#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.

[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

[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

[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.

[zaynontour]

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

[the-boy-meets-evil]

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 💕

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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 💕

[kueble]

I Just Need You By My Side, Cause I'm Warmer in the Winter With You

Another very self-indulgent Christmas fic.

Teen. Warnings: Mentions of torture. 5,600 words.

Ghost/Soap

---

“Shouldn’t you be packing up?” Ghost asks him from where he leans against his doorway. Soap shrugs and sets down the pencil in his hand. He’s been sketching for about an hour now, trying to wind down at the end of a hectic day. Everyone on base is giddy at the thought of going home for the holidays, and the energy is almost overwhelming..

“Sorry, but you’ll have to get used to my ugly mug around here. I know you’re one of the only ones here most Christmases, but I don’t have anywhere else to be this year,” he explains, hoping years of interrogation techniques pay off and Ghost doesn’t call him on the lie. Though it’s partially true, since there’s nowhere he’d rather be then in the barracks with him.

“Don’t you usually have a big family celebration? Remember you rambling about nieces and nephews and being forced into midnight mass by your mother,” Ghost asks, eyes narrowing behind the black balaclava he’s chosen to wear today.

“Glad to know you actually listen to me when I shoot my mouth off,” he laughs out.

“Never miss a word, Johnny,” Ghost tells him evenly.

“So any other year, yeah I'd be home, but things are out of sorts this year with my sisters traveling to their husband’s families, and me Ma and Pa planned a little trip of their own,” he says. Sure, the little trip was right down the road to his brother’s house where everyone would be gathered like every other year, but no need for Ghost to know that.

Last year it was excruciating to leave Ghost on the tarmac, saying goodbyes as everyone else went home to their families. He doesn’t know much, but it’s clear Ghost no longer has anyone waiting for him back at home. They’d all joked about him haunting the base, probably maskless with the skeleton crew left behind and any other puns they could come up with. Still, there was a bleakness in Ghost’s eyes that he never wanted to see again.

Thankfully he’s never been able to hide his feelings from his parents, especially his mother, and she didn’t even bat an eye when he told her his plans. She’d said something cheesy about the magic of the season bringing them closer together, which he’d quickly scoffed off. He wasn’t doing this with any ulterior motives in place. It was a simple fact that his best friend shouldn’t be alone over the long holiday break they were lucky enough to get two years in a row.

If he happens to be completely ass over tits in love with him, he’s smart enough to keep it to himself.

“Guess it could be nice to have some company, even yours,” Ghost teases with a snort. Soap rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking still.

“Do you cook anything for it or rely on the mess hall for Christmas dinner?” he asks, already planning how to make things nicer for him. They may be stuck on a mostly empty base, but there’s no reason why he can’t make it as comfortable as possible.

“Sometimes I make a pot of soup for the week, but nothing special for the day itself. Tend to keep to myself,” he says softly. And that just won’t do.

“Happy to help sample anything you cook, but since I burn water, I’ll order us something nice from town. It shouldn’t be too late for a small catering order. You like lasagna?” he asks, already thinking of the perfect little Italian place near here.

“Wouldn’t say no to it, but there’s no need to get fancy over me,” Ghost mumbles. It only makes Soap more determined to bring a little Christmas magic into his life this year.

“I’ll take care of dinner and you just bring the good company,” he says to settle it. He’ll place an order first thing in the morning, already planning to buy way more food than they need. Ghost deserves to be spoiled, and leftovers are a rare commodity around here.

“Not sure I’ll contribute much in that regard, but yeah, I can show up,” he agrees.

“No one else I’d rather spend the day with. Honestly,” Soap admits, but Ghost just huffs at him.

“Piss off, Johnny,” he says with a laugh. Before he can figure out a response, the man is already gone. It may just be the hardest thing he’s ever done, but he’s damned sure going to make sure Ghost knows how much Soap likes being around him, especially now. Likes, not loves, because he has a feeling that’s something he’ll take to his grave. Being around him will just have to do for now.

—

The poster fell off the wall for the three thousandth time, and Soap barely managed to keep himself in check. Price would have his head if he blew up the base, but it’s getting more and more likely. It’s a stupid thing, really, just a fake Christmas tree by a fireplace, but he bought it to cheer up their rec room. He grumbles under his breath, reciting every swear he knows and probably inventing some new ones along the way.

“Problems, Sergeant?” Ghost asks from his spot on the couch. There’s a hint of laughter on the edges of his voice, and Soap spins around to glare at him.

“There is in fact,” he spits out before taking a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down. No use in pissing off the man he’s trying to decorate for. “These walls are apparently covered in fifty some years of filth, and I can’t get the damn tape to stick. Seriously, it’s like teflon and I’m actually afraid to think about what could be coating this wall right now.”

“This that important to you?” Ghost asks, head tilted like he’s studying him.

“Aye,” Soap sighs out. “Just wanted to brighten up the room a bit. We can’t have a real tree, and I’ve been banned from open flames on base, but I thought this stupid fucking poster might work. Wanna sneak off base and burn it with me? Might raise my spirits.”

“How about I fix it instead,” Ghost says, standing up to stomp over to the wall.

“You’re more than welcome to try, but not even sure duct tape will hold the damn thing at this point,” he says, scowling at the wall. Seriously, he was going to beg Price to get the room deep cleaned as soon as he was back on base. Can’t be safe.

Ghost shrugs before bumping him out of the way with his hip. He holds the poster with one hand and reaches into the back of his jeans with the other. The knife he pulls out is on the small side, but it does the job when he stabs it through the poster and into the wall. Nodding proudly, he slides another knife out of his sleeve and buries it in the other top corner. The final blade is tucked in his boot, and he takes a few steps back before flinging it at the wall.

It lands perfectly in the bottom center of the poster, and Soap chubs up in his sweats at the display of skill.

“Guess that works, too,” he murmurs, actively avoiding Ghost’s gaze. No need to show off how fucking gone on him he is, and he knows there’s hearts in his eyes right now. He’s bound to be suspicious just based on how desperate Soap is to make things perfect, to give him a better Christmas than year past, and he should try better to keep his feelings hidden. Not looking to get his heart broken over the holidays.

“Anything for you, Johnny,” Ghost tells him as he strides back to the couch and picks up his book again. Soap can feel his cheeks heating up and blurts out some half-assed excuse before making a tactful retreat.

—

He debates waiting until morning, but Soap is too curious about the package in his hands to wait that long. His box of gifts from his family arrived today, but he didn’t bother unpacking it until after dinner. Everything was neatly labeled - or scribbled by his nieces and nephews - with his name except for one.

To Ghost, From Ma MacTavish. Open Immediately.

Not one to disobey his mother, Soap raps on Ghost’s door and hopes this isn’t something too embarrassing. Lord knows his entire family is annoying enough already over his little crush, and he doesn’t need his mother stepping in to help him. There’s a rustling from behind the door before it’s swung open by a brooding Ghost. Anyone else might not see how moody he is, but Soap can tell just by studying his eyes.

“What do ya need?” he asks, voice cracking from disuse.

“Got a special delivery for you and instructions for you to open it right away,” Soap informs him, holding up the package like the peace offering that it is. Ghost eyes it suspiciously but steps aside and lets him into the room. While he’d love a chance to look around, Soap keeps his focus on Ghost out of respect for his privacy. He knows just letting him into the room was a big step for the other man.

“Your mum sent this?” Ghost asks as he takes the parcel from him. Soap nods and smiles warmly as Ghost’s eyes widen. “Better not keep her waiting then,” Ghost mutters before sitting on the edge of his bed. The package looks huge, even in his large hands, and Soap really wonders what it could be.

He tears the paper at the seams, carefully working a finger down the edge of it. It’s gentle in a way that hints of Christmases past and perhaps being yelled at to keep the wrapping for next year. Soap’s grandma used to do that and iron out each crease to save money.

When Ghost finally removes the paper, soap breathes a sigh of relief at seeing the present isn’t anything to worry about. Trust his mother to try and take care of someone she’s never met. Ghost holds up the blanket, blinking slowly at it. Soap supposes he isn’t used to getting many gifts, especially not something handmade. The blanket itself is a mix of blank and white granny squares, no doubt crocheted with love by his mother. Everyone in their house has at least one of these piled at the foot of their bed, and his heart warms at the thought of Ghost having one on his.

“She made it?” he asks in a whisper, and Soap wants to cry about it. There’s no reason a gift should put him in such a state of awe, and he vows right then and there to spoil him as much as he’s allowed to under the guise of friendship.

“You’re looking at a Ma MacTavish special right there. Everyone in the family has one, and it looks like she thinks highly of you,” he confirms.

“Never even met me.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve entertained her with a tale of two of the man who saved my life so many times. Besides, how else do you think she’d know the perfect color scheme for an emo bastard like yourself,” He says in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle up, and he knows there’s a smile beneath the mask.

“You’ll have to thank her for me. No, wait! I’ll get a thank you note together for the next time you send mail home. That alright?” he asks almost timidly, which isn’t an emotion Soap’s sure he’s ever shown before.

“She’ll love that. Sorry to barge in on you so late at night, but I’m glad I did. Should probably be heading to bed, though,” Johnny says with a pout. Dreams of being asked to stay, to tuck himself against Ghost under that very blanket flash through his mind and he has to get out of here quickly before he shows his hand.

“Me too. Night, Johnny,” Ghost says, and he understands it for the dismissal that it is. The last thing he sees as he ducks out the door is Ghost spreading the blanket across the top of his bed and smoothing it out. He’ll have to send his mother a thank you note as well.

—

There is absolutely no reason for them to be in Soap’s room instead of the rec room, but he wasn’t about to say no when Ghost suggested it. Currently they are sitting on his bed - which is way too small for two grown ass men - with their backs against the wall and his laptop propped on top of their thighs. Ghost is a constant warm presence at his side, and he’s pretty sure he would be completely lost if he hadn’t seen this movie so many times.

They each have a glass of their preferred poison in hand, and Ghost has his mask tucked up over his nose while he purses his lips at the screen in front of them. He is so fucking stunning with the light from the laptop highlighting the planes of his face, and Soap would be weak in the knees were he standing. Not that Soap is abusing his trust just to watch him more than the movie. Absolutely not. Still, the sight of Simon’s sharp jawline is a rare one and he can’t seem to stop staring. He longs to scrap his teeth over the scar that curves around it and has to hold himself back from scooting even closer to him.

“I don’t get it,” Ghost says, breaking him out of his dangerous thoughts.

“How so?” he asks, eyes already turned back to the screen to see what part of the movie they’ve reached. Nearly done at this point, but the silly plot has been a fun distraction. They don’t often get downtime, time totally free of responsibilities, and he hopes he can go without this once everything is back to normal.

