#i actually burned out on it around the end of the holiday season

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

“I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[vitalverstappen]

I Look in People's Windows - O. Piastri

summary: you had called it quits with Oscar, but what if you met his eyes one more time?

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

warnings none :)

word count: 1k

a/n: in honor of Oscar getting P2 in quali today, I figured I'd post this, enjoy :)

masterlist

the tortured drivers' department masterlist

You couldn’t avoid Oscar Jack Piastri if you tried. Not that you did try, but that man was literally everywhere. Billboards, races broadcasted at the bars, TV advertisements. Hell, even your love of Monster got ruined by his face. You loved living in Melbourne for the most part, but having your ex-boyfriend be the poster child of your city wasn’t necessarily ideal. 

To make matters worse, you kept checking up on him. Thankfully you haven’t reached out to him personally, but you were constantly typing his name into the search bar of your apps. When it wasn’t his name, it was Lando’s, McLaren’s or F1’s. All that just for a glimpse of the Aussie’s life.  

From the looks of it, he’s been doing great. McLaren has been dominating the grid, and overall, he seemed to be happy. 

Part of you wanted to block him. Part of you wanted to deactivate your social media, so you never had to see that stupid papaya on your feed ever again. The only time you’d be forced to see it was every single time you left your apartment. 

Easy, right?

But you couldn’t get yourself to block him. Or Lando. Or McLaren. Or even the F1 account. Deep down you wanted to be a part of it all again. 

You wanted to be the one that welcomed him home after a great race weekend. The one he would talk about his day with over dinner or a picnic in the park. The one he would share his deepest secrets and his life long dreams to. You wanted to be with him again. 

The reality of it was that you couldn’t, and it pained you more than actual breakup. Oscar was out living his dream as a Formula 1 driver, and you were stuck in southern Australia. 

The way things ended replayed constantly, like a movie stuck on a loop. Burned into your memory was the image of his tilted head when you asked if he wanted to stay together. The doubts you had while in the relationship now turned into doubts that you made the right call.

What if you and Oscar had worked out? What if you had moved to Europe with him when you started dating? What if you two put in just a little bit more effort? What if you saw him one more time?

The waves crashing against your body sent a cold shiver down your spine. Since you moved down under, you adored the tradition of going to the beach around the holidays, even if you had no one to spend it with. 

As you made your way back to your beach towel to dry off, you couldn’t help but stare at the couples celebrating the season together. They were living the dream, and all you ended up with was even more of a longing to have someone to hold. 

Your thoughts were cut short when a volleyball ended up at your feet. Picking it up, you looked around to find who it belonged to. 

“Over here!” A voice called “y/n?” 

That voice was recognizable from anywhere. Sure enough, your eyes met his, and it felt like the first time all over again. 

“Hey,” you said as you tossed him the ball “here” 

“Thanks. Enjoying the beach as well?” He asked 

“Yeah, you could say so” You answered, taking a glance at your blanket only a few meters away “Wanna sit?” 

Oscar yelled something to his friends and then turned back to you “I would love to” 

Neither of you said anything for the first few seconds. It wasn’t necessarily awkward having your ex-boyfriend around, but it was definitely unexpected. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to break the silence. Oscar tilted his head, just like he used to do when he was confused. “I mean, why are you back in Melbourne?” 

“The season’s over. We’re all on winter break, and I figured I would come home for the holidays” He answered 

You nodded “Right. I forgot that was around the corner”

“It’s hard to believe. Year flew by fast” He mumbled “Are you going home for the holidays or staying here?” 

“Probably just staying here” You admitted

“Makes sense. You always get nervous when you fly,” He said. You couldn’t believe he remembered that. “Anyway, it’s been a while. How’ve you been?” 

“Good” You lie, hoping he forgot how bad you were at it “Works been the same. You?” 

A sigh escaped from Oscar’s lips, “Honestly? Not good.”

“Oh?” You questioned. ‘Not good’ was the last answer you were expecting from him. He was honest, but never usually that honest. “Anything happen?”

He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked out to sea before meeting your eyes again. His were more somber this time, almost as if they were longing for something. “I’ve been missing you, a lot actually. I should’ve never let you walk away”

“I’m sorry?” Was all you were able to get out. 

Oscar’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the sun. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything-” He began and started to get up from the blanket.

“No, Osc” You began. The sound of the old nickname you gave him made him stop where he was. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all.” 

You motioned for him to sit back down with you, waiting to continue until he did. “I should’ve never walked away. I’ve missed you too” You confessed 

“You wanna talk about this?” He asked and you nodded “If you wanna talk about it, I can ditch the guys for the rest of the day. They’ll live.” 

A chuckle escaped your lips “I would love to. I should probably get out of the sun soon anyway. I’m going to burn”

“You’re the only person I know who’s worst enemy is the sun” He laughed with you “And you chose to move to one of the sunniest places in the world”

“I guess you can tell I didn’t think that one through” You remarked 

For the first time since the breakup, you didn’t have to wonder about the ‘what ifs’. You didn’t have to avoid his face on a billboard or resort to stalking him on the internet. His eyes did meet yours one more time.

[katyawriteswhump]

fallen angel (steddie holiday drabble/bingo)

For @steddieholidaydrabbles day 15 prompt, “ornament;” @steddiebingo prompt, “candle;” @whumpcember day 15 prompt, ‘broken glass.”

WC: 988 Rating: T; CW: none. Tags: fluff, angst, established steddie, flashbacks to less happy childhoods, happy ending.  Summary: Steve and Eddie discover a sad moment in their pasts that intertwined and turned surprisingly magical in the present…

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

“We agreed we weren’t doing the c-word, Eddie.”

Steve had gotten in from a late shift at Family Video. Robin had made him eat forfeit candy every time somebody complained Die Hard wasn’t in stock. He felt kinda icky and grouchier than ever over seasonal bullshit.

“We’re not, Babe.” Eddie rummaged in a box, retrieving something that suspiciously resembled a tinselly garland—though chewed by generations of hungry mice.

Steve nearly bitched, Unless you’re gonna tie me up with that sparkly shit, please remove it before I stuff it down your throat.  Then he realized. It was THE box, which contained all Eddie had from his childhood. He kneeled at Eddie’s side, hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Mom used to wear the garland to dance at midwinter. She was a total flowerchild.” Eddie placed it back carefully. “Stevie, can I show you something? If you hate it, you never have to see it again.”

“Okay.”

Steve slid his arms around Eddie. He’d put up with most shit, if snuggles accompanied it. Eddie definitely gave off ‘need-more-snuggles’ vibes. Steve lifted Eddie’s hair, nibbling kisses beneath, while Eddie raised a crude clay ornament from the box’s depths.

An angel.

A childish painted angel, with a niche for a candle, that’d been broken and painstakingly glued back together.

Steve’s angel.

His heart gave a thunderclap then raced insanely.

“Wow… I never thought… Oh my fucking God.”

…

Twelve years ago

On the final day before winter break, the entire school was in the sports hall—supposedly doing crafts, though truthfully having a mass clay-fight.

Steve, however, liked clay modelling. Following the lead of fellow ‘non-nerd’ Chrissy—who also wanted to make rather than break something—he sat down at the ‘nerd’ table. Also following Chrissy’s lead, he began modelling an angel candle-holder.

Tommy H said only girls and weirdos made ornaments. Steve didn’t care. Even when Tommy chucked clay at him and it stuck in his hair. Even when that Munson freak came to chat with Chrissy and smirked at him.

He was making the angel for his mom, who liked everything clean, white and perfect. She’d like angels, right?

That evening, he waited till she’d stopped yelling about the clay on his clothes and in his hair. They were waiting for Steve’s babysitter, and she seemed in a good mood, so… “Mommy, I made this for you.”

She stared at it. Actually, through it. “Heavens. Is that why you ruined a brand-new sweater.”

The phone rang. Steve twitched his face, sniffed.

He was still holding out his angel like an idiot, when his mom told him the babysitter was sick. “We can’t let the Wheelers down. You’ll have to take care of yourself.”

The door closed. Steve’s face burned as if slapped. He stared at the angel—her brown splotchy eyes, her wonky pink smile. He’d not even put a candle in her. She was as idiotic and unlovable as he was.

He opened his hand and watched her smash on the parquet floor.

He ran to his room without picking up the pieces, though it’d get him in deep shit. He was burying his dumb tears in his pillow, when his worst nightmare got real—the one that always haunted him when his parents left him alone.

The crash of a breaking window.

…

Eddie’s dad called the posh folks’ party season ‘Santa’s giveaway.’ Tonight, Eddie learned why.

It was child’s-play to spot the empty houses—if the parents had left snot-nosed brats with babysitters, there’d be at least one light on. Trouble was, the locks got more sophisticated each year, forcing Al Munson to go ‘old school.’

Smash a window. Send a kid through to go open the door from inside.

There Eddie was, scrambling through, trying not to gash his knee on the broken glass. “It’s kinda Dickensian,” his pa said, “The old ways are sometimes best, son.”

Screw you, thought Eddie, skidding onto the polished floor. He tiptoed forward till his foot, and his torch-beam, struck something on the boards.

Huh?

A clay candle-holder, like Chrissy’s. But this wasn’t Chrissy’s angel. It was Harrington’s.

Eddie had never seen Harrington so serious about anything other than sport. He’d snickered, though admired the younger kid’s geek-like devotion to his art, wondering if Harrington might not always be such an a-hole.

He carefully picked up the broken pieces. It made him sad, somehow.

“Eddie,” Al hissed through letterbox. “Hurry the fuck up, kid.”

Eddie stuffed the angel in his pocket and opened the door.

…

Eddie held out the angel, watched Steve’s eyes stretch wide. Breath bating—and not actually looking like he wanted to punch Eddie—he took it.

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “The night I broke this, we got burgled! I figured it was lost in the clear-up. I mean, I was there alone, hiding under my bed. I had nightmares for…” He trailed off, hazy eyes focussing, laser-sharp, on Eddie. “How the hell did you..?”

Eddie spilled it all. He held Steve’s hand, thumb gently caressing, as they literally put the pieces together.

“I can’t believe your dad made you do that,” breathed Steve, engulfing Eddie in a clingy hug. Eddie was so relieved. The burglary was the only secret he’d kept from Steve, and Steve was sweet and cool about it. They also both understood a little more about why they were both slightly allergic to the c-word. “One thing I don’t get,” said Steve, “why did you keep it?”

“Truthfully? I wanted to model something too, but was too busy fooling around. Oh, and had nobody to give it too. Keeping it was totally crazy, apart from…” Eddie plastered a teasing, wet kiss on Steve’s lips. “Hey, all those years I thought you were a dick? Seems I was secretly carrying a candle for you after all.”

Steve’s smile spread slowly and showered starlight through Eddie’s world. “Yeah? Well, after all these years, I’ve discovered I made her for somebody I truly love.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

zero pressure tag: @wheneverfeasible 💚 My stranger things fic on AO3

[vrystalius]

Hello! Trick or treat! May I request what it would be like celebrating Halloween with Douma, as our spouse/boyfriend? You’re such a talented writer and I’m always looking forward to your posts. If not. That’s okay.

Celebrating Halloween with Douma.

It’s one of hisfavourite holidays of the year! Spending it by your side, his favourite and most lovely human was even better!

Pairing: Douma x gn!reader

Douma has always been looking forward to the spooky season— during that time, he can excuse bloodstained carpets and walls as creepy decoration and maybe use some skulls from his collection as props. He has been collecting and maintaining those things for years now, why not give them a use other than being displayed in a boring shelf?

He prepares the whole temple days before the actual Halloween night to lure in some curious children whose parents could be potential new followers, handing out candy personally ( as long the moon is out). He has no real costume, Douma uses the white robed he rarely wears and drapes them over his shoulders, over a white haori with a golden droplets pattern all over it. He is dressed as a godlike deity, as if he isn’t regarded as it already by his followers.

Also, Douma insisted you’d dress up for the children of his cult. Since he isn’t doing anything special, you should be able to put a smile on their faces! He surprisingly has a large closet of costumes. You were searching through it all, finding clothes that matched the ones of his other demon colleagues you saw once. There was also a costume that looked very similar of the person Douma described to be “Yorichi” or something like that. Supposedly a very dangerous and terrible man, but the warm colours of the yukata made you doubt your husband’s words a little. You settled with a simple demon costume, adding some horns and a spiky tail, wearing a black kimono with a blood like pattern. Your husband giggled delightfully at your choice.

“Ah, so you’re cosplaying as me? I’m flattered!”

Although you don’t look anything like him. You were cosplaying his nature, not himself. But you let him live in his bubble and let Douma believe that you were dressed up at his true nature.

Also, another one of his ideas was to throw a large banquet for all his followers. It would uplift their spirits and in return uplift his own, seeing his followers happy makes him feel content as well. You’d think he doesn’t care for them by the way the mutilates and devours them, but he does really care, and it shows. He was responsible for all the planning and received a lot of help from the elders, the cultists were left to do the decorating as they pleased and decorated the halls with pumpkins, children’s doodles and self-made spiderwebs.

Douma actually ended up stealing one of those webs and wrapping himself into those, wanting his outfit to appear a little more costume-y. One of the only things he really craves tonight is the approval of his costume from the children of his cult and being able to finally spend a little more time with you. His “demon-duties” and “friendship activities with some colleagues” (as he calls those things) really hog him away from you from time to time.

On Halloween night, you two were busy painting make-up and temporary tattoos onto his adult and children’s followers. He ended pairing his oh so beautiful eyebrows onto your face only to end up laughing at how ridiculous you look with them. Douma insisted to go collect candy together, hand in hand as some sort of angel and demon duo. Of course, the children were more than willing to give up their precious candy to their even more precious Founder and Leader of the Eternal Paradise cult. Despite him not even able to eat or digest any of the candies, he likes watching you eat and react to their sweet taste.

By the end of the evening, all the followers of his cult gathered together around a large bonfire consisting of old burning wood, wisteria incense and other kinds of herbs. Once lighting it all on fire, the children, adults and elders alike danced around the flames, singing, laughing and chanting for all the evil spirits to leave the temple and to never return.

Some followers even saw Douma tearing up, seemingly touched by the scene of all his followers being so happy and festive, but your husband just whispered into your ear how much the wisteria was burning in his eyes and nose. He sat it through he pain with a large grin and watched the blurry blobs in his eyes circle around the fire, trying to focus the imagine while also trying to heal his eyeballs faster than they could melt from the pest of a flower, while also trying to properly savour the warmth of your arm being wrapped around his own, your head resting on his shoulder.

Everyone had genuine and happy smiles on their faces that night, even the Upper Moon Two. Despite the hellish burning in Douma’s eyes.

🎃

My last post of this event! This has been a lot of fun and I thank everyone of participating and supporting me. I am glad to go back to writing requests, coning up with my own things has been incredibly exhausting for some reason XD Thank you for being patient, I hope to hold this or a similar event again next year during October! Also, thank you for requesting and your kind words, I hope you continue to look forward to my works <33

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves and HAPPY HALLOWEEN <3

[ssentimentals]

hihi love!! i’m so obsessed w your work 😭😭 you just do such a good job writing ajdhjshdhw 🥺🩷🩷

could i request hurt prompt 35 w woozi pls? a happy ending would be nice but it doesn’t have to be!! tysm love🥹🩷

- 🫧

hihi babie!! omg this is so nice?? thank you so much for being this kind!! hopefully you will like your request 💜

hurt prompt: 'i'm not sure how many coffees it takes for me to be happy, but so far, it's not twelve.'

