and they could clean up since he had cooked. Harry had missed being in a home like this, the kind where he got told to clean up from dinner and there was calm and normal conversation at the table, Y/N talking about her day at work and Harry sharing about his activities from his mum’s visit. It brought him a kind of peace he didn’t know he needed. 

The plate clattered on the counter as he set it down, Y/N turning, her hands soapy with the water from the dishes. “Gonna break our dishes,” she said with a snort. “Be careful, please.”

“Sorry,” Harry said sheepishly. He’d cleared the table, so he grabbed a dish rag from the peg and joined Y/N at the sink, taking the clean dishes from the rack and drying them, stacking them on the counter since he didn’t know where they belonged in the cabinets. 

They worked in silence, the only sound her dad’s TV from the other room. He could hear Rachel Maddow’s show on NBC, the same one he liked to watch, learning from her commentary on American politics that he was still trying to wrap his brain around. 

“Y/N,” he said when they’d finished the dishes. “I promise I heard everything you said earlier.” She looked at him with curiosity in her eyes, trying to figure out where he was going with this. Harry tried to pick his words delicately, wanting to make sure she knew he did hear her, he was just entranced by her and couldn’t give her up. “But what is the likelihood you would be willing to give it a shot? With me?”

She took the dish towel from his hands and dried her own, considering his words. The waiting was killing him, but he didn’t want to rush her. He knew what her worries were and he was asking her to put them aside. 

“We’ll take it slow,” he told her, stumbling over the words. “Promise. You set the pace, you decide about commitments. I just…” Can’t stop thinking about you.

But then Y/N surprised him by saying, “I know. I feel that way too.” His eyes widened, not believing the words from her mouth. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said slowly. “Better make the date good.”

“You sure?”

“I wouldn’t ask again unless you’d like me to change my mind.”

“Can I get your number then?” She nodded and read it off, Harry typing the numbers into his phone next to her name. Then Harry shut up and just smiled at her, following her like a puppy dog into the other room where her dad sat watching TV. She curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket her dad had so it would cover part of her and his heart softened at how sweet she looked. He loved seeing her like this, at home, comfortable in her space. “I’m going to head out,” he said. “Thank you so much for dinner, Peter.”

Y/N’s dad turned from the TV and gave him a wide smile. “Of course, Harry. You’re welcome anytime—wouldn’t want you to get lonely out here!”

His eyes drifted to Y/N and he knew that with her around, there was never anyway he could be lonely.

TAGLIST

@smokeinherperfume @afire-hes @harryinsweatersandbandanas @marinalima3 @havethetimeofyourstyles @ursogoldenshan @inmygardensuit @marinalima3 @amaridon @harrys-watermelons @dontgiveupthedayjob @cronias13 @apples2019

Would you like to know when I update The Only Exception? Let me know here!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 4TH @ NOON CST

[ssatoritendou]

Stay at Home Valentine’s Day

Pairing: Matsukawa/reader

Issei Matsukawa

Word count: 1.4k

+ summary: You and your friend Mattsun stay in together on Valentine's Day with Movies and take out and possibly more 

Genre: fluff

Warning: none

“So who are you going out with on Valentine's Day?” A work friend asked you as you were filling some files away for your boss. “I don’t think I’m going out with anyone. I’ve been thinking about my couch all week and beer.” She gave you a weird look and pouted. “But it is Valentine's Day the day of love.” “It’s a date. A holiday. It really doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t bother me. I’m not a sucker for a greeting card holiday.” “Well, I can’t. I got a date with my ex.” “The weird puppet guy?” “No not him.” She said unconvincingly. You stared her down. “Ok yes. But I don’t want to be alone on Valentine's Day.” “Fine. But text me if you are in trouble.”