“This just seems so improbable. His family forgot to bring him to the airport and they don’t have a single family friend they can call in the meantime? The police are actively searching for these two assholes and yet a child is the only one who manages to take them down? Gotta admit some of these traps are pretty awesome, though,” Ghost rambles out.

“One, I can’t believe you’ve made it this far in life without watching this. Two, this film is a masterpiece because it makes you suspend reality. Three, I’m pretty sure this is why I ended up in demolitions anyway. Do you know how many things I blew up after seeing this? I thought my Pa was going to murder me just as an example for my brothers and sisters. One time I rigged a frying pan to hit my brother in the face and it broke his fucking nose,” Soap says, unable to hold in his laughter. “Pretty sure he was about to pack me off and make me Nan deal with me, but my Ma couldn’t let her baby go.”

“You’re a real piece of work, Johnny,” Ghost tells him softly. He brings his glass up to his mouth, and Soap watches him swallow slowly, desperately trying to remind himself how they’re friends and nothing more. “Glad it brought you to me, though.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest.

But then they fall into an easy silence, and he’s forced to turn back to the movie. They both finish their drinks as the plot winds down, and he’s about to offer another when Ghost grabs his wrist to stop him from standing up. He looks down, worried that he’s overstepped somehow, and the tightness in Ghost’s clenched jaw startles him.

“We’ve had a good week, yeah?” Ghost asks quietly.

“Loved every second of it,” Soap blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Might not love this so much,” Ghost says with a sigh. “I’ve…I’ve never been this close with anyone, barely even shared this with Price, but I’d like to give you some sort of explanation for why I keep to myself at Christmas. If you’ll listen, that is.”

“Ghost, I will always be here, no matter what you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me so much, but are you sure you want to do this while we’re drinking?” he has to ask, needs to be sure his friend won’t regret this come morning.

“You think I just keep bourbon and scotch on hand? That’s kinda the reason why I brought it with me. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a while now, but I needed a little courage to do it. Just, just don’t say anything until I’m done, ok? If you do I might not be able to finish,” he warns him, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Sensing how important this is, Soap sets both their glasses on his bedside table and closes the laptop. His desk lamp is on, so they’re not totally in the dark. He knows rumors of Ghost’s past, has heard a bunch of shit about his time in captivity, but every scrap of information is dear to him. He longs to know the man beside him better than he knows himself. He leans back against the wall and angles his body towards Ghost before saying, “Course. I got you.”

“When I was little, the only person I cared about was my mum. She kept me safe, kept my dad and brother away from me the best she could. I know now that my brother was only doing what he could to avoid my dad’s rage, but it still hurt back then. I won’t lie, I had a real shitty childhood and ran into the service as soon as I could. After that, things started improving. I came back home, kicked my sorry excuse for a father out of the house, and got my brother off of drugs. Hell, I stood beside him as he married the love of his life, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything, but the memories threaten to crush me sometimes.”

He trails off and palms the back of his head, chewing at his lower lip. Soap stays silent, unwilling to break his promise even though Ghost looked on the verge of falling apart. They sit there for a long moment while he regroups and continues his story. Soap longs to reach out, to offer some sort of physical comfort, but he knows better than to act on it. Simon doesn’t enjoy being touched on a good day, and he’d absolutely hate it while letting himself be this vulnerable.

“Things were going well until I got betrayed and snagged by Roba. Fuck, Johnny,” he breaks off, swallowing thickly before pressing his fingers to his mouth. “It was bad. I won’t go into details, but you can only be tortured for so long before you start to doubt yourself, start to go mad instead of trying to fight it. I have no fucking clue how I managed to survive after being left for dead, but I eventually made it back home.”

Ghost shifts his legs, twitching as he picks at the fabric of his sweats. He takes a few deep breaths and stares ahead at the wall, shoulders tense as he continues. “They died on Christmas, and it was all my fault. Roba still had his hooks in me, and couldn't let me go since I escaped with my life. One more betrayal led me back to my mum’s house that only hours before had been full of celebration and Christmas cheer. When I got there, the whole house was up in flames. The fire was so hot, but I had to save them. Only it was too late, because they were lying dead near the doorway. They even put a bullet through the forehead of my nephew. He was so small, so fragile, and I couldn’t even save him.”

He falls quiet, and it seems like he’s finished. Soap knew it was bad, but wasn’t expecting something so tragic. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just lays a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and squeeze it gently, deciding to risk the touch at this point. It seems to shatter something inside of him and he slumps over to lean on Soap’s shoulder.

“The men involved?” he asks quietly.

“Killed them all. Didn’t bring back my family, though. So yeah, Christmas fucking sucks, but at least I’m not alone this year. Didn’t know it would be easier with you here, but you always manage to help me stay calm. Should have expected it,” he says. His voice is tinged with exhaustion, and Soap knows he’s worn himself out.

“Thank you for trusting me with this. I, it’s, well it’s fucked up that you had to experience that. I know nothing I say can help make it much better, and I’m honestly not sure how you managed to get through it, but I’m grateful you did. I can’t imagine being here without you,” Soap says after a long moment. He knew Ghost has a shitty past, had heard about him digging himself out of his own grave, but this is a whole new level of horrible. If it happened to him, he can’t say he would still be here to talk about it.

“Price helped a lot. Pushed me through it and then kept me around,” Ghost says, turning to stare at the wall. Soap isn’t sure what he can offer at this point, but he has the feeling Ghost might not want to be alone after unloading all of this.

“Stay with me?” he asks, watching as Ghost’s shoulders rise up. He still isn’t looking at him, so he keeps talking. “I mean, you don’t have to, but I can’t imagine wanting to be by myself after such an intense conversation. Would feel bad if I let you go back to your room, really.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually sleep with the mask on,” Ghost says with a chuckle. And ok, he can work with that.

“So let me freshen up and get myself ready for bed. You can go after me, and I’ll just sleep on my side. I can keep my eyes shut, give you your privacy,” he suggests. Ghost finally turns to look at him, and there’s a telltale hint of red around his eyes. If Soap was still religious, he’d offer up a prayer that the other man agrees. He clearly needs comforting tonight.

“Yeah, ok,” Ghost mumbles. “Gonna change into my sleep stuff, though. I’ll get ready in my room and be back in a few.”

He practically leaps out of the bed, and Soap hopes he holds true to his word. He goes through his nightly routine on autopilot, not even aware of it until he’s crawling into his bed. He leaves the side of the covers up and turns onto his side to face the wall. It’s only just catching up to him that he invited Ghost into his bed, but tonight isn’t about him. He’d be offering the same closeness to Gaz if he shared something as horrific as Ghost just did.

If anything, this only proves how amazingly strong Ghost is. He had to reinvent himself twice, the second time with no one to support him. They’ve all seen and done some really horrendous things in the name of queen and country, but he can’t fathom coming home to find the burning bodies of his family at his feet.

He’s yanked out of his spiraling thoughts by the sound of the door opening and shutting. The clunk of Ghost setting down his boots seems impossibly loud in the silence, and he holds his breath waiting for Ghost to come to bed. He hears the muffled sound of Ghost removing his mask and setting it on the bedside table and fights the urge to turn around and look at his gorgeous face. He’s here as a friend tonight, and his feelings don’t matter right now.

The bed dips behind him, and the covers shift as Ghost settles in behind him. There’s an awkward few seconds where they both shuffle around trying to figure out how two large men can fit in such a small bed, but then Ghost sighs and rolls onto his side to frame Soap from behind. He slings an arm across Soap’s hips and presses his nose against the nape of Soap’s neck. The last thing he hears as he drifts off is a soft, “Thank you, Johnny.”

—

Unsurprisingly, Ghost is gone when he wakes up. The bed is still warm, though, so he knows he spent the whole night. He wishes he could have woken him up with a Merry Christmas, but understands his need for time to himself. Chris, last night had been a lot. Hopefully he can still provide a little holiday cheer tonight, but even if they eat in silence he’ll have a great time. Every second spent at Ghost’s side is a better gift than anything he could ever fine underneath the tree.

He spends the morning in the gym, working out his frustrations. Life wasn’t fair, but it has been exceedingly rotten towards Ghost. He knows there isn’t anything he can do to change his past, but he’ll damn sure be here for his future. It feels like they crossed a line last night, but he’s not sure which one. Nothing romantic happened, but he feels closer to Ghost than anyone before. He’s willing to bet Ghost hasn’t opened up this much to many people, probably just Price, and he’s ashamed at how giddy that makes him feel.

They might not ever be together, but they’ll always be solid.

After lunch and a long, self-indulgent shower it’s easy to keep himself busy by running through last minute preparations. They hadn’t said anything about exchanging gifts, but Soap kept finding the perfect things for him.He knows Ghost will love the aged bourbon, even though it hurt his Scottish heart to buy it. There’s also a new knife that came highly recommended by their armorer and a deck of cards with holographic skulls on them. Wrapping was never his strong suit, but he managed to slap some paper onto his gifts. Sure, it looked like they were wrapped by a small child, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

He just finishes heating up the catering he picked up the day before and is about to text Ghost to hurry up and join him when his phone goes off. It’s an incoming FaceTime from his mother, and he decides there’s plenty of time to take it before Ghost swings by. He’s been missing his family all day, but they promised to call at some point.

“Ma! Happy Christmas!” he shouts, laughing as his entire family tries to crowd into the camera view.

“You’ll each get a turn, back off,” his mother says, already throwing elbows at his siblings and their kids. His dad stands next to her, silent as always but with a huge smile on his face. He lifts his glass in cheers, and Johnny waves back in response.

“We’re about to eat dinner, but It’s good to see you all. Make sure everyone gets hugs from me, even though I’m not with you this year. And pass out my presents! Make sure the kids know how much Uncle John spoils them. I want photographic evidence!” he says, laughing as one of his nieces tries to jump into the view again. His dad picks her up and wanders off, no doubt about to bribe her into behaving with cookies.

“I hope staying away is worth it,” his mother says, but she doesn’t look mad, just nosy. She’s been on him for months to bring his boy home, no matter how much he tells her they aren’t dating. Ghost is one hundred percent his boy, though, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

“It’s worth every second away from you all,” he answers honestly, “I’ll be home as soon as we get more downtime, but you know why I have to be here. Thanks for understanding.”

“Anything for my baby,” his mom says, snorting when he scowls at her.

“You ever going to stop calling me that?” he asks, knowing full well she never will. He isn’t mad, not really, just likes to give her grief about it.

