#saying this because someone just texted me saying merry christmas and I have no idea who it was | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginespazzi · 9 months ago

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Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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smoooothoperator · 11 months ago

Text

untouchable

01: It's Begining To Look A Lot Like Christmas

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: lando being cute. nothing serious yet.

a/n: MERRY MERRY CHRISTMAS TO EVERYONE! I think it was the perfect time to post this story since it's actually based on this time of the year. I hope everyone had a great year and that the one about to come is better.

If someone has ideas of songs to add on a playlist please dont forget to tell me!

Masterlist

next chapter

If you want to be tagged don't forget to message me!

Every way of feedback is very welcomed

Winter. Most people love that season. Snow, shiny streets decorated with lights, hot chocolate, families reunited to decorate the house, cozy clothes… And what couples love: cuddling without melting because of the high temperatures the summer brings, holding hands, sleeping together.

Sounds cute, amazing, beautiful.

Unless you are single.

When you are single, you won't have someone to give you body heat, or to get your hand warm while you walk on the street. Instead of that, you have to wear gloves, scarfs and warm clothes.

I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to be in this situation, wishing I was her. Everytime they got cozy on the couch, I wished it was me who he was holding. Everytime they walked in front of me, I wish it was my hand the one he's holding and keeping warm in the pocket of his coat.

But sadly, I have a crush on my best friend's boyfriend. It wasn't on purpose. Harry and I started college the same year and both of us were in the same classes, sharing tables and after the first months studying, sharing a group of friends. We were the link of our group, the ones that introduced our friends to the others.

And that's how Eloise met Harry.

Eloise was my childhood best friend, my neighbor, my forever supporter on everything I did, the one that was always behind me with a hand on my back and pushing me to follow my dreams.

Except that one time. But it wasn't her fault.

I knew she liked Harry and he liked Eloise. The moment they met for the first time, I felt how something changed, I felt how Harry couldn't stop looking at her, how his smile was bigger whenever he heard her talk or laugh.

That's why I had to take a step back and let them be happy together, even if it meant that I had to swallow my own feelings and watch how they fell in love with each other.

The winter vacations were getting closer and with that the plans of shopping gifts and decorations started. The last class before the vacations officially started was longer that it looked, time flew very slow and all of us were counting down the seconds to grab our things and leave the campus.

“Do you have something planned with your family?” Harry asked me, talking low.

“No, actually “ I sighed. “I won't go home for Christmas Eve. Eloise asked me to go to the trip you planned”

“Oh, right” he nodded. “The guys will go too”

“Yeah, she told me” I nodded. “Who will go, by the way?”

“Well… Max and Pietra, Lando…” he started to count, making me him and pay attention to the teacher again.

Or at least, look like I was paying attention.

Harry's group of friends is everything but normal. Max and Lando were always there, his childhood friends that met during his short period of kart racing when they were just seven years. While Harry decided to focus on his studies and start a career to follow the steps of his father, Max and Lando continued with their passion for motorsport, but only Lando could make it to the final level, to Formula 1.

“Lando? The season is already finished?” I asked, typing some things on my laptop.

“Yeah, it did some weeks ago” he nodded.

“Ah, nice”

Lando Norris. I rarely talked with him. Every time our group hangs out, he's always with Max and Pietra. What we say to the other is the basic two people from the same group can say. Sure, we texted to congratulate our own personal wins and our birthdays, or even to give details whenever he invited us to some races so each one of us could have their own paddock pass.

“When are we leaving?” I asked. “I have to make my suitcase”

“Then do it when you arrive home because we are leaving in two days” he chuckled, making me frown.

“Oh, okay” I nodded.

In two days. And my birthday will be in the middle of the trip?

When the teacher ended the class I packed my backpack, putting the laptop inside of it as well as my notebook. I saw Harry looking at his phone with a smile and I immediately knew he was texting Eloise.

“I'll send you the details, okay? Lando took care of the plane” Harry said, and I just hummed in response.

I hung the backpack on my left shoulder and walked out, grabbing my phone and getting out of the classroom.

Everyone ran through the corridors, excited to finally leave the classes and have free days for some weeks before going back to bury their noses on the books to study again.

The streets are cold, freaking cold. With only two minutes out of the building, my nose is as cold as an ice cube and the need of wrapping the scarf around my throat makes me smile, feeling the warm material caressing the skin of my cheeks. Only a ten minutes walk and then I'll be at home, where I can change my clothes for cozy ones and drink a warm coffee while reading a book.

I was excited for the trip. It's been a long time since all of us went on a trip. Since Lando is always working around the globe, planning something for all of us was hard. Max and Pietra are always together, if one can go the other will join, they go as a pack unless Max has to do things with Lando's eSports team Quadrant. Harry and I have basically the same schedule, working on the last year of our master to finally have the title of our career.

The group chat was already working, sending messages to check if everything was ready, asking the last details for the trip.

Then I saw a text from another chat. Lando.

Lando Norris: You want to have a single room?

Violet Sinclair: Wow, thank you for reminding me how single I am.

Lando Norris: I wasn't saying it in that way!

Violet Sinclair: I know, silly. And yeah, that would be great 🙂

I sigh, rolling my eyes and leaving my phone on my nightstand while I changed my clothes.

Lando and I are the only ones that are single in the group. Which is kinda a relief, because I'm moments where the six of us hang out together, at least I know that I won't be alone watching how two couples are cozy in front of me.

The list of rooms reserved was shown on the screen in front of me. Two double rooms and two single rooms.

When Max mentioned that Violet was going to come on the trip after Eloise asked her, I immediately started to search for a place to stay for a week for all of us.

It was my turn to organize the trip, last summer it was Max who did it, even if not all of us went. But this time Violet was coming with us instead of staying with her family or in her apartment to study. At least, she won't be alone during her birthday.

Violet befriended Harry when they started college, and the moment he introduced her to Max and I, it was immediate love at first sight. The moment I saw her walk inside Harry's apartment and her golden hair held on a ponytail wave with every step she made closer to me, I fell hard for her.

But the moment I saw how she looked at Harry, I knew I had zero chances with her.

Even if her best friend dated Harry, she couldn't stop looking at him with adoration, a way sometimes I wished she could look at me.

I never liked being in a love triangle, it always brings trouble, more if it's inside a group of friends. But I couldn't help but feel that way.

“Mate, are you really going to be alone? You won't bring that girl from Raya?” Max asked, walking inside my streaming room and looking at the screen.

“For what? To make things more uncomfortable than they are already going to be with two couples?” I laughed, trying to lock my phone and making sure he doesn't see my chat with Violet.

“I mean, you are always complaining that you are single…” he sighed.

“I won't make Violet be uncomfortable too” I said, raising my shoulders and rolling my eyes.

“So it's because of her?” he smirked, making me roll my eyes and turn around the chair.

It's always because of her.

I made a profile on a dating app, because of her. I flirt with girls, because of her. I try to be at parties, because of her.

Because it is the least I can do to try to forget a woman that will never want me. And no matter how hard the effort is, my mind always crawls back at her.

So yeah, I do many stupid things because of her.

The last stupid thing was buying the book she talked about with Eloise during one of our game nights, sending it to her without a name of who sent it on the package. But at least, I knew she liked it and she was happy because she had it on the coffee table of her living room the day some of us went to her apartment to help her build a new library for her books.

“Harry, Eloise and Violet will take the plane in two days” I told Max. “We can go from here by train”

Max and Pietra came to Monaco a few days ago after I returned back to Monaco once the season was over. I wanted to rest, to forget about the speed and the cars. I needed to disconnect and I knew that spending time with my friends was what I needed the most.

“I'm going to buy some things” I said, getting up from the chair. “You need something?”

“If you buy dinner on your way home, that would be great” he nodded, walking out of the room and going to the guests room.

I sighed and nodded, grabbing a coat and the keys of one of my cars, driving to the mall of Monaco.

Violet's birthday will be during the trip, and I didn't want to go with my hands empty. A few days ago I saw something she would like, so I decided to buy it for her.

It was a necklace of a violet, the flower, and a book.

If there's something that can describe Violet is her passion for books. Her apartment is not big, it only has two rooms, a bathroom and an open kitchen that shares space with the living room. What is supposed to be a guest's room, is her library but with a bed on it. It's full of books, and it makes me proud to say that the books I secretly buy for her are between those shelves.

“Is this what you want?” the shop assistant said, showing me the necklace. “That girl must be lucky, this is a beautiful piece of jewelry. What a lucky girlfriend”

“Yeah…” I nodded.

If only the girlfriend part was true…

Going back home after buying some other things was exhausting. I had to buy clothes for the trip as well as dinner for Max, Pietra and me. But the fact that I had a bag with Violet's present just made me happy.

This would be the first time that I was going to be with her during her birthday, because over the last years she always went with her family to celebrate it with them.

Just when I got inside the elevator with the bags, my phone received a notification.

Violet💜: I forgot to ask, how many days are we going to stay there?

I smiled looking at the text, immediately answering her after leaving the bags on the floor.

Lando Norris: A week, I reserved a house for all of us.

Violet💜: you did? You reserved everything by yourself? How much I owe you?

Lando Norris: It's okay, it was my turn to plan the trip. Don't worry about the money

Violet💜: you sure?

Lando Norris: a hundred percent sure

“Who got you smiling like that?” Max asked when he saw me opening the door.

“What? No one!”

Lie after lie. Why can't I be honest with him? Why can't I say that I'm in love with Violet? Maybe it's because I prefer saving it to myself rather than someone having pity on me because I want someone that doesn't care about me, that wants another man.

I prefer living on my own fantasies and illusions than accepting the fact that Violet is untouchable and I will never have her.

taglist

@elisysd @racinggirl @ninifee1802 @kakorrhaphiphobia @landoyesrizz @lorarri @bellwhysomean

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amymbona · 4 months ago

Note

if you need challengers ideas I have A LOT but rn my mind is clouded with some angsty Patrick stuff?

like it could be enemies to lover or fwb but then you get distant cuz you feel like you're falling in love and then patrick just do anything in his power to not lose you, truly anything as long as we get an ANGRY LOVE CONFESSION FROM HIM PLS <333

Honestlyyy this took me like a week to write this and I don't really like it. I feel like this topic could make up for a whole fanfic, not just a one shot. But I hope you'll like it :)

Warnings: angst, cursing,

Word count: 3,2 K

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You and Patrick were never that close. Mostly, you were Tashi's best friend and he was Art's best friend. There were some shots and awkward hugs shared when Patrick would come to visit his girlfriend and best friend at Stanford, being introduced to one another. At first, you weren't particularly fond of his habits - mainly smoking - and the foul language. But soon, you came to understand his special bond with Art (who you've managed to grow pretty close to as a result of him always hanging out with you and Tashi) and learned to respect him as your best friend's boyfriend. All in all, he turned out to be a pretty chill guy.

Eventually, you'd got to discover what kind of a person Patrick Zweig is. Overly confident and sure of his actions but rolling eyes with offense the second someone questions his choices. Loud, a bit more touchy for your liking and definitely a bit too comfortable sharing his sexual fantasies, but above all, a person driven entirely in the direction where his heart beats.

Initially, Patrick was the person to light the first cigarette between your lips and convince you to have pity for Art's puppy eyes and show him your tits. He had played the role of a perfect matchmaker, for god knows however reason. You two would exchange phone numbers and wish each other merry Christmas a happy birthday. He became your friend.

After the complete disaster following Tashi's knee injury, the two of you ended up kicked away like two stray dogs, portrayed as the biggest pieces of shit. Patrick, you could understand. Because some time after that, you came to discover he only set you up with Art because he knew that his best friend was after his girlfriend. But in the end, the only person who had the right to yell at him for being such an asshole was you. Not Tashi, nor Art. And you, for reasons still unexplained (perhaps for not abandoning your friendship with Patrick) were tilted a traitor by your former best friend. This was the very end of your four way friendship.

Fast forward, college was over. You went your way, pursuing your career. Patrick's number remained in your phone and, again, you'd only text each other for important anniversaries. However, all of that changed when he called you one random evening, evidently with too much alcohol running through his veins.

"I miss you." he hiccuped, the distinct chatter on his side of the line making it harder for you to hear what he was saying.

"Patrick." you sighed, knowing damn well he's simply drunk and thought he must have dialed a wrong number.

But the ever so persistent individual, he kept talking. "I think about you a lot, y'know, from time to time."

"You're drunk, Patrick." another sigh escaped your pursed lips, gaze focused on applying another coat of red polish to your toenail. "Where are you?"

"Where the fuck would I be, Y/N? 'm getting wasted." Patrick's words were followed by a fit of laughter, not sure if his own or anyone else's. "Trynna forget about everyone. Not you, though."

"Not me?"

"Just those two fuckers."

Of course. Ever since the painful split, Patrick had his own way of dealing with things, and that would mainly include getting totally wasted and babbling crap about being so deeply betrayed as if he was Jesus on the cross.

That night, Patrick ended up at your place, upon you picking him up from the place which was, coincidentally, not too far from your current home. To put it simply, the two of you ended up in the world's messiest and smelliest make out session, Patrick's alcohol breath enveloping you from all directions. It was a vague attempt to get him out of the skinny pair of his jeans that he mistook for you wanting to suck his dick. Almost teary eyed, he begged you to let him fuck you, that it would make everything better for both of you. That it would have been a perfect revenge on Tashi and Art for breaking both of your hearts, even though they would had no way of discovering it.

To this day, the revenge mindset continues corrupting both of your minds, or perhaps, it just gives you an excuse to keep fucking with each other. Patrick Zweig is a frequent visitor at your apartment, occupying your bed and drinking from your favourite tea cups while spitting some lines along "That nightie looks fucking sexy, but you should take it off," or "I could bend you over that counter."

Your encounters basically spin around Patrick tearing off whatever you're wearing and covering your whole body with kisses. He whispers surprisingly sweet nothings into your ear while his hands rediscover the curves of your body. He eats you out like there's no tomorrow, making love to your pussy with his mouth. His tongue reaches places, drinking in your sweet nectar and making your back arch and hips grind against his face. He relishes the feeling of your thighs squeezing his head until he's certain his skills might burst soon, and that is all worth it. For Patrick, everything is worth it, if, by the end of it, he gets you to cum all over his face.

"Pat I- 'm close." your voice gets broken mid sentence, hips buckling up to meet Patrick's mouth.

"Good, baby, good," he coddles, words muffled against your warm skin, tongue circling around your clit as his pointer and middle finger keep pumping in and out. "Just let go honey."

And you do, moaning his name, hands tightening where they are tangled in his hair. Both of you are on cloud nine - your, from the heavenly orgasm and Patrick, from the sweet delight in your strained voice.

He remains in the bed next to you for a while, holding you and stroking your hair, while the conversation slowly dies. But the moment Patrick attempts to settle under the sheets, you kick him off, insisting on having to get up early in the morning.

"I don't get it, Y/N," Patrick huffs as he buttons up his pants, eyes roaming up and down over your bare figure while you reach for your nightie. "I make you cum so loud you might wake up the whole street and now you're kicking me out."

"I'm not kicking you out Patrick." you mumble, sliding into your slippers.

But Patrick doesn't buy your bullshit. "You are. And it's not the first time you're doing it."

He seems to see right through you, to know that you're perfectly capable of getting up early and performing your whole morning routine with him occupying your bed. No. There is more to that, much more that you're not telling him. And he wants so bad to have you tell him the truth.

"You could just let me stay here, y'know. I'm not a thief or something." Patrick continues, a half ironic smile on his face as he moves closer towards you. His hands find place on your hips and he pulls your back into his chest. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

Afraid? That is the lightest way to put it. Actually, you are beyond terrified, completely spooked by the idea of opening up to someone who used to be your best friend's boyfriend. To someone who's dick you're taking into your mouth multiple nights per week. And that is exactly where it has to end, that is where you have to set a clear boundary for Patrick to cross.