'i feel like i should be happy and excited for the festive season but i just can't.' you mutter, adjusting your earphones. 'it's just been so shitty at work lately, you know? i don't have it in me to actually feel anything.'

your best friend lets you let it all out. she lets you go on and on about the work, your rant ending only when you come closer to your house. you also wanted to discuss jihoon with her, but that is going to wait for another time then. hanging you up, you sigh, slowing your stride. everything's been shitty lately not only at work; your relationship with jihoon started to crack as well. it's not very obvious, but the breach was formed and you feel like you both are just drifting further and further apart each day. coming home used to be the best part of your day, but now it's ad dreadful as going to work and it's just- sad. sadder than that is only your complete lack of any desire to do anything about it.

'welcome home,' jihoon greets, when you come in. he notices slight frown at your forehead and cautiously asks: 'is everything okay?'

'mhm.' you try to smile, but it comes off more as a grimace. 'how are you? have you already eaten? if yes i can just-'

'no,' jihoon interrupts. 'i waited for you.'

you blink. that is... new. you both didn't wait for each other last two months. your heart skips a beat at this, small flicker of hope reignites in your chest. this time you smile for real: 'oh, thank you. can you heat it up then? warm food will make me very happy now.'

jihoon smiles. 'i thought coffee makes you happy?'

'not right now. 'i'm not sure how many coffees it takes for me to be happy, but so far, it's not twelve.'

you quickly change and come back to the kitchen right at the time of jihoon setting up the table. you both work in silence; you feel tongue-tied, not knowing what to say and how to ask simple things. when it became so awkward to just be with jihoon? you eat in silence too, or more like you both push your food around the plate, not looking up at each other. it's incredibly tense and you're surprised that jihoon is the one who snaps first with a humourless chuckle: 'this is not working, is it?'

you can argue, of course. you can remind him that it's not working because of him. you can start fighting again. instead, you agree. 'yeah, it's.. not.'

jihoon nods. he's staring at his plate intently like leftover meatballs have answers to his question. when he looks up, his gaze is filled with hesitance and hope: 'do you want it? to work?'. he licks his lips, quickly adding: 'because i do. i just- past few months were hard. i sucked, i know. but like, i- i want this. to work. do you?'

crying with meatballs in your mouth is really not the best thing you can do, but you can't stop tears from falling down. swallowing without chewing and choking on the food, you quickly down your glass of water and let out sincere: 'i do. i'm sorry, i sucked too.'

jihoon nods. he looks like he wants to laugh at your red face from choking, but he wisely holds himself back. 'okay. then,' he takes a deep breath, 'we will finish this now and go to bed and talk about it.'

you nod. 'we can come up for something to get us into holiday mood?' you suggest hesitantly.

jihoon brightens up at this. 'yeah, sounds good.'

you both smile at each other and hope inside your chest flickers stronger than before. jihoon reaches out across the table and takes your hand in his. flicker of hope turns into a burning fire.

a/n: request your own here! <3 - nini

[amomentsescape]

Hey, earlier I was suprised to find theres no Christmas themed slashers x reader so could I request just that with the reader and the slashers separately decorating, baking, movies, opening gifts etc? Thx

Slashers Doing Christmas Activities with Reader

A/N: You're so right about not having any Christmas themed Slasher fics! I was thinking about coming up with a Christmas prompt list for the Gotham and Slasher fanatics. If any of you reading this would like a prompt list, let me know!

Freddy Krueger

He's been ready for Christmas all year

I mean, have you seen his sweater?

He knows you've been excited too

So what better way to celebrate than to decorate?

And decorating with Freddy is unlike any other

He can create literal worlds for you

You want 50 Christmas trees in the living room? Sure thing

You want actual elves helping you out around the house? Coming right up!

Plus, Freddy isn't much for decor, so he gives you free reign on doing whatever you want

He most definitely will joke around with you though

He'll change the gold lights to red or have "Santa Clause" tied up in the corner of the room next time you visit

It's all in good fun, of course

You punish him by forcing a Santa hat on his head

Michael Myers

The only "good" holiday to Michael is Halloween

What's the point of Christmas anyways?

Show joy to others and share kindness?

Gross

But he's with you now, so he has to make you happy in some way or another

When you suggest decorating the house, he just sort of gives you that dead stare

But he doesn't disagree

He watches you hang lights up and set up little trinkets everywhere

He will help you with the heavy lifting or anything that involves being really tall

Silently complains about carrying an actual tree into the house though

He doesn't really get the Christmas joy at all, but if it makes you happy, then so be it

Jason Voorhees

Jason's love for Christmas has never truly gone away

In fact, he really appreciates this time of year since there are less run in's with rowdy teens during the winter

So when you suggest a Christmas movie night cuddling together, he's all in

Of course, you watch the films you both remember from childhood

But you also decide to introduce him to the world of Hallmark movies

Unsurprisingly, Jason has a thing for cheesy romance films

But something about the snow falling outside in the woods while a warm fire burns in the fireplace makes Jason feel all giddy

Even a slasher can't escape the joy of Christmas

Thomas Hewitt

One of Thomas's favorite things to do during the holiday season is to decorate the tree!

It's one of the small childhood memories he holds onto, and he's very excited to make new memories with you

He happily carries in the tree, refusing to let you do any of the lifting

And once it's set up, you both are digging through old bins to find ornaments and lights to hang up

You both even make your own special ornament to put on the tree!

And once it's all set up, he lifts you up so you can put the star on top

You both end up turning off all the lights in order to just admire the tree better, just casually chit chatting and sharing festive chocolates

Bubba Sawyer

It's surprisingly his idea to bake a bunch of Christmas treats!

He got so many ingredients

Cookies, cupcakes, pies, if you can think of it, Bubba wants to make it

Of course, there's traditional Christmas music playing in the background

Bubba goes a little crazy with the sprinkles

By the end of everything, the kitchen looks like a war zone

But with everything baking, the house smells amazing

Instead of dinner, you both eat your treats

Bubba has a sugar rush and ends up excitedly bouncing off the walls

You both end up crashing on the couch on top of one another

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms loves Christmas

He has several classical records of Christmas music that he likes to play throughout the month

He has you help him dig out the old decorations he hasn't touched in years

You almost feel weird touching them since each ornament is worth $100 or more

But you and Brahms do have fun setting up the tree and putting the pretty lights everywhere

He also finds some old books he used to read as a child

You both read the Christmas stories together, sharing nostalgic memories of what the holidays were like when you were both younger

It's just a very sweet and wholesome night

Norman Bates

One day, the living is as cozy and cute as normal

The next day, it's suddenly decked out in lights, candles, and a huge Christmas tree with several pristine gifts under it

You mouth was agape

Norman just stood back with an innocent smile on his face

You had no idea he would do all of this while you were out

But thankfully, you had a few gifts wrapped up for him too

With a lighthearted Christmas show playing in the background, you and Norman swap gifts and open them together

The home is filled with surprised laughter and "thank you's" as you both look at what was given

You two know each other so well

He must have been Santa since he literally got you everything on your list

Billy Loomis

Yep, you guessed it

Christmas slasher films

But of course, Billy knows that watching horror films 24/7 every holiday isn't exactly the ideal celebration

So he tries to balance it out

Buys (steals) several expensive gifts for you and wraps them up

He even buys a few candles in your favorite scent to help make the mood more festive

Orders take out for you both as well

This makes the movie marathon feel more special

He MIGHT even let you talk him into matching pajamas

He complains but secretly loves it

Stu Macher

Buys you two matching onesies

He also finds a homemade hot cocoa recipe he wants to try out

He does accidentally burn himself, but it doesn't change his mood any

He might not love this holiday as much as Halloween, but it is a VERY close second

He also manages to find the largest Christmas tree you have ever seen

It barely fits in the house

But when it comes to Stu, everything needs to be extra

You both spend the night flipping back and forth between lighthearted Christmas films and cheesy horror ones

Eric Draven

Christmas has always been a favorite for Eric

It's the one day a year where things are a bit calmer, and he gets to spend it lounging around with you

He definitely made Christmas into a week long event by giving you a different gift each day

Cooks you breakfast in bed

Is somehow even more affectionate during this time

Refusing to decorate the tree unless you are doing it with him

Finds a little Santa hat for Gabriel

He literally just spends the majority of the holiday being lazy and cuddly with you

Not that you're complaining

[komoboko]

𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐨

genya shinazugawa x gn!reader ・romantic but can be read as platonic if u try really hard ・genya's pov

im ngl the Christmas spirit encourage me to open this app again

Genya has never been the biggest fan of the christmas season. To be fair, he wasn't that big of a fanatic about any big holiday. It's not like he was a complete grump who hated holiday cheer like the grinch, he just never really cared for it to much. The jolly season was simply just another day for him.

He used to celebrate the holidays often. When his family was still whole, before that tragic day where he lost everything dear to him. Before his brother disassociated him like they weren't related by flesh and blood. Before that, he used to be excited when a new holiday happened. Used to go out of his way to celebrate or decorate the homes and bake cookies. Genya used to be a real fan of the holidays when he was with people, celebrating together.

After those events he just lost interest in celebrating the season. He didn't really have anybody to celebrate them with, to make these seasons worthwhile. So why celebrate at all? After each year passing by him he simply began to forget about the Christmas cheer he once felt. The only things that reminded him was when he checked his own calendar or saw people wearing festive clothing or doing things that people insisted to do during the holidays.

Yet when you came into his life, Genya couldn't figure out why he began to get invested. He bundled up in his winter clothing and left his house to go and throw snowballs at you on a snowy hill. How Genya found himself actually walking through an array of christmas trees that were on sale. He came to your house to bake cookies and assemble a gingerbread house. Even if that house did not stand up for very long after genya slammed his hand on the table too hard. He was happy it got a heart laugh out of you rather than utter surprise or disappointment.

He found himself lingering around more things you liked as each day passed getting closer and closer to Christmas day. Genya found himself sitting in-front of a box and spending hours and hours trying to figure out how to wrap the gift perfectly. He ended up succumbing to his own defeat and stopping by Gyomei's estate to get a proper gift wrap tutorial. He still found it astounding how he had to be taught by a man who couldn't even see what he was wrapping at all. He made sure not to say that part out loud though.

When the moon sets and the sun rises to the next morning, Genya wasn't surprised to hear a knock on his door. He shuffles towards it as he winces feeling how the ugly sweater he was wearing made him want to rip it off and burn it immediately. He opens the door as he sees your face with a cheery smile, bundled up in the cold even though he can see the ugly sweater i was wearing peaking out from my jacket.

"Genya! Merry Christmas!" He smiles hearing my voice say his name. He couldn't describe it but it made him feel fuzzy on the inside. The cool breeze rushing through as he opens his arms to beckoning you inside to get out of the cold. His eyes flashing to the gift in my hand and my excitement to see he actually put a tree up and there was a neatly wrapped gift with your name on it underneath. And for the first time in a long time, Genya says a genuine.

"Merry Christmas, to you. too"

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Brick by Brick 🎄

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: The holiday season is upon us!!! This is the first fic for my Christmas event, Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ <3 feel free to check that out if you're curious who and what's to come 🤭

~ Fi 🐝

Warnings: pure, whole hearted X-mas fluff, Mentions of readers mom, healing Leon's inner child <3

Word count: 2.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

December was finally here. The most wonderful time of the year, undoubtedly. You'd been waiting all year for this. The lights, the beautiful tunes, and the atmosphere full of love and warmth. To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, the excitement had been burning in your veins since Halloween ended.

You were itching to pull out every box filled with Christmas decorations and absolutely drown your apartment in red, green and gold. Your Christmas PJs were already laid out, same as Leon's, and you'd jump him with holiday cheer the second he came home. You'd already prepared some apple cider and a few cookies. It would be such a nice evening, you knew it in your heart.

The Christmas songs would fill your apartment, the spicy apple cider and cookies would drench the room in nostalgic aromas. You'd decorate all the cabinets and tables while Leon would hang up the garlands around the living room. It was always a dream you had, decorating your little home with Leon. And since it was you we're talking about, you also got him a little something. An early present, if you will.

There was this tradition in your home, your Mother had started it one year and from then on it was something you'd enjoyed greatly. It might not be the most festive of activities but it reminded you of home, and you desperately wanted to share it with Leon. Your Mom made a habit of building Lego sets together as a family. Sitting around the table with a cup of cider, yuletide tunes playing in the background whil you were constructing your little plastic house brick by brick.

You were a little hesitant to share it with your lover since the anxiety of it being seen as childish always gnawed at your heart. But you knew him, he wouldn't judge you for something like that. He would appreciate that you wanted to share a part of your childhood with him, you were sure of it. You had gotten yourself a gingerbread house set, it was better than a real one in many ways; more fun to make, sturdier and there was no mess after.

But what you were really excited about was for Leon to see the set you had gotten him. It was a police station. As soon as your eyes landed on the set while you were scrolling through the internet, you knew it was perfect. You had warned him about a surprise so he wouldn't be caught off guard.

Your mother had an entire village of Lego houses that she'd rebuilt every year, and you couldn't wait to start your own little village with Leon. He was actually quite impressed when your mom proudly showed him last Christmas. He didn't stop talking about it for weeks after, it was quite endearing. If you could heal his inner child at least a little with this, it would be worth it.

You'd already changed into your PJs. You would've exploded if you hadn't gotten something plaid on your body. It was a long sleeve shirt with gingerbread men and women doing holiday activities. Ice skating, shopping, building a snowman. Your name was embroided in gold on the front.

The pants were a red and gold plaid, matching the embroided. It was a gift from your grandmother. She adored Leon and said that when she saw the matching sleep attire, she just had to get it. It was him who made sure they were always ready when Decemeber was around the corner.

Even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something about the holidays that made him lower his guard and just be himself. Not a rookie, not agent Kennedy, just Leon.

The jingling of keys made you jump up from your place at the table where you had been waiting patiently. Leon stepped inside with a huff, closing the door behind him. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he dropped his bag on the floor.

"Hi, Baby-" he was cut off by a grunt when you smashed into him, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. "I missed you." Your words were muffled into his chest. He chuckled before leaning down to press a kiss to your head. "I missed you too, but I was only gone for 3 days." He stroked his hands down your back. "I know, I know, but it's extra special this time! We have lots to do, come on." You beamed, making him stumble as you dragged him behind you.

"Slow down, we've got all evening." He chuckled, still letting himself be pulled along by you.

You and Leon stood in the middle of the living room, admiring your work. The space was much cozier now, decked with and lights and ornaments. "We really outdid ourselves this year, huh?"

"But we need to decorate, and we have to make a shopping list for presents too, and then I have a surprise for you, and-" You stopped yourself. Leon had just come home, and you were already bombarding him with all the things you wanted to do. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I've just been waiting all year for this." You gave him a bashful smile. Leon cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. All of your worries faded away. The chains of anxiety and embarrassment shattered the second you felt his touch.

"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you're all excited, you know." He teased, taking off his jacket and shoes. A blush settled on your cheeks. "Your PJs are on the bed, I'll heat up the apple cider, okay?" He nodded with a soft hum and you pressed a kiss to his still cold cheek.