“How can he get a date and not me on Valentine's Day?” Mattsun complained for the billionth time. “Issei stop complaining. It’s one day out of the year. And you have been on enough dates in the past year to cover 10 Valentine's Days.” He grumbled. “Are you going out tonight?” “No. I have movies and I’m ordering in. You are more than welcome to join instead of doing what you are going to do.” You commented sipping on your beer. Mattsun was curious about what you were talking about and moved from the kitchen to the living room. “What are you talking about?” He asked. You sighed ready to answer his question. However, Maki had made his way out of his room spinning around giving the two of you finger guns. “How do I look?” “Like a jackass.” Mattsun hummed putting his hands on his hips. You walked over to the male and squished his cheeks. “Don’t listen to him, he’s jealous. You look handsome.” “Don’t baby me. I’m a man.” “A man without a job.” “Oh, and working in a funeral home is all exciting.” You had already moved to the kitchen grabbing a snack. Watching from the counter the two of them argue. To say this didn’t happen often would be lying. Mostly they were arguing about clothes because they do their laundry together. Yes, you were living with these two idiots. You often had to break their minor fights. “Hey! Hey! Hey! Knock it off. All of this because he got a date and you didn’t? Is it worth it? Are you going to still be mad at him tomorrow about this? It’s one day that people hype up and you get discounts for something you should be doing every day when you have a significant other.” “That is expensive ___ not everyone can afford that type of treatment.” “Maybe you can’t.” “Matsukawa Issei!” You shouted. “You are being rude. In fact, you sound jealous that Maki is not going to be here. Say your sorry you only get one best friend.” “I’m sorry I’m being jealous,” Mattsun said. “I’m sorry for throwing my Valentine's date in your face.” You smiled and walked over to them and hugged them. “There, all better. Now here is the gift card to that restaurant Maki.” Mattsun looked at you and rolled his eyes. You stepped on his foot. You pushed Maki out the door. “Have fun with your Date. And if comes up on who’s house to stay at hers.” You closed the door. “You gave him the gift card I got you for your birthday to your favorite restaurant for some cheap valentines day hook up.” “A hook up your jealous about. And believe me, she isn’t a cheap hook up.” “You know who she is?” “Yeah, it's ____.” “Your friend from work?” “Yep. She said she was going out with her Ex tonight but I know she would never go out with him again. Plus she and Maki have been flirting a lot.” “When have they been flirting?” “You are not good at paying attention. First, they met last year at a Christmas party. Then during Christmas, he needed work and my office is always hiring during the holidays. He was just a tempt at the time, he still is. They are flirting around the office. There is a pool going around to see when they would hook up. I’m going to win.” “How did you know?” “I know ____ lying face. Maki asked for a nice restaurant to take a girl he has been flirting with. And the way he has been looking at her I know he wanted to take her out.” “How much is the pool?” “It's 500 for a date. +100 if they do it.” He stopped mid drink and nearly spit out his beer. “I really should be more involved in your life. What are you going to do with the money?” “I going to the restaurant I love their steak and desserts.” You hummed with your eyes closed thinking about the dinner. “What did you mean before? About what I wanted to do.” “Oh get dressed up, go to a bar, and hit on girls that got dumped. And then bring the sad girl back and fuck her not at your best.” “I wasn’t going to do that.” “Liar.” You said. “What do you want to eat?” “Ramen.” He said. “What movies do you have?” You walked over to the coffee table and looked at the DVDs. “A lot of action movies, a couple of comedies, a few romance ones.” “We don’t have a DVD player.” “But we have a gaming station. It works. It is said that people don’t use DVDs anymore or even VHS tapes. This was my whole childhood during the winter.” “Yeah, I remember watching movies with my parents every Sunday.” “You can pick the movie. While I order the food.” “Tan-tan mein.” “Tan-tan mein.” You both said at the same time. He smiled nodded looking at the movies.

You were on your 4th beer and halfway through your 2nd movie. “So Europe is dangerous for women in their early 20s.” “For some reason, I think Oikawa would identify with his daughter a lot.” You were vaguely familiar with Maki and Mattsun’s friends Iwaizumi and Oikawa. You had some dinners with them. “Does that make Iwaizumi the father? What would his special set of skills be?” “I mean his punches hurt. I guess he would be just the same and something tells me he would figure out how to use a gun.” “Are we coming up with Oikawa and Iwaizumi fan fiction?” You laughed. He laughed and rolled into you, laying his head on your laugh. “Thanks for convincing me to stay in.” “Oh please anytime. Don’t tell Maki this but I think you are way more fun.” “You think I’m not going to tell him that you think I’m way more fun.” He stared up at you and hummed. “What are you looking at?” “I was just thinking.” “About?” “Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the day I met you.” You began thinking. Maki had put up a flyer for a roommate. You thought it was just him. When you went for the interview and you saw both of them you were shocked to see two males. Mattsun looked stunned interviewing you. You didn’t think you were going to get picked. But then you got a call 2 days later from him and they agreed to help you move in. “Yeah, I remember that day. You moved more boxes than Maki.” “Of course I did I had a major crush on you. I had to grovel with Maki to choose you. It wasn’t like Maki didn’t like you, it was between you and this other guy.” “You had a crush on me?” “Yeah. I was hitting on you for like a solid 4 months. But I figured you didn’t reciprocate the feelings and I didn’t want to scare you off.” “You gotta be kidding, I had a major crush on you for like a year.” “Ha, no kidding.” He laughed laying back down. You could feel this awkward tension in the air. “We were stupid.” “Yeah…” He said his mind drifting off to the idea of dating you. He liked the idea you took care of him and Maki. You cooked, you cleaned, plus you were fun to be around. You liked playing video games and you enjoyed watching sports with them. You made an effort to know their friends. You helped Maki and him save a fortune on food. “Hey ___ I want to say you are the best Valentine's Day Date. I think we should do it again sometime.” “You wanna go on another date? Like a real date?” “Yeah. Don’t think those feelings ever went away.” “Mine too.” You clinked your beers together. “When I get that money we can go that date. Let me just text Maki that there are condoms in the glove department.” You smiled. “God, you are amazing.”

[thememestho]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 holiday/winter pick-up lines meme

pulled from various online lists, some nsfw, some awkward, some cheesy. feel free to change pronouns or reverse as you see fit.

“wanna scrooge?”

“shouldn’t you be on top of my tree, angel?”

“santa said you wished for me. good choice.”