"Where was I ever afraid of you, Patrick?" you scoff, turning around in Patrick's arms. It almost breaks your heart when you are met with an unusually soft smile on his face, knowing damn well Patrick is interpreting this in a completely different way.

It's not that you don't want to love Patrick, no, quite the opposite. But you know the two of you wouldn't be able to last. Despite allowing to discover each other's gentle side and showing one another unusual forms of comfort that both of you clearly needed, you two are still so incredibly different.

Patrick Zweig is the epitome of chaos. While he's all heart, he has little to no sense of understanding in some situations that are important to you. In stark contrast to your gentle life, Patrick is reckless and hazards in various ways. Perhaps it fills his need for adrenaline, for being seen by large groups of people and adored for that big bad wolf persona he's built up during his years of tennis.

You, on the other hand, strive for a more gentle life. After all that you've experienced at your young age, you already feel burnt out, and can't really imagine the idea of shaking your ass at bars and clubs to loud music and getting wasted. What you need is comfort and someone who's on the same emotional level with you. And while Patrick can provide what you need, from time to time, you're afraid it won't be able to last. Hence the cold shoulder.

"Then why are you pushing me away constantly?" he presses, a small pout on his lips. His gaze drops to your own, desiring to taste you once again. "Can I kiss you?"

It pains you to refuse him. "Just go."

Over the next few days, Patrick sends you various messages, even attempts to call you. Your phone keeps beeping and vibrating, but you keep ignoring every single attempt of his, reminding yourself that it's for the better. Patrick will be alright, you're sure of it, he always is. He'll find a new girl - in a pub, on Tinder, anywhere - who he'll fall into and he'll reciprocate his feelings.

It comes off as a surprise when you bump into him one day in the grocery store, thinking he might be out of the city. After all, he rarely stays there, usually just coming to visit you specifically, staying for the night and then being gone for a few days.

"Y/N." a small smile tugs onto Patrick's lips as he sees you, eyes roaming over your form and groceries filled arms. "Need some help?"

"No, no, I'm good." with a shake of your head, you reject his advances and move forward, shoulder mildly bumping into his. Better to keep it simple.

"What the hell's your deal?" Patrick retorts, immediately moving after you. His voice rises, earning a glance from some people in the aisle, but that doesn't concern him.

You just shrug, an expression of indifference on your face. "Nothing."

A hand on your arm stops you and you're pulled back against Patrick. He manages to keep himself casual, the touch moving onto your lower back, so as not to draw any suspicion and he even swiftly catches a packaging of toast bread that slips from your hold. "Don't bullshit me, Y/N. You've been ignoring me for like two weeks. That's not like you."

"I'm not ignoring you." your eyes roll and you snatch the toast bread from his hands.

"You are, Y/N." he presses, gaze roaming all over your gruff expression. "Can't you just tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong Patrick, my god, just mind your own business."

You leave him in there, standing in the middle of the aisle, surrounded by strangers and his own miserable thoughts. Poor Patrick is clueless, unable to understand what the hell he has done to you for you to suddenly cross his name out like that.

The calls and messages get even worse, he's sending you one almost every minute there is a phone in his hands, eager for every form of contact.

Patrick: Y/N

Patrick: c'mon...

Patrick: don't ignore me bby

Patrick: i miss u

Patrick: ur my only girl

Patrick: ...

Patrick: i love you

He's an idiot. Probably drunk, you think when you reread the message for the hundredth time during one particular evening, eyes welling in your eyes the longer you stare at it. He surely can't mean it.

Patrick: fuck

Patrick: ignore that

Patrick: can i call u?

Patrick: text me pls

Patrick: i wanna see u

Patrick: :(

He's really getting desperate, considering just breaking the door to your apartment and pushing you against the nearest surface, forcing you to listen to whatever he has to tell you. And he actually went to your place, to the apartment you live in, but never went further than standing by the door. Oh, how he wanted to knock each time he was there. How much he wanted to see your face and hear your voice.

But you never respond, never react, trying to convince yourself you're doing what's best for you both. Perhaps you are naive, a bit too much, and in reality, your treatment only results in hurting both of you.

And Patrick can't fucking bear it anymore, so he actually musters up all his remaining courage and travels to your place once again. Marching up with determined footsteps, he approaches your apartment and knocks and knocks and knocks on the door until you eventually open it, half asleep.

"Patrick?"

"Y/N."

Your swift attempt to close the door ends in vain as Patrick basically pushes himself into your apartment, refusing to be shut down once again.

"We need to talk."

"Piss off." you respond with a mumble, voice coming out more hostile than you actually planned. With a shudder, you abandon him, not feeling like facing him at the moment. Because whatever is about to happen, it's bound to end up as a tragedy.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that." Patrick hisses in an aggrieved manner, following you to the living room. "You owe me at least an explanation."

You know you do. But you can't bring yourself to give him any. "I don't owe you anything, Patrick."

"You know damn well that you do. At least look me in the eyes when I'm talking to you." he's genuinely getting pissed off by your attitude. You always used to be so adamant on honesty, believing everyone deserves some form of a gentle treatment, and mainly to be told the truth. In your own words, people don't deserve to just be shut off. But here you are, doing the exact same thing you stand against.

When you refuse to listen to him, Patrick gets fed up. His hands grab your arms tightly - for the first time not attempting to be cautious or gentle - and just yanks you towards himself. Finally, his eyes meet yours, fully, both of you wearing equally tired expressions. It's no secret this has been tough for both of you.

"Can you listen to me for once?" he speaks softly, a glimpse of hope, accompanied by a light squeeze of your arms to keep your attention on himself.

"This is stupid, Patrick." you retort, eyes rolling in an attempt to ignore the sudden closeness of his presence. "Just stop. Go home or go fuck someone. Just go and be happy."

Patrick's expression drops upon hearing your words, mentally attempting to put one and one together to fully understand what you're attempting to convey. "Why are you pushing me away?"

His hold on your arms eases, allowing you to slip them out of his hold and step away. Almost on instinct, your palms come up to rub those two spots, not that they're sore or hurt, but you wish to wipe his touch away. "Cause it's better for both of us."

Finally, you admit to it, wanting to, slowly but surely, erase Patrick from your presence, from your life perhaps, as you've convinced yourself it shall ease the worries of both of you.

"What the fuck?" he scoffs, stepping closer once again. "How would that be better?"

"Because we can't continue with this, for fuck's sake. Patrick, we can't just fuck because we feel like it and-"

"Why not?"

"What?"

"Why can't we just fuck?" Patrick insists, approaching you fully. He corners you against the windowsill and rests his hands on it, caging you in.

You stare him in the eyes, lips parting as you search for an answer. Why couldn't the two of you just fuck? You're both single, no responsibilities and no people to remain loyal to. And you both enjoy the frequency of your encounters, knowing each other's bodies like the backs of your own hands, knowing exactly what the other person loves and despises. Your main priorities are to satisfy the other one, to make sure each one of you feels equally loved and accepted and comfortable in whatever this is. So why can't you just fuck?

"I wanna fuck you, Y/N." he presses further, leaning into your personal space, so close that the top of his nose brushes against yours. "I wanna fuck you and then I wanna hold you. I don't want you to push me away and just let me stay with you, even when you're all sweaty and messy."

"Patrick-"

"Don't. Just listen to me for once and shut up. Stop worrying for a goddamn minute and listen to me, hear me out when I tell you that I want to be with you every second of my life, that I want you in my arms, kissing me, looking at me and paying attention only to me. Not any other man."

"There's no other man." you interfere, eyes flicking between Patrick's to search for any hint of rationality.

"But there's no me either." he protests, voice raising. Fat from gentle, far from soft, there's not even that playful edge in his voice anymore. There is a hint of something dangerous hidden behind his blue eyes. "And I want there to be. Are you really that stupid to not see that I love you? That I wanna be with you and be your boyfriend? Want you to be my girl?"

"Patrick, I-" again, you attempt to say something, anything, but no words leave your mouth. Your whole mind is clouded by the sudden confession. He loves you? But...

It all connects all of a sudden, realising what he messaged you was intentional, was nothing but the sheer truth. All the little signs and hints. All the times he held onto you, clutched your bare body against his and desired to remain buried under the sheets with you. All the pouts and protests when you wouldn't let him stay, when you wouldn't engage in normal couple-ish activities that he wished so hard for. All the subtle touches, on your back, shoulders, face, stroking your cheeks and scratches on your back. These and so much more were visible, at least Patrick thought so. These were the hints Patrick was giving you, desperately hoping you'd pick up on it and notice how smitten he is with you.

"I love you, Y/N." he whispers, hands grabbing your face, too afraid you're gonna disappear from his grasp if he doesn't hold you tight enough. His thumbs graze your cheeks. "And I need to know if you love me too."

But do you? Can you afford to love Patrick, the man who was initially your best friend's boyfriend, the man you first fucked out of spite and in symbolic revenge and then found yourself caring too deeply for? Are you willing to be in a messy relationship that would undoubtedly completely alter the direction of your life?

"I don't know, Patrick."

"You don't know or you just don't wanna answer?"

He can see right through you, it's insane. It pains you that you've no idea how to decide, what to say, what to tell him. So you just shudder, attempting to cast a smile and ease Patrick's worries at least somehow. "I don't want us to get hurt."

"We won't." he promises, adamant on keeping it.

"How can you be so sure about it?" it's obvious you are doubting your possible relationship, knowing what kinds of people the two of you are.

"Because I love you."

#challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #josh o'connor #challengers x you #art donaldson #tashi duncan #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut #challengers x reader #patrick zweig angst #angst #request #send asks #ask #tennis

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mellonyheart · 11 months ago

Text

This is the most self projecting thing I've ever written because guess what my body gave me for Christmas? Yaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy. Fuck my life. I still had to cook Christmas dinner too.

Mammon x Reader, first person pov, sfw, swearing because fuck is my favorite word today, slight angst, probably poorly edited. Edit: forgot to add 'reader is fem bodied. Whoops. Edit2: Actually gender is meaningless here and Reader could just as easily be suffering from menstrual cramps or a chronic disease/condition. So gn? The point is Reader has cramps. It's not specified what kind. Only that they hurt bad enough to not be able to enjoy going out.

Fuck.

This wasn't how I wanted to spend my Christmas.

I was supposed to greet the boys at breakfast. We'd eat and hold back our excitement (some better than others) about the coming festivities. I was going to help with Christmas dinner. I was going to bake a truckload of Christmas cookies! We were going to decorate them together. It was going to be a chaotic blast! It wasn't supposed to end up like this....

Owww....

My body seemed to have other ideas as I was now confined to my room by cramps. It's not fair! As if it wasn't bad enough I can't be in my (real) room but the boys were out spreading Christmas cheer for the rest of Devildom without me. And I was really looking forward to it!

It was hard to fight the tears as I remembered how Solomon left early to help out in my stead. I hope they can keep him away from the kitchen. That would be a disaster. Were the brothers missing me? They were right?

I missed them. I missed the present. I missed being a part of their wild world. I miss Mammon.

And now I really am crying. In no small part from the pain in my belly as much as my heart. My phone was suspiciously quiet too. Were they busy? Did something happen? Crap... you never know in the Devildom. Something is always coming up. I wanted to be a part of it. Why was fate so cruel?

I rolled over, still dwelling on my miserable thoughts. The pain killer was barely working. If I ever find this Nightbringer person (demon? Angel? Whatever...) I'm going to give them an earful. Not that my current situation was their fault but it makes me feel (infinitesimally) better to blame the entity that put me here.

Knock knock

Nope. Don't even think about it Solo. I'm asleep and I'm not eating your "soup".

Knock knock

I'm sleeping. Go away.

I could have sworn I heard a curse on the other side of my door but it was too quiet to make out. Weird. Solomon didn't usually curse.

Bzzt

I got a text message.

Hey.

You awake?

It's cool if you're not.

The Great Mammon just thought it'd be a good idea to check in on ya. You should be grateful I'm such a nice guy.

Fuck!

Anyway...

Just thought I'd say Merry Christmas.

"Wait!" I shouted as I threw open my door and there was Mammon halfway down the hall looking back at me with a startled expression.

...Just in time for another cramp. Ow.

"So ya were awake! Hang on... are ya okay?!" Mammon rushed to back to me, likely noticing my distress. He helped me back to bed and as he tried to take a step back I held his sleeve. Such soft fabric... if I wasn't miserable right now I would complement his santa outfit. It was perfectly... him.

"Thanks Mammon. But uh... what are you doing here?" I had to know. Why couldn't I let myself just be happy that he was here?

"Is that any way to greet someone who came all the way here to see ya?! And look at ya... fallin' over and stuff. Wait. Does that make me a hero?"

"Sure. My Christmas hero. Doesn't answer my question though." How is it that he can make me smile so easily? That has to be a super power. Maybe he is a hero.

"Do I really need a reason to see ya?! Gimme a break would ya?!" He huffed. I could guess what he was really doing here. His golden heart was always clear to me.

"I'm glad you came. Thank you. I was actually getting pretty lonely." Honesty was easy with Mammon. Even if he couldn't be honest himself. He was blushing and looking away from me. Damn he was cute.

"Y-yeah... well I figured you'd be lonely without me. I mean... well it just sucks ya got sick on Christmas. It ain't right." And by all things holy and unholy he looked at me like he meant it. He did mean it. Mammon really could be ridiculously sweet. Maybe too sweet because I can feel the tears coming back.

"H-hey! I didn't mean to... I wasn't tryin' to..." Poor Mammon. He was panicking. I really did try to explain that it wasn't that he said something wrong. It was just hormones going a bit overboard. But talking is hard when you're trying not to sob because the demon you love is too sweet for his own good. So I just hugged him. Hard. If he wasn't a demon, probably too hard but how else can I express that I love him so much I want us to meld into one person? I'm emotional. Don't hold it against me.

Mammon tried to calm me down. He hugged me back and kept saying anything he thought would be soothing in his own Mammon way.

"Hey. Ya good?" He asked as I finally calmed. My eyes hurt.

"Yeah. I'm sorry Mammon. This probably wasn't what you had in mind when you came over." My face felt puffy and I could really use a snack and some hydration.

"Don't worry about it. Are ya sure you're okay?" Anyone who says Mammon only cares about himself is an idiot.

"Yes. You're the best Mammon. I really need you to know that." I wiped my face and attempted a normal, definitely not wet, smile.

"Come on... don't get all sweet on me. Oh! I almost forgot!" Mammon suddenly dashed back into the hallway. After a moment he came back with a small festively colored bag and a thermos. "Here. I got this for ya. I uh... wanted to give it to ya before the others got here."

"Hold on... the others?" I asked, bewildered.

"Aw crap... that was supposed to be a surprise! Ya gotta pretend to be surprised when the others call ya down. I was supposed to check how ya were feeling so we can throw ya a party downstairs. Ya know, because you probably don't feel like walkin' to the House of Lamentation or the castle. And then Solomon said you didn't want to teleport so..."

I should have known. I love them. All of them. And they love me. Of course they would try to plan a surprise party so that I didn't feel left out. I feel like the luckiest human of all time. Dumb hormones can't stop me from having a good Christmas.

"Mammon?" I interrupted him from his rambling.

"Huh? What is it?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"H-huh?! H-hold on! You haven't even opened your present yet!" Fuck he's cute when he blushes.

"Can I kiss you after I open my present?"

"S-sure, whatever you want! Just open it already!" Mammon pressed the bag in my direction as to put as much distance between it and himself. He looked at me expectantly.

Inside the bag was... cookies. Clearly handmade. They certainly weren't made or decorated by Luke or Barbatos. One was a touch burned.

"You made me cookies?" I asked.

"Tis' the season right? Look! That one is you and that one is me. I threw in a couple Christmasy shapes too. Ya gotta try 'em though!" He looked nervous despite sounding so excited. I bet he brought these privately because his brothers made fun of his amateur baking skills. And he made mini us!