You squealed in excitement when you thought Leon was out of reach to hear you, but you were wrong. He smiled to himself when he saw you being so happy over something so simple. He loved you so much, you made his life brighter.

The Christmas songs were already on, and you were stirring the apple cider while humming to the melody. "What's this surprise I've been hearing about, hm?" Two big arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist. You swayed from side to side, pulling him with you. You poured the cider into some very cheesy Christmas mugs and set them down on the coffee table.

"Decorating first, then you'll get your surprise, Baby." You smiled, kneeling on the floor to start unpacking the boxes. "I can't believe you're making me wait. You've been excited about this surprise for months!" He argued playfully, of course. "Shut it and come help me with the garlands, big guy!" You huffed. You weren't tall enough to hang them up yourself, but you had your tall and strong boyfriend who would do anything for you.

And the little perk of watching his shirt ride up and his biceps flex definitely didn't go unappreciated. "S'not my fault you came out so small." He grinned, ruffling your hair as he passed you. You pouted and continued getting out all of your decor from the boxes while quietly grumbling. Maybe he's just unnaturally tall?! You're not small, you're perfectly average height! Okay, maybe you were on the low end of the spectrum, but still. To be fair, those garlands have never been up faster.

Not to shabby, having a tree for a boyfriend.

"Time for the present!" You exclaimed, already dragging him back to the table. You were quiet strong for your height, you've almost knocked him off of his feet once or twice.

You glanced over to Leon who had you pressed against his side. "Yeah, but's gonna be a pain to take down.." he sighed.

"Let me enjoy my Christmas craze, will ya?" You huffed. Leon put his hands up defensively and laughed.

"Alright, alright."

You refilled the apple cider and then went to grab the surprise. You brought out the big box and Leon's brows raised both in shock and curiosity. You heaved it onto the table before taking a seat next to him.

"Christ, Honey, what's in that thing? You do know it's not Christmas yet, right?" Leon chuckled, turning the box in all directions. "Obviously. But I really wanted to get you this. Besides, can't I get my boyfriend presents regardless of the time of year?" You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He looked over at you with a buttery soft expression.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice." You grinned, before returning a soft smile. "Go ahead, open it." You encouraged him. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You really hoped he liked it. It was a bit of a risky situation since you were worried it might open an old wound. He tore into the festive wrapping paper, revealing the gift inch by inch.

You were slightly squirming in your seat, both from anxiety and excitement. He examined the now revealed surprise. His brows furrowed but you saw the exact moment it clicked in his brain when he realized what it was. His eyes lit up like the ones of a little boy on Christmas morning, and a smile tugged at his lips.

Leon looked over to you and you caught the smallest glimpse of a shimmer of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. "Baby, I.. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me- you have no idea how much that means to me." He said it with so much vulnerability and love that you felt like your heart was about to give out.

"Why wouldn't I share it with you? You're my favorite person. Let me tell you, my mom was thrilled when she heard about this." You chuckled, making him snort in response. His expression softened slightly, taking your hands and guiding you from your chair into his lap.

His hands wrapped around you tightly as his head fell to the crook of your neck. "I love you. You're truly something special and I don't intend of ever letting you go." His heartfelt confession sent shivers up your spine, yet your heart has never felt warmer. Your grip around his neck tightened as you pulled him closer to your chest.

"Oh, Leon.." there was a slight crack in your voice that you had tried so hard to suppress but failed. "I love you so much. You deserve the world and so much more." You whispered into his ear lovingly, you could feel him smile against your skin. You held eachother, wrapped in a warm and loving embrace a hallmark movie could only wish of replicating.

He felt safe with you. You were his great love, his home, the keeper of his heart. He meant every word when he said he won't ever let you go.

"Please don't say that."

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep in his comforting embrace, so you decided that now was the perfect time to pull yourself from his arms. You were dead set on putting some plastic bricks together today, and if you regrettably had to leave your lovers embrace for it, so be it.

"You wanna get started on building that thing?" You grinned, leaning back so you could see his face. "Hell yeah, I do. Let's get bricking."

You were impressed with him, though. He had never done it before but it came to him so easily. "Well, I'm very good with my hands, as you know." He smirked, giving you wink before continuing to attach the blocks to eachother. "Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." You mumbled, setting a brick on top of another.

Leon had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly. Although it might be a rather simple concept, you've seen great men fall to the tiny plastic pieces (your dad). Leon was quite the natural. It felt like in the blink of an eye, he had constructed half of the building.

"How are you so fast?! That's like half of it done!" You were sitting there with your sad little gingerbread foundation done, and he was putting up walls and furniture already.

Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He had just placed the last block on his very own Lego police station. He looked over his work triumphantly, but when his gaze fell on you, he made an effort to look outside the window.

You were knocked out cold, softly snoring by his side. Your brick gingerbread house wasn't finished, the blocks were thrown across the table, and you were in the middle of it, looking as beautiful as ever to him.

But what scared him, though, was that the sun was starting to come up. He hadn't noticed how late, or early, it had gotten. He had gotten so lost in this simple pleasure it made him smile a bit. Leon couldn't help but think as he carried you to bed, to finally snuggle up and let his body rest.

You had stayed with him. The whole night you had stayed. You didn't leave when your eyelids got heavy or the intervals between your yawns got shorter. You stayed, and watched him with a smile. He realized that he wanted this with you. A life with you, one that he would spend with you until the very end.

You were definitely getting promoted from girlfriend to wife next year. It made him realize what love could and should be like. He never thought it was in the cards for him, truly. But he couldn't be more grateful to and for you. He wanted to build a future with you.

And he would, brick by brick.

[anxiouspunk]

Even though I read plenty of fics and have been doing so since I first started in 2021, this is the first time I actually noted down the names of the fics as I read them this month. I’m so thankful to our fandom’s wonderful writers for sharing these with us and it is because I read so many that I wanted to start noting them down so I can remember them. I was debating posting the list but fics have always been a source of comfort for me and if you feel the same, maybe these can bring you some comfort too.

🎃 The Serpent and the Lion by louiseparker @louiseparker [212k]

Seventh year Hogwarts AU in which Harry Styles is an asshole Gryffindor jock with daddy issues, Louis is just trying to get through the year, and Liam, Zayn, and Niall rarely ever know what the hell is going on.

🎃 Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by Toomanytears @toomanydreamers [126k]

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

🎃 You Drive Me Round The Bend by TheCellarDoor [77k]

In which Louis is a spoilt rich kid who’s always on the phone while he drives and Harry is a struggling musician making his way down the mountain. It’s just a matter of time before they crash and burn.

🎃 but me, i'm not a gamble by orphan_account [33k]

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

🎃 The Lone Hydrangea by sarah_writes @lightwoodsmagic [77k]

The post Hogwarts AU where Harry's a florist, Louis' a muggle who edits fantasy books, and they both have no say in how quickly they fall for each other.

🎃 The Sunshine Stays by quickedween @becomeawendybird [15k]

It's three years after One Direction got back together, and Harry and Louis have just come off a world tour. They're enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.

🎃 House Of The Rising Sun by @itsmotivatingcara [100k]

Witch Harry/Vampire Louis. The Originals AU.

🎃 Something Like This by multicoloredme [150k]

After leaving his boyfriend, Louis is a little sore emotionally and is ready for a fresh start in a new city. When a coworker tells him about a couple friends looking for a new flatmate, he decides to go for it. Little does he know, that one of his new flatmates is the gorgeous, captivating guy he met at a party a few weeks ago. A New Girl/Grey’s Anatomy/Relief Next To Me inspired AU.

🎃 Say That You Can See Me (I'll Speak Up I Swear) by @coffeelouis [20k]

The liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.

🎃 Don't You Think It's Boring How People Talk? by wildestdreams @thelavendrhaze [80k]

A Gossip Girl AU where Louis is the king of the Upper East Side and Harry is the bad boy he loves to hate until a late-night limo ride changes everything.

🎃 Magical Soup by gloria_andrews @gloriaandrews [28k]

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown. Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea. As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

🎃 King Of My Heart by wildestdreams @thelavendrhaze [80k]

A Red, White, and Royal Blue AU where Hollywood elite, Louis Tomlinson, finds himself falling for the closeted Prince of England.

🎃 And What If I Were You by @jacaranda-bloom [100k]

For Louis, will losing his sight give him the clarity to realise what is right in front of him?

For Harry, will losing the love of his life give him the strength to finally open his heart?

And can they find their way back, before they lose each other forever? A story of love. A story of loss. A story of fighting for each other, no matter the odds.

🎃 Tell me when you're ready (I'm waitin') by insufferablelovebirds [17k]

When Harry's love letters to his old crushes get sent accidentally, one recipient, Louis, offers to help him fake a relationship but it gets complicated when feelings get involved.

Or an au loosely based off to all the boys I've loved before.

Total Fics Read: 14

[heymrspatel]

🎄weekly tag wednesday & decorate my tree🎄

this was so so so cute last year and i'm so glad it's back! thank you for kicking it off and for the tag @lingy910y! and thanks for tagging me also @mmmichyyy @doshiart @energievie @kiennilove @femboymilkovich and @thepupperino 💙

Remember to tag your post with #Shamey Tree Party 2024 so everyone can send you messages!

🎄 🎄 🎄 CLICKY FOR TREE 🎄 🎄 🎄

-------------

i was also tagged by @jrooc @gallapiech @kiennilove @stocious @energievie @creepkinginc @sgtmickeyslaughter @femboymilkovich and @doshiart to do the weekly tag! 💙

Name: julissa

Age: *waves hands around while making a high pitched noise made for dogs*

Shower or bath: shower!! hot and steamy, please! baths are alright but i just end up laying there until i feel uncomfortable or the water gets cold lmao so shower all the way!

Weirdest snack you've had recently: joining jess at the peanut butter with a spoon party

Favourite food right now: spinach and tomato egg scramble or everything bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon

Favourite song this week: "you got it" by mk.gee

What're you reading right now? uuuhh... nothing. but i want to get back to it so bad!! crossing my fingers so that my lil reading flame lights back up soon!

First association when you hear Shameless: homey busy kitchen full of love. siblings who look out for each other. upside down van kisses.

Random Gallavich thing you have: the gallacrafts zine! and my stickers that came with it. i have a few of them on my laptop 🥰

Favourite Band right now: i went to my "on repeat" playlist because i've mostly been listening to solo artists lately?? the only band on there was Glass Animals! 💃🏻

Do you have any holiday 🎄parties 🕎 coming up? hmm not really. there's my job's company party but i'm on vacation that week sooo BYE!!!

Any you actually want to go to? NOPE

Do you like this time of year or hate it? i love it. it tends to make me a little sad, but i love it anyway.

Favourite thing this time of year: twinkly lights. everything is decorated. the streets look dreamy. watching cheesy movies with a warm beverage, a seasonal candle burning, and the christmas tree twinkling!

i'll tag @whatthebodygraspsnot @catgrassplantdad @gallawitchxx @whatwouldmickeydo @gardenerian @howlinchickhowl @rereadanon @crossmydna @deedala @michellemisfit @sam-loves-seb @mybrainismelted @darlingian @kiinard @palepinkgoat @sickness-health-all-that-shit @sleepyfacetoughguy @too-schoolforcool @blue-disco-lights if you would like to play! if not, this is just me giving you a teenie flower🌼

[starlightkyeom]

take my hands (we can fall together) | lee chan | pt 1

(where you and chan are friends, but he's your brother's best friend. and you've always been just a little out of reach. until one season changes everything.) pairing: brother's best friend!chan (dino) x f!reader genre: friends to ??, pining, slow burn | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut rating: explicit (for the full fic) warnings/notes: mentions of unhealthy relationships (reader x boyfriend), mentions of food, mentions of drinking/alcohol, lots of stereotypical fall activities, reader's brother is chan's age and reader is 2 years older, eventual smut (in pt 3 - see that for warnings), any names of other idols are considered to be OCs word count: ~6.5k (full fic is roughly 23k) a/n: huge thanks to @svthub for hosting this fall collab. check out the full list of fics here. this is part 1, the full fic is in 3 parts and the dates for the next 2 parts are at the bottom. also thank you to my bby indi for beta reading @wongyuseokie and creating an amazing banner @classicscreations. if you want to be tagged in the next 2 parts, send an ask or dm or just comment 💕

masterlist | next

Fall has never been Chan’s favorite season. The weather cools down, but it’s in this weird in-between. One day, it’s cold enough for heavy jackets, and the next it’s almost warm enough to wear shorts. It starts to get dark too early as the days get shorter, which makes it feel like there’s just less time in the day. Or, even worse, there are days when Chan leaves the apartment in the dark and returns in the dark. Everything feels like it’s dying with the leaves falling. It seems like it should be a season of thankfulness and friends and holidays, but it just ends up feeling like an ending in a bad way. He’s not cynical, he’s just not really sure he likes this time of year.

“I wish I had someone to do fall things with me,” you announce to nobody in particular. 

Okay, well maybe Chan needs to rethink this whole opinion on the season. Because here’s the other thing, he’s always been drawn to you. Sure, you’re his friend. It’s just, he’s always been closer to your brother, Jay. Always a little envious, too. You and Jay are friends as much as siblings, despite you being two years older. So much so that your friend group is somewhat merged. Chan knows that Jay has friends you don’t hang around with and that the same goes for you. It’s still nice, though. Seeing the two of you, he understands what it means to love family and also like them. 

Yet in all those years of friendship, Chan can still remember the moment when he started seeing you differently. You’d called Jay late one night, no text or anything, and Jay picked up right away because it was so unlike you. It was your first real breakup, a guy you met and started dating in college, the only time you and Jay had been really separated. Even if the separation was only a two hour drive. You were so devastated that Jay switched to a video call and convinced you to come home for the weekend. All Chan can remember is how much he wanted to protect you from ever feeling that way again. He knew you didn’t deserve the way that guy made you feel. Then, the new school year came around, and he and Jay were on campus with you. The draw has only gotten stronger since then.

“Isn’t that what you have a boyfriend for?” Jay asks. 

You roll your eyes affectionately. “He doesn’t really like the fall. Plus, he’s super busy with work projects. He doesn’t want to go pick apples or adventuring or any of that stuff.”

The way you play it off feels casual, like it doesn’t actually matter. Your eyes tell a different story. Chan’s heart breaks a little as he does everything he can to not show it. Jay, unfortunately for you, also notices.

“Is everything okay with…shit, what’s his name?” Jay asks. 

“Come on, Jay, they hard launched like 6 months ago, shouldn’t you know his name by now?” Lisa, ever the best friend to you, chimes in. 

“Ease up, Lisa,” you say, voice a little tired. “Things with Seungsik are fine, he’s just busy right now.” 

“Hey,” Jay starts.

“We can always do fall stuff with you,” Chan hears himself offer without even realizing he’s saying anything. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him.

“Bro, you hate fall shit,” Vernon scoffs.

“I do not,” Chan retorts.

“Since when? I had to twist your arm for Friendsgiving last year,” Jay counters. 

“That is true,” Lisa agrees.

“No you too,” Chan directs at Lisa.

“That’s really sweet, Channie,” you cut across the bickering. It takes everything in him to remain neutral at your compliment and the use of a nickname. “Maybe we can do some stuff as a group. I feel like Fall is the time for friends anyway.” 