“If you didn’t want to be my baby, you’d have been born higher up the chain,” she tells him with a smirk.

“We can argue about it later. Let me get dinner on the table and then we’ll chat again later, yeah? We can pass around the phone so all the kids can show me everything they got,” he suggests, and his mom nods in response.

“Go feed your boy,” she tells him and ends the call before he can quip back at her.

“Not my boy,” he mumbles to the empty room.

But then someone clears their throat from behind him, and his heart sinks into his chest. Fuck. He spins around with a fake smile on his face to find Ghost standing there with his arms crossed.

“I’m assuming you heard all of that?” he asks with a grimace.

“You lied about your family not being together,” Ghost says, though he knows it’s a question.

“Aye, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I couldn’t leave you here alone again. Like it or not, I’m here for you,” he says with a sharp nod. He’s already gearing for a fight, ready to be stubborn as hell about it, but what Ghost says next throws him off his game.

“Because I’m your boy,” he asks, and Johnny can hear the fucking smirk in his voice. He has a plain balaclava on today, which is as dressed down as Ghost seems to get.

“Don’t suppose you’d be willing to let that one go? We can forget about it,” he offers quietly. Because who is he to keep dreaming, right? He’s been dropping hints for at least a year now, and Ghost hasn’t taken the bait. He teeter-totters between thinking the man returns his feelings to thinking he barely tolerates him. Regardless, he meant what he said and he’ll be standing by his side as long as Ghost lets him.

“And if I don’t want to forget it? What if I wanted to be your boy? Though I’d prefer man, if we’re being honest here,” Ghost says, and he freezes while his brain catches up.

“You fucking with me?” he asks, just because he needs to know, needs to be sure before he makes a fool of himself. Well, more of a fool than he already has.

“No, but we could fool around later if dinner goes well,” Ghost tells him, laughing as he reaches up and pulls the mask off. He tosses it onto the table, barely missing the salad bowl.

And fuck, he’s a bonnie lad. Soap can’t even speak, just stands there staring at him, eyes trailing over every exposed inch of his face, committing it to memory in case this is the last time he sees it for a while. “You’re stunning,” he whispers in awe. Then he has the pleasure of watching Ghost’s face darken, the apples of his cheeks turning pink and making the freckles dotting them stand out even more.

“Shut up,” he murmurs before stepping closer. “But yeah, I’m all in if you want this too. Want me. I’m sick of wasting time. Maybe next year we can be with your family instead of me keeping you stuck on base.”

“I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life,” he says truthfully. “And I’d rather be stuck here every single year if you prefer it. But you heard my Ma. She wants you home with me.”

“Let’s make sure we make it to next Christmas, then,” he jokes, but there’s a hint of worry in his tone.

“Never letting go of you now,” Soap warns him with a laugh. Ghost chuckles and moves in so close the toes of their boots touch.

“Hard to let go if you haven’t even touched me yet,” he points out. And fuck if his smirk isn’t as lovely as Soap had imagined. It’s crooked, a scar bisecting the left side, but it’s perfect to him.

“Better fix that. Can I kiss you, Ghost?” he asks softly.

“Simon. Call me Simon when we’re alone,” he says breathily, and Soap knows how out of his comfort zone he is right now.

“Simon, can I kiss you? Please?” he asks and Simon just nods at him.

And so he does. He cups Simon’s cheeks, brushing a thumb across the constellation of freckles there, and leans in to press their mouths together. It seems almost anticlimactic after all their flirting, but the feel of Simon’s chapped lips against his is one of the best things he’s ever experienced. He can almost feel the tension leave both their bodies as they melt into each other. He keeps things light, pulls back before thinking better and darting back for another quick kiss.

Kissing Simon isn’t a burst of fireworks, but it’s like coming home which is even more perfect.

“Would now be a good time to tell you I’m really fucking in love with you?” he asks teasingly.

“Only if I can say the same,” Simon says, chuckling as he palms the back of Johnny’s head and drags him into another kiss.

And if they stand there kissing in the middle of the rundown rec room, lost in each other long after their dinner has gone cold, it’s no one's business but their own.

[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.

[dharmasharks]

Heyyy hope you are good? Have an ask! ❤️❤️❤️ Ignore if interested but saying hi and that you are great!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love! <3

Hello wonderful and great Zenaida! Thank you for asking. I can't seem to talk about my own fics without also talking about myself, which is horrifying! And why I took forever! Anyway!

Here are my personal favorites with just so, so much commentary (all stevebucky because that's what I do here!):

Keep a candle burning

A sweet and silly exes-to-lovers Hanukkah fic that was also a bright spot for me during an otherwise bummer of a time in my life. Basically, for the two straight weeks while I was posting, I pretty much stopped doing my actual job and wrote fic all day, because said job had just majorly screwed me over and I knew I was going to quit after the holidays. I had so much fun writing this to distract myself from dwelling too hard on the existential crisis of careers, what are they, why do I need one, what do I really want to do with my life, oh god, etc. No one was more surprised than me to learn what the fucking ~themes~ of this fic ended up being! Existential crisis avoidance aside, the holiday season can also be a pretty weird and lonely media consumption experience, because "holiday" almost always = Christmas. So sometimes you have to make the cute holiday = Hanukkah romcoms you wish to see in the world.

Always you

Part 3 of my canon-divergent shrinkyclinks series in which Steve and Bucky reunite in the mid-50s. I gave myself all my favorite SteveBucky flavors, ie the things that make me the most unwell about them: Steve n Bucky’s unshakable faith in one another, love as a choice you keep making, and the agony-hope of another chance to get it right. I also decided the best way to achieve all of that was via a nonlinear narrative and an amnesiac narrator, which was…really hard to do! I did not have fun writing this! I did, eventually, have a lot of fun trying to get it just right. It’s my favorite part of the series, so far.

Wanna do right, but not right now

A mid 50s (yes, again) no powers AU about peacetime Steve and purpose and restlessness. And also cheating on your wives at a cookout. I have written a fic for Steve's birthday every year since I started writing for this fandom but hooboyy was I scared to post this one. I'm glad I got over it, because the whole mood just really works for me. The problem though, is that I did all this world building for less than 4,000 words of story, so now I've got the rest of this whole ass world that I obviously find interesting rattling around in my brain forever, I guess! (What did I mean that Bucky was a POW in the Pacific Theater?? Why did I have to bring up the possibilities of stevebucky visiting mid-50s Miami?? Who the fuck is Dot?? Sigh. Ignore me. Ignore me!)

Till there were no more wolves in the West

It's a Civil War Western that I feel like I've talked about way too much already! But I was chatting in the comments of another fic about dealing with the loneliness that comes with toiling away on a historical fic and it made me think of this one. Look, eventually, some people found it and connected to this niche thing I was compelled to write. But in the beginning, I toiled so much, and it was really isolating. Where am I going with this? I have no idea. Writing is very lonely sometimes! But I guess I'm glad I didn't talk myself out of loving this, which is easy to do when you're alone in your google doc wilderness with all your ridiculous research notes.

The art of shadowboxing

Okay, I need more distance from this one to say anything coherent about it. So I'll just mention that the unifying thread of this whole bonkers list is "ambitions that exceeded my skillset, but I did it anyway, even if it took me way too long to figure out." Probably because there's nothing I wouldn't do for boxer violinist Bucky and union leader Steve!! I'm biased, but I think they just turned out so cute and sweet and brave.

[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!

[read-chill-wine]

Welcome to reviews of...

✨️Books Liz Loves that you should buy if you are in the US before the orange one takes office✨️

Warnings - slight spoilers, mention of misogyny, mentions of smut, a little bit of SJM criticism.

A/N - To those who may be disappointed, I do not discuss SJM as a person, deep plotholes, full character assassinations, etc. In short, I am not going in on glaring issues from this series or her writing. I have a huge post I have been working on for several months where I am addressing these things, but I will not be posting it until I have all the quotes and exact page numbers I am referencing.

The Banned Booklist

See Liz's original Banned Book Post here

As voted by so many of you, we're talking about the ACOTAR series today

**not my picture, but I'd do some bad things for these first editions. Mainly ACOFAS**

The ACOTAR series is a growing series of romantic fantasy, commonly called Romantasy, novels. The series centers around the three Archeron Sisters as they navigate a new life as made high fae after their own series of traumatic events. It spanned into a whole multi-verse connecting ACOTAR into Maas' beloved Throne of Glass and Crescent City series with many fans accrediting Feyre to being what saved both of those worlds as well. The argument has been made that without Feyre, Rhys would not have been freed to save Aelin. Without Feyre, Nesta would not have been made High Fae to collect the dread trove and help Bryce. This is something I do agree with since it does appear that everything in these three worlds is being shaped up to center around Rhysand's family and, in turn, Feyre. I am open to discussion on this, though!

Books 1-2 (the ones mainly beginning to fall under the book bans and challenges) center around the youngest sister, Feyre. In book one, A Court of Thorns and Roses, we open with Feyre hunting to help her family survive a hard winter. Feyre on this trip kills a wolf that turns out to be a high fae male (and unrated self-sacrificing hero) beginning our story. After this happens, the Archeron family is visited by 1 of the 7 High Lords of the fae lands, Tamlin, and she is forced to leave with him under the guise of a treaty between the fae and mortals.

We get to witness a delicious slow burn, almost enemies to lovers situation between Tamlin and Feyre that is littered with hints of something much more dangerous at play. The first book is filled with a lot of whimsy and reads like a very magical world fantasy novel where we see things like a night based in sex magic and fertility, holidays celebrating the arrival of the seasons, and the stunning scenery of the Spring Court. Without spoiling too much, Feyre's time with Tamlin in Spring comes to a very abrupt holt when we get our second glance into Rhysand and his discovery and confirmation of Feyre's existence in Spring and her relationship with Tamlin. Tamlin, in a delicious act of "I'm going to let the world burn for you," sends Feyre back home to the mortal lands for her protection.

Once Feyre discovers her man, male, something (depending on what SJM felt like calling the fae on that page) had been taken by the blight, Feyre gives chase, following him down under the mountain leading to us getting to meet the "Blight" Amarantha and the 3 challenges Feyre is forced to endure to free all of Prythian from the Queen Under the Mountain. Book one ends with Feyre's death and revival at the hands of the High Lords. The now high fae female meets with Rhysand, who may actually not be a bad guy, one last time before heading home with Tamlin to Spring.