I took a bite of a Christmas tree.

"It's good."

"Yeah?! I mean I tried extra hard to get the shapes right and Luke had to help me with the decoratin' but they look good right?!" He smiled like the first sunrise in Devildom. So I kissed him.

Then as he got flustered and admonished me for the surprise attack I made cookie us kiss too.

Marry Christmas.

#Bonus: the cookies were too sweet and swimming in dried frosting but the taste didn't matter #Kissing Mammon is sweeter anyway #Also the others got impatient and crashed their private party #obey me #obey me nightbringer #mammon supremacy #mammon obey me #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader

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justgleekout · 11 months ago

Text

The Purrfect Crime

Summary: Kurt and Blaine were, as you say, “partners in crime”, but like, in the opposite sense… They were a long standing duo at the CIA. Headquarters knew they worked best when they worked together, so they just always did.

On their most recent mission however, their professional partnership is being tested as they go undercover as a married couple.

Rating: T

Words: 3,625

Additional tags: Fake Dating, spies!klaine, Friends to Lovers, crack elements, I really tried to be funny, smitten!blaine, Pining, oblivious!kurt?, Or Is he?, Alternate Universe

Notes: This work is a secret santa gift to @spaceorphan18! Merry Christmas!

First of all, I know this is a little late and I'm so sorry! I was struggling (to say the least) to get this done on time. As you can see, this is chapter one, because I just couldn't finish the whole thing and I didn't want you to wait any longer. I was so busy with work it's litereally not funny. I was pulling days from 7am til 9pm at some point. Then, when I started writing my first idea, I came to the realisation that I was including a very significant trope that was the oposit of what you had written on your wish list, so I had to start over... my own stupid mistake. Then, to make matters even worse, I spilled soda all over my laptop and it broke down completely. So I had to continue writing on my phone and ipad with a broken keyboard (I do NOT reccomend). I know, excuses excuses. I'm just bummed I didn't get it done on time. Also I now have to buy a new computer...

All that aside! I hope you like what I've got so far! I got really excited when I saw you wanted spies!klaine! A trope I absolutely love! Just note that I have never really written crack before, but I tried my best to make it fun add many silly elements! And I promise there are a lot more to come in the next part!!

Chapter: 1/?

Read on Ao3

They walked up to the gates of what could only be described as a palace (if America had those). The long and broad driveway behind the gates lead to a building so large and fancy looking, Blaine instinctively straightened his bowtie and readjusted his cufflinks. He knew he looked the part. Headquarters never sent out their agents in anything less than appropriate attire, but he couldn’t help it. He then glanced over at Kurt, who looked like he was a regular at this place, clad in a striking powder blue suit that perfectly brought out the colour of his eyes- no, Blaine, you are on a mission and he is your friend. He had to remind himself more and more frequently of the fact that they were partners in the professional sense only. No matter how gorgeous Kurt looked and how kind he was and how many flirty remarks he made at Blaine.

“Did you get any information on what we are actually attending?” Kurt asked.

“No, chief Sylvester only gave me the location and this invitation.” Blaine held up a piece of royal blue parchment with a broken red and gold wax seal. The text on it was written in golden ink and read:

“ Dear guest,

Recently I received some incredible news concerning someone close to me that has enriched my life. I would like to share this news with you. Therefore, I hereby invite you to attend a celebratory party to join me in my glee on the evening of the 22nd of may at my residence. I would love to share with you a grand revelation that not even I know the outcome of. All that I will say is that it will be an evening full of surprises.

Sincerely,

Hunter Clarington”

“What do you think it means?” Kurt asked as he took the paper from Blaine to inspect it further.

“I don’t know. But he is clearly up to something. Chief Sylvester said they got a hold of this invite right after they found suspicious signals and radiation coming from the address. They tracked all the vehicles going in and out of the vicinity. All transporting materials to build some sort of weapon… a powerful one.”

Kurt worried his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded, mulling over the information.

Blaine couldn't help but stare at Kurt's mouth as he licked his lips in thought. Blaine swallowed thickly and his breath hitched for a moment.

Kurt eyed him a little suspiciously. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Are you?” Great save, Blaine. Clever.

Kurt shrugged. “A little, I guess.”

Blaine didn’t actually expect that answer. “What? Why? You’re never nervous .”

“Well I just don’t really fit in at these kinds of events… ”

Blaine frowned at Kurt. “What makes you say that?”

“Everyone here is rich, Blaine. I don’t know any of these etiquettes and inside jokes. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb…”

“Kurt, you are a spy for the CIA You are literally trained to fit in anywhere. I’ve seen you act. You’re a natural! And your suit looks incredibly expensive.” Better than mine anyways…

Kurt smiled at the compliment. “Thank you. I tailored it myself, actually.”

“A secret agent with secret talents. Seriously, Kurt, what can’t you do?”

“It’s not “Kurt” tonight, Remember?”

“Right. Yes. Sorry, Mr. Ralph Murray, what can’t you do?” Blaine said to Kurt with a smile.

“Some secrets I don't dare share, not even with you, Mr. George Murray, darling. ” Kurt winked at Blaine.

And there it was; the reason Blaine was nervous in the first place. Tonight Kurt and he were Ralph and George Murray, husbands of five years, millionaires, and most importantly, on the guest list. It wouldn’t be a hard part to play; Kurt’s husband. Blaine had played that part often enough in his head. But Kurt didn’t know that, and Blaine would rather eat his bowtie than have Kurt finding out and Blaine making a fool out of himself. He just couldn't help but blush at the pet name Kurt gave him.

Then, a sharp noise pierced his ear. Blaine flinched. This damn earpiece! And then a voice, “Hey guys, I’m glad to hear you are getting into character, but you better get in there. We have no clue where the signal is coming from within that building. And we need to find it fast.

Right. Blaine thought. The stakes were high tonight. The nation was in danger and it was their job to secure its safety. “We best get in, then.”

“Oh before you do, I have hidden some gadgets for you in that bush over there on the left side of the gate.”

“Hold up. You have hidden our top secret, highly dangerous gadgets… in a bush?” Kurt said exasperatedly into his earpiece.

“I figured they would be easily accessible…”

“Yeah. To literally everyone , Sam,” Kurt hissed.

“Oh… yeah…”

“Look, Sam, just tell us what you got us,” Blaine said as he crouched next to the bush, pushing the branches aside to reveal a suitcase. He opened it and Sam continued, “Alright. There is of course your trusted grenade pen, anaesthetic darts-watch and bulletproof handkerchief, but I have also added a few of my newest inventions.”

To this, Kurt shot Blaine an apprehensive look. They were a little too familiar with Sam's “ inventions” to say they were always a raging success. They looked into the suitcase and saw, beside their usual gadgets, something that looked like a small beauty case, an umbrella and a pair of sunglasses. “What the…” Kurt whispered under his breath.

Blaine frowned. “Sam, the event is inside… how are we supposed to casually pull out an umbrella or sunglasses?”

“You're worried about the sunglasses? How do you reckon we are gonna be able to pull off using a, what is this, a lipstick ?” Kurt said as he held up a small golden tube.

“I- hadn’t really thought about that,” Sam confessed.

Kurt looked like a vein was about to pop in his forehead as he pinched the skin between his eyebrows and pursed his lips.

“What do they do, Sam?” Blaine offered.

“Right, so, the umbrella is not only completely waterproof, it is also fire resistant and creates a perfect shield once unfolded. The sunglasses have infrared night vision and the lipstick is my personal favourite. It releases a toxic fume if you press that button on the back there, but that won't affect you when you are wearing the lipstick as it neutralises the toxins as they come close to it, so when you inhale, you're totally safe,” Sam said proudly.

Blaine had to admit the inventions sounded pretty incredible had they been more practical. “Alright,” he sighed. “Thank you, Sam.”

Kurt side eyed him and Blaine offered a shrug in return.

“Well, we’d better get going, now. We’ll tune back in when we need you, Sam,” Kurt said and tapped on his earpiece once to hang up. Blaine followed. “Honestly, I can’t with him sometimes. I know you guys are friends, but he sure gets on my nerves.”

Maybe Sam didn't always have the best ideas, but he really wasn't bad at his job. Blaine thought. “He tries his best, though. And he is actually really great once you get to know him,”

Kurt shook his head. “You’re too kind for your own good,” he said, but there wasn't any actual judgement in his voice.

Blaine smiled and the blush he was sporting a minute ago returned faintly to his cheeks.

They walked through the gate towards a grand wooden front door in front of which a big woman was standing behind a podium with her arms crossed. "Names?" she said as she was eyeing them up and down suspiciously.

Blaine put on his most charming smile. “George and Ralph Murray,” he responded.

She looked at the register in front of her and her expression changed. “Ah! Splendid!" Welcome to the Clarington residence. All guests are expected in the ballroom for the welcome speech at 8:00 pm sharp. In the meantime there will be beverages and appetisers served in the grand foyer. Please enjoy your evening Mr. and Mr. Murray.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said and nodded to the woman. They walked past her as the doors opened.

“Ballroom? Really?” Blaine whispered at Kurt as they made their way up the steps leading to the front door. “What is this place? Versaille?”

Kurt sniggered and gave Blaine a pointed look. “Play the part now, Blaine,” he said as they stepped over the threshold.

They entered an incredible marble room with two grand staircases with golden railings on each side. Large pillars reached to the high ceiling on which, in the middle, hung an enormous crystal chandelier. Blaine’s mouth fell open and he heard Kurt release a low whistle. They quickly pulled themselves together as they were approached by a young handsome waiter. “Welcome, gentlemen. Can I offer you a drink? A glass of champagne perhaps? Cocktail?”

“I’ll have an old fashioned, thank you.” Kurt said with a confident, charming smile. See? Blaine knew Kurt had nothing to worry about. He was a natural. Blaine might have come from money, but Kurt just radiated class.

“For me a negroni, please. Let’s save the champagne for later after the great announcement, don't you think?” Blaine said with a wink.

The young man blushed. “Certainly, sir.”

“Say, do you happen to know anything about this speech?” Blaine asked him.

The waiter's eyes grew wide for a second. “I- I’m sorry sir, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Blaine gave the waiter an understanding smile. The young man bowed his head gratefully and dashed away to get their drinks.

Blaine leaned into Kurt’s side, “You reckon he didn't know? Or he didn’t want to say?” he asked.

“Not sure… Would you share your secrets with the waiting staff?”

“I don’t know. I never had waiting staff.”

“Hm.” Kurt gave him a considering look that lingered a bit too long. It made Blaine feel a little hot in the face.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Kurt shrugged. “I’m just trying to paint a picture of you.” When Blaine didn't respond immediately he added, “It's a good picture, don't worry.” There was something suggestive in the way Kurt spoke. Blaine looked at him as if to try figuring him out. Kurt was just good at playing his part. Blaine told himself. Though no one was looking at them at the moment so there was no direct reason for it.

“Let's ask around some more, shall we?” Kurt suggested, breaking the tension.

"Yeah. Good plan.”

The young waiter had returned with their drinks and they started moving through the crowd. They asked multiple people if they had any idea what they were doing here, but no one seemed to know or want to tell them anything.

“This is hopeless. We are wasting valuable time.” Blaine slumped against one of the pillars.

Kurt opened his mouth to respond but Blaine motioned for him to be quiet when he heard a woman speak; “See, I told you he was weird. Who hosts a party for their cat?”

They turned to look where the voice came from. A latina woman with long dark hair in a fitted, red, velvet dress was talking to another woman. This one with blond hair styled in a stylishly messy updo and a mint green dress.

“I would,” the blonde woman said solemnly. “And I have in the past.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. You’re cute about it.” The dark haired woman flirted and the blonde one gave her a quick kiss.

“Excuse me,” Blaine piped in.

The dark haired woman gave him a once over, clearly judging him.

“George Murray, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand and the woman took it with only slight reluctance. “This is my husband, Ralph Murray.” He gestured to Kurt who then also shook the woman’s hand. Blaine noticed that the look she gave him was a lot less disapproving. Though Blaine couldn't blame her when Kurt was wearing that suit.

“Santana Lopez,” the dark haired woman introduced herself. “This is Brittany Pierce.”

The men shook Brittany's hand as well. “I’m sorry, we just couldn’t help but overhear… Do you happen to know what this event is for?”

“I’ve only heard rumours,” Santana said.

“I see. Where did you get these rumours from?” Blaine asked.

Santana crossed her arms. “Well aren’t you the little detective. What's it to you, anyways?

“Just nosy.” Kurt’s smile turned a little more devious than polite, matching her energy.

“They say it’s his cat’s birthday, but that doesn’t explain the great announcement. Maybe his cat got nominated for an award.” Brittany said

Kurt and Blaine looked at each other in disbelief, and back at the women. “You can’t be serious,” Kurt said.

Santana crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Deadly.”

“He can't be that passionate about a cat?”

“Wanna bet?” Santana challenged. “How do you think we know him?”

The men shrugged.

“We know him from cat shows.” Santana rolled her eyes. “Brittany’s cat, Lord Tubbington, often runs against his cat, Mr. Puss. So believe me when I say people are passionate about their cats. Anyways if you really wanna know, we heard it from Sebastian Smythe.”

“Who is that?”

“He is one of Hunter's closest friends .” She grinned as if to imply something.

“Do you think Hunter told him about his plans for the night?” Blaine asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.

“I’m sure he did. I overheard them talking about half an hour ago. Something about ‘getting it ready in the basement.’ ” She shrugged.

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a meaningful look. “Do you know how we can get in there?” Kurt asked.

“I'm sure Sebastian has a keycard to the elevator. But hold up, why do you want to know so bad?”

“Never mind that. What does he look like; Sebastian?” Kurt asked.

Santana smirked. “Oh you can’t miss him.”

Brittany then took Santana's hand and whispered something in her ear. They giggled. “Look we’d love to stay and chat, but we, er, we gotta go.” Santana said before she was pulled away by Brittany. Santana managed to add a “good luck” as they disappeared into the crowd.

“What do we do now?” Blaine sighed. “We have no clue where to find this Sebastian character,”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Kurt said and pointed over Blaine’s shoulder.

Blaine turned to look, and there, in the middle of a group of people, stood a handsome man who was clearly the centre of attention. The people around him were laughing at his jokes and basically fawning over him. “You reckon that’s him?” Blaine asked.

“ Oh my god, Sebastian! You didn’t!” one of the guys closest to him laughed and flirtily touched the man’s arm.

Sebastian petted the guy’s hand and smirked. “You should hear what I did with his father,” he said and winked at the woman next to him. The people around him all laughed.

Blaine snorted. “Well that answers that,” he said.

“He looks incredibly obnoxious,” Kurt said and narrowed his eyes. “He is flirting with literally everyone in his little group.” He grimaced.

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage?” Blaine thought out loud. However he didn’t really feel like watching Kurt chat up another man. He would just have to do it himself. “I will go and talk to him!”

“Wait, maybe-” but before Kurt could protest, Blaine had stepped into the circle of people. Sebastian's eyes were immediately on him.

“Well hello handsome,” Sebastian said and extended his hand towards Blaine. “I don’t think we’ve met. You look like someone I wouldn’t easily forget.” He grinned.

Despite his better judgement, Blaine blushed. The man was handsome, alright. And definitely charismatic, judging by the effect he had on the people around him. “We haven't. My name is George Murray. Are you Sebastian Smythe?” Blaine asked as he shook the man’s hand.

“Matter of fact I am. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I was talking to some friends of mine and you sounded… interesting” Blaine smiled a what he hoped was a seductive smile.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow and turned away from Blaine for a second to make a dismissive gesture to his followers. “Could you give us a moment please?”

The small crowd looked annoyed, some even jealous, but they obeyed, leaving the two men to themselves. Sebastian turned back to Blaine “Interesting, hm?” he grinned.