There’s a smattering of agreement, names thrown out of other friends that aren’t there, lighthearted eye rolls at how into this season you are, and more than a glance or two in Chan’s direction. He does his best to ignore those. He doesn’t need to think about them right now. All he can really focus on is that he agreed to get up insanely early on Sunday morning so that you could take this train ride that you’ve wanted to do in the Fall to see all the trees changing colors. Especially since the colors are more vibrant this year. Which is fine. Chan doesn’t really mind being up early, but nobody else is committing to go. Not even your brother. The fact that you seem unbothered at it being just you and him makes Chan’s stomach flip. 

Chan is nervous when it comes time to leave for the train ride. You offered to pick him up since you were dragging him out of the warmth of his bed so early in the morning and even said he didn’t have to go through with it. Which meant you probably wouldn’t go through with it because the two other people that had tentatively agreed backed out the night before. Even over text, Chan could tell that you were disappointed at the thought of not going. And even he had to admit that he was curious about the draw of this particular activity. So off you went.

It only takes one day for Chan to start changing his opinion on the season. Or, one person. There’s something about the way your face lights up the second you’re on the train that takes him over as well. You’re more excited, still, that the train doesn’t seem that crowded, so the two of you will have your own little area to sit in without anyone else that close by. Sheepishly, you admit that the train runs multiple times a day, but this gives you the most time at the top of the mountain. Taking advantage of how rare it is to spend time alone with you, Chan asks you what exactly it is that you love about Fall. Maybe if he hears from someone who loves it, he’ll see it differently.

He watches as your face transforms. Your eyes get wide, and a genuine smile spreads across your face, gone just long enough to ask if he’s sure. All Chan can do is laugh because it’s so endearing. But he nods, and you’re like a kid at Christmas. You start with the leaves as the train pulls away from the station. There’s more to them than just changing color and falling to the ground, at least to you. Yes, they’re pretty, like shades of gold fluttering along with the wind and bringing good fortune. You liken it to growth in a way Chan never considered. Sure, the leaves are changing color and dying. It’s also about growth and release. Trees need to let go of their leaves so they can go into their next phase. So they can be ready to grow new leaves and new life in the spring. You don’t get that without the release in the Fall. 

You like the way things taste fresher, too. The way apples feel crisper because it’s when they were meant to be enjoyed. The way vanilla and cinnamon just warm your soul with everything they’re baked into. You love the comfort, like a warm blanket, of just being able to bake so many things. When Chan points out that you bake all year around, you get that playful smile again. You agree and disagree at the same time. You can bake all year round, but certain things were just meant for when the weather starts to get colder. 

Most of all, you really just feel like it’s a positive change. Of learning to let go of all the things that are holding you back. Of cutting out those parts of life that feel dead or stagnant. Of starting the process to allow new things to grow. Chan doesn’t mention that maybe you’re not as good at that part as you want to think. He can tell you want to be, but he wonders if you realize there’s someone in your life who really isn’t adding anything to it anymore. He doesn’t mention Seungsik and neither do you. 

When you get to the top and step off the train, Chan gasps at the sight. He’s never really stopped to appreciate nature like this and it’s overwhelming in the best way. It makes him feel kind of small, except it’s not a bad feeling, and he’s really glad that you suggested taking the early train because it means the top of the mountain isn’t crowded. He’s so busy taking in the clear views that go on for miles that he doesn’t even notice the way your face lights up watching his reaction. He can’t possibly know how full your heart is at him being so present. 

“This is beautiful,” he whispers. It seems like a crime to disrupt the peace.

“Yeah, it is,” you agree. There’s something in the way you say it that makes Chan look over at you. By the time he looks, though, your eyes are on the horizon as well. 

“Have you done this before? I don’t feel like I remember Jay talking about it at all,” Chan asks, still watching you.

You stiffen for a second in a way that’s entirely at odds with the mention of your brother. Or maybe your mind is a million miles away. That’s another thing that Chan’s always found so interesting about you. There’s a brightness and a lightness about you, but there’s also a sense of mystery. LIke there are parts of yourself that you always hold back. Like you want to appear to be entirely open, even though you’re not. Like there are secret parts that only your closest relationships get to know.

“Jay wouldn’t have,” you finally answer with a smile. “Our grandparents brought me when we were both still little. But Jay wasn’t interested, so he stayed with our parents. I’ve wanted to do it again as an adult, but you know, life happens.” 

“Anyone who cares about you would want to see this,” Chan admits as he looks out at the views again. 

It’s too honest, and Chan knows it, but there’s just something about this kind of environment that makes him want to admit things he shouldn’t. Or wouldn’t, normally. There’s something like anonymity surrounded by this much nature. It reminds you just how small people are in comparison. He’s also thankful that you seem to be agreeing that you can say those unspoken things here. That is, until he feels your hand on his arm, turning him to look at you.

“Thank you, Chan,” you say with more sincerity than he’s ever heard in all the time he’s known you. “I care about you, too.” 

“I, um,” Chan starts and clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“We’ve never hung out like this, just the two of us,” you say, still watching him.

“No, we haven’t,” Chan agrees because it’s all he can do to hold onto his rapidly slipping composure.

“I was…okay, this is gonna sound dumb, but I was a little nervous. That’s why I tried to give you an out,” you say. Your voice is soft and you look down at your feet. Like it’s too much to admit while looking at Chan and when it’s so quiet all around you.

“I almost took it,” Chan tells you.

“Why didn’t you? Weren’t you worried?” you wonder.

Chan shrugs to buy himself a second. “Because it was important to you. I figured it was better to roll the dice and risk it being a little awkward so you didn’t miss out.”

You turn away, but Chan catches the look on your face anyway. Catches the way you take a steadying breath. Can’t miss the way you try to hide as you wipe away a tear. The last thing he wanted to do was make you upset. And even though his heart is racing, he pulls you into a hug. He’s not sure what else to do except whisper sorries against your hair.

“No, no, no,” you finally say. “You don’t need to be sorry.”

“I made you cry,” Chan disagrees.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just so insanely sweet that I was overwhelmed for a minute,” you tell him. 

“Guess it was awkward after all,” Chan says. It’s a little self-deprecating. 

“No, it wasn’t,” you assure him. “This is so much more than I could have asked for. I’m just, I guess I’m not really used to people doing things like this for me.”

Chan is thankful he’s not holding you anymore because there’s no way to hide the way his heart tries to beat out of his chest. All he can do is smile and hope that you can’t read his thoughts because they’re a weird mix. His heart is full that you’re so appreciative of something that seems so small. Sure, life is short, and there are only so many days. But it’s also too short to pass up on opportunities to see something different like this. To actually stop and experience the world around you instead of just rushing to the next day. His heart also breaks at the idea of you not being used to people doing things like this for you. Because it seems so small. It doesn’t seem like some huge thing to do. Chan and Jay have been friends for more than 10 years, so he’s known you for a long time. He knows that you don’t have the best taste in partners. Still, though. He can’t imagine something so small being so impactful to you.

The two of you mostly stick close together, or at least within eyesight of each other. There’s so much to see at the top of the mountain. Little signs seem to ring around the edges, telling people what they’re looking at or giving a history. Each one makes Chan appreciate the views even more. Every once in a while, he also catches you watching him and smiling, like you’re still checking that he’s enjoying himself. He can’t say that, of course, he’s enjoying himself, he’s with you, but he tries to smile back every time. 

Eventually, you suggest having lunch at the restaurant next to the little station where the train stops. He’s been so busy taking in his surroundings that he doesn’t even realize that he’s hungry. Right on queue, his stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and you laugh it off. Once you’re sitting down, you can’t seem to settle on one thing for lunch. Without thinking, Chan suggests that you just share a few different things so you can try what you want. Who knows when you’ll be back up here again? Although you seem hesitant at first, a little reassurance from Chan goes a long way. That and him insisting he’ll be happy with whatever you order. 

It’s truly an entirely perfect day, one neither of you really wants to end, even if you won’t admit it to the other. But you have to take the train down eventually and come back to reality.

“Sorry I have to take this,” you say with a frown at your phone. 

Chan thinks it says Seungsik, which makes him frown, too. It takes a real effort for him not to follow you out of the room with his eyes. Not that Jay, Seokmin, or Jiyeon would notice. They’re currently locked in a Mario Kart battle, with Jiyeon winning yet again. Chan risks a glance in your direction and makes a snap decision. 

“Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?” Chan asks.

“Yeah, something to drink,” Seokmin says.

“Is losing making you thirsty?” Jiyeon teases. 

“You can’t win forever, Ji,” Jay shoots back. “Come on, Seok, we can work together on this.” 

“That’s cheating,” Jiyeon giggles. 

Chan ignores the banter to go to the kitchen. Ostensibly, he’s actually planning to get drinks for the group in the living room. Realistically, he’s curious about what’s making you frown and if you’re okay. From his spot in the kitchen, he can hear your voice drifting through the door of Jay’s bedroom. It’s hard to focus on getting drinks.

“I understand that your work is important, but,” you start, working to stay quiet despite the annoyance in your voice.

Maybe this was a bad idea because he wishes he could hear the other side. Or at least know for sure that it was Seungsik. 

“Yes, I’m aware that you think it’s just a stupid Fall tradition,” you huff. “No, baby, I’m not saying your work doesn’t matter. It’s the weekend, though.”

Well, at least he knows that it’s Seungsik. Not that it makes it any better.

“That’s not fair, baby. I’m not saying that I don’t want you to work hard or try to get that promotion. You know how much I support you. It’s just I want to matter too,” you say, and Chan’s heart fully breaks at the heartbreak in your voice.

What is wrong with this man that he can’t take a second away from work to spend time with one of the most beautiful people in the world? 

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you in weeks. You’re always working or networking and…” you trail off. “No, I do get that networking is part of the job, and you’re up for a promotion…Wow, yes, I do get how hard your job is. But do you get that you keep making promises to me and breaking them?”

There’s a bite to your voice that’s entirely foreign to Chan. It’s also at complete odds with the undercurrent of defeat. There are two sides warring during this conversation, and Chan doesn’t really recognize either of them. 

“It’s not just some stupid fall tradition,” you say. It’s without any bite now. You’re defeated. “It’s…yeah, I get it. You think it’s dumb. It’s fine, I understand you won’t be coming.” 

It feels like the conversation is probably ending, so Chan turns his back away from the bedroom to focus on drinks. All he can do is hope that nothing about his posture gives him away. But he can’t help listening anyway, and he hears you ending the phone call before shuffling towards the kitchen all the same.

“Oh,” you nearly gasp. 

As casually as he can manage, Chan turns around towards your voice with a bag of chips in one hand. That plan goes out the window when he sees you rubbing your eyes. All he wants is to be able to protect you from the world. Because you deserve better. Not that he thinks he’s better. He just knows you deserve more than this. More than being unhappy every time he sees you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Chan asks. He meant to ask if you wanted anything to drink, yet couldn’t ignore your frown.

“How long have you been in here?” you ask. 

Chan shrugs. “Not long, just came to get them some drinks and figured I’d grab chips. Do you want anything?” 

“That’s a loaded question,” you say under your breath. 

“You okay?” Chan asks again. He knows you’re not, but he doesn’t really want to admit that he was listening to your side of the conversation. 

“Can I…ugh, this is so weird, but can I just have a hug?” Your eyes are a little wide and a whole lot vulnerable. 

It’s silly, but he would give you anything if it meant that you wouldn’t look broken. No, that’s the wrong word. There’s nothing wrong with being a little broken. It’s just that he wishes Seungsik wasn’t letting you down time after time. Chan sets down the chips and opens his arms without a word. There’s relief on your face as you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle. Your head rests on his shoulder and he feels the moment that your body releases the tension. Feels the moment when your breathing relaxes to match his own. When you step away, your eyes at least look a little happier.

“It’s never weird to ask for a hug from a friend,” Chan tells you. 

You laugh at that, a real laugh, and for a second, Chan wonders why. “You seem to be getting a lot of my emotional side lately.”

Chan just shrugs again. “I’m happy to see whatever side you wanna show me.”

Just then, Jay comes into the kitchen, grumbling about losing another game. He doesn’t even look at Chan or you before going to grab the drinks on the counter. It’s probably the perfect timing so that Chan doesn’t say anything else that’s too honest.

“I thought you were leaving,” Jay says to you. 

“Wow, trying to get rid of me already?” you ask without any of the normal teasing Jay is used to.

“Of course not. I just thought you were going apple picking with Seungsik,” Jay answers. 

It’s then that he seems to really look at you and realizes something is wrong. He looks like he’s about to take back his words when you open your mouth. “No, he’s too busy with something for work. So I’ll probably just stick around here.” 

Chan looks at your brother and hopes he picks up the same wavelength. It seems he does because he sighs in resignation. But it’s a mark of how concerned he is that he doesn’t mention Seungsik being a dick for this. “Why don’t we go with you?” 

“What?” you ask.

“Hey,” Jay calls into the living room. “Who wants to go apple picking?” 

“I’m in, beating you and Seokmin is getting boring,” Jiyeon answers. 

“You haven’t won every one,” Seokmin whines. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you say softly to your brother.

“Oh, are we going with you?” Jiyeon asks. “I’m in. Can I call Vernon and drag him along?”

“We should ask Lisa if she wants to come too. She loves that stuff,” Seokmin suggests. “I haven’t actually gone apple picking in forever.” 

“It’s a lost cause,” Chan tells you, “we’re all going apple picking now.” 

“Fine,” you pretend to sigh, “but can I ride with you? Jay’s a shitty driver.” 

“I resent that,” Jay scoffs. 

It takes a little time to let everyone know where to meet, but Jay manages to wrangle the group well enough so that they all make it to the orchard. True to your word, you ride with Chan. Jay and Jiyeon go to pick up Vernon, and Seokmin goes to pick up Lisa and Mina. Once everyone is there and the bags are bought, groups start to wander off in different directions to look for the best apples. Because, of course, Jiyeon has turned this into a competition and is convinced she can make the best apple pie. Chan knew by the sparkle in your eye that you weren’t going to just settle for that one. 

“You’re on,” you say and shake on it. 

“Well, this is interesting,” Jay notes. 

“Come on, Jay, you’re on my team,” Jiyeon says and grabs his arm.

“Uh, hello, that’s my brother,” you argue. 

“Yeah, and he’s tall, better for reaching the perfect apple,” Jiyeon says with a shrug. “Snooze, you lose.”

“If you’re that worried about the perfect apples up high, I’ve already won,” you reason before turning to Chan. “Come on, Chan, you’re with me.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate for a minute, which would probably be a little embarrassing if he wasn’t actually looking forward to the afternoon. It seems you have a plan, and all he really has to do is follow along. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been alone with you, either. Any awkwardness left with the train ride. 

There’s more to picking apples than just picking the first ones you see, as Chan quickly finds out. You consult the little flyer about which ones are in season and start talking about which types of apples make the best pies. Which are the best for tarts. Which are the best for a bunch of desserts that he’s never heard of. It goes way over his head when you’re talking about the different flavors of apples and which goes best with cinnamon and nutmeg and all the flavors that remind you of the Fall. He’s always known that you loved to bake, but there's something different about seeing it in action like this. And you’re not even actually cooking. 