Book two essentially picks up where books 1 leaves off. Feyre is back in Spring with Tamlin and struggling deeply. She is scarred from her time under the mountain and it shows through her outward appearance and inwards anxieties that we are a reader experience with her. I will be honest, A Court Of Mist and Fury is my least favorite of the series. I feel it was riddled with plot holes, character assassinations (Lucien, Feyre, and Tamlin) and I do feel SJM killed the very fantasy world based vibes she created with the Spring court once we as readers arrive with Feyre in Velaris. So, to cliff notes this, Tamlin turns into an abuser out of left field, Rhysand is Feyre's mate, they get dirty in some paint after Feyre gives Rhys some canned soup, and her sisters Nesta and Elain are turned High Fae after being kidnapped by Hybern after, and I cannot stress this enough, IANTHE not Tamlin IANTHE sells them out, they get thrown into the Cauldron, Feyre plays dirty little actress, has the King of Hybern (what's his actual name Sarah Janet) break her bargain bond with Rhysand, and we end up back with Tamlin in Spring.

From here, this series is filled with a lot of plotholes and twists that genuinely do not make sense, some poor character development, some good character development, some what the actual hell moments from Rhysand, and a beautiful story in A Court of Silver Flames that centers around Nesta and her growth and journey with addiction and mental health. In short, there are many good things and bad things SJM does, and while the hype around the books may be a little much, it is definitely earned. I do recommend this series to all of my friends in a reading slump.

ACOTAR has created a cult like following with readers ranging from their teens all the way to my 75 year old grandmother borrowing it from me and becoming a huge fan (she's a Helion girlie - I got my love of thighs from somewhere.) That fandom has spanned around the world with many readers in many time zones connecting on levels some argue has not been seen since the start of the Supernatural fandom.

The fandom is filled with controversy, love, drama, and some absolutely talented artists and writers who have all worked their booty off to keep the magic alive while we wait for what is going to be a high anticipated 6th book that many hope will be centered around the middle sister, Elain Archeron. It has helped a lot of readers get back into reading and has landed SJM on the list of top fantasy authors of all time *something I don't agree with. Romantasy, yes. Fantasy, no.*

SJM quickly became one of the most common newly banned authors in 2022-2023 lists with over 13 districts and states banning ACOTAR and ACOMAF with the rest of the series slowly beginning to trickle in. The reason these books are becoming challenged may not shock you all. The first and most common reason is smut. While ACOSF is definitely the most smut heavy, all of these books feature sex scenes. Are they the spiciest books I have ever read? No. Absolutely not. However, it has caused some pearl clutching, causing groups to question if they are appropriate for children and in public spaces. The second reason is ✨️magic✨️. The magic in the book shows "unchristian values" because, evidently, Jesus of Nazareth is the only person allowed to perform magic in books.

There are several common themes in banned romantasy books out side of smut and magic that many against censorship have brought up, and they do appear in the ACOTAR. The most common link in a lot of these novels is strong female leads. From Blood and Ash, Throne of Glass, the Hunger Games, and so many more have potential misogynistic views causing them to end up on these lists.

I don't have a golden way to wrap this one up. I love this series, especially for the fandom. I truly do. I have formed an amazing platform of friends, readers, moots, and connections I treasure dearly. It would genuinely break my heart if this book were to be banned from public libraries. It brings forth so much discussion and beauty, especially when you over look the bad.

[simpingforthemm]

christmas with oitnb women

(outside of prison)

includes: ouija, zirconia and taystee

word count: 1k

a/n: consider this a late christmas present ;) enjoy and happy new years guys ❤️, reader is fem / gender neutral

Ouija

she's actually somewhat of a Grinch

around Christmas time, she's just in a bad mood, not feeling very festive

but if you really like this holiday, she'll try her best to get in the Christmas mood

I can imagine her wanting to decorate the Christmas tree in darker colors or not wanting a Christmas tree at all

tries to convince you not to put up too much decorations bc if she sees another santa figure or tacky baby jesus crib, she swears she will lose her shit

will probably be really into mistletoes bc that just gives her an excuse to make out with you

she will do her impressions for you on Christmas Day, since you love them so much

one of those people who goes shopping for Christmas presents last minute

doesn't want to admit it but gets Christmas stressed pretty easily but not bc she wants christmas to be like perfect but bc everyone is making such a big fuss out of it and constantly asks her whether she's in the ✨mood✨ yet and if she still needs to buy a Christmas tree and whether she's bought presents yet...

don't go ice skating with her bc this girl has no balance at all and will basically cling to you the whole time you're on the ice

also, spending time with her son miguel!!

I can imagine it being hard for her to get custody of him back after being in prison and committing WIC fraud

But if you do succeed you'll probably both make this the best Christmas you can for him and spoiling him with presents <3

also the Christmas season would probably be a lot about her winning her son's trust back (since he saw that video of her being aggressive to the guards taken hostage during the riot and the poor boy is probably traumatized)

probably isn't the most emotional around Christmas time and doesn't really care about the reflective / contemplative aspect of Christmas

just wants you and her son to have a fun time

will threaten any christmas carolers that knock on your door and if they dare sing their bullshit jingle bells, best believe hands will be thrown

she thinks the grinch is the most hilarious movie

also, will get aggressive whenever she sees a fake Santa trying to lure her son into sitting on his lap

probably thinks dude is a pedophile targeting him

so she isn't the best at giving gifts so her Christmas present to you will probably be something like a coupon

also REFUSES to go to church on Christmas bc she just isn't religious and also doesn't want her son to be

one of those ppl who would and will eat fast food on Christmas and do something like going to a trampoline park or theme park

Zirconia

this girl is HYPED for Christmas!

and when I say HYPED I mean she's already going Christmas shopping on the first of december, decorating your living space all christmas-y, baking cookies (which she burns, oopsies) and forcing you to wear Christmas sweaters

If you live in a village and have a house, she will probably get in a petty competition with the neighbors over who decorates their house the best

she will go all out and buy inflatable santas, colorful and flashy fairy lights, garlands

bc ain’t no way is she going to let this asshole of a neighbor win this competition

will probably make it into a newspaper bc of her over-the-top, completely exaggerated decorations on your house

you will probably wake up in the middle of the night bc the lights that she brought were too bright or bc you found out that one of the inflatable reindeers she bought can actually sing Christmas songs

like ouija, she will love mistletoes

and probably also the fake santas at the Christmas market

will also probably believe that dude is real

best believe she will watch all of those cheesy christmas Hallmark movies with you and still be surprised when Janet and Hunter get together at the end

also complaining about the lack of wlw representation in those movies!!

loves all the Christmas treats and definitely has a sweet tooth

Anyway she's so excited for Christmas and just wants to have loads of fun with you! ❤️

Taystee

kind of like Zirconia, Christmas would be fun with her but also very emotional

it would remind her of all the christmases she had spent with Vee, in a foster family or the christmases in Litchfield

she would be in a very melancholic mood and reminisce about her childhood

I can imagine she would love jazzy Christmas music

just something that she could dance to

would love to invite some of your friends for Christmas (maybe some prison friends like Janae, Alison..)

she’d love to rekindle with them and would probably be very emotional when seeing them again

mourning the loss of poussey would also be a thing she’d want to do at Christmas, maybe lighting a candle for her or putting up a picture of her in your home

she's super open about trying your Christmas traditions since she's not really keen on implementing the traditions that Vee did with them when she was young

so she'd definitely be super happy to try some traditional food from your country for Christmas or anything like that

she's the best at gift giving and is super thoughtful

like Zirconia, she will also watch cheesy Christmas movies with you (remember she used to like watching this little girl beauty pageant series when she was younger which is also not that high quality tv but don't tell her that)

will just want a normal & relaxed christmas where she can feel safe and loved

will absolutely go to church with you if that's what you want but if you're not religious she will also not mind staying home & just chilling

she would love to go on a drive with you and look at all the pretty Christmas lights while drinking hot chocolate

if you have an old lady living next to you who is spending Christmas alone she would definitely be the type to invite her over so she wouldn’t have to be by herself

definitely the person who gets the meaning of Christmas (giving back and such)

around Christmas time she’d also want to help the less fortunate (assuming you two are more fortunate rn) like donating clothes you don't need anymore, helping out at the homeless shelter

and she's just the kindest to everyone around, even your grumpy ass neighbor who hates Christmas bc that's just who she is

merry christmas everybody and a happy new year!

[hvcmixtape]

this is for the lovely cece! (@shuatm) surprise i'm sh(elle), hence the 🐚 emoji for when i was messaging you as your secret santa <3 i hope you really enjoy this fic! i really liked the mistle-foe game you played with your friends so i repurposed it in a way to fit the fic! and aside from the fic, i hope your christmas and holiday season has been lovely so far and you have great energy coming into the new year

and thank you to my friends in the @k-labels server who worked alongside me for the past days while i was getting this done! shout out to davin (@renhaissance), soul (@l-luvr), kana (@luvhyun3), freya (@angelwoozi), and zoe (@badwithten) who were all there at some point while i was writing this so thank you for playing a huge role in me finishing this fic!

pairing: high school!joshua x fem!reader; academic rival!joshua wc: ~5k genre: fluff ; some swearing, but no trigger warnings

The second you feel an icy, dripping sensation down the back of your neck, it’s over for him. You whip your head around and scrunch your nose, balling your fists to edge the urge to scream. “I’ll kill you, Joshua Hong!”

“You can’t kill me, I’m half your grade!” He yells behind his back as he starts tripping over his feet before Joshua goes into a full sprint—as much as he can run with snow on the ground.

With your scarf thrown around your neck, it coasts on the wind behind you as you start to run after Joshua, weaving through the crowd of students waiting for their rides home at the end of the school day. You yell out warnings to passersby, more so for yourself so you don’t jinx anything and fall flat on your face.

You know you’ve caught up to his figure when you grip a hand on the shoulder of his black puffer. “Gotcha!”

…And that’s not the face you were looking for when you are met with the soft face of Jeonghan, one of your classmates. “Sorry, Hannie, you weren’t the person I was looking for. But I’ll see you later!”

Your eyes squint as you see Joshua’s face beyond the scope of Jeonghan and before he can accept your apology, you’re already moving forward with fire in your eyes. The satisfying crunch of fallen snow can’t be more satisfying than the punch you’ll throw toward Joshua’s chest in a few seconds—

“Wait a minute, (Y/N)!” Joshua’s desperate voice is accompanied by his open palms protecting his chest. Your lips purse toward one side of your face as you hold yourself back from moving. Any closer and you’d be in his face. “You can’t kill me because one, our final project is still not done and I’m literally half your grade, and two, we have to get going—everyone’s waiting for us to draw the names for Secret Santa.”

With a roll of your eyes, you let out an exasperated sigh. “Fine. You’re spared,” and with a sailing fist to his bicep, “for now.”