Now that they were talking Blaine realised he didn’t actually have a solid plan. He couldn’t straight up ask Sebastian to give him the key. He would never just hand it over. Maybe Blaine could convince Sebastian to take him to the basement? But he needed Kurt with him. So he had to think of something else.

“They said you were close friends with the host,” Blaine said, trying to imply exactly whatever Santana was implying before. “I can see why he would like you,” he flirted. Apparently this was the right move, as Sebastian looked him up and down let his gaze rest on Blaine’s mouth.

Sebastian leaned in closer. “You’re cute, George Murray. How come I’ve never seen you before?”

“I- I’m usually very busy with eh- work. Don’t-“ Blaine swallowed. “Don’t often have time for parties.” Out of the corner of his eye Blaine noticed movement. He glanced over Sebastian's shoulder and saw that Kurt was miming something. “Back pocket!” He mouthed. What about his back pocket? Wait. Sebastian’s back pocket! The keycard was in sebastians back pocket!

Sebastian, who luckily didn’t seem to have noticed anything, spoke again, “Ah, so you're Mr. Professional, hm? Do you always obey the rules or are you capable of letting loose every once in a while?”

“Er, yeah sure,” Blaine said semi on auto pilot. How the hell was he supposed to get the key-card from Sebastian’s pocket? “What about you?” he asked. “Are you a rule breaker?”

“You could say that,” Sebastian quipped.

Blaine laughed. He needed to get very close and personal with this man but whilst he was doing so, he might as well find out some more information.

“I was wondering,” Blaine said and trailed his finger over Sebastian’s chest. “As you’re such a bad boy, would you mind telling me what tonight is all about?” Blaine looked up through his eyelashes.

Sebastian inhaled through his teeth. “Oh babe, I can’t tell you that. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“I thought you didn't play by the rules.”

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me where we can have a little more privacy and I can tell you all you want to know.” Sebastian said and slipped an arm around Blaine’s back.

This was his chance. He could take it now and Sebastian wouldn't notice. He just didn’t know how to get out of the situation once he made his move. Blaine looked over his shoulder in search of Kurt and found him looking at them. Blaine gave him a quick pleading look, hoping Kurt would understand. Here goes nothing. He put his hand on Sebastian's back and slid it down to rest over his butt. “Sounds amazing...” Blaine felt the card in Sebastian's pocket. “...but I forgot to mention…” He slid his fingers into the pocket over the card, trying to pull it off as a caress, and as he retreated his hand he pulled the card out. Got it. “...that I'm married.”

As if on cue, Kurt stepped in front of them. “Darling! There you are! I was looking for you.” He smiled a bit too sweetly at Blaine. “Who’s our new friend?” he asked and shot a murdering look at Sebastian.

“Woah, what the hell?” Sebastian took a step back, letting go of Blaine.

Blaine quickly slipped the key-card into his own pocket and stepped closer to Kurt. “Ralph, honey, this is Sebastian. He is a close friend of Hunter’s. Sebastian, this is my husband, Ralph Murray.”

“Husband? Wow,” Sebastian said. “Was not expecting that.”

Kurt held out his hand. “Pleasure,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sebastian took Kurt’s hand and shook it once.

Kurt turned to Blaine again. “Well it’s almost 8 o’clock. We should get going, darling.”

“Right.” Blaine nodded. “Maybe we can talk later?” he offered innocently to Sebastian as if nothing had happened. “It was very nice meeting you.”

“Sure was,” Sebastian said and winked at Blaine, clearly recovered from the initial shock. “I am looking forward to seeing you again, George.”

Kurt then pulled Blaine away by his hand through the crowd, leaving Sebastian behind.

“Thank you for saving me,” Blaine said once they had found a quiet corner.

“You didn't really seem like you needed saving,” Kurt said coldly.

“What do you mean? If you hadn’t shown up, I wouldn’t have been able to get away!”

“I mean, ” Kurt said. “It didn't seem like you had such a terrible time with him. I know you needed to get the card, but how are we supposed to come across as a happily married couple when you are feeling up all the other guests.” He crossed his arms defensively.

Blaine stared at Kurt for a second. Then it dawned on him. “Wait, Kurt, are you jealous?”

“No,” Kurt snapped.

“Oh my god, you are totally jealous.”

Kurt’s cheeks turned red. “Shut up, I'm trying to take this mission seriously. Did you at least get the key?”

Blaine couldn't help but grin as he presented it. “Got it right here.”

“Great. Let's go try it out before he finds out it’s missing. We need to get to the basement before it’s 8 o’clock.”

#klainesecretsanta2023 #glee #klaine #my fics #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfiction #spies!klaine

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philaet0s · 3 months ago

Text

First Line Analysis

thanks for the tag @run-for-chamo-miles

RULES: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions

I love this idea, I love first lines, I'm generally careful about the first line of my fics because I know that when I read books, the opening line is very important to me. I want to be drawn in

Lines

(from most to least recent)

"Look, we all have guilty pleasures." from @bazpitchsirlbf

"Hey, you’re alone this weekend right?" (text message) from Performances

"I sit up, Fiona’s taste still on my lips." from A Sexually Explicit Kind of Love Affair

"I like packing Snow’s lunch." from Simon's Girlfriend

"(11:23 PM) hey, who’s this?" (text message) from You Look Better in This Light

"I’ve never been good at packing bags." from Hold on to the Memories

(if you go to my ao3 profile and look at my most recent fics there are fics between these two but I don't 'count' them because they're follow ups to another fic)

7. "I think my leg is broken." from The Worst Kind of Good

8. "The kettle is on, the bread is in the toaster, Baz is already sitting down, reading the news on his phone." from How To Make Christmas Merry

9. "Agatha’s goats, like, comment -babies❤️-, scroll, Shepard’s monthly photo dump, like, comment –🔥-, scroll, the baby of some girl I went to secondary school with, scroll, Penny’s new vivid blue hair, like, comment -YOU LOOK SO GOOD OMG💙-, scroll, some group picture, scroll, glasses on the table of a bar, scroll." from Made Your Mark On Me

10. "This whole thing started, like many incidents happening at Watford, with Snow’s uncontrollable magic." from Wanna Know That Body Like It's Mine

Analysis

So clearly I like starting with short sentences, as a majority of those are short sentences. I also have a tendency of starting in medias res or with something that's supposed to catch the attention of the reader.

+ looking at the first lines like this I'm noticing that I do seem to introduce 'important' themes/plot points from the fic in the first line

1. 'guilty pleasure' + the sentence is written in a way that has simon adressing the audience, like he addresses his followers in the fic

3. focus on sex, like how Ebb and Fiona's relationship revolves around it in the fic + Ebb is the one who pleasured Fiona, not the other way around, set up for how Ebb is always bending over backwards to please Fiona with hardly any reciprocation

4. Baz packing Simon's lunches is the trigger for Simon talking about his 'girlfriend' at work + Baz does something for Simon that is traditionally done by a woman for her partner, so he 'takes on' that feminine roll that Simon pretends he has in their relationship when he doesn't say that it's not a girlfriend he has but a boyfriend to his colleague,

5. simon technically knows the person the phone number belongs to because he wouldn't have a phone number from a stranger written down on his notebook, but he doesn't *actually* know who it is, which mirrors the way he thinks he knows baz but *truly* gets to know him through their text messages in the fic,

6. this one can't possibly be perceived by someone reading the fic, but when i wrote it i was giggling to myself because i liked the idea of having baz struggle with 'packing bags' a lazy metaphor for moving on (you know, that overused image of a packing your things and leaving a situation), because that boy LIVES with everything that has ever happened to him burdening him constantly, while having simon speedrun through 'moving on' because he just doesn't think about bad things (he doesn't think about Ebb's death until Baz comes in with all that literal and metaphorical emotional bagage for him -he literally packed something for Simon that is very emotionally-charged and brings back difficult memories)

7. Simon thinking coldly and rationally about a broken leg, because that's something he's used to (doesn't freak him out and anymore) and that he therefore knows (can tell that his leg is probably broken), which is a consequence of the way the Mage treats him like a weapon

8. the general notion of domesticity + setting up the sweet, fluffy mood of the fic

Tagging anyone who wants to do this!!

#fanfiction #snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow

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gutsybitsies · 2 years ago

Text

It started with a Christmas card.

Well, it started with Hazel and Nico's Christmas Card.

It went like this: The first year after Hazel retired as praetor and enrolled in a university, she was in a photography club and created Christmas cards of her and Nico. They sent it out to the rest of their friends, captioning it "From the family of Di Angelo Levesques to yours, Merry Christmas!"

That went on for three years until someone proposed (they proposed simultaneously), and Nico's tears ran down his cheeks with no abandon as he walked Hazel down the aisle and off into the arms of Frank. As Frank's best man, Jason had to fight the urge to gather him up in a hug and hold him until Nico stopped crying.

He did just that later in their hotel room (someone had booked a single room for the both of them, how strange).

Now, two months until Christmas, Hazel was planning a bigger Christmas card. Her, Nico, and Frank.

But maybe. Also Jason?

"So." Frank pulled up a book on how to talk smoothly. "I think you casually go up to Nico."

"Yes?"

"And say. Hey, since we're adding Frank to the Christmas card this year, should we do a thing where Frank and Jason wear matching outfits?" Frank suggested. "Just slide it in, assume that Jason's going to be in the card."

"Would that work?" Hazel asked. "What if he asks me why Jason would be in the card? Frank, they gave us separate wedding presents! Not a joint present!"

"But I don't want to hurt Jason's feelings by having a card with just us and Nico!"

"But they gave us separate presents!"

"Jason's feeling!"

"It's not like I haven't talked to him about this," Hazel said. "He tells me he's not ready for it."

"Which is unfair to Jason," said Frank. He doesn't understand why Nico was dragging his feet. "This is why Jason's being obtuse about it as well."

"Well hold on. Maybe Nico says he's not ready because Jason is oblivious. He wasn't exactly Mr. Romantic with Piper."

The two of them agreed to disagree on their first major argument since the honeymoon, and tabled the discussion for later.

Frank found himself the victor though, as three days later he saw a text (from your Hephaphone to theirs! Ready for the internet? Want to send silly images? The latest Hephaphone is monster proof!) from Hazel to Nico that read <So when are you and Jason going to come over for the Christmas card shoot?>

Nico hasn't sent a response yet.

Unbeknownst to Frank, Nico is off having his third existential crisis in a year.

A few years ago, exactly a year after he and Jason decided to move in together to save on rent, Jason invented the idea of a friend cuddle.

The reason? Heating is expensive, and so why not share a blanket on the couch, and also share body heat in the meantime.

Nico, as the son of the literal god of wealth, said yes of course that makes perfect sense, we can't afford to spend that much on heating! We can friend cuddle while we play wii sports together in the winter. Sometimes Jason would wrap him up in his arms and cuddle against the warm, designer sofa while they watch Milf Manor. Sometimes they switch and Jason is the little spoon and they take a nap listening to the D.C. traffic.

Most of the time, Jason travelled across the country, and Nico travelled across the world. Half the time they're not even in their "bachelor pad", its residents flitting across the world performing feats of heroism (or other more mundane tasks nowadays, thankfully). It functioned as a safehouse for other demigods, the guest bedroom permanently in a state of welcoming for wandering teenagers in need of a break.

That was the only reason why, when the two of them were in D.C together, they share a room. Because of course they can't afford a three bedroom apartment in D.C.! And of course, they have separate beds, because bros room together all the time.

Okay, fuck that. Yes, they were more than bros and maybe Nico and Jason both enjoyed cuddling each other in a more than platonic but less than Romantic way and if Nico could spend the rest of eternity not having to Deal with trying to come to grips with trying to define this relationship and possibly breaking the great balance they have. That would be great, thank you.

His father in the Underworld seemed to want to do just that, like every other time he changed Nico's world.

"So. My dad just bought me a house," There it was, the dream. Nico di Angelo was a homeowner now. "It's near the weed dispensary, the neighborhood that always smell like Amsterdam, we looked at it once, remember?" Back when they had first decided to rent a place together, because adulthood meant stepping out and getting a place on your own, meant stepping outside the box where you never felt like you belonged and finding someplace you did.

It was a choice between a large place in a tough neighborhood (with lots of room, a lot of space!), or a small place in a nice neighborhood (tight quarters, not much space to move around). And well. Of course a nice neighborhood is better, right? Because of....safety issues.

"Oh," Jason absorbed the knowledge, he looked at Nico and could almost see the frenzy of thoughts that were chasing around in his head. He could almost see the sentence You can have your own room again, before he wrapped his arms around Nico from behind. "That would be a good place to bring demigods on the run, or on quests. Teenagers need a lot of space, and it's in a neighborhood with a lot of mortal smell. Much better than this place, we should thank your dad."

"....Right." Nico calmed down. "I mean, we can't deprive the teens of a really great safehouse."

"No, of course not," Jason rested his chin on Nico's shoulders and blew a puff of air into his ears. "Can't do that at all, that would be too selfish."

"I love-" Nico stopped, "how great, this situation turned out to be. For the kids."

It was the third time this year Nico almost said I love you, and Jason counted that as a win.

"I love that, too."

Nico looked at Jason, so comfortable in the moment. So soft, sometimes he was so sure that Jason would kiss back. Most of the time he was scared of what would happen if Jason didn't. Either way, there was no way the two of them are moving into a new, more spacious place.

No changes needed.

His Hephaphone beeped again, with Hazel's message.

.....Some changes were apparently can't be stopped.

Nico and Hazel were family, and they appear on Christmas cards together. Well, now Frank was family, with Hazel. And by all rules of convention he and Hazel should send their own Christmas card. Except Hazel wants Nico in there.

Which would leave Jason out of the picture, officially. That didn't sit right with Nico.

Frank, Hazel's husband, matching together on a Christmas card with his brother in law's......best friend. Roommate.

nico.di.angelo.exe stopped working for the fourth time that year, then started working up again. It's a very normal thing. Jason is just like family, so of course he'd fit in the Christmas card. In fact, he should've been in Nico and Hazel's Christmas card from the beginning. Technically they were cousins! Immediately Nico recoiled from the cousin thought and gagged inside. No, not cousins. Just found family, best friends, something more something less. And that works perfectly fine.

That was how Jason and Frank found themselves cosplaying as Santa's reindeer with a grumpy Nico and ecstatic Hazel dressed up as two different Santas.

First, a photo of Frank of Jason sitting in front of a sleigh, with Hazel and Nico holding the reins of the sleigh. Then, the photographer wanted "the two couples" to have one person piggyback the other. The last time Jason carried Nico on his back was a couple of months ago that year, when Nico twisted his ankle and just had to be carried everywhere for an entire week. Jason couldn't let his best friend just limp around like a sad sack!

Nico nestled against Jason's neck and ghastly smiled at the camera, just like all of his cute ghoulish smiles in the other pictures. Jason couldn't wait to see the pictures. Is it normal to be dazzled by the cuteness of something that looked creepy? Because he felt that everyday. His roommate looks creepy and it is incredibly cute.

After the photoshoot, as Hazel and Jason poured over the photographs, Jason picked out his personal favorites as Hazel picked hers.

"I'd like that one printed and framed," He said, pointing to one where he and Frank were holding Hazel and Nico in their arms in princess carries. "This one is nice, too." It was a piggyback carry, and he'd adjusted Nico without warning, surprising him into grabbing onto the antlers he was wearing on his head. "Actually, how much would cost for you to send me the rest of the photos digitally?"

"Nico!" Jason called out, "We should hang this next to the T.V."

Nico came by to look at the photos that Jason picked out. He looked really happy, he was used to looking and being happy recently, for the past few years. There he was, and there Jason was, next to his sister and her husband. A family.

"Yeah," he said softly. "It'd look great."

"We should pick some out for the new house, too," Jason said. "I'd ask Leo and the other Hephaestus kids for some defense mechanisms to put there. We can finally call in our favors, have a housewarming registry."