Despite your insistence about the height of apples, you do come across some trees where the lower ones all look bad, even by Chan’s standards. When there’s a ladder around, he offers to climb up it so that you can have the perfect apple. It seems to make you smile every time. The system works pretty well until you come to a tree with the perfect apples and no ladder in sight. In hindsight, it’ll definitely seem stupid. That he helps you fixate on something so small as the perfect apple. Yet, at the moment, it makes perfect sense.

“Here, climb on my shoulders,” Chan offers and bends down.

“No, it’s really okay,” you say, waving him off.

“If you want the apples, then let’s get you the apples,” Chan insists.

“I’m too heavy,” you protest.

“You’re not,” Chan promises. 

“You’re not going to drop me, are you?” you worry.

“Never,” Chan assures you. 

He stays crouched down to allow you to climb onto his shoulders. Once you hook your legs around his back and he grabs your knees, he stands up, very thankful that he’s never skipped leg day. What he’s not counting on, or prepared for, is your surprise. Because in that surprise,  your thighs squeeze either side of his face. He’s sure it’s an involuntary action. He’s sure you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Yet it makes him swallow hard all the same. As soon as he steadies himself (mentally, that is, because physically he’s fine), he steps towards the tree. On his shoulders, you’re easily tall enough to reach the apples you wanted in the first place. 

“Thank you,” you say softly when he lets you back down.

“No problem,” Chan says, ignoring the slight dryness in his throat.

Apparently, taking the perfect pictures in the orchard is just as important as picking the apples. Chan does roll his eyes about that a little bit but agrees to be your photographer anyway. It’s the same thing all over again. Your face lights up at having someone to do all these things with and he’s putty in your hands. It’s impossible to say no. There’s a moment where he can tell that you’re a little upset that your boyfriend isn’t there to take pictures with you. Obviously, part of the whole thing should involve him in your perfect world. Yet he’s not the one that’s here. Instead, Chan offers to take a picture of the two of you and then take some with your other friends when you meet back up. 

The group also has to decide just how to judge this baking contest. The only rules that you and Jiyeon agree to is that it has to be something baked and it has to use the apples. Beyond that, it’s up to whoever wants to participate just what they make. It’s not usually Seokmin’s thing, but he offers to help Mina bake and, since neither of them are that good, you and Jiyeon allow it. 

“Why don’t we get together next weekend and do something else?” Vernon suggests. 

“Like what?” Jay asks.

“Pumpkin carving!” you shout out.

“You know what? That actually sounds fun, and we haven’t done it in years,” Jay says.

“Yeah, we always used to have the best pumpkins as kids,” you agree.

“They were pretty cool,” Chan agrees. 

“So pumpkins and whatever baked apple thing to see who wins?” Vernon asks.

Everyone agrees, and Chan can’t help but look to you. Anything you might have been feeling over your boyfriend missing yet another Fall activity that matters to you is forgotten. Or you’re doing a very good job at hiding it. All your face shows is happiness. It’s kind of infectious. 

It doesn’t get much more stereotypically Fall than going to the pumpkin patch and taking pictures. Really, it’s pretty cliche. Yet, you seem unfazed by the entire prospect. You’re layered up, just like everyone else, to fight off the crispness of the air. Unlike everyone else, your face lights up when you pull up to the orchard, a different one than where you picked the apples. There are rows upon rows of pumpkins, all waiting to go to the perfect homes. You’re out of the car and off to walk through the rows before anyone else, and you don’t seem to have a care in the world. 

There’s an art, Chan learns, to picking the best pumpkin. It all depends on what exactly someone wants to carve. Too small, and it feels crowded, too big and the face gets swallowed. Unless you make everything bigger, which is always an option. That gets a chuckle out of Vernon and a smack to his arm from Lisa. Lisa, always entirely honest, is really just in it for the pictures and then for whatever baked goods they get to taste test later. She’s happy to carve a pumpkin too, but she wants to use a stencil. And fully admits that she’ll probably get bored halfway through. 

Almost unconsciously, or maybe by habit at this point, Chan finds himself wandering through the rows with you. Every now and then, you pause to consider a pumpkin before moving on. There’s so much concentration on the task, and he can’t help but to wonder if you’re just excited or if you’re also avoiding thinking about other things. 

“What are you looking for?” Chan finally asks. 

You turn and regard him for a second, evidently deciding that he’s just curious rather than judgmental. “Okay, don’t think it’s lame…”

“Why would I?” he asks honestly.

“I sort of have a couple ideas for what I want to carve,” you admit. “Do you, is it okay if I show you?”

“Yeah, of course,” comes Chan’s immediate reply. 

There’s that smile again, the one that lights up your whole face like this is the best day that you can imagine.  You pull your phone out of your pocket and open your photos. It’s hard to miss that all the recent images are from the things you’ve done as a group or screenshots or things saved from random searches. There aren’t any recent ones, as you quickly scroll, with you and Seungsik. His attention is pulled back to the task at hand when you show him a couple of different carving ideas you have. 

“Which one do you like best?” you ask after showing him several. 

“It’s hard to pick. Honestly, I think you should get a couple of pumpkins,” Chan answers. 

That actually seems to make you happier as you pluck one from nearby that’s apparently perfect for at least one of your ideas. Chan offers to hold it for you as the two of you carry on in finding just the right pumpkins. It’s interesting, especially having picked apples with you, that you spend so much more care in this. You explain that some of the pumpkins don’t have the best sides so they don’t look as good when you carve them. They’re good for displaying as is or good to back with, but you want the prettiest pumpkins if you’re carving something.

Well, he can’t really argue with that. 

Once you’re all back at his and Jay’s apartment, everyone splits off in different directions. You and Jiyeon immediately go to bring out your apple desserts. Chan’s a little surprised, still, that Seokmin and Mina actually made something together. But it all looks good, and he’s kind of hungry. Lisa, who suggested ordering actual food, manages to get the bags inside with Vernon’s help. The two of them get to work setting all the food out on the counter for people to start getting plates. Chan starts pulling out plates and glasses for everyone. Jay clears off their little dining table, which isn’t big enough for everyone, as well as the coffee table. It’s not like this is anything formal anyway. 

Even though you and Jiyeon want to start with the desserts, Mina manages to convince you to have actual food first. Then, as everyone is carving, they can start trying whatever looks best to them. You reluctantly agree from your spot on the floor. There’s plenty of space to sit on the couch, but instead, you sit on the floor, right next to Chan’s legs, occasionally brushing against him as you move. It’s a little harder for him to watch you without being so obvious and just as hard to ignore your presence. There’s a vibrance to you again, like everything in your world is right. Like nothing could possibly be missing. It doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t mention Seungsik; don’t seem to be missing him during this activity. It’s not like apple picking where he bailed. He was never part of these plans. Maybe that’s the key, or maybe you’re realizing that doing all of this with friends can be just as fun. Whatever the reason, Chan wants you to keep smiling like this. 

After protesting, sitting on the floor to eat, Chan has to agree that sitting on the floor to carve pumpkins makes the most sense. It’s easier when you’re not bending over to the coffee table level. It also gives him more space. Like Lisa, he’s using a stencil that he printed out. He wants it to be perfect, and he’s not sure he could do it freehand. 

“Okay, I want dessert. Who’s going to tell me what’s what?” Vernon announces.

You’re up before anyone can say anything to grab your desserts. Plural. “Okay, so I made two…”

“Which is cheating,” Jiyeon interjects.

“Is not,” you reply and stick your tongue out at her. You open each container. “These are just apple fritters and these are salted caramel apple bars.”

“Tell me you did not make caramel from scratch, too,” Jiyeon whines. 

“It’s so easy, of course I did,” you retort. 

“Ugh, of course,” Jiyeon groans. “Anyway, I made apple-pomegranate cobbler.”

“Which looks amazing,” you compliment, causing Jiyeon to beam. 

“And since we knew these two would go totally over the top, we just made plain old apple pie,” Mina says. 

“Hey, we worked hard, don’t undersell it,” Seokmin points out.

“I’m sure it’s great, Seok,” Lisa says to pacify him. 

“I’m going to eat it all,” Vernon announces.

He goes to get a plate and, true to his word, puts some of everything on it. You carry on carving and wave off Chan’s offer to get you something. It’s hard not to play favorites, but he also doesn’t want some of everything. At least not yet. So he grabs one of the salted caramel apple bars that you made and some of Jiyeon’s dessert. Things get quiet again as everyone is either enjoying the dessert or focusing on their pumpkins. 

Despite Vernon taking a break to eat as much dessert as he could stomach, he does get back to working on his pumpkin and it’s annoying how good it looks. He went in without a plan and his pumpkin is one of the best. Chan thinks his could probably be a lot better, but he’s also happy with it. As predicted, Lisa abandoned hers halfway through and has been picking music to play ever since. It’s kind of nice, though, to have her doing that. It makes the whole afternoon into the evening pass by in the best way. 

Chan should probably think of new words, but this is another one of those days that just feels like the best of the season. Everyone is together and happy. Nobody is fighting, unless it’s you and Jiyeon playfully arguing when your apple bars win as the best dessert. It’s fine to be in your feelings, and Chan meant it when he said he would be happy with whatever side you wanted to show him. It’s also important to have the lighter days. The easy days. The ones that make weathering the storm a little more manageable. It’s clear there’s definitely still a storm, and he’s thankful for the little breaks like this. 

However, as it turns to night, everyone starts to filter out of the apartment. Seokmin, Mina, and Lisa want to go out to the bar and ask if anyone else wants to come. Jiyeon and Vernon already planned to go out to dinner. They’re still in that phase where they want to act like they’re not dating, even though they definitely are, and everyone is happy for them. Jay’s been talking to someone off some dating app that he wants to go hang out with. That just leaves you and Chan.

“I’m actually kinda tired, so I think I might just stay in,” Chan tells Seokmin when he asks again if either of you wants to come to the bar with them.

“I don’t really feel like going out,” you admit before looking at Chan. “Do you mind if I stay here with you?”

“Course not,” Chan answers, ignoring the look he knows Jay is giving the two of you. Your brother’s never really been good at being subtle. 

“Lame, but I get it,” Lisa says with a shrug.  Everyone but Jay filters out for their plans and he disappears into his bedroom to get ready. Chan gets up to start cleaning up and putting everything away. 

“You don’t need to help. You’re a guest,” Chan tells you when you join in on the cleaning.

“Wow, a guest? And here I thought we were friends,” you scoff. 

Chan shakes his head. “You know what I mean.” 

“I figure if I help then I can rope you into watching a movie with me,” you answer.

“Fine,” Chan says, pretending to be put out.

Truthfully, he’s going to agree to whatever you want to do. You could say that you wanted to learn a new language and Chan would probably at least give it a try. Down horrifically bad. Yet, he’s too caught up in thinking about hanging out with you again that he doesn’t see the way you look over at him every few minutes. Misses the way your gaze softens at how much care he uses in moving the pumpkins. Misses the way your eyes rake over him as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize things are starting to shift for you as well. 

Instead, the two of you finish cleaning up mostly in silence and are settling onto the couch by the time Jay reemerges. Convenient timing given that he doesn’t have to even make up an excuse about why he can’t help. You’re quick to call him on it and he’s just as quick to brush it off as he runs out the door. It leaves you and Chan on your own for the night. So you pick the place for take away and Chan picks the first movie. Just like that, you settle in for the night. 

part 2 coming on dec. 3rd, part 3 coming on dec. 6th. let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged 💕

[auroracalisto]

day #15: angst - emotions around the holidays

victor zsasz x gn!reader, 1.2k words a/n: holidays are weird. i either love them or i hate everything about them. the older i get, the more i dislike it. possibly ooc victor, but you and vic are partners so he's gotta be good to you sometimes, right?

Have you ever felt like the world was going to crash around you? Like you'd truly invoke the mediocracies of the universe, and they'd finally grant you a chance to claim that the sky was truly falling around you (much like Chicken Little)?

Of course you do.

You're living it right now. There isn't a single present under your Christmas tree that hadn't frustrated you to no end. You only had the tree because Victor had insisted on it. In fact, he decorated it while you were asleep one night (you assume he had one of the Zsaszettes with him, though, because it was rather beautifully decorated—not that Zsasz was incapable).

It was just the holiday season in general.

You hated every minute of it. The cheery music, the happy smiles, Santa, the elves. Anything holiday related, anything at all, it angered you to no end.

Or maybe... maybe it wasn't truly anger, but just... frustration. Grief.

Anger that when you became an adult, the holidays didn't stay the same. Anger that when you finally had the money to buy gifts for people, they always fell flat. Someone always hated it, or you ended up regretting it the moment your bank account withdrew the money for said gift. Even making a gift didn't have the same effect anymore. It took so much time—time you didn't have.

And don't even get me started on the cooking and baking and cleaning after everything. It was like just having a Christmas tree sucked in all the dust, making everything impossible to actually clean. And cooking? Lord, if you had to cook for a party, you think you'd die.

It was so overwhelming, and it shouldn't be.

You should be able to go home, go to your family, and have a perfect little Christmas.

But you couldn't.

No.

You were an adult, in the big city, with nothing but your assassin boyfriend and your shitty apartment.

You couldn't go back to how Christmases used to be. You couldn't go back to Santa Claus coming down the chimney and the reindeer "leaving" glitter after eating the reindeer food you'd make for them in elementary school. The elves didn't have their magic. The season lost its magic.

The music was grating. The weather was cold and biting at your ankles.

Nothing was simple anymore, and it hurt. It genuinely frustrated you to no end. Not because it was Christmas, really, but because it was no longer the same.

You were all grown up, and you'd never be able to return to the Christmas you once had.

The sky may have truly been falling around you now, but no one would believe you.

You sat on your sofa, head resting in your hands as your elbows dug into the meat of your thighs. You looked towards the burning candle on your coffee table, blinking slowly.

You knew wishes wouldn't come true, but a part of you wished to go back.

As you remained stuck in your mind, Victor made his way over to you. He must have just gotten home—didn't make a lot of noise, either.

He placed a hand on your back as he plopped down beside of you. He hadn't even changed out of his gear. As you looked at him, you could see blood on his cheek and his gun still in the sling. You said nothing.

He frowned at you. "You alright?" he softly asked.

You shrugged. Were you? You didn't know.

What would you even tell him if he asked what was wrong with you?

He sighed and leaned back on the sofa cushions, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Bein' all mopey, huh? You could watch a movie. Get a milkshake. Have some spirits or somethin'."

"Nah," you softly said.

"Nah?"

"I don't feel like it."

He scoffed. "Don't feel like it? What's up with you, doll?"

You shrugged, again.

He stared you down for a moment before he rolled his eyes and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. "I'm gonna go change. When I come back, you better be ready to watch a movie, yeah?"

You scrunched your nose. "Yeah."

But while he was gone, you only dug yourself into a deeper hole. One that you were afraid you wouldn't be able to bounce back from by the time he returned.

You curled up on the sofa, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around yourself.

When he came back and saw you, he fought back a sigh. It had been a long day working with the Penguin, and he knew this would just make it longer. Whatever was up with you, he knew it wasn't anything good.

He walked back over to you, forcing you to move your legs so he could sit beside of you. When he sat down, he let your legs rest on top of his thighs.

"Talk to me," he said.

"There's nothing to talk about," you said.

He rolled his eyes. "Bullshit," he said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

His eye twitched as he looked at you. "You're full of shit," he said, upper lip raising as he spoke. "Come on. Talk to me or I'll make you."