“(Y/N), ow. That actually hurt.” Joshua pouts, but he still leads the way toward Seungcheol’s house, the location of the Secret Santa drawing and exchange for the past four years. Now that you’re all seniors, you’re sure the burning thought on everyone’s minds is where the future will take you all. But the thought of the future can’t overshadow what’s in front of you, and what’s in front of you is Joshua Hong, the guy you’ve been chasing after in each class since freshman year.

His tongue-in-cheek bickering has accompanied each assignment you’ve had, and when you get even a point lower on a test, your blood boils in your chest when his condescending voice sings, “Maybe you can do better next time, I’ll teach you if you want.” 

How you ended up being in the same friend group as your academic rival was lost on you, yet your dynamic with Joshua has never changed throughout the years. 

“You had to be nice to each other at least once, right? Like maybe when we first formed the friend group?” Seungkwan reasoned when he brought it up to you earlier in the semester. Everyone was there except Joshua, who had soccer practice. “Joshua’s one of the nicest people I know too!”

“To everyone except me! Believe me,” you scoff at Seungkwan’s frown. “I’ve tried to be nice to him, but sometimes he’s just so insufferable,” you argue on your lonely island of one. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mingyu and Wonwoo share a look, and you huff. “I’m being serious! Like no way someone is just their mama’s boy who always goes to church is so nice all the time.”

“Sounds like you’re projecting,” Vernon chides as one of his eyebrows lifts up. “We’ve been friends all this time, and you still can't get along with him. Have you even tried to put in any effort?” 

So maybe you've put in a good 5 percent of effort to be nice before you start being catty, but it's also on Joshua to be nice to you too! Like he’s being right now as he lets you go ahead of him when you approach Seungcheol’s door. 

You tiptoe in, but there’s no use when Seungcheol yells, “Finally! We’ve been waiting for too long.” He emerges from the other room and his eyes almost bug out of his head when he sees the sight ahead of him. With a low whistle, there’s a smirk on his face that you want to get rid of. “Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas, am I right? Can’t believe I’m seeing a Christmas miracle.”

“Fuck off, Cheol.” Jabbing your thumb in the air behind you, you explain that you weren’t planning on coming in together. “But this kid wanted to throw a snowball at the back of my neck.”

“Hey, it was just so tempting considering the first snowfall was yesterday.”

“What’s so tempting is me punching you for real.”

Joshua’s face gets increasingly closer to yours, finding a way to tick you off further. “Oh? Why don’t you do it then?” You can feel his breath on you as he taunts you.

You start walking over to where you hear the rest of your friends, but Seungcheol grips your shoulder. “Uh, uh, uh. Look up.”

You and Joshua tilt your chins up to the ceiling, green leaves tied together with a red bow taunting your whole being. 

“Mistletoe…” Joshua whispers as he dissects the leaves with his vision, as if it'll slowly dissipate the longer he looks at it.

“Like hell, I’ll kiss Joshua.” You shove Seungcheol lightly, pushing your way toward the living room where your friends’ faces lighten up at your appearance.

“(Y/N)!” Seungkwan exclaims happily. “Did you get stuck under the mistletoe? I heard a little bit of what you were saying at the door.”

“Yeah, (Y/N) didn't wanna kiss me, their loss,” Joshua says as he shrugs himself around you, tossing his backpack on the ground and joining Seungkwan and Vernon on the carpet. 

With Seungcheol following not soon after, he yells, “Mingyu, how many times have I told you not to put your feet on the coffee table?”

Mingyu puts his feet back on the ground. As Joshua, Seungkwan, and Vernon sit around the coffee table to discuss the physics test they just took, Wonwoo and Mingyu sit on one couch, and Seungcheol makes his way to sit beside Jeonghan (who somehow made it there before you and Joshua) on the other couch. 

You take the last seat near the fireplace, kicking off your shoes and curling up near the heat. You've always loved Seungcheol’s house. During the holiday season, you loved to help his mother hang stockings on the mantle and ornaments on their tree. Her highest compliment was her loving how you arranged the poinsettias on their dining table. It’s a good change of pace from what you're used to.

“Who’s ready to pick?” Seungcheol pipes up once individual conversations die down.

“I mean, it doesn’t matter because we’ll know immediately who (Y/N) has,” Joshua jokes and Vernon dabs him up for that.

You can’t help but roll your eyes and say, “Yeah, let’s just start before Joshua has anything else to say about me.”

Just like last year and the year before that, Vernon takes a beanie out of his backpack to serve as the selection bowl. Each person rips a small slip of paper from Jeonghan’s notebook and writes their name down. Again, the thoughts flood your head, wondering if next year will be anything like this when you all go down your different paths.

“Everyone put their names in the hat,” Vernon puts his arms out, and everyone reaches over to drop their paper in.

“Hey, watch it!” Seungkwan glares at Jeonghan when he feels his head jostling from a push.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Jeonghan says but still laughs heartily as he settles back into the couch before Seungkwan can launch himself to get in a punch. Even though Jeonghan is older than him, Seungkwan’s hands and feet are ready for anything, especially if it’s Dino, the youngest friend in their friend group.

Mingyu leads by pinching the fabric closed and shaking it. With his eyes closed, he opens it back up and selects a slip out of the hat, slower than ever.

“Does he know that this isn’t the Triwizard Cup?” Vernon quips, and you can’t help but laugh. Everyone else starts erupting, whether it’s in chuckles or complaints, and one of Mingyu’s eyes slowly opens.

When he figures out who he has, he nods with a smile and passes the hat to Wonwoo. It keeps going on and on until it’s Joshua’s turn.

While you hope you don’t get Joshua, you do hope that he does get you. Out of all the boys, Joshua is the most thoughtful when it comes to gift-giving. Three years ago, as freshmen, you received the best gift you’ve probably ever gotten.

“This is a huge package,” you mutter to yourself, and you glare immediately at Seungcheol before he says any “that’s what she said” jokes. As you’re removing the wrapping paper, you’re wondering what you could have done in your life (and past life) to be the recipient of such a big gift.

“You’re taking so long, (Y/N),” Jeonghan complains as you try to remove the wrapping paper all in one piece. Even the wrapping paper is beautiful with metallic gold and silver lines running along it. “You’re not even going to keep it!”“You don’t know that!” You yell back. 

He totally knows that you won’t.

As you speed up the process, you open the box and are met with a Studio Ghibli movie poster for your room, a stunning stationery set, and an Animal crossing figure for your favorite villager. You’re ready to move on and guess who gave you your present, but you notice one last small box in the corner of the package. 

When you pick it up, the suede container is so enticing, but you want to savor the moment. You lift the top off.

“(Y/N), you’re going to catch flies,” Vernon laughs.

“What is it?” Seungkwan leans over, and when his eyes catch what’s inside, he knows why you can’t help dropping your jaw.

You unconsciously rub your neck, running your finger over the gem and the initial of your first name attached to the chain. It has always been your favorite gift, even if your rival was the one who gave it to you. 

Joshua loves to act like he has everything under control, so when he pulls his slip of paper, the smile on his face never fades. There is no scrunch between his eyebrows or nose. He’s the poster boy for calm, cool, and collected.

Right after him is you and you’re determined to be just like Joshua. He passes you the hat, maintaining eye contact for probably the first time in a month before he goes back to joking with Jeonghan about your facial expressions.

You choose the slip of fate after swishing your fingers around. Before you open it, you swivel your head to check if anyone’s looking and lean back in your chair.

The folds get straightened out and your heart rate rises, by a lot, and your eyebrows pull up toward the top of your forehead, and—

There’s no way…you got Joshua? 

You’ve crossed off each day on your calendar, and today is no exception. Before you leave your bedroom, you take your red pen and cross off on December 19th, the last day of school before winter break. Underneath the number, a reminder is written about the Secret Santa exchange.

There’s no need to ask you how you feel about being Joshua’s gift-giver this season, especially given the fact that you could very well be his last one too. In the conversations that you overhear (not eavesdrop), he’s told Vernon and Jeonghan that he’s in talks with an entertainment company in his mother’s homeland. He wants to make a name for himself and try it out for a year. If it works out, he’ll keep going. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll apply to UCLA or UC Irvine just like everyone else.

What an extravagant plan for a gap year, huh?

Either way, you want to make this the best Secret Santa any of your friends have ever seen. 

Bless the soul of your teachers, who seem to want to work less than the students, and you breeze through the day with a full stomach from the holiday parties in each class period. At the end of the day, the school assembles in the auditorium for the annual senior superlative Christmas show.

Seungcheol sits on a throne as the star of the show, Santa Claus—as if he could have been anyone else. Mingyu and Wonwoo opted to be Santa’s security and stand behind him with black vests and shades, arms crossed as if they were monitoring the situation. Vernon hangs out on the edge of the stage with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, who are all gingerbread men. You’re sitting in the back of the stands, ruffling your wings when they call out the names of the angels. The one you want to laugh at is Joshua, whose been appointed as everyone’s favorite red-nosed reindeer. 

The show goes off without a hitch, and you can’t say you were surprised when your ears perked up when you hear your name called…in conjunction with Joshua’s.

“Been working since freshman year for this very moment,” Joshua quips as he slings his arm around your shoulder to pose for the photographer. This very picture will be going into the yearbook with the description “Best School Rivals.”

“I’m clearly the better one,” you roll your eyes after the flash goes off.

“In your dreams, (Y/N),” he says behind his shoulder as you both head back to your seats.

There’s not much left in the school day when the show ends with all the seniors thanking their teachers with words and gifts, so you’re ready to exchange your halo and wings for comfier clothing to go to Seungcheol’s house for Secret Santa.

“Ah, (Y/N), don’t change until after the exchange,” Jeonghan tells you as you clean out your locker for the semester.

You’re still placing books into your bag when you ask for the reason.

“We need to take pictures! We’re only seniors once,” he cites the reason for almost every single stupid thing the boys have done to excuse their actions. “If you’re ready, then we can go to Seungcheol’s together?”

You scan up and down the locker before you grab the Christmas bag at the bottom of it. You shut it afterward and say, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

When entering Seungcheol’s house, you’re careful with where you stand and with whom. You’re certain there can’t be any mistletoe above the door frame, but you never know, so you make sure that Jeonghan walks ahead of you. There’s a breath of relief you’ve never felt before until you saw there was no green bouquet taped to the wall of the front door.

Just when you think it couldn’t get more festive, there’s more baubles and ornaments on the Christmas tree, a strip of hanging lights around the mantle, and is that even more tinsel?!

“Your mom has outdone herself, as she always does,” you muse as Seungcheol brings out bowls of snacks and sets them on the living room table.