Frank not so subtly pulled Hazel away from the warm and bubbling atmosphere forming around Jason and Nico.

He mouthed to her Just like our wedding gift registry!!!!!!

Hazel screamed silently and mouthed back It's finally happening!!!!!!!

"It'd be a great thing," Jason said, "For them kids and teens, of course."

Nico jolted. "Yeah, for the kids, and the teens."

But even more than usual, he felt the urge to lean up against Jason, so he did.

#jasico #jason grace #nico di angelo #hazel levesque #frank zhang #pjo #omg they were roommates #slowest of burns #my fic

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bitchinbarzal · 2 years ago

Note

“Character A and Character B broke up, but now they meet at a Christmas party.” With roope hintz please 🤍

When Esa had invited you to his Christmas party you declined.

He insisted, claiming that Clara just wouldn’t be happy if you didn’t come.

“Esa, no I can’t-“

“You can! You absolutely can! You are saying no”

You told him you would think about it but you didn’t have time to think before Clara had text you saying she was so happy you’d decided to come.

Clara had been most heartbroken when you and Roope split up. It was hard moving to a new country, trying to learn a new language and fitting in with the other wags.

When you began dating Roope you’d taken it upon yourself to learn Finnish which you used to speak to Clara, Esa, Miro and Joel too. They all felt a little bit more relaxed around you.

She spent the following weeks glaring and throwing around Finnish swears at him.

When the day came around for the party you were late. On purpose. You didn’t want to be a focus, you wanted to slip in and be unnoticed see the Lindell’s and go.

That idea was launched out of the window when you arrived and Tyler yelled across the room “She hath arrived!”

You laughed “Segs, how much eggnog have you drank?”

His eyes went wide “Can sober me not be excited to see you?! But… just a little bit”

You shimmied out of his hug and found your way to the couch where Esa and Clara were sat. Her eyes light up when she sees you.

“You came!”

“Of course, Hauskaa joulua!” merry christmas

She beamed “oh I miss you so much, come see Astrid she’s getting so big you’re missing it all!”

Esa handed off the baby to you, the little girl had you wrapped around her finger. Not quite wanting to let go.

Parents were grateful, Clara and Esa used that as an excuse to go mingle. You happily walked around with the baby saying hello to people.

Subconsciously, you looked for him

He wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Maybe he was with a new girl? On a date? He didn’t want to come because he knew you would be there?

That thought was slowly disrupted when Astrid began crying.

You knew where her bottle was so instead of finding Clara you did it yourself.

The kitchen was empty, just you and Astrid. The room was silent bar her little sucking sounds.

You were swaying her, in an attempt to get her to sleep. Spinning around and around abruptly stopping when someone in the door cleared their throat.

“Jesus! You scared me!”

He chuckled “Nice dance moves”

“Don’t sneak up on someone holding a baby!”

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you weren’t paying attention�� you rolled your eyes at that one.

It was then it settled in that you were in the same room, he was standing in front of you.

“How have you been?”

You sighed “Roope we don’t have to-“

“I just wanted to know how you’ve been, Miro said you hadn’t been going for your weekly coffee lately”

“Yeah well I don’t need to learn Finnish anymore, I mean I only did it for you”

You hadn’t meant to snap, it just came out.

“Kulta…”

You put your hand up to stop him “No, please don’t-“

“Please just let me explain myself”

“I don’t want to hear it Roo, the time is gone please just leave it”

You walked past him but he caught your elbow, your eyes rising to meet his “Kulta.. please”

His voice was broken, he was broken.

You reluctantly nodded “Okay, speak”

He let out a deep breath “I was scared, okay? And I know that’s silly but you were learning Finnish, you were doing things for the team, my family? It was a lot and I was scared! I loved you, I still love you! I was nervous I couldn’t give you what you deserve-“

“Don’t you think I was the one to make that decision?! That I had a say in our life?”

He nodded, meekly “you should have, I was wrong and I know now I made the wrong decision I regret it! I’ve waited so long for the time I see you again”

Your breath caught in your throat “Roo..”

“Please, please Kulta tell me you still love me too. That I didn’t screw it all up” his hand reached up to your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear rolling down your cheek.

“I still love you and I shouldn’t but I do. Fuck, Roope I can’t do this all again you broke my heart”

“And i will never ever make that mistake again”

Your lip quirked in a smile, he leaned down and kissed you quick.

“Minä rakastan sinua” i love You

“Say it again” you mumbled, having missed the words.

“Minä rakastan sinua”

You smiled, happy tears now rushing down your cheeks.

The happy moment was ruined when Clara announced “It’s a Christmas miracle!”

Most of the team was stood watching what had just happened, you blushed in embarrassment.

Roope shrugged while Esa took his daughter from your arms “Let me just take this little cock block back”

You laughed “I think a thank you actually goes to Astrid, this was all her”

Roope smiled, leaning over to his god-daughter “kiitos pikku pupu” thank you little bunny

The rest of the night you weren’t found far from Roope. His hands always had to be on you.

“I just got you back, I’m not letting go anytime soon”

#lulu’s christmas party

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 11 months ago

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 16: The Yuletide Challenge (3/3)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 2818

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma heard her phone ding, announcing an incoming text, and she smiled to herself. She’d bet money she knew exactly who was texting her; they’d been texting back and forth more or less every day since she’d helped him decorate his place. She certainly didn’t want to think about it too closely, but she found herself looking forward to Killian’s texts. He was funny…and thoughtful…and an idiot all wrapped up in one smoking hot package.

If the idea wasn’t so completely ludicrous, she��d say she was starting to fall for him. But, of course, that was ridiculous.

Emma glanced down at her phone and read her waiting text.

Killian: Morning Swan! Tick-tock. Nearly Christmas week, and I’ve yet to receive my third act of kindness. ;-)

She quickly sent off a reply.

Emma: Um, actually I just did you an act of kindness. You texted me at 7 in the freaking morning, and I didn’t threaten murder.

He responded with a series of emojis that made her bark out a laugh.

Emma: Fine. I’m free this weekend. What (PLATONIC) good deed do you want this time?

Killian: You had to tack on “platonic”, didn’t you? :(

Emma: Lol, I know you, Killian Jones, and I’m not walking into any more innuendo.

After a bit more nonsense in text message form, Killian asked her to stop by his apartment on Saturday afternoon, and they could decide from there just what her third act of Yuletide cheer would be.

Accordingly, at 2:00 pm sharp, Emma knocked on Killian’s door, waiting with more anticipation than she would have expected for her new…whatever he was…to answer. When he finally did, she was not disappointed. Her stomach swooped at the sight of those deep, blue eyes, the delighted smile that lit up his face.

And then she noticed what he was wearing and barked out a laugh. He’d covered his normal jeans and button down with a large apron that said “kiss the cook”.

“So are we baking today?” Emma asked as she stepped inside and let him help her off with her coat. “Because if we are, I can guarantee you my contribution will not be an act of kindness.”

He chuckled. “Nonsense, darling. Anyone can bake Christmas cookies, and I could desperately use your help. I must have four dozen completed before tomorrow.”

“Four dozen?” she asked with a grin, “sounds like someone’s chasing a sugar high. What the hell are you going to do with four dozen cookies?”

“They aren’t for me, Swan,” he said, looking curiously uncomfortable. “I’ve made rather a tradition of baking cookies for the children at the group home each Christmas.”

That was…really sweet. “I didn’t take you for such a philanthropist. What made you start that tradition?”

“Seemed only good form,” he said, busying himself with grabbing sugar and flour and the other assorted ingredients he would need. “My brother and I lost our parents quite young and we were in and out of establishments of the sort for years. Perhaps I see this as a small way to give back for what Mother Blue and her nuns did for us.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Emma said, taking the apron he handed her and pulling it over her head. “You gonna see him for Christmas?”

His face fell. “He…died. In the same accident that took my girlfriend and my hand,” he said thickly.

The pain radiated off of him in waves, and Emma felt like a terrible person. Stepping toward him, she laid her hand atop his on the kitchen island. “I’m sorry, Killian. I didn’t mean to open old wounds.”

He turned his hand over and laced it with hers, giving a little squeeze, before finally meeting her eyes. “No need to apologize, love. The truth is…I wanted you to know. Perhaps if I talk of it I can finally, truly heal.”

Emma looked down at their joined hands, feeling the oddest sense of belonging at the simple gesture. Her heart turned over, humbled at the idea that he’d entrust her with one of the worst memories of his life. “Well what are Yuletide good deed doers for?” she asked, her voice far breathier than she’d anticipated.

“What indeed?” he asked softly, looking at her with such a look of tenderness it made her want to run away…or fly into his arms, one or the other.

“Anyway,” she said, taking a quick step back, “what about all those cookies we need to bake?”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian pulled the last sheet of cookies from the oven and set it on the potholder on his counter before turning back to his guest. Her hair was a mess, she had a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, a smudge of flour on her cheek…and she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

There was no denying it anymore. He was falling in love with her. He didn’t know what stroke of good luck convinced her to choose him for this challenge of her family’s, but he was profoundly grateful she had.

“That the last of them?” Emma asked as she finished decorating the last sugar cookie.

“Aye,” he answered. “We’ll give them a few moments to cool, and then we can give them a few finishing touches.”

Emma turned to face him. “You know, Killian, I’ve never had any success in the kitchen, but this afternoon has actually been fun.”

“It has, hasn’t it,” he said with a tender smile. “However, it seems you’re wearing nearly as much flour as went into our cookies.”

He reached up before he could stop himself, cupping her cheek and smoothing away the flour with the pad of his thumb. Time seemed to stand still for a long moment, neither of them saying a word, both staring intently at the other.

And then she moved. Grabbing his lapels, she pulled his lips down to hers, kissing him as though her life depended on it. He hesitated for less than a heartbeat before matching her kiss for kiss, letting all his pent-up feelings have free reign as their mouths melded, their tongues tangled.

The heady feel and taste of Emma Swan was intoxicating, and Killian would have gladly spent hours kissing her, but much too quickly for his liking, she pulled away, breathing hard.

“That was…” Killian whispered, not sure there was an adjective in the English language powerful enough to describe what had just happened between them.

“A one-time thing,” Emma said, quickly stepping back.

Killian looked up, surprised, and found in her eyes not the awe and wonder and love he was feeling, but something akin to fear.

“Swan…” he began, hardly knowing what he meant to say.

She’d already taken off her apron and was moving toward the door as quickly as she could. “I have to go.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“I kissed him,” Emma said quickly, hearing the panic in her voice, unable to control it.

She hadn’t known what to do, where to go, how to calm herself, so she went to the only people she trusted, her family. Mary Margaret had taken one look at her, ushered her inside, and then promptly made her hot chocolate with cinnamon. It was only after a few sips of the sweet, comforting brew that Emma was able to relax enough to breathe again.

“Um…who?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Killian,” Emma said. “I kissed Killian, you know the guy I decided to do the good deeds for?”

Emma could see the excitement Mary Margaret was desperately trying to hide. “Why?” she asked, affecting a casualness Emma knew she didn’t feel.

“I don’t know!” Emma said with a shrug. “I was feeling good. It’s been a while. I don’t know why I did it.”

Mary Margaret took a deliberate sip of her cocoa before responding. “Did it mean anything?”

“No!” Emma was quick to reassure. “It was just a kiss! It was nothing!”

Mary Margaret deliberately set her mug on the counter and focused her full, almost motherly attention on Emma before decisively shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t nothing,” she said. “You wouldn’t have brought it up if it was nothing. You wouldn’t have that deer in the headlights look if it was nothing. Talk to me, Emma. Do you have feelings for this guy?”

“No!” Emma said, getting up and starting to pace. “Yes…I don’t know! I don’t know how I feel other than wanting to hop in my bug and drive as fast and as far away as I possibly can.”

Mary Margaret let her pace for a few moments before getting awkwardly to her feet and pointing Emma in the direction of the sofa before the big, magnificent Christmas tree. “You’re falling for him, but the thought scares you, am I right?”

Emma sighed, defeated. “Mary Margaret, I can’t do this again. I can’t.”

“You can’t do what?” Mary Margaret said with a gentle smile.

“Fall for someone,” Emma said. “Neal, Graham, even Walsh, they’re all gone. There must be something wrong with me, something that drives people away. I can’t fall for Killian only to have it all fall apart in a few months. I don’t think I could stand it again.”

Mary Margaret leaned over and hugged her tightly. “Oh Emma, I know you’re scared,” she said, pulling back, “but it’s worth it. Love is so worth it. Don’t give up what could turn out to be the best thing in your life just because of fear.”

“But…I barely even know this guy,” Emma said. “How do I know this isn’t just the magic of the holidays talking?”

“No one’s saying you have to go off and propose to the guy, Emma,” Mary Margaret said with a grin. “Take it slow. Let things develop naturally. If he’s the one, I promise he’ll be there with you every step of the way; he’ll take things as slow and deliberate as you want.”

Emma was silent for a long moment. Was her sister in law right? Was it possible there could be something real, something substantial, something magical and lasting between her and Killian? The fear gradually began to recede to be replaced with something she hadn’t felt in quite some time. Hope.

“Maybe you’re right,” Emma said finally. “Maybe I owe it to him…to myself…to at least be open to the possibility.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Christmas Eve was a cold, dreary day for Killian, much like it had been for the past five years. He’d begun to hope this year would be different, that this year he’d have someone to spend the holidays with, but after that last encounter with Emma on the day of the cookie baking, he’d started to lose hope.

Killian frowned as he sat before the tree they’d spent so many happy hours decorating. He scarcely knew what had happened. One moment they’d been having a pleasant afternoon, the next she kissed him as though her life depended on it, and then she was gone, running away from him like being in his presence was the most loathsome prospect she could imagine.

What had he done wrong? How had he so royally cocked up something that was turning into one of the most beautiful, meaningful relationships of his life?

Killian took a sip of the rum he’d bought in honor of the holiday (the rum he’d hoped to share with a certain gorgeous blonde). After the disastrous way the evening had ended, Killian had decided it was best to give Emma her space, let her determine the course of their…whatever it was that they had with each other.

Perhaps it was a good idea, perhaps it wasn’t, Killian didn’t know. All he knew was that he missed her, more than he’d ever thought possible. He missed their daily text conversations, their banter, their flirting. He missed her. What if that kiss had driven her away for good? What if he lost her?

Killian took another sip, not even wanting to consider the possibility. A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets. He would give her the holidays, give her a chance to get some perspective, and then he would plead his case, let her know how he felt. He’d never forgive himself if he neglected to do even that much.

There was a knock at the door.

Killian looked up, confused. Who the bloody hell would be disturbing him at 7:30 on Christmas Eve night? He was hardly fit for company, no matter who it might be. “Go away,” he growled, not even bothering to get to his feet.

“Um…if that’s what you want, but I was really hoping we could talk,” came the voice he thought about, dreamed about, daily. Emma!

Killian jumped to his feet and fairly sprinted to the door. “Swan,” he breathed as the door opened, “at last.”

She grinned, looking a bit uncertain at the same time. “So, are you going to invite me in, or what, Jones?”

Killian stepped back hastily, sweeping his good hand out in a gesture of invitation. “Of course, love. You’re always welcome here. Always.”

She smiled shyly up at him as she shed her coat and took a seat on his sofa, patting it in invitation for him to join her. “The tree looks really good, Killian,” she said awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he said, scratching at the spot behind his ear. Why was this so awkward? From the first they’d been comfortable with each other, but now…now it was like there was a wall up between them. Perhaps it would be best to clear the air. “Swan, why are you here?”

She met his eyes, attempting a bright smile. “Well, I still owe you one good deed, right? I had to do four before Christmas, and tonight’s my last opportunity.”