That you knew he would. You sighed softly and rubbed your eyes for a moment before you spoke.

"Do we have to celebrate Christmas?"

He stared you down. "What?"

"I don't want to celebrate it."

"Why not? I thought you liked Christmas. Kind of the whole reason I got you a tree."

You frowned deeply, fingers grabbing at the soft blanket still over top of you. You shrugged.

He said your name warily, narrowing his eyes.

"I just—I don't like it."

"You don't like Christmas?"

"No."

"You don't like Christmas, or are you just in one of your episodes where you hate everything?"

You grumbled under your breath. "No, I—"

"—it's not gonna be the same, you know."

You paused, glancing up at him.

He sighed. "It'll be different. You gotta make it how you want it to be now."

"What do you mean?"

"I know that look," he said. For an assassin boyfriend, he was being quite... nice tonight. He wasn't always this kind. "You hate it because it's different, don't you?"

You shrugged.

"It's different now. Doesn't mean it has to be bad."

You frowned once more. "But... I mean... I want it to be the same."

He raised a non-existent eyebrow. "It's not gonna be. You just gotta accept that and move on."

You looked away from him, glancing at the tree again.

"Make the most of what you have, now," Victor said, reaching forward and squeezing your thigh. "If you really want to skip it, we can, but I think we could figure out something else."

You gave a small nod. He had a point. Even if you hadn't told him everything, taking one step at a time would be best. You could figure it out in the long run—figure out how the rest of the holiday would make you feel as time went on.

"Now," Victor said. "Movie time."

"Victor," you said, groaning softly. "Nothing weird."

"Christmas Vacation."

You scrunched your nose. "I just said—"

"—yeah, well, get over yourself," he said, grabbing the remote. "Maybe it'll get you into the Christmas spirit."

"It won't," you defensively said.

He rolled his eyes. "Do I look like I fuckin' care?"

[intheticklecloset]

hii! i hope you’re doing well (and taking breaks in between these)

for the peppermint mocha,, what about kunikida + dazai ❤️🎅?