He’s still dressed in his Santa costume, somewhat, as his jacket and thick belt rest on one of the chairs. “Do you expect anything less from her?”

You pluck a piece of popcorn from the bowl and shake your head with a chuckle. “Where’s everyone else?” You ask, your eyes peering at the backpacks surrounding the coffee table. You place yours near theirs, but the gift bag stays with you.

“Changing back into their costumes because Jeonghan told Seungkwan that he wanted to take a picture and everyone already came here changed out of them.”

Classic.

One by one, the boys come back to their usual spots, adorned in the very same costumes as they wore on stage with small modifications here and there to look less dressed up.

When Joshua comes back to sit on the floor near you, you call his name. When his head turns toward you, you can’t help but tap the end of his nose. “Your nose is still so red.”

“Really?” He scrunches his face as he pulls out his phone to view his reflection in the camera app. “Fuck, I tried using Cheol’s face soap too.” He groans and shakes his head. Glancing down at the bag you’ve placed in your lap, Joshua purses his lips. “Who’s it for?”

“Tell you as soon as you tell me, Hong.” You point your chin to the box near him. “Who’s the lucky person with your gift this year?” There’s no malice in your voice.

“Someone you know well.” He chuckles at the gears turning in your head, rendering you more confused.

Now that everyone settles into their seats, Jeonghan says you all should take a picture before the gifts are revealed, and insists further when the sounds of grumbles fill his ears.

The group shuffles into positions, and you slide down to sit next to Joshua, which may have been the wrong decision because he leans over to attempt to peer into the bag.

“What the hell, Joshua,” you mutter. “I knew someone was going to try to do that so I put way too much tissue paper in here.” You press the top shut, sticking your tongue out at Joshua before it’s time to pose for the picture.

Jeonghan takes charge of the running back and forth for the timer, something everyone is beyond used to by now.

Vernon’s the first to say something when the dust of picture-taking settles. “Are we gonna start or what?” Everyone places their gifts on the coffee table, sizing up what could be theirs.

Seungcheol and Vernon go head to head with rock paper scissors. (A game that’s actually fair since the last time they tried to settle things with an arm wrestle, Vernon yelped so loud.) Vernon wins best 2 out of 3, so he searches for the tag that’s his.

“Sweet,” Vernon talks to himself as he opens the box and finds a beanie and a chain resting on top of a hoodie. “Can I guess…” He surveys his options. “Mingyu?” The guy shakes his head. “Wonwoo?”

“Yep, I got you.” Vernon walks over to give his gift giver an appreciative hug.

Seungkwan’s turn is a blur because you know you’re up next after him. All you know is that Mingyu gave him a Starbucks giftcard and a new equipment bag for his upcoming volleyball season.

“It’s (Y/N)’s turn,” Seungcheol sing-songs with a bit of a naughty grin. Your stomach drops a little bit, and then even more as you realize the very gift meant for you is the gift Joshua was holding.

Your very wish had come true.

“You really got me, Joshua?” You look to him before you pick up the gift and he nods with a smile that you usually don’t see when it comes to you. It’s in beautiful wrapping paper, just like last time. You wonder if his mom’s the one who wrapped it this time and the time three years ago because knowing that Joshua absolutely sucks at knitting does not give you the most hope.

To prevent this time around from being a repeat, you rip the paper, even though you would have loved to repurpose it in some way, shape, or form. It’s a box, similar to the one that Vernon had from Wonwoo, and you remove the top.

Your hands fly to your chest as soon as your eyes took in the sight. Pictures upon pictures pasted on top of each other, all forming to create a heart. The words on top make out the words “You’re the best, (Y/N)” and now your own heart is in your throat.

You scan the poster, recalling the memories that come with the pictures. There’s one off-guard photo that you never even knew existed from when you and Joshua actually spent time alone together and you didn’t explode somehow. It was a biting winter day just like this one and you threw freshly-fallen snow into the air, smiling as the snowflakes drifted wherever the wind took it. You’ve never seen such a natural smile and yet, here it is in this very picture.

“There’s some other things underneath the collage,” Joshua says, his voice coming out gentler than you expected.

Keychains for the people who have already committed to their colleges—Vernon’s heading to NYU, Cheol and Jeonghan are both going to Berkeley, and Wonwoo’s going to UC Irvine. (So many smart boys you’ve got in the group.) There’s one more, a keychain for Pledis Entertainment.

“It’s to remind yourself of me,” Joshua explains. “I’m not going to college yet. Or ever, depending on how this whole idol thing goes.” 

“You’ll do so good, Joshua,” you whisper because that’s as loud as you can get without your tears overflowing. You continue to move on with the gift, finding a pair of the cutest frog plush slippers, an apple pie candle, and a slip promising you that he’ll make you cold cider before the season ends.

Lastly, a sealed envelope rests at the bottom of the box and Joshua implores you not to open it in front of everyone and just wait until you’re by yourself. “Just wait until you’re home.”

The other boys ooo-and-ahh, especially Seungkwan who wants to know why. “Secret feelings maybe?”

Cheol snorts and says, “Maybe a copy of his perfect grades.”

You smile at Joshua before putting everything back into the box and placing the top back. “Thank you, Joshua.” 

The group continues with Mingyu, but your mind is still stuck on Joshua. This whole time, you’ve been shitting on him and he created you such a beautiful ensemble of presents. There’s not necessarily a pang of guilt, but more so a pang of “I’ve always seen Joshua as an academic rival, but why am I so committed to the bit?” and your eyebrows furrow at the thought.

You try to connect back as it’s now Wonwoo’s turn, but you can’t fully tune back in until it’s Joshua’s turn.

“How did we manage to have each other?” Joshua muses, concluding that the bag in your lap was for him.

He pulls out the tissue paper, commenting that you definitely put too much in here, but he finds the last piece and places it down. 

Your heart beats faster, and you can’t tell if it’s from seeing his hands dip into the gift bag, or the way his hair parts, or the sheer anxiety that you didn’t pick the right presents especially knowing he gave you amazing ones.

Regardless, nothing beats the way his smile grows wider than when he pulls out your gifts in a line. 

“Wow, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says about a rabbit polaroid picture holder. 

“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” He asks about a book you gifted him after you reading it in class piqued his interest.

“I love this scarf!” He exclaims, the colorful fabric pulling apart as far as his wingspan will allow.

Despite only giving three things, Joshua pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on your shoulder as his hands rub up and down your arms.

When he lets go, you kind of wonder how it would have been to stay in the hug longer but your brain doesn’t stray for too long when Joshua thanks you profusely for the gifts. “These are all so thoughtful, thank you (Y/N).”

“You’re welcome, I’m glad you like them.” 

If only you could see the shock on everyone else’s faces as they watched this scene unfold, but even after Jeonghan and Seungcheol unwrap their gifts, the question bearing on your mind still bothers you.

“How did everyone else manage to get someone different, but Joshua and I got each other?” You ask, pointing to the two of you. While Vernon’s clasping his chain on and Seungkwan’s pressing his new tangerine pin next to the other three he has on his backpack, Seungcheol and Jeonghan try not to make eye contact. Mingyu and Wonwoo suddenly increase in volume.

“Hey! For real,” Joshua agrees with your question. “There’s no way this happened by chance.”

Everyone stops what they’re doing and all of a sudden, it’s so easy to make eye contact because the 6 of them look toward each other for an answer to produce.

“It was his idea,” both Seungcheol and Jeonghan say at the same time. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to say, but there are none.

“I mean, okay, it may have been my idea,” Jeonghan admits, scratching the back of his ear. “We all just kind of wanted to see you guys be nice to each other for once, instead of at each other’s throats for the rest of the year.”

Vernon adds, “Yeah, you're probably going to kill each other for the top 2 rankings, but you're friends before you guys are classmates.” He grips Joshua’s shoulder. “And dude, I know you don’t really feel that way about (Y/N). You’re only rude when you’re around her.”

“We know how you truly feel about (Y/N). You li—” Seungkwan’s eyebrows wiggle and Joshua physically lungs at him, pressing his hand to his mouth. With Vernon in the middle trying to lean back so he doesn’t get weighed down by Joshua’s body, it looks like a weird family photo.

After a moment, Joshua straightens himself and takes a deep breath in and out. His composure doesn’t dismiss the fact that his face is redder than the remaining face paint on his nose.

Mingyu jumps out of his seat, pulling on Wonwoo’s arm. “Ah, I have a phone call to take! Wonwoo has to come too.”

“I didn’t hear your ringtone go off.” Wonwoo narrows his eyes, but allows himself to be dragged away into Seungcheol’s kitchen across the house.

“Cheol, I’m hungry, do you have food?” Vernon perks up, looking at his friend. “Seungkwan’s hungry too.”

“There’s chips right there?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, but sighs. “Fuck it, come on. Jeonghan, I know you’re hungry too.” He herds the rest of them into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

You’re dumbfounded with the way you’re just left with these feelings that swirl around your head. “Did you know?”

“About this?” Joshua points to the gifts. “Not at all. But now that I think about it, I probably should have guessed.” He laughs and there’s a relieved look on his face when your stone face relaxes.

“Thank you for the gifts again.” You say to fill the space of silence. “Kinda sad you’re not staying here.”

“There’s still one more semester left. You can’t get rid of me just yet.” Joshua shifts to sit directly across from you. “Even though they arranged it to be this way, I’m glad I got to be your Secret Santa.”

You smile, looking down at your hands. “So what was Seungkwan talking about when he was talking about feelings?” You watch the pads of your fingers dance with one another as you wait for his response.

“Well, yeah, it’’s true that I don’t hate you. I don’t hate anyone, but well, I can’t tell if you hate me or not.”

Your face falls, finally feeling that pang of guilt. “I think I just got so caught up with being the best that I never really considered how you felt. I…” your voice trails off. “I don’t hate you, Joshua.” Your voice gets quieter and quieter. “It’s kind of the opposite, I think.”

“What?”

You groan, finally looking at him in the eye. “This is going to sound so stupid, but I think my feelings took the wheel and I was rude to you to mask how I felt about you.”

“What kind of feelings are we talking?” Joshua cocks his head, being careful with the moves he puts forward.

“Ugh, I don’t want to say it, but I like you?” Your statement comes out more as a question, but the confirmation is rock solid.

Joshua runs his hand through the locks of his hair as he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve liked you since the moment I met you, (Y/N). Freshman year, biology class.”

“No way.” You laugh in disbelief but your tone gets more serious as you continue, “You let me speak to you like that even though you liked me?” Your palm flies to your forehead, fingers clutching your hair. 