His face fell. “Oh, aye, the good deeds…”

Emma reached over and put a gentle hand on his arm. “Maybe that wasn’t the only reason I came.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly dropping her eyes, picking at the tassel of the afghan he had draped over the back of the sofa. “I just…I wanted to apologize for the other night.”

His eyebrow raised. “The other night? Swan, if you mean to apologize for that kiss, please don’t. I assure you it was both very much wanted and very much enjoyed.”

He watched as a tinge of pink colored her cheeks. “I wasn’t gonna apologize for that. Not really,” she said, finally meeting his eyes. “It was what happened afterwards. The running, I mean. I’m sorry I freaked out on you like that.”

“Swan, you don’t have to…”

“Yeah, I think I do,” she interrupted.

“Emma,” he tried again. “If you don’t have feelings for me, you need not apologize. I never wish to pressure you or take advantage…”

“That’s just it,” Emma said with a hint of impatience. “It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you. It’s that I do.”

Killian felt his heart pick up it’s pace as his stomach swooped pleasantly.

“That’s why I ran away,” Emma continued. “There’s this…I don’t know…connection between us that I can’t deny, and it scares the hell out of me. In my experience people leave. People always leave. If I let myself feel for someone, I just get my heart broken, and…Killian, I can’t lose you too.”

Killian smiled tenderly, reaching up to cup her face, to let soft tendrils of her hair slip through his fingers. “Swan, you need never fear that. If I win your heart, and I have every intention of winning it, it will be because you want me. If I win your heart, it will be the most precious treasure I’ve ever had, and I’ll guard it with my life.”

Emma smiled gently at him, leaning into his touch. “That kind of statement should sound so sappy it’s almost laughable, but coming from you, somehow it doesn’t.”

He grinned. “It’s a gift, darling.”

“Killian, I can’t guarantee I won’t get scared again,” she said, after a soft chuckle, “but being away from you this week made me realize something.”

“Aye, what’s that?”

“I missed you,” she said. “I don’t want to let fear keep us from exploring what might be a really good thing.”

“Nor do I, love.”

“Just…” she said. “Do you mind if we take things slow? I’ve always kind of rushed into things before, but, I don’t know. I want to make sure we do this thing right.”

He smiled, letting his thumb gently caress her cheek. “We can take this as slowly as you like, darling. We’ve our whole lifetimes before us.”

“Good,” Emma said. “How about we make it official by testing out that mistletoe you’ve got hanging by the fireplace?”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #cs fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #yuletide challenge

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lovemelikeastarfish · 2 years ago

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I can’t think of one reason to go on living. There is no one in my life that actually cares about me or my feelings. I literally have no one left. Not one soul.

I have no job, I have no friends - I lost them all one by one until they have all gone. I am completely misunderstood by everyone I do know - my in-laws, my basically ‘estranged’ husband. They chose to make me stay home alone on Christmas while my unvaccinated nephew in-law was welcomed fully. No one tried to plead with him on my behalf. No one showed any disdain for the fact that he was ultimately isolating me from Christmas. Instead, they had a grand old time with him on Christmas Day while I sat home alone with nothing. No apology from anyone, no phone call of concern.

Apparently he is so disconnected from reality that he sent a gift home with my traitor husband and had the nerve to text me and ask me if I got it. I hadn’t gone near it. The only gift that would have been worth anything to me was to get vaccinated so that he would put me and his elderly grandparents is less jeopardy of getting sick. He was told that I wasn’t there because he wasn’t vaccinated. Did he think he could just act like he didn’t cause my continued isolation and drive a deeper wedge between my husband and I, as my husband chose to ignore my feelings and my convictions and leave me alone to go there Christmas Day.

His mother didn’t call me to apologize for the situation that she could have altered, or even to say Merry Christmas. This is after some other unfeeling things that she said to me the last time I’d seen her, all of which makes clear that she neither understands nor cares about my feelings and concerns. Prior to this we had been some kind friends. We are now not. Her husband has treated me with disdain almost the entire time I’ve known him. I suppose now they are in sync.

My husband comes home the next day as if nothing has happened. He doesn’t understand why I would be hurt and angry about him going and and in general treating him with the love and respect that I am not afforded. He hasn’t had my back in years upon years, so fuck him. He broke his vows long before I ever did. Everyone else gets the benefit of the doubt except me. As if there is something fundamentally unloveable about me. Even though I have always been generous and kind to these people. After I spent 25 years buying the nephews Birthday gifts, Christmas gifts, graduation gifts, confirmation gifts, the list goes on. But it’s obviously irrelevant.

My ‘estranged’ husband lost my respect long ago. He continues to treat me like a child, he continues to not communicate in any way, he continues to purposely not understand how I feel about the house we live in and refuses to even entertain the idea of finding a suitable home, even as this one sucks money from our savings and remains a cold, unappealing place. He continues to pour money into this house on landscaping and structures that tell me he will never consider leaving here for a more appropriate and appealing home. And that I have no possibility to live in a home that I actually love and feel comfortable with for the rest of my lifetime, which is certainly a component of my wanting my lifetime to end as soon as possible.

When I married him I thought I was so lucky to have someone who respected me so much and held me in such high esteem while loving me dearly. But that dynamic died so long ago I can’t even remember it. I walk on eggshells. Nothing that I say or want for us is right. I’m mentally unstable and none of my ideas or feelings are worth a moment’s thought. We don’t speak, we don’t spend any time in each other’s company, we don’t communicate with each other, outside of the times when I try to start a dialogue with a detailed letter of communication and how I feel, which each and every time is ignored.

So really, what is left for me? What happiness could I recognize in this environment. I’m too old and ill to start over completely alone, and do not have the money to do so. Nothing shows any opportunity to get better. And to live with this giant hole of nothingness and negativity that encompasses me, I’m better off simply dead.

I adore my little dog who has been my loyal and only best friend for years. I will remain alive until he is no longer able to stay alive, and once he’s gone I will truly have nothing left to live for. And that’s when I will take my own life. I know how I will take it, I already have a plan. Maybe the obnoxious, uncaring shrink I’ve been assigned to and who has played a large part in my life’s degradation will get his comeuppance. His dereliction of duty could not be more profound. His name is ———————, by the way, and he deserves to have his medical license taken away.

I’ve thought about just going out and doing something I enjoy, among crowds of people, and likely catching Covid and potentially dying that way. But I think that would be painful and miserable and messy. My plan is a much quicker and painless way to die.

And I don’t feel badly because there’s no one here in this life who will truly miss me, and I’ll probably be forgotten very quickly.

I just hope there is something on the other side that is better and happier than I’ve found here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish that John would have been the kind of doting husband that so many others I know have had. I wish he cared as deeply as I needed him to. I wish he understood what he has done to me. And because none of that has happened, I wish I would have made the choice long ago to be with someone who treated me so much better. Someone who was vigilantly protective over me. Someone who was so much more proficient in communication. But he went on to find a different soulmate and make a life that he loved. I should be happy for him. But all I can be is sad. For everything I never had.

I don’t care if my husband’s family thinks I am irrational or phobic. You would think that they’d endeavor to be understanding and compassionate. But I’ve learned that no one is able to bring themselves to feel compassion for me. There’s something blocking it and I don’t what that is in order to work on removing it. And no one will tell me, they’ll just whisper behind my back. So what’s the point of going on with life? There’s nothing here for me except misery. And there’s no way for me to get out. It’s the only natural solution.

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marculees · 5 years ago

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Is is bad that I want to send my former best friend a link to a huge essay competition? I doubt I would win myself in my own categories but she was always very proud of her grades and essays and I figured this would be a really nice opportunity for her to get higher recognition for them :(

#i sound like someone still in love with their ex jfc #'this made me think of you'#probably a yikes #she got an award in college for her grades in her subject so i'm sure she could do really well in this #and it would make me really happy for her #even if i don't agree with the way she suddenly ended things #i eventually opened the xmas presents i had for her but i did that after three months of silence hoping i'd somehow be able to give them #and i'm afraid if i try send her a message now with this link that she'll think i'm weird lol #i want to say fuck her idc she can find it herself #but i can't because i don't feel that way #:L #i haven't really thought of her for a few weeks now especially since i got over it during my counselling sessions #and with this quarantine shite i'm definitely not gonna be seeing her anymore like i would have on the bus every day #so...i could do it?? but its probably a bad idea lol #idk someone help me decide pls #idek how i would start the text #imagine she just sent back like 'already seen it' lmao #she hasn't opened my merry christmas text so tbh she'd probably blank it out anyway so maybe no #rambling on main

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fics-n-stuff · 3 years ago

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A Nice Christmas

Thanks to @gayhistorynerd for the prompt, see here (I kind of deviated from it a little maybe a lot but the story still stemmed from this prompt)

Pairing: Wilhelm × Simon

Summary: Wilhelm may have denied being in the sex tape, but that doesn't mean that the world has forgotten. The Christmas break proves to be difficult for both Simon and Wilhelm, one suffering from ongoing harassment and the other feeling completely isolated, and they find that they can't help but be drawn back to each other.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This took me so long to write because I got writer's block right after I started it. This doesn't have a super happy ending because I wanted to try and keep it pretty realistic, but it is pretty sweet and wholesome.

Taglist: @probablyprocrastinatingrightnow @rika90 @angelwilhelm

Wilhelm had never felt more alone than he did being home for Christmas break. He spent as much time as was physically possible holed up in his bedroom, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially not his mother. He hadn’t turned his phone on for three days, he had bitten his nails down to the nailbeds and he hardly had any appetite. The ache in his chest was constant and unyielding.

He lay in the dark most of the time, his curtains closed throughout the day and only sometimes opened at night to let the moonlight in. Besides that, he didn’t have much idea of how time was passing.

He did know that it was Christmas eve though. And it must be the morning because nobody had come to drag him out of his bedroom to join the celebrations. A cursory peek around the curtain confirmed that, as Wilhelm saw that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

A deep breath settled the stone in his stomach, and he reached for his phone with a shaky hand.

When the device turned on it immediately started going crazy with notifications, and Wilhelm felt his heart rate increase with every buzz.

5 messages from August

Ignore.

10 messages from Mamma

Ignore.

2 missed calls from Felice

Wilhelm paused in swiping away the notifications. Felice had called him twice and sent him three messages. He clicked on the message notification, sitting back against the wall and holding in a breath without realising it.

Felice: Hey Wille, how are you feeling being home?

Felice: I just wanted to check in but I can’t get a hold of you, I hope you’re doing alright

Felice: You probably don’t want to talk but you can call or text me whenever you do

Wilhelm sighed. Of all the people that he thought that he could depend on, Felice was the only one that he still had. He swallowed the lump in his throat and called her back.

It rang for a while before she answered, and he’d almost decided to hang up the call when it stopped ringing.

“Wille, good morning.” Felice greeted, cheerful but clearly tired. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, merry Christmas Felice.” Wilhelm replied feebly. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about something?”

“Uhm, I- I don’t know, I just... I don’t know.” He stuttered, wrapping his free arm around himself.

“Okay, well, what are your plans for today?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t really been talking to anyone. What, uh, what are your plans?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. We’ll watch Kalle Anka's Jul and play some games before dinner, then we’ll open presents.” She explained. The tinny sound of her voice through the phone was actually quite calming.

“What about for the rest of the break?”

“Um, I’m going to New York to see Maddie for New Year, so that’ll be fun. And I’m going back to Bjärstad on Boxing Day to see Sara. I’m gonna stay there just for one night.”

“So you’ve been talking to Sara a lot then?” Wilhelm questioned, moving to bite at his almost non-existent nails.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Has she said anything about Simon? Do you know if he’s alright?” His words came out more rushed than he had intended. Clearly, he was more eager for some sort of information on Simon than he had thought.

“Um, she hasn’t said much but I think he’s pretty okay.” Felice replied, but it was followed by a small sigh that let Wilhelm know that there was more to the story. “Sara says that things have mostly gone back to normal, but Simon goes out a lot less and she’s had to make her Instagram private. I think they’ve had a few people show up at their house.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard, a feeling of guilt crawling under his skin. Simon’s Instagram account had been private ever since the video had been leaked, so it seemed that now people had found Sara’s too. They had attention on them that they had never signed up for, and Wilhelm knew that it was his fault and he felt terrible for that.

“Okay.” He replied shakily. There was a short silence before Felice spoke again.

“How are you, Wilhelm? Really?” She asked.

“Lonely.” He answered. “Listen, I have to go. I need to take a shower before someone comes demanding that I take part in the Christmas celebrations.”

“Alright well, call me back whenever, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Felice.”

“Bye, Wille. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Wilhelm ran a hand over his face, letting out a groan of frustration and sadness. Why couldn’t he just be a normal kid?

He stared down at his phone in his lap, gnawing at the nail of his right thumb in contemplation. With a shaking breath and trembling fingers, he picked it back up, opened his conversation with Simon and typed a short message. He dropped his phone in mild panic as soon as he hit send, and rubbed his hand over his chest as he took a deep, steadying breath.

+ + +

“Simon, wake up. Rosh and Ayub will be here soon.” Sara’s voice stirred Simon from his sleep and he rolled over to look at her. She was already dressed.

“What time is it?” He asked with a yawn.

“Nine o’clock. Get up and come help with breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up.”

Sara rolled her eyes and left the room, and Simon reached out to his bedside table blindly until his hand landed on his phone. He squinted at the screen as he sat up, faltering when he saw the notification on the screen.

Wilhelm: Merry Christmas Simon

He felt his heart race as he stared at the screen, only snapping out of it when he heard Sara shouting at him from downstairs. He blinked, dropped his phone and set about getting dressed.

Every Christmas eve since they were ten, Simon, Sara, Rosh and Ayub would have breakfast together and then go for a long walk. It was tradition for them at this point, but Simon found himself unable to feel excited for it this year. It was all well and good to pretend like life was going on as normal, but it was hard not to feel uncomfortable when people stared at him everywhere he went.

Rosh and Ayub arrived just as he and Sara were finishing up making breakfast, and they exchanged Christmas well-wishes as they sat down to eat.

“You’re being real quiet over there, Simme. You alright?” Ayub asked after a while, and Simon realised that he’d been completely zoned out.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About Wilhelm?” Sara questioned. Simon pushed a bite of food into his mouth and shrugged.

“You have to move on, Simon.” Rosh said. “I know you care about him but he’s not worth all the trouble that he comes with.”

“I know. That’s why I ended things.” He replied. “It still sucks though.”

“You’ll get over him eventually.” Sara told him, putting a comforting hand on his for a few seconds before going back to her food. Simon smiled slightly.

He didn’t tell them about the text.

Despite all of that, he was in high spirits when they set out for their walk, happily joking and laughing with his friends, and they made it half an hour before he heard the first comment.

“That’s the guy from the sex tape.” Muttered a girl to her friend as they passed, and Simon felt the smile fall from his face.

“Just ignore them.” Sara told him, wrapping an arm around one of his. He nodded, but it had gotten to him. For the rest of their walk from that point, Simon felt like every person that they passed was looking at him and judging him.

They walked both Rosh and Ayub back to their houses before heading back to theirs just a bit past noon. They had almost gotten home when they were approached by a group of teenagers probably slightly younger than them.

“Are you the guy from that viral sex tape?” One of the boys asked unabashedly, the group coming right up in front of Simon and Sara and blocking their path.

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about that.” Simon replied stiffly, still trying to be polite.

“Oh my god, it is him!” A girl exclaimed.

“Was it actually the crown prince in the video?” Another chimed. Simon felt lightheaded.

“He already said that it wasn’t.” He deflected, trying to sidestep the group.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of people that don’t actually believe him.” The girl laughed; actually laughed, as if this hadn’t been an earth shattering event for Simon.

“If it wasn’t Prince Wilhelm then who was it in the video?” A boy asked, and that was when Simon spotted the phone filming him and his stomach dropped.