“are you looking for a tree topper? because i’ve been told i’m a star on top.”

“i must be a snowflake because i’ve fallen for you.”

“i’ve checked twice and i’m sure you’re on my naughty list.”

“i have the stamina of the jolly, round man. i can go all night long.”

“let’s pretend to be presents and get laid under the tree.”

“the milk and cookies at my place taste great for breakfast.”

“are you a snowball? i bet i could make you melt in my hands.”

“class might be cancelled but that ass of yours don’t quit.”

“i could work with the elves in the ribbon-tying department... i am a very knotty girl.”

“is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you happy to see me?”

“that’s not a candy cane in my pocket i’m just happy to see you.”

“i didn’t think i was a snowman but you just made my heart melt.”

“i usually warm my hands by the fireplace, but you are way hotter. can you hold them for a minute?”

“are you tinsel? because i want you all over my tree.”

“brrrrrrrrrrrr-ing some takeout over to my place tonight and we can watch a bad movie.”

“let’s be naughty this year and save santa the trip.”

“do you want to see my snowballs?”

“if i was the grinch, i wouldn’t steal christmas, i would steal you.”

“black ice isn’t the only thing that brings me to my knees.”

“come sit on my lap, i’ve got a special gift for you.”

“wanna sit on the north pole tonight?”

“nice earmuffs. maybe my roommate can borrow them when we’re getting dirty tonight.”

“santa’s lap isn’t the only place where wishes come true.”

“do you like the song jingle bells? because we could go all the way.”

“want to meet santa’s little helper?”

“i don’t care if i’m on your naughty or nice list, i’d rather be on your to-do list.”

“if you come to my house on black friday all clothes are 100% off.”

“did you hear the weather report? i think we can expect a few more inches tonight.”

“are you looking to get fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-laid?”

“if you were a tree you would be an evergreen because i bet you look this good all year round.”

“we can lower your heating bill tonight because you won’t be getting cold.”

“are you main street? because i hope you get plowed in a timely manner tonight.”

“can i get a picture of you so i can show santa exactly what i want for christmas?”

“let me help you out of that ugly sweater.”

“did you ask santa for a rhino this christmas? because it looks like you could use something really horny.”

“what do you say we make this a not so silent night?”

“is your name kwanzaa? because i would celebrate you for a week.”

“the only package i want this christmas is yours.”

“i lost my scarf, can i wrap you around me instead?”

“the tree isn’t the only thing that is going to have an angel on top of it tonight.”

“good tidings aren’t the only thing i can give you.”

“i might be a grinch, but that means i have something that can grow three sizes.”

“i want to fill you up with my holiday spirits.”

“unlike santa, i’ll bring over the toys if you want to get naughty.”

“wanna climb into my warm and fuzzy cloak?”

“i like my christmas stockings held up by garter belts?”

“if a big man puts you in a bag tonight, don’t be alarmed. i told santa i wanted you for christmas.”

“are you rudolph’s red nose? because baby, i would say you glow.”

“call me rudolph because you just sleighed me.”

“you’re not just a gift, you’re the whole package.”

“you’re a matzo baller.”

“if your left leg was thanksgiving, and your right leg is christmas, can i come visit you between the holidays?”

“you’re like my menorah's candles…getting hotter every day.” 

“how about i slip down your chimney, at half past midnight?”

“if you jingle my bells i can promise you a white christmas.”

“i know it isn’t christmas but santa’s lap is always open.”

“the stockings are hung and so am i.”

“your stocking isn’t the only thing i’ll be filling up tonight.”

“the pipers aren’t the only ones piping on the 11th day of christmas...”

“unlike santa i come more than once a year.”

“hey girl, wanna hiber-mate?”

“wanna play spin the driedel?… I got a half hour and a room full of candles…” 

“you’re so hot you must be the reason we aren’t having a white christmas.”

“i’m like a christmas present, you’ll love waking up to me in the morning.”

“you are the reason santa even has a naughty list.”

“i would definitely let you join in on my reindeer games.”

“wanna check out my mistletoe beltbuckle?”

“i’m looking to get bob-sleighed tonight.”

“ pardon me, but those are some hot laktes!”

“i lost my earmuffs can i use your legs instead?”

“would you come to my place and light my yule log?”

“if kisses were snowflakes i would send you a blizzard.”

“yule do.”

“i feel like a christmas tree when you talk to me because you make me light up!”

“do you wanna taste my christmas cookie?”

“can i lick your candy cane?”

“wanna go light my  menorah?”

“call me adam sandler because i’m about to give you eight crazy nights.”

“it’s the season of giving so why not give me your number?”

“if you were a reindeer, you’d be cupid, because your friend is looking fine tonight. Can you introduce me?”

“i love you a latke.”

“i think we have a lot of chemis-tree.”

“your outfit sleighs me.”

“let’s get out of here and explore the north pole. I’m a rebel without a claus.”

“icy the one for me.”

“i’m wearing a lot of layers so it’s going to take me a while to get naked, but you’re welcome to watch.”

“there aren’t any sugarplums dancing through my head, it’s all you.”