❄️ Peppermint Mocha Special Order ❄️

Breaks? What are breaks? 😅 No but really - I try to write only a couple of these a day not to burn myself out, but the real break will come when I'm done with them all. I'm hanging in there! In the meantime, enjoy! ^^

~~~

“Hey, Kunikida!” Dazai chirped excitedly, drawing the bespectacled man’s attention.

“Dazai. What a surprise.”

Truly, it was no surprise at all. The brunette was notorious for following Kunikida around at this time of year, trying to scope out what kind of gifts he was buying for others rather than just wait for their annual office Christmas party to find out. Kunikida knew that if it were anyone else they’d probably think they were being sneaky, but Dazai knew how to be sneaky, so the fact that he’d caught on to him years ago told him the man wanted the blonde to know he was being followed. He wasn’t sure what kind of game this was, but considering this was the first time Dazai had actually approached him while following him around the shops, he suspected he wasn’t playing it the way the brunette wanted him to.

“Out gift shopping?” Dazai asked innocently, glancing at the stationery set in his colleague’s hands.

Kunikida grunted. “I’m sure you know this is the season for such a thing, so yes, it’s a fair assumption.”

“Who is that for?”

“Not you.”

“Aww, and here I was hoping to better my penmanship next year.” Dazai smirked. “You’re no fun, you know.”

Kunikida placed the stationery set back where he’d found it, picking up another one for inspection instead. “Just because you enjoy knowing what everyone will be getting for Christmas doesn’t mean everyone else does. I like to keep things a secret.”

Dazai pouted, reaching out to poke his friend in the ribs. “Come on, it’s not like I’ll tell everyone! Just let me know who the stationery is for?”

“You don’t need to know – hehey!” The blonde barely tamped down a chuckle when the brunette pinched his hip. He glanced around the shop nervously. They were alone right now, but get this suicidal freak going and there was no telling how long that would last. “Would you q-quihihit that? Dazai!”

The detective was grinning from ear to ear, a wicked glint in his eyes that Kunikida didn’t like at all. “Tell me! That’s all I want from you.”

“It’s not yohohohours! Isn’t that enohohough?” The blonde jerked his arm down protectively when he saw his friend aiming for a bad spot, but in his hassle to escape he ended up dropping the stationery entirely. Without thinking, he bent to retrieve it, and that’s when Dazai really struck.

“Who’s the stationery for, Kunikida? Hmmm?” he teased, poking and digging into his back and just below his armpit.

Kunikida jolted upright again, taking a few frantic steps back before finally caving. “All rihihihight, it’s for the prehehehehesident! Leave me alohohohone!”

“Ooh, you’re right – he does have a fondness for good stationery. What with all those important letters he has to send.” Dazai nodded sagely, then turned on his heel and rounded the corner of the aisle like he just remembered he had somewhere else to be. “Well, good luck with your shopping, Kunikida!”

The taller man picked up the fallen stationery with a roll of his eyes. Dazai could be an idiot sometimes, but he certainly kept the spirit of the holidays alive in his own special way.

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 4 - ‘tis the damn season

a/n: new chapter for you!! a little longer than usual, but i had so much fun writing this one :)) the slow burn is slow burning, but we’re finally getting somewhere! it will pay off, i promise <3

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4.7k

series masterlist

The word ‘stress’ does not even begin to describe how you are feeling at the moment. This time of year is always the worst, right before Christmas holiday. All the final exams fall in the same week, right before the end of the term, and not to mention your final project for English; the essay.

Which wasn’t coming along too badly, you realize. You and Farleigh have actually made impressive progress, and not to be too prideful, but this might be the best essay you’ve ever written. But definitely not because of his help. No, you’ve done most of it. He’s just been there for… moral support? And… occassionally adding worthwhile things to the writing. Occasionally.

In fact, you unfortunately have started to grow fond of his presence and his company. He’s not a bad guy, you’ve realized. He’s quite funny, and has a certain way of dragging a giggle out of you or causing a smile to tug at your lips, in contrast to your usual resting bitch face. You’re going to miss those late nights spent in his room, considerably past curfew, meaning you typically had to sneak back to your own dorm as carefully as possible. You can’t seem to figure out why time goes by so fast when you’re with him, whether it’s because you’re trying to finish up a project or because of… other reasons.

Lately, you’ve also been finding yourself to be very nervous whenever he speaks to you. Your voice trembles, you suddenly forget your whole vocabularly, and that stupid blush that always creeps onto your face, feeling like flames on your cheeks.

You only have a bit of editing and revising to do on the essay before it is ready to turn in. Some finishing touches. Which means it will be ready to turn in next Friday, a week from today, the last day of the term before winter holiday.

You throw the covers off of yourself and yawn, climbing out of bed. This weekend will be brutal, since you’ve designated it to studying for exams, which means a few late nights spent at the library. But for some reason, you feel excited to go to class today. English class, specifically. You slip out of your pajamas and fold them neatly into a drawer.

As you step into your skirt and tug on your white button-up, you glance at your calendar posted on the wall. You feel warm just thinking about returning home to see your family in Bath. You picture your mother’s welcoming smile and your father’s comforting embrace, and those evenings you will spend gathered around the fireplace, regaling them with tales from your first term of the school year as you stuff your face with sweets. If you’re lucky, you’ll even get snow. The last time you had a white Christmas was… well, you can’t even seem to remember.

You observe yourself in the mirror as you work on tying your tie, suddenly hyper-aware of your appearance. You comb your fingers through your hair, realizing you haven’t brushed it yet. You step over to your chest of drawers and grab your hairbrush, dragging it through your hair quite aggressively. You’ve never cared much about how you look, it’s always been more of a personality thing. How others perceived you was what mattered, but not in a physical aspect.

But who are you trying to impress? You scoff sarcastically at the idea, shaking your head. You throw your brush onto your bed before grabbing a pair of black socks, pulling them up your legs. And finally, your trusty jacket, provided to you by the school. It doesn’t help much with the cold, but at least it looks cool with your uniform. You hurriedly step into your shoes once you’ve buttoned your coat and race back to the mirror, brushing through your hair one last time. Does it look okay? You think. Should I tie it up? Or at least do something with it?

No. You shake your head and bop yourself on the head with the brush. “That’s enough,” You say under your breath, as if to silence your own thoughts. You sling your bag over your shoulder and as you’re walking to the door, your stomach lurches as a sudden realization comes over you.

You’re trying to look good for Farleigh. What the hell are you on?! You slap a hand to your forehead and groan dramatically. Suddenly, you think of Clara and all her random appearances she’s been making, flirting with him and twirling her hair. What does she do differently?

Her skirt. She rolls it up on purpose to make it shorter. You chew on your bottom lip nervously as you return to the mirror once again. You tentatively roll your skirt up at the waistband, making it a bit shorter. You’ve always followed dresscode, the fingertip rule. But if she can get away with it, so can you, right?

You step back and admire your long legs and your thighs. Wait, what on Earth are you doing? Your face burns with humiliation. You’re basically trying to seduce a man. No, not even a man. A boy! An immature, stupid, extremely handsome boy.

You trudge back to your door determinedly, swinging it open and stepping out into the hallway, locking it behind you. You picture Farleigh’s face in your mind as you walk through the corridor and down the stairs. His caramel skin, his eyes that remind you of chocolate, his perfect teeth, his curls… Fuck.

And the weather isn’t helping. You sort of regret adjusting your skirt now, since you’ve just given the freezing air more opportunity to bite at your skin. It seems today you might actually be on time to class, though. You reach the door to the east wing and step inside, seeing a group of students gathered outside Mrs. Chasteen’s door.

You squint harder and realize it’s your class. You curiously walk over and spot Magdalena, so you tap on her shoulder.

She turns around and her face immediately brightens. “Hey! You’re early for once in your life.” She grins and you shove her playfully. “Oh, come off it. Is she not here today?” You point to the door and she quirks an eyebrow. “No, I think she’s here. Sometimes it just takes a while for her to get here, and we show up before her.” She shrugs. “But what would you know? You’re always dashing in at the last second.” Lena tsks and shakes her head, wagging a finger at you.

“Ready for holiday?” You ask. Her eyes brighten at the mention of the upcoming break. “Oh my God. You don’t even know how ready I am.” She lets out a sigh of relief. “But we have to get through those bloody exams first. At least we got our GCSEs done last year.” Lena nudges you softly with her shoulder. “True.” You nod in agreement. You truly believed those blasted tests were going to be the death of you.

At that moment, Lena’s gaze leaves yours and travels slightly upwards, to something in the distance. Or someone, rather.

“There’s your shadow.” She points with a quiet little giggle. “Wha-” You turn to follow her eyes. Shit. You immediately turn back to Lena, your heart racing as panic starts to set in. You start to feel hot, despite the cold air of the corridor.

“What do you mean ‘my shadow’?” You furrow your brows and tilt your head, hoping she elaborates. “I mean, you two are always together. And he follows you around like a lost puppy. I know I’m not the only one who notices it.” She lowers her voice to a hurried whisper.

“Maybe because we’re working on the final project together?!” You whisper back harshly. “Mm. Right.” She nods and crosses her arms, spinning on her heel to go chat with someone else. “Lena! Lena, don’t leave me!” You whisper-scream after her, but she doesn’t turn back for you.

“What was that about?” You already know it’s him before you even register who’s speaking. You spin around, much closer to Farleigh than you thought. You stare up at him awkwardly, pretty much eye-level with his chest. You step back cautiously.

“Uh. You know…” For such a large vocabularly you claim to hold, it seems to be failing you at the moment. “Erm. Girl things?” It comes out like more of a question than you mean it to. You feel that familiar burn scorching up your neck and onto your cheeks. Fuck, it always gives you away.

“Girl things?” He repeats, raising his eyebrows. “Yep. Like, periods and stuff.” You freeze, your brain registering what just came out of your mouth. Oh, good Lord. Your eyes shoot down to the ground as you suddenly become interested in the stonework.

“Oh. That’s… cool. I guess.” He replies just as awkwardly, and for a minute you think that maybe he’s nervous too. No, he’s not. How else would you reply to a girl who’s just randomly brought up periods? There’s not much you can really say to that.

“Not really.” You shake your head and shift your weight onto your other leg, glancing back up at him. You really need to work on keeping your mouth shut during awkward moments.

And then, for one sliver of a second, you see his eyes trail down to your legs, and then quickly back up to your gaze. He clears his throat. “Our teacher seems to be late today,” He remarks.

You nod quickly, grateful for the change of subject. “Yeah. Maybe she’s just as sick of this as we all are.” You gesture to your fellow peers. You look back up to him, meeting his eyes once again. You swear, if you could just swim in them you would. You would make them your home and never leave their warmth. He stares back at you, his gaze unrelenting. You feel yourself growing hot once again, like you need to go back out into that chilling wind.

And then, your favorite person comes along, cheerfully skipping through the corridor, her steps echoing off the tall walls. She pauses mid-step, turning to you and Farleigh.

“Oh! Hi, guys!” Clara grins, showing off her blinding white smile.

“Hello, Clara.” You mutter reluctantly. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. “Hey,” Farleigh replies. She steps oddly close to him, staring up at him with her baby blue eyes. Those must be her secret weapon, you think. She traces a finger down his chest and giggles. What the fuck is she doing? Farleigh’s face reddens and he looks down at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “What was that for?” He mutters. “No reason,” She shrugs with another giggle.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt jealousy this strong. It’s a feeling that bubbles up in your stomach, clawing its way up into your chest, burning through your veins like a fire. It’s an unpleasant feeling, you realize, as you look at Clara and try to hide your distaste. How can he be enjoying this? Does he really like her? Your mind spins.

She steps back from him and flips her hair. “I really should be getting to class right now…” She says, looking around the hall. “You’d better get going, then,” You murmur under your breath before clearing your throat. The words kind of just slipped out before you could think about them. Clara glances over to you so quickly you swear she almost snaps her neck.

“What was that?” She asks with that saccharine smile playing on her lips. “I said you’d better get going, that’s all.” You smile right back at her. She looks like she’s biting back some snippy remark, before she flips the switch and smiles again. “You’re right. Don’t want to be late!” She winks at Farleigh before skipping off again.

You look down at your shoes for a moment, pondering what to say next before looking back up at him. To your surprise, he’s staring down at you, a look on his face that you can’t quite figure out.

“What was that about?” You ask, snickering nervously as if it’s humorous, when really the whole interaction made you want to die. He opens his mouth to speak, but then is interrupted by greetings from your classmates to Mrs. Chasteen. You turn around to see her turning the key to her classroom, fiddling with the doorknob before opening it. You decide it’s better to not talk about the Clara situation right now.

“So, you think we can get the essay done today?” Farleigh asks as you both walk to your usual table. “Possibly. If Mrs. Chasteen even allows us to work on it,” You reply, setting your things down and sitting. You tug at your skirt, which to your annoyance, continues to ride up your thighs. Fuck Clara and her stupid skirts.

“Look at her. She looks exhausted. Do you really think she wants to teach right now?” He subtly nods in your teacher’s direction. She’s sitting at her desk and sipping a mug of steaming tea, or perhaps coffee, you can’t tell which. She usually has bags under her eyes but today they seem more pronounced.

“She’s probably been grading a lot,” You mutter to him. He shrugs. “Or maybe she had a thrilling Thursday night out on the town,” He whispers, nudging you playfully with his arm. The heat of the proximity has you burning up, inside and out. It makes you want to snuggle up next to him and chase his heat, especially on this cold winter’s day. You remind yourself to laugh at his comment.

“Mrs. Chasteen? Going out? Yeah, when pig’s fly.” You giggle genuinely at the thought. “I’m serious! We should do a stake out,” A boyish grin spreads across his face, lazy and lovely and truly beautiful. You drink in the sight, taking in his features and wishing you could screenshot this moment with your brain and keep it tucked away for later.

“She’s married, you idiot.” You swat him on the arm and his stupidly charming grin only intensifies. “Well, you’d be surprised.” He leans back in his chair and spreads his long legs. God, you usually hate when men do that. But…

Your eyes betray you. Fuck, he’s so handsome. And tempting. You’ve never had such scandalized thoughts about someone before. You start to wonder what he would look like with his shirt collar loosened, or with the buttons undone. Or maybe with just his tie on.

You hear your name suddenly, interrupting your diabolical thoughts. “Are you okay?” Farleigh asks. Shit. You’ve spent too much time analyzing his appearance and imagining him with less clothes.

You already know your face is giving you away with the pure heat that warms your cheeks. “Oh.” You say stupidly. What the fuck?! You curse yourself internally.

“Yeah. I’m great. Sorry, I was just… thinking about–” Think. Think of something. An excuse. Anything.

“The essay. Mhm.” You nod aggressively almost to convince yourself rather than him. “What about it?” He asks, raising an eyebrow with intrigue.

“I think it’s gonna be… so good,” You lose your train of thought once again as your eyes focus between his legs this time. Did he choose tighter pants today on purpose, or is your mind playing tricks on you? Your tongue darts out to lick your lips before you glance back up at him.

His eyes widen. You freeze and immediately turn to face the front of the classroom with a loud swallow. Thank God for Mrs. Chasteen.

She clears her throat. “I’m not feeling too well today, hence my late arrival. Feel free to work on your essay. Or whatever it is that you want to do…” She waves her hand dismissively and then continues organizing things at her desk. The chatter in the classroom resumes.

“Told ya,” Farleigh says, clearly happy with himself and his prediction. Normally, you would make some quippy remark about how this is the one time he’s right and he’d better enjoy it while it lasts. But instead you remain silent, pulling out your laptop.

It’s your last night to study and cram all possible information into your mind before finals week. You’re not even sure your brain has anymore room to store said information. Nevertheless, you feel slightly more confident about your tests than you did before your first night at the library on Friday. And, you and Farleigh finished the essay and turned it in.

You yawn and check the time in the bottom right corner of your laptop’s screen. Sunday, 10:03 PM. Your tired eyes widen and glance around. To your surprise, many students are still gathered here, almost every desk full. Lucky for you (and everyone else), the library has extended hours during the week before end of term exams. You believe it closes at three AM, since keeping it open any later would encourage students to pull an all nighter. Which they probably do anyways when they get back to their dorm.

You feel a tap on your shoulder and you spin around. “Hey.” Farleigh smiles down at you. Your heart almost leaps out of your chest at the sight of him. “Hi,” You respond, your voice coming out at a higher pitch than you expected. You cringe internally.

“You look like hell,” He says. His voice carries a teasing lilt, so you play along and poke him. “Let me guess, you’ve been here since… six?” He tilts his head in a way that reminds you of a puppy.

“Six thirty, to be precise,” You reply with a sarcastic eye roll. “Jesus. What a tryhard,” He shakes his head in mock disapproval. “Shut up. Showing up to study at ten PM is arguably worse. Do you always wait until the last possible minute?” You scoff but it turns into more of a giggle than you intended. He sits down next to you.

“I’m smart enough to where I can wait ‘til the last minute.” He flashes a grin at you before twisting in his seat to pull out some books from his bag. “Well, we’ll see once we get exam scores back.” You sigh.

“Oh, really? You wanna make a bet?” Farleigh questions in an oddly flirtatious tone. “Mhm,” Once you realize he’s staring at you, you feel a tingle shoot down your spine as you slowly turn to meet his eyes. His gaze is hot and heavy and it almost melts you on the spot. You inhale a shaky, quiet breath.

“What will you give me if I make a better grade than you?” He asks, his voice lower and seemingly quieter than before. An unfamiliar warmth spreads throughout you while an unwelcome swarm of butterflies makes their home in your stomach.

You cough loudly into your arm to interrupt the moment, mainly because you’re scared of how you would respond to such a flirtatious question. You don’t trust your mouth right now. Farleigh just laughs and returns to his textbooks, flipping through them.

Why does he say stuff like that? It only gets your hopes up that he might return your feelings. Which, of course, he never will. Why did you get cursed with this obsession? Well, you wouldn’t call it an obsession. Just a… crush. No, that sounds too childish. You just like him.

You spend the next two hours studying with Farleigh. You write each other calculus problems for the other to solve, or you quiz each other on vocabulary for English, or dates for medieval history. As much as you hate to admit it, you’re having fun. It’s almost as if time speeds up while you’re in his presence. However, your eyes are burning and you’re struggling to keep them open.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes snap open at Farleigh’s words. You had begun to drift off into slumber, slumped over in your chair. You sit up efficiently and nod. “Yeah.. sorry.” You let out a long sigh and attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes with your fingers.

“You probably need to get some sleep,” He suggests, his voice soft as silk. Your eyelashes flutter as you fight to stay awake. “I’m okay, really.” Your last word is interrupted with a big yawn. You cover your mouth with embarrassment as he lets out a snort.

“It’s midnight. You need to get to bed.” He tells you more sternly this time. “Well what about you?” You question.

“Don’t worry about me.” He shakes his head and reaches his hand out, placing it on your shoulder. “I guess I’ve studied enough,” You yawn again and close your eyes. Just for a moment, if only to rest them. You think.

About ten minutes later you awake to the sound of Farleigh’s voice again. “Do I need to take you to your dorm myself?” Your gaze slides over to him as he packs up his things. You let out a sleepy hum of disagreement. “You can’t even keep your eyes open. C’mon.” He stands up and pats you on the back.

You groan and grip the side of the table to support you as you stand up. You just stand there and watch as he packs up your own things, depositing them into your bag. “Can you carry it?” He asks, his eyes full of concern. You nod. “Alright. Let’s go,”

You both walk back to the dorms, with your occasional stumble, along with his occasional hand on your shoulder. You walk up the stairs, sleepiness weakening your legs. You eventually make it to your door and glance up towards Farleigh while blinking rapidly to make sure you’re not dreaming.

“I don’t think I studied enough–”

He holds up a hand to silence you.

“No. We studied more than enough. Sleep is what you need right now. Our English exam is at nine tomorrow morning. Or, today, actually.”

You’ve never seen him act with such kindness and care. Why is he doing all of this for you? And why is he being so nice? It’s suspicious, you think. But you push the thought aside as you unlock your room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You smile in an attempt to convey your gratefulness. You’re a little too prideful to say thank you right now. “Goodnight.” He pauses for a moment, just like he did the first time you were at his dorm, like he wants to say or do something else. You stare into his dark eyes, willing him to do something. Suddenly, you don’t feel so sleepy.

But he just turns and walks away, probably back to his own dorm. Damn it! You feel stupid for being so hopeful. You step into your room and close the door angrily. He’s never going to admit anything, even if he also has feelings for you. Which you extremely doubt. And you’re never going to admit it either.

By the end of the week, you’re more exhausted than ever, but very relieved. Exams went smoother than you expected, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a table waiting to get all of your results.

“Last name?” The random teacher whom you’ve never had asks, glancing up at you. You tell her your last name, and she fishes through a folder divided alphabetically by last name.

“Ah. Here you are.” She pulls out a packet and inspects it first before handing it to you. Your hands suddenly feel clammy compared to the smooth surface of the paper. Your heart pounds.

“Thank you,” You smile gratefully before turning around and quickly walking to the nearest bench to sit down and flip through the pages. A wave of relief crashes over you as you see your near perfect grades. Your lowest was a 96% on calculus, which you consider a pretty amazing achievement. You sigh with relief and close your eyes, leaning against the wall. You finished the fall term well.

You shove the packet into your backpack and put on your big coat and your beanie, preparing to venture out into the cold to pack up the last of your things to head home. Last night a huge snowstorm passed through London, so you delightfully woke up this morning to what looked like powdered sugar dusted upon the roof outside your window. It felt almost like the universe’s way of wishing you good luck on everything.