“I’m not discussing my sex life with a bunch of strangers.” He scoffed in disbelief, shouldering his way past the group with Sara close behind him. “Please leave me alone.”

“You could just tell us if it was actually the prince or not.” One of them pressed, the group now following after Simon. “If it wasn’t him then you don’t have anything to hide.”

“Oh my god, did the royal family pay you off? Did they make you sign an NDA!?”

“Were you, like, boyfriends? Or was it just a hookup?”

Simon kept walking, keeping his head down and not answering any of the questions being hurled at him. He could sense that Sara was just as tense beside him. The group followed them for a full block before Simon finally lost his cool and came to a dead stop, turning to face them.

“I’m not going to answer your questions. The fact that you’re following me is not going to make me answer your questions. I’ve had my privacy majorly invaded once already and now you’re invading it again. I’m trying to enjoy Christmas with my sister and you’re chasing me with a camera, I’m sick of people harassing me.” He fumed, making sure to meet the eye of every one of them at some point. “Whatever you choose to believe is not my problem. It doesn’t matter whether you think that the crown prince is telling the truth or you choose to make up some type of theory, I deserve my privacy.”

He didn’t wait for any type of response before he turned around and walked away, thankful to find that they weren’t going to follow him anymore.

“You handled that well.” Sara said quietly once they had turned the next corner. Simon didn’t reply.

When they got home, he went straight upstairs without a word. He slammed his bedroom door shut and buried his face in his pillow, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

By that same evening, the video was viral.

+ + +

I bet that girl was right and the royal family made him sign an NDA

If he didn’t want people to think it was the prince he would have just said that it wasn’t so either the prince was lying or this guy is seeking attention

He’s literally a kid why can’t people just leave him alone??

I don’t care if it was the prince in the tape or not, this guy is hot

The way he said that people are making up theories makes me think that it actually wasn’t the prince in the video

I feel bad for this guy, getting followed around like that must suck

Wilhelm scrolled through the captions and comments on the seemingly endless posts of the video of Simon, feeling like somebody had a vice grip on his heart.

The first time he saw the video had been right after Christmas Eve dinner. He’d had a full blown panic attack and locked himself in the bathroom for half an hour. When he came out, his mother had tried to talk to him about the politics of the situation and he had immediately retreated into his bedroom once again. He missed Erik desperately.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, he'd only gotten about three hours of broken, fitful sleep all night, and now he couldn’t pry himself away from his phone. He knew that it was bad for him, he knew that it was making him feel terrible, but he wanted to know what people were saying.

He had been hesitant to text Simon, especially since he hadn’t received a reply to the merry Christmas text that he had sent in the morning, but in the end he mustered the courage to reach out. He had asked how Simon was doing and apologised for getting him into this situation. He wasn’t surprised when no answer came.

Christmas day was proving to be probably the worst day of Christmas break for Wilhelm. His chest felt like it was bursting open and like it was an empty chasm at the same time. He didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, he didn’t respond to the knocks that came at his door. He felt like he was trapped in a glass box and someone was shaking it.

Wilhelm didn’t know how long he had been scrolling through multiple different social media platforms when his phone buzzed in his hand and an incoming call appeared on the screen. He faltered, sitting up and almost dropping his phone, when he saw that it was Simon. He ran a nervous hand through his hair as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Simon?” He croaked.

“Hi, Wilhelm.” The reply came through the phone, and Wilhelm felt his shoulders relax at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“Hi. H-how are you.” He fumbled, and Simon sighed on the other end.

“I’m okay, I guess. As okay as I can be after... well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Wille.” Simon muttered. “I just wish things were different.”

“Why, um... why did you call?” Wilhelm asked. There was a short stretch of silence that rung in his ears before Simon answered.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” He confessed, and Wilhelm couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled at his lips. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised that you didn’t delete my number or something.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that you weren’t supposed to have any ties with me since you said that it wasn’t you in the video.” Wilhelm winced at that.

“It's not like my contacts list is available to the public.” He replied, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m not gonna let that kind of thing get in my head again.”

“Is your mum mad?” Simon asked, and now it was Wilhelm’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not sure, I kind of shut myself in my room so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her.” He answered tiredly. “How is your family?”

“Uh, shaken. Sara’s off in her own world with her sketchbooks and mamá can’t go for more than an hour without checking on us both, but we’re handling it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

There was a silence again. Wilhelm ran his hand across his leg, back and forth in a soothing motion, not sure what he should say but not wanting the conversation to finish. In the end, Simon spoke first.

“Did you mean it, what you said before you left for the break?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, I did.” Wilhelm answered without hesitation. “I know it wasn’t a good time to say it, and you probably didn’t want to hear it, but I just had to say it out loud. At least once.”

Silence again. Wilhelm heard Simon sigh, and pursed his lips nervously.

“I miss you.” Simon said.

“I miss you too.” Wilhelm replied with a nervous yet relieved chuckle. “I miss you a lot.”

Another pause.

“Where do we go from here, Wille?” Simon whispered.

“I don’t know.” Wilhelm mumbled. “But I... I want to fix this. Or at least just try to fix it. You don’t deserve to be harassed like this, and it’s my fault and I feel terrible.”

“It’s not your fault.” Simon reassured with a sigh. “It was everything else. We still didn’t do anything wrong, and that includes you.”

“No, I did. I promised we would be in this together and I broke that promise.”

“I understand why you did it. And I’m not mad at you. Honestly, having thought about it, you probably made the best decision for my sake too. I mean, I’m getting harassed enough as it is already. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you had told the truth.”

“I’m still sorry anyway.” Wilhelm said softly, and Simon chuckled. “So, um, Felice told me she was visiting Bjärstad tomorrow.”

“Yeah, her and Sara have gotten close. It’s nice, you know, that Sara’s made friends. And Felice is cool.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

There was silence again, and Wilhelm bit at his nails thinking that Simon was done with the conversation.

“Are you alright, Wille?” Simon asked after a while. “I know this is your first Christmas without Erik, and I guess things with your mum might be a little... well, I just hope you’re okay.”

Wilhelm swallowed. He could lie, pretend he was fine and wave away Simon’s concerns, but he knew the lie probably wouldn’t hold up. Or he could tell the truth and admit how painfully lonely he was, how much he hated being home because the palace felt empty without Erik and how much he longed to be with Simon with every fibre of his being.

“I’m coping.” He sighed, settling for a middle ground of vagueness. “It’s lonely here. The ceilings feel too high.”

“Have you had stuff to do?”

“No, not really. I haven’t really been in the mood for Christmas, but I guess none of us are particularly festive this year anyway.”

“Would you - I mean, if you would even be allowed to, but maybe if you could – would you want to come down here for a day?” Simon asked, and Wilhelm could just picture him fidgeting nervously as he stumbled over his words. The image brought a smile to his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He answered softly. “I’ll try and convince my parents.”

+ + +

Going to Simon’s house had been an absolute no go with his parents. “Just too risky” his mother had said. However, with enough persistence, he managed to wear them down to a compromise.

That was how he ended up in a car on his way back to Hillerska the day after Boxing Day. While Simon’s house had been absolutely off the table, it would be easy enough to get back to Hillerska without being seen. The only people who were there during the break were security and the people who came to take care of the horses.

He had been worried at first that the inconvenience of it would make Simon not want to bother, but when he texted to ask if it was okay he had been met with a quick agreement.

A security guard unlocked the door for him when they arrived, sworn to secrecy of course, and he headed up to his room to wait. He didn’t realise he was biting his nails until there was a knock at the door and he was knocked out of his anxious thoughts.

The door opened slowly, and Wilhelm felt like all of the air was knocked out of his body when he saw Simon step inside, dressed in his beloved purple hoodie under the coat that he took off and draped over the back of a chair that was within reach. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence hung in the air.

“Hey.” Simon greeted finally, and Wilhelm took a deep breath as if he was just remembering how to breathe at all.

“Hey.” He echoed. “How are you?”

“Better.” Simon nodded. “Did you get into a fight with your parents?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Wilhelm muttered. “It’s fine though.”

Simon crossed the room and took a seat beside Wilhelm on the edge of the bed, a good few inches of space between them. It felt like miles.

“You look tired.” Simon commented.

“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Wilhelm replied weakly, eyes downcast, fidgeting with his hands. “I get that way sometimes. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

He looked over to find Simon watching him, and he practically crumbled under his gaze. He took a very unsteady breath and shook his head.

“No, it sucks.” He mumbled. His hand drifted back up to his mouth and he gnawed on the nail of his thumb nervously.

“Wille, you’re bleeding.” Simon said, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his mouth. Wilhelm looked down at his thumb and saw a bit of blood pooling in the side of the nailbed, becoming aware of the taste of it on his tongue.

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“How much have you been biting your nails?” Simon questioned, pulling Wilhelm’s hand towards him to get a look at them. Every nail was jagged and uneven, bitten down to stubs. The skin around them had been bitten at too.

“I don’t know, I do it without realising.” Wilhelm shrugged. “Probably a lot.” He resisted the urge to curl his fingers around Simon’s hand and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You shouldn’t have to bottle everything in, you’re destroying yourself.” Simon murmured.

“I don’t have anyone to talk to.” Wilhelm’s voice broke halfway through his sentence, a single tear managing to fight its way from his eye. “I used to be able to talk to Erik about at least some of it but now he’s gone and I don’t have anyone, and sometimes it feels like the ground is falling out from under me and I just don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t notice that he was hyperventilating until Simon pulled him into his arms. Wilhelm’s chest was tight, rising and falling rapidly against Simon’s body. Simon's arms were wrapped around him tightly, and Wilhelm was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he had been craving a hug as his hands grasped at the back of Simon’s hoodie and he hid his face in the crook of Simon’s neck.

Wilhelm had always been told not to cry. Ever since he was a child, whenever he began to cry he was told to stop. The seed had planted itself in him when he was very young, but the fear of letting himself cry didn’t truly grow until he once saw an article in a tabloid. He was barely eleven and he had fallen and hurt himself at an event. He had hardly cried, just a few tears and red cheeks, but the tabloid had had plenty to say about it. He hadn’t let himself properly cry since, except for when Erik died. Even then, he had waited until he was completely alone before he let his weakness show. But now, with Simon, he felt an overwhelming need to let his tears fall.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into Simon’s shoulder. He could feel the tears coming out of his eyes but they weren’t falling down his face, instead absorbing into the fabric of Simon’s hoodie.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothed, a hand moving up to stroke over the Wilhelm’s hair.

“I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a prince.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted to feel normal. Just for once.” Wilhelm said through his tears. “You made me feel normal.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, sympathetic. He loosened his hold on Wilhelm and leaned back, sliding the hand that was on the back of Wilhelm’s head forward to rest against his cheek.

“You made me feel normal too.” He replied softly. “At school I was a social outcast because I’m not rich, and at home I have to take care of my mom and Sara. When I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to take care of anyone or watch where I was stepping. Well, except that one night.” Wilhelm huffed a slight laugh at the comment, lifting a hand to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you cry before.” Simon commented.

“I’m not supposed to.” Wilhelm replied with an awkward chuckle, his head tipping forward in embarrassment. Simon sighed through his nose and lightly touched his forehead to Wilhelm’s.

“You have to cry sometimes, Wille. Everyone cries.”

“I’m not supposed to be everyone.”

“Okay, but sometimes you need to stop worrying about what you’re supposed to be.” Simon told him. “I know you know that.”

Wilhelm took a deep breath. This close to Simon’s face, he could feel his breathing too. He wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t know if that would be okay. He nodded slightly, covering Simon’s hand on his cheek with his own.

“Yeah.” He breathed.

When Simon leaned forward and connected their lips Wilhelm responded automatically, though it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. Once his brain did catch up, his hand took hold of the back of Simon’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer, holding onto this moment like it was his last. Maybe it would be the last time he got to kiss Simon; he couldn’t know. He hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Thanks for coming to see me.” Simon said when they broke apart.

“Thanks for wanting to see me at all.” Wilhelm replied. “I really missed you.”

Simon hummed, a faint smile playing at his lips. He watched Wilhelm for a few moments before kicking off his shoes.

“Come here.” He said, shuffling over the bed towards the wall. Wilhelm followed suit and allowed himself to be guided down to a lying position, Simon’s chest against his back and arm around his waist. “You need to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Wilhelm protested, weak as the protest may have been.

“People have naps all the time, and you know that you need it.” Simon said firmly, adjusting the pillow under his head with his free arm and finding Wilhelm's hand to hold in the other. “It doesn’t have to be for long, okay?”

“Okay.” Wilhelm nodded, feeling suddenly very relaxed. He took a deep breath settling into the comfort and warmth of Simon’s body around his as his eyes fell shut. “This is nice.” He mumbled after a while.

“Yeah.” Simon agreed softly. “Go to sleep, Wille.”

It wasn’t long until he felt Wilhelm’s breathing change, signifying that he had fallen asleep. He smiled, fondly but with an edge of sadness to it, and pressed a light kiss to Wilhelm’s shoulder before closing his own eyes. They would deal with the rest of the world when they woke up.

#young royals #young royals netflix #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #simon x wilhelm #young royals fanfic #young royals fic #simon young royals #simon eriksson #wilhelm young royals #wilmon fanfic #felice young royals

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jjacob · 4 years ago

Text

all i want for christmas is you

❝ the school had started to take notice of you. lee juyeon, however, had always noticed. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee juyeon x fem!reader (ft. best friend!lee minho)

GENRES ▸ fluff, high school au, sports au, best friends to lovers au

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity but !! lots of !! fluff !!

SUMMARY ▸ the bet was simple: find a date to the winter ball. the only problem was that juyeon didn’t want just any girl. he wanted you.

PLAYLIST ▸ all i want for christmas is you by mariah carey

WORD COUNT ▸ 5055 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ merry christmas! this is a gift for addy @honeyju the biggest juyeon simp ik !! ily addy i am excited/scared/not emotionally ready to read the minho one which ! btw y’all should read here bc our stories are loosely connected! also disclaimer: i know jack shit ab football but i tried

LEE JUYEON TENDED TO REGRET HALF THE THINGS HE SAID SOMETIMES.

In eighth grade, Juyeon’s sense of humor was largely self-deprecating and consisted of saying he wanted to die at the slightest inconvenience. But, with his spectacular timing, he let the joke slip in front of a teacher once and froze up upon seeing her concerned expression. Juyeon later received a note from the counselor’s office and had to convince them that he was perfectly fine.

In tenth grade, Juyeon had grown past his phase of dark humor and moved onto high school football. He made the cut for the team the previous year, and managed to make it on the varsity team by the time he was a sophomore. In the beginning of the season, they asked who wanted to be captain the next year, and Juyeon boldly declared that he did. Thus, he was ridiculed and sentenced to pick up balls and clean up the gym after every practice from then on.

Now, as a high school junior in the varsity football team, Juyeon had screwed himself over by making a stupid bet with his best friend, Lee Minho.

Lee Minho was, in short, a conniving bastard. Juyeon never should have trusted him and gone along with his antics. The mere thought of what he had gotten himself into was enough to send his heart into overdrive.

The bet sounded simple enough: find a date to the Winter Ball.

Of course, it was easier said than done, but Juyeon was a star athlete and had girls sliding in his DMs left and right. He could easily find a date if he wanted to, and, honestly, Juyeon only needed to send a few texts and he would probably be secured for the dance. The problem was, however, that Juyeon only wanted you.

Minho was well aware of Juyeon’s pitiful, unrequited love towards you. It was probably the reason he suggested the bet; his best friend either wanted to see him miserable or see him score a chance with you. Either way, Juyeon wasn’t sure his heart was ready to shoot his shot.

Juyeon had crushed on you ever since you sat next to him in the seventh grade and let him borrow your pencil. It was such a silly start to his admiration for you, but his feelings grew stronger when the both of you actually became friends. You were so bright when you laughed, so sweet when you spoke, and so adorable when you smiled. Juyeon had never felt this way about anyone else and always got butterflies when he saw you. Juyeon was never one to chase after girls but he would find himself constantly thinking about what you were up to and having several internal dilemmas over whether he should ask you to hang out or not.