“It was kinda fun. Teasing you and all that.” Joshua chuckles. “But yeah, I’ve liked you since then and I thought maybe I could say something about it before senior year ends. That’s what’s in the envelope.”

All of a sudden, scurrying footsteps tiptoe on the floor of the living room and the only thing you see is Seungcheol violently tossing something green and running away immediately after.

It lands in Joshua’s lap. It’s a green bouquet, wrapped in a red ribbon. “Mistletoe, good one, Cheol,” Joshua yells in the direction of the kitchen with no response. “Well, if we have mistletoe, we can’t disappoint.” He shrugs as he holds the end of the mistletoe above your heads.

“I guess not,” you reply with a grin before licking your bottom lip, taking one good look at him, and at last, pressing your lips to his. 

(You know the saying, keep your friends close and your rivals closer? Thanks to this Christmas miracle, you finally believe it.)

please feel free to provide feedback, reblogs, or likes if you enjoyed reading this fic!

[swearingcactus]

OC INTERVIEW : Lil V :)

thanks for the tag @v-eats-bugs (and @elvenbeard's post that reminded me that I have yet to do this even though I was tagged!) get ready for your local little guy answering some of your q's (this pic was supposed to just be a cover but it does make him look like he's answering these before bed in his jammies, which could fit too)

🔸Name?🔸 "Contrary to popular belief, it's not a pasta brand, but I would neither confirm or deny any guesses."

There's been wild rumors that he's changed his name to Vitoli or Viagra (Jackie's fault for that one) but nope, his name's still Vincent. His last name's Woodman or some other boring generated name hospitals print out for babies with no parents claiming them, so he never went by it. Great decision on his end, cus "Vincent Woodman-or-similarly-boring-sounding-last-name" sounds more like an accountant than a cool merc.

🔸Nickname?🔸 "Just V."

Before Atlanta, some 'friends' burned him and used him as scapegoat for a gig and he landed in prison because of it. His efforts to erase the records and leave much earlier than his sentence bankrupted him; but he got out and decided to wipe his slate clean. What better way to start a new life than with a new (technically just chopped down) name?

🔸Gender?🔸 "🤨📸"

Cis male. But he thinks it's weird if people gotta ask that.

🔸Star sign?🔸 "Aw fuck, I gotta ask Misty for that, I keep forgetting which one I am. Hang on."

This is totally not a cop-out cus i haven't played phantom liberty and therefore am still unsure when is his canon birthday. Either way he doesn't care about it that much.

🔸Height?🔸 "5'8 which I've heard is 173cm."

173cm is NOT 5'8, he's lying or simply getting it wrong, and frankly for night city denizens, that's more amusing to ponder than his height.

🔸Orientation?🔸 "Oh ;) I'm not picky! ;) heheh wait i mean 🤨📸"

Sometimes his excitement at the prospect of getting laid by hot men and women makes him forget to act cool and nonchalant about being bi.

🔸Nationality/Ethnicity?🔸 "I mean I'm pretty sure I gotta be somewhat white, but never knew the detes. Not gonna pay a corpo for them to tell me about it either, cus what do they know?"

He has a paler complexion, but sometimes his features on the right lighting kinda play tricks on you. With him being from Heywood and no parents to speak of, he has no idea if he could actually be part Hispanic or Asian or any other ethnicity. Obviously, he could pay to get some 2077 "hyper-accurate" version of 23andMe but he thinks that's bull and way too easy to fake. Totally just that and not cus he gave up on the idea of biological families anyways, nope.

🔸Fave fruit?🔸 "I dunno, never really had anything 'ganic 'cept some grapes and they were really sour, so probably not those. Pears are okay, I guess."

🔸Fave season?🔸 "Winter. Atlanta sucked but they had better winters."

Atlanta's winter was colder than Night City's, so the idea of spending the holidays just cold and broke with crippling loneliness sounded too horrible. He attempted to avoid this by treating himself to a 'real' white christmas experience, tried ice skating and making snow bunnies when it did snow and got hot chocolate and even bought himself some overpriced present and all that. Atlanta didn't work out, but he did like winter coming out of it, and he gets nostalgic of it when the holiday season come around.

🔸Fave flower?🔸 "Sunflowers. Oh, but cherry blossoms are really pretty too, even when they're just holos."

He doesn't tell this story much, but when he got out of prison, the field next to the road was riddled with dying sunflowers. Nothing welcomed him out of the gutter but those shriveled plants right next to ones that were done blooming couple weeks ago. If he had been able to get out earlier, he could've seen at least some of them in bloom. It should be a bitter thought and memory, but he found walking next to them very comforting. He has a soft spot in his heart for them ever since.

🔸Coffee, tea, hot chocolate?🔸 "Well not coffee, and not tea, so I guess hot chocolate it is. Actually, you have that iced?"

He used to think he's a coffee guy but dating Kerry made him realize the canned coffee he drinks are just sugar with a hint of caffeine flavor. (he hated the black ganic stuff Kerry drinks but powered through that One Time) In general though, he likes cold drinks more than hot ones.

🔸Average hours of sleep🔸 "I'd like to say 8 but I know that'd be lying. Probably closer to 5 or 6."

Don't get him wrong, he gets on the bed. He just scrolls his phone for hours after and doesn't sleep immediately when he gets on it is the problem. He falls asleep closer to 2-3AM, then wakes up at 8 or 9. This is a real issue if he stays the night over with Panam at camp, since the Aldecaldos are mostly early birds.

🔸Dog or Cat person?🔸 "Oh cat, definitely. Have you seen my cat Nibbles?" *queues up 100+ picture slides of her directly to your holo*

🔸Dream trip?🔸 "Antarctica, maybe? Heard it's kinda peaceful over there, and it'd be even colder than Atlanta so hell yeah, could get all cozy, bundled up and waddle around there for a bit."

🔸Fave Fictional Character🔸

to reiterate this post , he found a copy of Toy Story 4 and made fun of how Duke Caboom sounded like a chipper, Canadian version of Johnny. Then the whole 'guy who failed a stunt and got thrown in the trash because of it, is actually deeply terrified about the entire experience but still continues to be a happy dude' hit too close to home.

🔸Number of blankets they sleep with🔸 "??? People sleep with multiple blankets??"

Just one. He gets too cold even with it when he gets even sicker from the relic, so he sleeps with fuzzy socks too now. The idea of two blankets for one person never occurred to him.

🔸Random fact🔸 "Okay, I'm only gonna tell you this 'cus I'm back in Night City, and enough time has passed that no way anyone can actually get anything to stick to me... but back in Atlanta, I used to crash weddings. Not even for gigs, was just trying to avoid spending eddies on meals. It's really easy to just sneak in, especially if you wear some black cardigan, or flash a digital lanyard, or just walk really fast and with purpose. They just assume I'm part of the event organizer or one of the catering team, and let me in. Then you just act like you've been invited, grab a plate and mingle with some guests who don't look important. Was better entertainment than BDs too, hearing all the stuff about the bride and groom from different tables. Sometimes I just let slip some gossip I heard from another group to the current one I'm mingling with, and shit would hit the fan real quick, which means I get to delta nice and quiet. I wish I could stay for more of 'em, Atlanta weddings end a lot more in fist-fights than Night City ones, that's for sure."

Yeah so he might not know or realize this detail, but he most definitely was the reason those fist-fights happen and was part of the reason for the spike in divorce rate in Atlanta for a bit.

phew that was a lot of words. no pressure tagging @mail-me-a-snail @glitchinginthegarden and anyone else who'd like to join but haven't been tagged! :)

[annabethy]

aurora // a 'tis the damn season au

Percy and Annabeth had something real. They fell in love somewhere between bookstore kittens and vintage novels with pages tinted yellow with time, and they were happy. It's rare, finding the type of love they did. It's even more rare making it last. (Chapter 7/8) | Read on AO3

“Fuck.”

Of course this is her luck. 

Annabeth wiggles the doorknob again, and when it doesn’t give, a few more choice words slip from her mouth. She’d be more concerned if there was anyone around to actually hear it, but there isn’t. That’s the exact predicament she finds herself in. 

It’s cold outside, which isn’t unusual, but after twenty minutes standing locked out of her own father’s house, it starts to slowly burn, like dry ice on bare skin. It’s not so late that it would be unusual for a family to still be awake, especially during the holidays when people are traveling all over, so she’s half convinced they’re watching her through the security cameras and laughing at her. 

Annabeth wipes her nose on the sleeve of her coat, pushing the discomfort of the raw skin to the back of her mind, and thinks, yeah, this was definitely intentional. 

She’d try to pinpoint why she’d be intentionally locked out, but the reality is that it could’ve been any number of things. The reality is also that it probably isn’t actually intentional because even her family, twisted as they are, wouldn’t want a premeditated murder hanging over their heads. She’s just bitter enough, though, to pretend they are that bad, and she decides that tonight’s predicament is entirely because they found out she spent the night with Percy after ditching the Christmas party. 

It’s also entirely possible that the door was locked the night before too, and she just hadn’t noticed. 

She’ll give herself a pass if that had been the case, because spending time with Percy was definitely worth it. It had been… just like old times. She hadn’t expected it to feel that way while she sat in his passenger seat and followed him through the neighborhood stores for discount lights and cheap chocolate flavored candy. 

They’d parted ways hours before, Annabeth choosing to spend some time with Piper. She’d promised herself she’d give him some space, as fun as the day was, because it wasn’t fair to keep bothering him and letting him steal kisses between the tinsel and candy canes when she’d be leaving soon enough, putting them in the exact same situation they experienced before. She chose to lean upon the memories of the past few days for company instead of making new plans, but now the cold is freezing her to the core, and it’s not like her own parents are going to be the ones to save her when she rings the doorbell for the sixth time.

Her eyes lock onto the front door. From the outside, it would look like she was examining the intricate designs on the surface, but the reality is she’s wondering just how humiliated she’s going to be calling Percy again so soon in the middle of the night to help her out.

The answer is: a lot.

“You’re definitely the only person I would do this for,” Percy says as he unlocks the bookstore for her.

There’s a lot that goes unsaid in that sentence, and a lot that’s implied. Words are louder than actions though, so when he’d picked up on the fourth ring and hadn’t hesitated to haul himself out of bed to come get her, he didn’t need to say anything for her to read between the lines. 

Annabeth slips through the door quietly, eyes adjusting to the darkness as she awkwardly slides off her coat. He flicks the light on, and it takes a few more uncomfortable blinks for her eyes to stop burning. 