You walk outside on the cleared path with shoveled piles of snow hugging the sides. Breathing in the crisp yet calm air, you look around and take in your surroundings. The bustling groups of fellow students chatting excitedly about their scores, red cardinals hopping from tree to tree, snowflakes peacefully falling from the sky and joining the glittering snow upon the ground.

Suddenly, you hear your name being called from a distance, and then footsteps. You turn around to see Farleigh jogging toward you.

“Farleigh!” Unfortunately, you cannot hide your adoration whenever you see him and your content smile breaks into a foolish grin.

“So? How’d you do?” He asks with excitement. Oh, how the tables have turned. Usually he would start by bragging about his own results, and now he starts by asking you about yours. You quite enjoy how this friendship has grown.

“I did really good. My lowest was a 96!” You tell him. He beams, and then his eyes narrow. “On – let me guess – calculus?” He asks with suspicion. “Shut up!” You exclaim, punching him rather hard before turning serious. “Yes.”

He snickers and rubs his arm. “You pack a good punch,” He smiles, and you swear you can even see it in his chocolate brown eyes. You’re going to miss him over the holiday.

“So, what about you?” You ask while he falls into step next to you as you continue your walk. “Lowest was a 97. On history.” He cringes and you allow a satisfied smirk to break through.

“History?!” You giggle. “Shut up. My strengths are science and math, obviously.” He rolls his eyes. You’re beginning to love his sarcastic eyerolls. But then again, you think you always have.

“Hm. I thought you didn’t have any weaknesses. Academically, I mean.” You nudge him.

Farleigh shrugs. “Well, I wouldn’t call them weaknesses. I’m just better at some subjects.”

Without warning, he takes your hand and pulls you off the sidewalk and onto the snow. A squeal escapes you as he lets go, and then you look up to see him reaching down to pick up some snow. After he gathers a sufficient amount, he starts to pack it into a sphere. Oh no.

“Farleigh, no! Wait!” You scream, but it’s not really a terrified scream, more like a giggly one. But it’s too late. The snowball hurdles toward you and eventually crumbles once it meets your coat. An uncontrollable fit of giggles comes over you as you crouch down, packing snow into your hands.

You launch the snowball at him and he gasps with betrayal. “How dare you!” He shouts playfully. You’re so weak with laughter that you fall down into the snow. You look up to see a few other people joining in, throwing snowballs and running around. You can’t remember a time in the last few months when you have been happier.

Eventually, Farleigh sits next to you on the ground. You look up to see bits of snow adorably sprinkled throughout his hair. Something gives you the nerve to lean your head on his shoulder. He stiffens, only slightly, before relaxing and letting out a short sigh.

“Farleigh Start, I think I’m going to miss you,” You admit sheepishly. You can feel him turn his head a bit towards you, his breath grazing your hair.

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s only three weeks.” You recognize the tease in his voice. “But I tend to have that effect on people.” You can also hear the grin in his voice. You smile and make patterns in the snow as you both sit in comfortable silence.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi! Do you have a post for recs on hidden/secret relationship (dating, marriage, etc etc)?

Hi Nonny!

I actually recently replied to a similar ask that came back around the queue, and I sadly I don't have very many personal recs! I've been asked this enough that I think I'll go through both of my offline lists and make a new updated list because I need content, LOL! So here you are, and if anyone has fics to add, as always, please do!

SECRET RELATIONSHIPS (Sept 2024)

See also:

Lestrade / The Yard Finds Out

Lestrade / The Yard Finds Out Pt 2

BOOKMARKS

A Sofa with a View by nondeducible (G, 1,855 w., 1 Ch. || Domestic Fluff, Schmoop, Secret Relationship) – Lestrade loves football, John and Sherlock love each other.

The Internet Is Not Just For Porn by cyerus (G, 1,911 w., 1 Ch. || Different First Meeting, Humour, Fluff, Crack) – John is Sherlock's internet boyfriend - from CANADA. No one thinks he's real.

This is my friend, John Watson by aaronisgay (T, 3,691 w., 5 Ch. || Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Yard Finds Out) – Lestrade has known Sherlock for over three years, yet in that time barely learned anything about the man. Then one day, Sherlock walks onto the crime scene with a short army doctor in tow. As time goes on, Lestrade wonders why neither of them ever go on dates...could this mean something? Otherwise where Sherlock is married and the Yard doesn't even notice.

5687 (Approximately) by prettysailorsoldier (T, 6,771 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Alternate Canon, Christmas, Pining, Fluff, Soldier John) – When John's leave request for Christmas is denied, Sherlock is nothing short of devastated, not that he's letting it show. The holiday season now something he's just waiting to end, Sherlock doesn't think anything can possibly make it worse. That is, until he realizes no one in his life believes his army "boyfriend" is even real, but, luckily, everyone is in for a surprise. Part 13 of 25 Days of Johnlock

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

MARKED FOR LATER

No place on earth they’d rather be. by gelos (bia_mpinto) (G, 460 w., 1 Ch, || Established Relationship, Fluff, PDA, Secret Relationship) – John’s thumb is caressing Sherlock’s skin and thinking how soft it is and how lucky he is right now. This is the first time they’ve held hands in public, only because they seem to be alone in the street and there’s nobody to see them.

I've Got Him by AnneCumberbatch (NR, 1,182 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Privacy, Semi-Secret Relationship, Domestic Life, Caring, Sick John, Flu, Annoyed Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Sleepy John, Forehead Kisses, Papa Lestrade) – He returned to the living room and looked down at John. “You’re going to weigh so much more than I’m prepared for, aren’t you.” Sherlock grimaced slightly as he mapped out the best way to lift his partner. Part 9 of the Sometimes in the Evening series

A Study In Partners by LonelyThursday (T, 3,051 w., 1 Ch. || ASiP Divergence, Humour, Established Relationship, Attempted Murder, Secret Relationship, Tired Greg, Papa Lestrade) – Sherlock and John met years before ASiP, but nobody told the Yard that

Alibis by JohnlockRelapse (M, 6,645 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Implied Mystrade, Secrecy, The Yard, Fluff) – Sherlock is away for the weekend, John indisposed. And Greg would never admit to himself how desperate he was for Sherlock’s help. A series of phone calls to concerned parties, and a frustrated Detective Inspector later, alibis would prove to never be enough.

Illusory Correlation and Confirmation Bias by VanillaBroompolish (T, 10,464 w., 6 Ch. || Alternate Canon || Soldier John, Secret Relationship, Relationship Reveal) –  Looking back, there were a few things that should’ve tipped Greg off long before that night at the pub. A few things Sherlock left fairly obvious, that on reflection, made Greg question how he’d gotten his job in the first place.

The Moaning Detective by Imjohnlocked87 (E, 14,873 w., 5 Ch. || Oral / Anal, Threesome w/ Lestrade, Secret Relationship, Top John, Bottom Sherlock, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Sex Toys / Dildos / Vibrators, Gang Bang / Group Sex, Dom/Sub Undertones, Dirty Talk, Accidental Voyeurism, Fantasizing) – Theoretically, Sherlock Holmes doesn't like sex, and John Watson is not gay. Theoretically, because when accidentally the Yards listen to what is happening at Baker Street, they found the practical truth is totally different...

Sanctuary by a_different_equation (E, 15,437 w., 7 Ch. || Medieval AU / Canterbury Tales Fusion || Blacksmith Sherlock, Guard John, Secret Relationship, Dom Sherlock, Sub John, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Anal, BAMF Female Characters) – England, 1230: John Watson is an ex-soldier who works as the head of the guards in his hometown. Sherlock Holmes, the local blacksmith, is his secret.

The Sweetness Makes the Smoke and Stings Worthwhile by  221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 70,032 w., 31 Ch. || Historical 1920′s Unilock AU || Summer Romance, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, First Kiss/Time, Inexperienced Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drinking, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sexual Tension, Hand/Blow Jobs, Dancing, Secret Relationship, Skinny Dipping, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closet Sex, Hotel Sex, Emotions, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Letters/Epistolary, Heartache, Minor Violence, Separations, Reunion Sex, Love Confessions, Victor & Mary in this Fic) – After nearly being expelled from university, Sherlock is banished home to Musgrave Hall for the summer. A friend introduces him to John Watson, a handsome medical student visiting the area. Sherlock and John find themselves drawn to each other, falling into a summer romance that may be as painful as it is sweet. Although they follow different paths, their feelings for each other still haunt them, their love finally coming full circle years later. For those concerned about Mary and Victor, they appear only briefly and as very background characters. My version of Mary is not modeled on the BBC version. She is more of an original character, if anything.

combat fatigue by simplyclockwork (E, 75,714 w., 30 Ch. || Military AU / Different First Meeting || Captain John, BAMF John, Violence, Betrayal, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Secret Relationship, Whump, Angst, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending) – When Sherlock is deployed to Afghanistan with his brother and the 4/73 Bravo Sierra Bravo patrol unit, he is thrown into a terrifying new world. Developing an unexpected connection with Captain John Watson complicates things, and the two begin to wonder if they can keep each other safe when betrayal lurks in unexpected faces.

This Is Your Song by agirlsname (E, 79,990 w., 19 Ch. || Moulin Rouge Fusion || Prostitute Sherlock, Poet John, Acting, Singing, Dancing, Writing, Poetry, Musical, Song Fic, Heavy Angst, Unreliable Narrator, Sherlock is French, Love at First Sight, UST, First Kiss/Time, Frottage, Coming in Pants, Anal Sex, Switchlock, Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, Terminal Illnesses, Grief/Mourning, Breakup/Makeup Sex, Past Drug Use, Attempted Rape, Canon-Typical Violence)– When John Watson is invalided home from the army in 1895, he moves to Paris to rediscover his writing and find a new meaning in life. His old friend Stamford invites him into a group of artist friends, and suddenly John finds himself auditioning to write a show for the famous brothel across the street. There, he meets the most beautiful man he’s ever seen - Sherlock, the star of the Moulin Rouge. But Sherlock is already promised to the investor of the show, the rich Duke Moriarty.

Of Ice and Men by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 176,906 w., 20 Ch. || Olympics AU || Paralympics, Prosthesis, Disability, Established Relationship, Threesome - Johnlockstrade, Angst with Happy Ending, Coming Out, Secret Relationship, Asexual Sherlock, Pilot John) – Greg wants Sherlock to win his first Olympic Gold medal. Sherlock wants John to win his first Olympic Gold medal. John wants Greg to come to bed wearing all four of his Olympic Gold medals, and you didn't really think this would be that terribly serious after reading that title, did you? Bundle up, it's a Winter Olympics OT3!

[sunny-lounge]

We got matching Christmas sweaters. (Ch. 1/2)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: Teen — Jey has a lot of thoughts & a lot of feelings to go with it, feelings and emotions, inner dialogue, fluff, fluffy but serious, but also, fun and silly, ugly Christmas sweaters, Christmas, slight possessive feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, family

Summary: Jey and Sami have matching ugly Christmas sweaters, it's a secret. Until it's not. Ch. 1 - how Jey and Sami ended up with matching Christmas sweaters. Ch. 2 - how the others find out.

Word count: 2,207

Word count: 2,667

Ao3 link -Ch. 1 Ch. 2 here. / *Other Fics*

A/N: I said I'd write something lighter this time so here it is, and I wanted to try something different. But, I didn't have a lot of time to write this because I wanted to get it out this weekend. I also really struggled to get Jey's voice in this one to where I'd have liked it to be. But hey, even if one person out there enjoys it!! 🥰 PART 2 will be up before Christmas.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!✨❄️🎄🎁🎅🏻🎉☃️✨ I hope you enjoy this! 🌸🌺

[— AGAIN: I'm not a "writer" SO... Comments/Feedback would really really be appreciated (comments sec; tags; or asks- anon or not), to really just actually, and quite genuinely gauge how good or BAD this is. So I know for myself 😁. And obviously I'd really love to know if you enjoyed it! - comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami - (if at all anyone wants to be tagged in my silly little fics let me know!)

——

It had been Jimmy's idea.

For everyone to turn up in ugly Christmas sweaters. Good for team spirit, he said, something about team cohesion and unity, and he's somehow convinced them all to go along with it, just like he always does. His older twin, the deceivingly smooth sweet-talker—when he wants to be.

Jey is not exactly unhappy but he's not exactly happy either. Not because he hates the idea, but because he can't actually wear the sweater he really wants to.

Sami and him had jokingly bought matching sweaters while out on a date; Jey had surprised Sami and himself by suggesting it, he'd blamed it on the holiday season, the sentimentality of it all, and the sappiness seeping deep into him because of it. Most of all, it was spending it with Sami.

Walking down the softly lit sidewalks together, pressing closely into each other's side, the cold crisp air chilling, unrelentingly hitting their exposed skin. And, Sami had put his arm securely around him, pulling him in closer by the shoulders making Jey feel warmer, safe and cared for.

Joint through their immediacy, his own arm sneaking around Sami's waist snuggling into him even more gripping him even closer, wanting to be as near as physically possible. Like this.

Check to check, body pressing against body sharing one space, faces pressing close sharing one breath, practically wrapped around each other, and their warmth soaking into one another; giggling and chatting away, about anything and everything, and everything and nothing.

Their smiles and laughs being thrown around with unrestraint unabashed generosity. Free— they were just happy; effervescent, and light.

And, nothing, there was nothing stopping them, nothing holding them back. High on the atmosphere, high on their emotions, high on each other.

A sense of warmth, a feeling of nearness, and a notion of romance, on a cold winter's night...

Golden fairy lights hanging radiantly twinkling all around them adding to the magical enchantment of it all. Walking, talking, taking in and enjoying the festivities around them. Enjoying each other's company, just innocent and carefree.

It's etched into Jey's memory, not by choice, but by pure impact, branded and inscribed burned into his memory, the whole night something precious, unforgettable for him. He knows he's being dramatic, but to him he's really not. Because, this really does mean that much to him, whether he wants it to or not.

Everything with Sami is brand new, everything is heightened, even the things he's familiar with, with Sami it's different, everything seems whole, and everything seems so complete. Like nothing is ever lacking not even a little bit, nothing is ever wanting not even in the slightest.

But, Jey still wants. He wants everything, he wants it all. Everything with this ginger angel of his. Even this one memory alone he could live on for eternity. The rush of feelings and emotions he is being hit with, that he craved. He's never felt so light or so free or so open himself, and certainly not with someone else. But, once again, Sami does the outrageous like always, making him aware of things he's not aware of, breaking down barriers and walls he was never willing to acknowledge, some he never even knew existed, one's he is now free of. Thanks to this red-headed angel before him, looking at him with such adoration and utter devotion in his eyes, shaking Jey to his very core, shivering this time not from the cold, but the heat that's rushing right through him.

Jey can't get enough of their closeness, the simpleness of it, this sharing that's deceptively intimate, a type of closeness he didn't know existed, nor yearned for, or needed or even wanted. His whole life he'd been missing it, but now he's got a taste of it, now knowing what it is, what it's like. He never wants to let it go. He doesn't think he can even if he wanted to.

He's feeling unfamiliarly soft and dreamy, there's something indescribable—surrounded by Sami's touch, his gaze, his voice, his laugh, his warmth, all simultaneously wrapping around him...like Jey's the gift being perfectly wrapped for Christmas, Jey never wants this feeling to go away.

The streets continued to dazzle with elaborate yet simple lights and perfectly crafted evergreen hollies hanging up at almost every window and every door, brightly lit up Christmas trees and glittering sparkling decorations, adorning every inch of the streets, Christmas colors splashed around, brilliantly scattered everywhere. Delighting all your senses. The saying 'It's like Christmas!!' never rang truer.

Along with his Sami, Christmas all around them, everywhere he looked, a rare pleasure they were able to experience and treasure, together, away from the hustle and bustle of work, and life. It was intoxicating. And, Jey hadn't wanted it to end.

Sami agreed, what'd he say?— "Even if I don't "celebrate" Christmas, I want to be here. I want to be here with you, because this is important to you. And, you are important to me."

Besides, according to Sami— "Being away like this, surrounded by the festivities, away from everyone else in our own special little world, for a captivating, whimsical, and beguiling night— It's a potent and exhilarating feeling, Jey. And, just us being together here, experiencing all of this, seeing and feeling it; together, without anything or anyone else. It's so pure, and it's just for us. I get to be here with you and love you, and I wouldn't have it or want it any other way."

Sami had told him, "I'd do it all over again, every year; year after year, again and again; just for you, Jey." - An unintended secret promise of, for always. "I'll do everything I can to make sure you're happy, everything I can for you to only have the best. And, I always will."

And, if Sami secretly overwhelmingly enjoyed this too...that was just an added bonus.

Jey melts at the thought. He doesn't call Sami out on the silent pledge of 'for always', but he's caught it and kept it in his heart and he's never letting it go. No one has ever treated him like this before. He's always been an afterthought, second at best, but never it, never first. But, he's always first with Sami.

Sometimes he wonders if he'd never met Sami— 'Could you crave for someone you've never met? Want them in ways you cannot grasp? Ache for them in ways you cannot understand? Could you miss someone you've never met?'

Jey doesn't want to let this go, let Sami go. Making memories with the man he loves, the man who loves him right back. This overwhelming sensation; enchanting and magical; walking side by side, cheek to cheek, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm, hand in hand; heart to heart.

It had Jey feeling overly amorous, unduly spellbound; in love, wanting it to never end, wanting to keep sharing this, wanting to remember and capture that moment with Sami, not just then but later too. So the obvious answer was of course—matching Christmas sweaters—something tangible but secretive enough to remember this shared night together.

Sami's entirely too eager fulfilling Jey's suggestion; according to Sami, he's still getting used to the differences between Jey - his boyfriend, and Jey Uso - the hard-ass, bad-ass, no-nonsense Bloodline right-hand man—the prickly Samoan everyone's cautious of.

Jey thinks he should be offended by the description, but he's...he's kind of proud of the fact that Sami thinks he's a bad-ass. Considering, how entirely soft Sami has him now. He does however think, Sami's reasoning for his enthusiastic reaction is—ridiculous enough. But, he'll take it because that's just how Sami is, nothing put on, just altogether generously and genuinely him. And, quite frankly it's adorable. Soft— that's definitely all he is now, utterly soft for Sami.

They haven't told the rest of the family yet, the Bloodline, partly due to Jey's reluctancy, thinking about the level of ribbing he's going to receive from his family over finally bagging the guy he's been mooning over for so long. He isn't even sure for how long to be honest—when did it even start?

If he really thinks about it; maybe from the very first time he had laid his eyes on Sami Zayn. He'd had mixed feelings looking at him, mainly annoying and irritated ones, watching him try to weasel his way into the Bloodline, into his family. But, there was always something there.

The first time he'd eyed that annoying messy red mop on his head he called hair that Jey had wanted to rip out but also run his fingers through; those sparkly shining hazel eyes that sucked him right in even when he tried to look away; the big bright dopey crinkle-eyed grin he desperately didn't want to mirror but also desperately wanted to return right back; those annoyingly exaggerating hand gestures his eyes couldn't help but carefully track as much as he didn't want to; and that tonefully animated voice he wanted to hear more of even when he wished he didn't. It was all so much, and not enough. And so, maybe he was gone from the very first moment he laid eyes on Sami Zayn.

As time has passed, he's more sure now than ever that his family were well aware of it, long before he ever was. They've been there for it all, and witnessed it all.

All those intensely aggressive confrontations, lingering fierce touches and hostile looks, all masked under the pretense of his passionate hatred.

But, now Jey can admit that maybe it had always been about wanting Sami's attention, all of it, not on anyone else, but only on himself, not even his cousin or his brothers. Apparently, he's a possessive bastard like that. He'd wanted Sami only for himself, long before his mind started to realize what his heart had always known.

And, he'd finally realized that maybe all that passion burning inside him, was not hatred but something else entirely, a fire lit deep within right on the cusp of igniting into an inferno so fierce that it scared even him, so he'd pushed it down even further, pushed it down into the darkness, put it down like a wounded horse, calling it dislike. A better option than reality—the daunting alternative, he hadn't been ready to face.

Until, it was impossible to deny any longer. When he couldn't control it anymore. So he stepped out and took his chance before he could snap and self-destruct. Turns out Sami was his saving grace, his missing piece, his calm in the storm.

Even though they had talked about it extensively, Jey is still worried that when people find out about them, they will get Sami to realize that he can and should be with 'someone better’. He can't help thinking that everyone is going to try and talk Sami out of this 'terrible' choice he has made.

Sami has heard all this before and he'd retorted with— "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. If anything, it will be people asking you if you've lost your mind, picking me of all people."

Sami had brushed him off, reminding him that everyone respected Jey, that Jey was the catch, that Jey was the inexplicably beautiful one, on the inside and out, and that people either wanted him or wanted to be him —"I'm the lucky one, Jey," Sami had said— that they were going to tease Jey about his choice, not Sami.

And so, Jey chooses the sweater that does not match Sami's that morning, as he gets himself dressed, because a part of him still finds it hard to believe what Sami keeps saying to him, trying to convince him of. Yes, he believes Sami, because this is Sami, and Sami would never lie to him, especially about something like this, especially when it comes to Jey. Sami knows how vulnerable Jey actually is, how sensitive he truly is, he's the only one that knows. He's the only one that sees all of him, and knows all of him. So, Sami wouldn't do that to him.

But, Jey still doubts himself. Still thinks he's not good enough for Sami. No matter what Sami says, Jey knows, Sami is the catch. Even if Sami does not believe it.

Guess they both have doubts about themselves, guess they both only have boundless admiration for the other, and only full and utter devotion.

So, Jey stands there, looking at himself in the mirror, wearing the sweater that does not match Sami.

He's tugging at the front, a small frown marring his face, then at the sleeves, and then at the hem pulling at it with an unsatisfied grunt, nose scrunching up in distaste, he lets go and is rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension.

He isn't feeling it. Not even a little bit.

So, he's dragging the sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor by his bed. He's walking towards his cupboard, and finding his matching sweater to Sami's pulling it over his head and down his torso, running his hands down the front and pulling at the hem, adjusting it to fit just right. He looks in the mirror once again, and gives himself a nod.

This is satisfying.

——

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Chapter 2 (will have dialogue) up soon! 🩷