A bout of deja vu slams into her as she remembers the last time they were here after hours. It had been forever ago, back when they were still in high school. She’d decided to accompany him to work after classes ended, and it was soon after she gave the cat a home in the bookstore, so she was perfectly content to stay there the entire night. Turns out when there’s a pretty girl and no parental supervision, he was perfectly content too. They lost track of time, and when midnight rolled around and the alarms still hadn’t been set for the night, Percy’s mother had figured she better roll around to see what was up.

Poor girl showed up to find them in quite a predicament, fooling around in the back rooms. 

She wonders if Sally ever recovered from that. Annabeth should’ve gifted her bleach that Christmas. 

“You okay?”

Percy’s voice is gentle, and it reminds her of a breeze at night, soft and slow as though to not startle her. Airy as the snow lining the ground at dawn.

“Yeah,” she breathes, turning to him. “Just remembered something kind of funny.”

“Well, don’t keep it to yourself.”

“I am not telling you,” she says, but the slight smile gives away the general direction of her thoughts. “No way.”

“What else are we supposed to do? Who knows when your dad is going to let you back in.”

“Could be all night,” she says seriously. 

“I’m really hoping not.”

“You’re telling me you’re not cherishing this time?”

“If it weren’t the middle of the night, sure. I’m tired.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and chooses that moment to move further in and set her coat onto the wooden countertop. It’s loud in the silence, just like the unsaid words. “Go home. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Not a chance.”

“Because you’re just so heartwarming and kind, right?” Her voice falls flat.

“More like I don’t trust you won’t rob this place dry.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“It’s the lit major in you.” He laughs at his own words like it’s the funniest joke he’s heard in a bit. “I’d bring you back with me so you could get some sleep, but it’s been a long night with Estelle, and I’d feel bad not asking my mom first—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she says. “This is more than enough.”

He joins her at the counter, putting his weight onto his elbows. They’re close, but not close enough for it to be considered intimate, which is for the best. From the moment she saw him, she’d been unable to forget the warmth of his embrace and the feeling of his lips on her skin. Any closer and they might find themselves in a similar situation to the past. “It’s not a bad thing, though. This is practically your dream.”

“Being locked out of my house with no company except you.”

“You could be less disgusted about the me part.”

“I really can’t.”

Percy snorts. “Alright.”

“You’re right about the book part, though. It’s not the worst.”

“Are you still a poetry type?”

“It’s not my focus, but I still love it.” He doesn’t wait for her to stop talking before he’s already weaving between the aisles. She watches in amusement as he almost trips over the cat they dropped off between errands who darts out from beneath a shelf, and when he’s analyzing a few books before picking one out, she asks, “Why?”

“Well,” he starts as he turns back toward her, waving an unfamiliar book at her. “Since you left, I’ve gotten more into poetry myself. It’s not that bad once you really get into it.”

“I’ve been telling you that since we’ve met.”

“Yeah, well, I was stubborn.” He shrugs and comes back to her to place the book in front of her. It’s a collection of poetry, which isn’t unusual. The book, though, seems old but in good condition, like it’s been carefully preserved for years, waiting for the right person to come along and run the ridges of their fingers over each individual page, to get to know the experiences of the poets before them. 

“Any suggestions?” she asks as he turns to a specific page. 

“I’ve been more into Robert Frost since you left,” he says, looking up at her for a moment. “Have you read Out, out? It’s kind of tied into Shakespeare too.”

Annabeth kind of wants to kiss him. Of course he’d get more into poetry after she’s gone, but she also wouldn’t doubt he did it because she was gone. It makes her smile, and she’d kiss him for real, if his attention hadn’t returned to the book, reminding her of the situation at hand. They’re only here because she has nowhere to go. 

She’s definitely read that poem before when she was, like, five, but to humor him, she tells him she hasn’t. 

“You’ve done your homework,” she comments.

He flips to another page. “I’ve had six years.”

The way he says it makes her feel like he always intended to tell her about poetry after she left. Like he always intended for her to return home to him, if only for a weekend. Like he had this waiting, preserved for her because he somehow knew she would come back before even she knew. 

A moment of guilt takes over thinking of Percy holding onto that for her, no end in sight but hoping he’d find a way to give it to her. It reminds her of a child waiting hopelessly for something that would never come.

“Anyway,” he says, and he’s onto another page. “I’d recommend this one, if you ever get the time.”

“How much is it?”

He gives her a bored look that reads, Really?

“What?”

“It’s insulting you think I would make you pay for it.”

Half of Annabeth wants to argue.

There’s a smaller part of her that thinks there’s meaning behind it.

“Do you just give out books to all the girls who walk in?”

“Only the ones that deserve it.”

“And are there a lot of those?”

Percy winks. “A few.”

Annabeth smiles and snatches the book from him. “Give me that.”

“I don’t actually give books away unless it’s for a little kid without money or something, but the other day, Drew of all people walked in. I half thought she couldn’t read, so imagine my surprise when she tried to flirt with me to get me to give her a few free books.”

“Did it work?”

“I mean. I did give her the books just to get her off my back, but the flirting? Not so much.”

“She’s just going to come back for more now.”

“That’s when I hide.”

Annabeth shakes her head at him, biting her lower lip. She wishes she could analyze him like she does everything else in life, pastel highlighters streaking across the important points, writing in the margins the things she loves. “Look at you. A neighborhood gossip.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re above a little gossip.”

“Depends on who it’s about.”

“Anyone you want. I have the scoop on just about everyone we went to high school with.”

“God.”

“You mean you don’t want to hear about the adventures of Drew Tanaka?”

“I can never escape her, can I?”

“Probably not,” he agrees. “I swear for as much as she says she hates you, she tries so hard to be you.”

Annabeth laughs. “Does she really?”

“She does! She acts like she’s obsessed with books and poetry, but I know for a fact that she hasn’t opened a single one of those books she stole from me.”

“You said you gave them to her,” she points out.

“Against my will,” he says. “I was flirted with.”

“Seemed voluntary to me.”

“You would do it too if Drew was five inches from your face.”

Annabeth stifles a laugh into a cough. 

“But seriously, she’s obsessed with you. You become a writer, and suddenly she’s a writer. She’s been trying to hop on me ever since we broke up too.”

“Should’ve taken her up on it.”

“Funny.”

“Anything else happen with Tanaka?”

“She’s just insufferable as always,” he says. “Sure you saw that a few days ago.”

“I definitely did.”

“Someone did start a rumor that she was pregnant, though. Says they saw her with a big ol’ bump and that she’s hiding the baby in the basement for the child support money.”

“That’s…” Annabeth blinks. “Wow.”

“I know. Crazy, right?” Percy straightens with a smirk on his face, like this whole situation amuses him. “Anyway, I’d get a restraining order against her before she tries to peel your skin from you and step inside it.”

“Have you considered that she might enjoy poetry?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annabeth, no one enjoys poetry.”

“I thought you did.”

He smiles. “Did I say that?” 

Annabeth laughs. “Any more gossip for me?”

“Leo from chemistry went to jail because he started a fire. Heard rumors that Jason’s dead.” 

“That can’t be true. Piper would’ve said so.” 

They trail into silence, and she lets herself look him over, any shame lost to the late hours. She really must’ve pulled him out of bed, and she’d feel bad, really, if it weren’t for the look on his face like there’s nowhere he’d rather be.

“What about you?” The green of his eyes seem darker. “Any gossip for me?”

“Just a bit,” she says, and for a moment, it doesn’t hurt as much when she thinks of where she came from. She’s not sure what’s changed. “You know, in LA, I have a friend. Connor. He’s kind of like Drew.”

Percy snickers. “Uh-oh.”

“Not like that,” she laughs. “He tried to be something that wasn’t really him. He hated poetry, but he used to research poems anyway and try to make sense of it. He was awful at it—he’d be a terrible poet—but it was sweet.”

It hurts less. 

Something tells her it’s because of the person standing next to her.

He’s silent, analyzing her face, and she thinks he recognizes the name. She’d never admitted it to him, but it was never a secret. He’s smart enough to ask around, to know where she’s been, who she’s been with. His gentle eyes tell her he knows.

“What happened with that, anyway?”

“With what?”

He tilts his head, and the dim lights seem to get darker. It’s like teetering on a tightrope, only one direction to go. The thing is…she wants to go there. She wants to tell him what she never thought she could tell the person she once loved. The person she still loves. She just doesn’t know how.

He smiles, and it’s not hurt that flashes in his eyes. 

“I think we both know Connor was more than a friend.”

Somehow, when he’s the one to say it, it’s more difficult to look him in the eyes. It’s like she’s done something wrong, even if she didn’t. She thinks it’s because they took a path they weren’t supposed to. Her and Connor were never supposed to happen, just as she was never meant to leave. 

What happened to that?

He proposed. She said no. She said she wasn’t ready, and maybe it had been the truth. At the time, she thought it was. She’s not so sure anymore.

Now, in the bookstore with a cat hiding in the shadows, with Annabeth standing painfully in his line of sight, she can’t admit the real reason she said no.

“He wanted a wife. I just wasn’t ready.”

He doesn’t believe her. 

She sees it in his stance, in the tension in his shoulders, in the look of disappointment flashes through him, in the way he doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, the way he doesn’t do anything at all, except stare directly at her. 

His fingers find their way to the book, tracing over the leather spine. He feels the dip of the letters, the divots and creases, and it feels a lot like his fingers are on her, turning her in circles, analyzing her every move like he’s the poet and she’s the muse. He picks apart what she says, what she doesn’t say, what’s true, and what isn’t. 

“You have something to say,” Annabeth challenges. Her fingers twitch towards the book, but she lets him have it. “Say it.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

But he does. 

There are six years worth of words to say. It’s a question of who’s going to say those words first.

“Yes, you do,” Annabeth says, frustrated. “Say it.”

“Annabeth, please.”

Her name, her name— 

His lips, and her name. That’s how they belong. 

Percy sighs and catches her eyes. “The way you talk about Connor. You say that you weren’t ready to marry him, and that’s why you broke up.”

“It was,” but she knows that’s not the truth. 

The truth is something complex, lying on the road not taken. 

His eyes dart around the room, like he’s scared to look at her now, or like he’s scared of what she’s going to say next. Eventually, they find their way back to her, and he looks her up and down in the dim light in a way he hasn’t done since long before she left, when they were still in love, when they didn’t know that they’d be here six years later, familiar as strangers. 

“You say that, but you’re sitting here in my bookstore telling me about how great he was, and how he read you poetry he couldn’t understand just because he was doing it for you.”

She swallows.

“You’re telling me he did everything right.”

“He did.”

“It just makes me wonder,” he says, walking the tightrope.

As always, he’s always known her better than she’s known herself.

“Did you break up because you weren’t ready to be a wife, or because you weren’t ready to be his wife?”