Five years later and Juyeon still harbored feelings for you. Now, they had matured into something deeper, but you still racked his brain nevertheless. It didn’t help that you had a major glow-up in high school and were probably the most beautiful person Juyeon had ever seen.

The school started to take notice of you.

Juyeon, on the other hand, had always noticed.

“Are you sure we can finish a medium before practice?” Minho asked Juyeon, setting a box of pizza on the table in front of him. “Also, I saw Y/N by the gym earlier.”

Juyeon perked up. “Y/N?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza for himself. “You know what day it is, right?”

Minho took a bite out of his pizza, observing Juyeon with a raised brow. His best friend was on the baseball team but treating themselves to pizza had become a monthly ritual. Despite being on different teams, he was closer to Minho than his football teammates.

“Thursday?”

“And that means?”

Right.

Juyeon had formulated an elaborate plan to ask you out during the football game today, but, of course, it all depended on whether their team won or not. It would have been kind of ridiculous to propose after a loss. On the bright side, he knew he could count on the fact that you’d actually be present considering you were a cheerleader.

But what if you already had a date? You surely hadn’t mentioned it to him or posted about it on social media, so he was riding on an assumption that you haven’t been asked. That was bizarre to Juyeon, though, because you were the prettiest person he had ever seen. However, it was true that you were gradually getting popular, and that made Juyeon a touch nervous.

“I ask her out tomorrow,” Juyeon breathed out. “Am I ready for this?”

Minho scoffed lightly. “Are you ever?”

Juyeon frowned at his best friend, scrunching up his nose at his distasteful comment. “What about you? Have you gotten a date?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Juyeon sighed. That was probably all he would get out of Lee Minho today. Once Minho set his mind on something, he carried it out diligently until the end. Juyeon honestly had no idea who he wanted to bring since Minho didn’t like talking about girls he was interested in, but he supposed it wasn’t that big of a deal as long as his best friend was happy.

It wasn’t like Juyeon was never going to hear about his friend’s endeavors. After all, he did pick up on Minho’s slow descent from an apathetic individual to a whipped ball of fluff. If Juyeon mentioned that to his best friend, however, he would probably be ridiculed for consistently being whipped for you since the seventh grade.

Juyeon nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his ringer going off. He scrambled to pull his phone out of his pocket, ignoring Minho’s teasing smirk at the sight of his frazzled self.

y/n: hey :) i’m gonna drop off some gingerbread cookies my mom made after practice so lmk when i can come over

Juyeon must have saved a country in a past life for this kind of luck.

juyeon: i love your mom’s cookies. you can come over whenever you’d like

y/n: how about we walk home together after practice?

juyeon: sounds good to me

Now, the pizza was starting to make his mouth water, but if you were walking home with him, Juyeon was ready to drop it and run to see you even though he loved pizza. But Juyeon loved you more than he loved pizza, and he believed that was true love.

“She made me cookies,” Juyeon announced.

“She made you cookies,” Minho repeated, leaning forward in surprise.

“Well, her mom did, but yeah.”

Minho turned his attention back to his pizza. “So this is about your mommy kink again.”

“I don’t have a fucking mommy—why would you say that?” Juyeon cried out, kicking his friend’s shin under the table.

“You don’t? Last time I checked, she was making dinner in the kitchen when I came over yesterday.”

“I’m talking about the kink!”

Yet, even a silly back-and-forth with Minho couldn’t get Juyeon down from his high over you. He was still processing the fact that you were going to walk home with him and, if Juyeon played his cards right, maybe he could get a feel of how comfortable you would be if he asked you out during the game tomorrow.

Minho snickered. “You look happy.”

Juyeon couldn’t even mask his lovesick smile and flushed cheeks. He folded his arms on the table in front of him and buried his face in them, his head spinning at the thought of you.

“Shut up, Minho.”

The only problem with you being on the cheerleading team was that you were extremely distracting.

Juyeon was the star quarterback and frankly, it was kind of pathetic that the one thing that kicked him in the ass was seeing you in the knee socks and pom-poms. It didn’t help that you were a flyer so Juyeon’s stomach pitted with anxiety whenever he saw you being thrown up and whenever he heard a scream coming from the direction of the cheerleaders.

Today was different, though. Juyeon could care less about the screams and falls from the corner of the field. All he could think about was you and how he was going to ask you out. If his plan was going to work, it was going to draw a lot of attention and be quite embarrassing if it failed.

All of his confidence got knocked down with a single sweep when he saw someone asked you to the dance.

One of the cheerleaders broke into a fit of giggles at the sight, clasping a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god!”

You were frozen stiff, an awkward smile on your face as the guy walked onto the field with a sign and about a dozen roses. Juyeon could feel his heart sinking to the ground with each step the guy took, with each second his smile grew brighter.

“Is he seriously confessing during practice?” Sohn Youngjae asked, brows furrowed as he rested his arm on Juyeon’s shoulder. “That’s real brave.”

“What’s his deal doing it here? He isn’t even on the team,” Juyeon said, coming off more bitter than he had expected.

Younghoon scoffed. “It’s a bold move. He must be confident that Y/N’s going to say yes.”

Juyeon squared his shoulders. He was conflicted with the swell of anger and deflation of you possibly being taken, but nevertheless, all he could do was watch helplessly as you were being asked out. From where they were on the field, Juyeon couldn’t hear much, but he could see your reactions quite well. The wolf-whistles and cheers were pissing him off, but he was fixed on you.

He turned to look towards Minho, who was practicing on the field adjacent to theirs. His best friend met his gaze immediately like they had some form of exclusive telepathic communication. Minho nodded towards you and raised a brow, as if nudging Juyeon to go interrupt them. That, however, was something he was far too cowardly to bring himself to do.

Your voice resounded clearer than Juyeon had expected.

“I’m really sorry,” you apologized sincerely, ducking your head and keeping your hands entwined behind you. “I’m not interested, but I do appreciate the gesture.”

Juyeon felt a weight lift off of his chest. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve felt relieved that you shot him down or nervous that you rejected an attractive, confident guy who clearly liked you. However, he soon had no time to mull over that when the guy’s reaction was getting more aggressive than crestfallen.

“Y/N, I asked you out in front of all these people,” he said with a distasteful laugh. “Are you seriously rejecting me right now?”

“Sorry, I just don’t want to go with you,” you replied firmly, voice dropping as you became more conscious of your surroundings. “I’m sorry it had to be public but you didn’t really give me a choice.”

For a split second, Juyeon wondered how he could still hear you when you were practically muttering at this point, and then he realized that he started walking to you without even realizing. His feet carried him unknowingly, hand balled at his side and eyes stony and trained on the guy.

“You could’ve just accepted it and told me later that you didn’t want to go with me,” he said with a scoff. “It’s like you enjoy humiliating others publicly.”

Your teammates rushed forward to argue and fend him off while you opened your mouth to protest, but Juyeon was faster, moving in front of you so he was head-to-head with the guy.

“She said she’s not interested,” he said with a threatening undertone, wondering where he managed to muster up the courage to be this assertive.

You were visibly shocked by Juyeon’s actions, and he couldn’t even blame you because he was equally just as surprised as you were. Yet, all he could do was glare daggers down at the other guy with steely eyes and frown until he backed off.

“Thanks,” you said softly once the guy had left.

Juyeon was flustered by all the girls giggling behind you but was amazed by how cool and collected you remained despite that. He turned to you, eyes softening and shoulders relaxing. He knew he was getting an earful about this from his teammates after practice and most definitely from Minho as well.

“No problem,” Juyeon replied, cheeks red. “He was bothering you. I couldn’t just ignore it.”

“That was really sweet of you, Juyeon.” You bit back a smile and suggested, “Meet you at the front gates after practice?”

“See you then.”

Even though Juyeon could’ve spent the rest of practice talking to you, he sprinted back as fast as he could because his cheeks were only getting redder as the cheerleaders gushed about what he did for you. He could hear their gossip and whispering even as he was running back to his team. Juyeon was positive he wouldn’t escape the embarrassment, though, because Lee Jaehyun was smirking at him when he got back.

“You’re blushing, dude.”

Juyeon shoved him.

There was a universal law that was newly decreed. It read: Lee Minho shall never text, call, or speak to Lee Juyeon whenever Y/N was around.

The reason for that being the fact that Juyeon was easily embarrassed and Minho’s texts were not helping his case. He felt it was rude enough to check his phone while he was walking with you, but every time he saw a notification flash, his eyes widened with sheer distress over Minho’s texts.

minho: like three people asked me if you and y/n are fucking bc of what you pulled during practice today

minho: wait are y’all fucking and just not telling me

minho: i knew it was sus that she was coming over to your house

juyeon: fake news!! stop making me feel shy :(

Juyeon decided he had enough Lee Minho for today and turned off his phone.

“That was honestly the coolest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” you gushed to Juyeon as you walked home with him, fingers looped around the straps of your backpack. “Way cooler than you punting footballs.”

“No need to flatter me,” Juyeon replied coolly but his shy smile and red-tipped ears said otherwise. “That guy was being unnecessarily aggressive.”

“His proposal was out of nowhere!” you exclaimed. “I don’t get what he expected me to do.”

Juyeon smiled through the pain. Lord, give me strength, he prayed to whatever divine power was out there.

“Are you not interested in having a date to the dance then?” Juyeon asked, looking down at you curiously.

You paused for a moment and Juyeon thought his heart would stop in anticipation for your answer. Come to think of it, he had never seen you go to a school dance with a date before. You were always with your friend group. It wouldn’t be out of the ordinary to see you stick with them, but Juyeon was hoping he could change that.

“Well,” you started, “if the right person asked me then I wouldn’t be opposed.”

Juyeon couldn’t exactly read your smile but it made him want to faint. The rest of the walk back home was spent talking about school and football, but Juyeon couldn’t get your answer to his question out of his head. He even walked past his house because his head was so full of you, resulting in you needing to stop him and tell him that they had already reached his place.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” Juyeon’s mom chirped with a good-natured smile. “How has your mom been?”

Juyeon’s eyes widened upon the realization that they never stopped by at your place first to get the cookies. He opened his mouth to interject but you went on to answer.

“She’s been great, Mrs. Lee,” you replied, smiling just as big, and pulled out a box of cookies from your bag. “She wanted me to give these to you.”

“That’s so sweet! Give her my thanks,” his mom replied and opened the door wider once she accepted the cookies. “Come in for some tea, will you?”

Juyeon was practically frozen at the doorway while you were taking off your shoes and walking inside. If you had the cookies with you this entire time, then why didn’t you just give them to him to take home himself? Unless you were worried about the courtesy, it was a bit out of your way to take the time to walk home with Juyeon to deliver them.

“Juyeon, what are you doing out there?” his mom asked. “Come inside. It’s cold.”

“Right.”

Having you over at his house wasn’t exactly the sparkly fantasy that Juyeon thought it would be.

He was getting quite jealous of your mom hogging all of your attention. It wasn’t like you and Juyeon drifted apart during high school, so he wasn’t sure why his mom had to pull you away from him and have her own conversation with you. The worst part was that Juyeon couldn’t even join in on the conversation. He had no idea what they were even talking about.

That is, until his mom brought up the dance.

“Do you have a date, Y/N?” Juyeon’s mom asked.

“I don’t,” she replied. “I usually just go with my friends.”

“You’re so pretty, though,” Mrs. Lee tutted. “I’m sure someone must’ve asked you out.”

“Actually, someone asked me today,” you said. There was a moment of silence as you looked over at Juyeon while his gaze bore into yours. For a moment, you were struggling for what to say, mouthing words that weren’t being processed. Juyeon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly once you regained your composure. “Juyeon actually helped me out.”

Mrs. Lee straightened up. “My son did?” She looked amused as she turned to Juyeon.

“Yeah,” you answered, grinning. “He was really cool.”

Juyeon blushed darkly once their eyes were on him. “W-what? I couldn’t ignore it. I wasn’t even doing that much. I was just helping out. You know, being a decent person,” he rambled and stood up. “Anyways, isn’t it getting late? Mom, Y/N has to go home soon and it’s gonna be pitch black outside if you keep her here.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Mrs. Lee frowned as she peered out the window. “Juyeon, you walk her home then.”

“What?” he sputtered out, looking between you and his mom before he caved, muttering, “I’ll go get my jacket.”

After an exchange of goodbyes, you had stepped out of the house and waited while Juyeon was slipping his shoes on. There was a moment of struggle where he had tied his laces too tight and couldn’t get the shoe on but he managed to slip it on after a few seconds of internal screaming. Juyeon zipped up his jacket the moment he stepped outside, the brisk coldness making his goosebumps rise.

“You really don’t have to walk me back,” you told Juyeon. “It’s cold outside.”

“It’s really late,” Juyeon replied, rubbing his hands together in hopes that the friction would provide some heat. “You shouldn’t be walking home by yourself, and I really don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, ducking your face. “For this, for what you did during practice—everything.”

Juyeon was glad that you weren’t looking at him because his mouth was opening and closing over and over again like a fish. He was also thankful for the fact that he could blame the dust of pink across his cheeks on the cold winter bite. Unfortunately, you lived close by so Juyeon didn’t have time to come up with a cool response and he didn’t want to leave things like this. There was a good vibe going on and he was upset that he couldn’t act upon it; when it came to you, Lee Juyeon was a coward.

“Um, we’re here so…” Juyeon trailed off when he turned to you, sort of thrown off by how beautiful you looked with your windswept hair and flushed cheeks. Dazed, he reached forward and moved a strand of your hair out of your face. “It’s good I walked you home and you’re not like, lost or… something—I’ll shut up now.”

You laughed, and it was an octave higher as if you were rattled from him touching your hair. “Ah, yes, a few streets down can be a harrowing trek.”

Juyeon laughed with you before his eyes settled on you. Your hands were crossed, rubbing your arms that were prickled with goosebumps. A wave of guilt washed through Juyeon and led him to strip his jacket off immediately. He ignored the piercing chill and put his jacket around your shoulders, making sure they covered your bare arms.

“My house is right here,” you argued. “You’re going to be cold.”

“Keep it on. I have something to tell you after the game,” Juyeon said firmly. It was his second burst of courage for you today and he was a little too amped up for his own good. “If you don’t like it then give me back my jacket tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Juyeon turned on his heel and bolted home, the biggest grin across his face because he was head-over-heels for you.

Juyeon had never been so nervous in his life.

The game was underway, Juyeon’s leg bouncing as he eyeballed the scoreboard. His team was strong in the first two quarters, cutting it close by the third, but now they were neck-to-neck. They had ended with a tie and now they decided to go into overtime for the sake of choosing a winner for the game. It was a sudden death round so whoever scored first would win the game. Juyeon, however, found it difficult to concentrate.

Especially with Lee Minho breathing down his back.

“Are you ready?” his best friend asked.

“Yes—well, no, but I don’t really have a choice.”

“That’s true.”

“I already made the sign and told the team and everything,” Juyeon whined. “I really screwed myself over, Minho.”

Minho pushed at the back of his head. “Dude, I’m talking about the game.”

“Oh, that—that’s fine,” Juyeon stammered. “Fifteen minutes—we just have to win, and then I have to ask out the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“You could chicken out,” Minho suggested, “but that also comes with me never letting you live it down.”

“You see, I kind of already implied that I’m going to tell her something important.”

“You did?” Minho’s voice was somewhere between shocked and impressed.

“Shit, I gotta go,” Juyeon muttered, pushing himself off the bench. “Keep the poster safe for me!”

“Good luck, champ!”

Juyeon, sweaty and bangs sticking to his forehead, had to ignore every distraction and think about winning the game before his stomach threw itself into a pool of anxiety over asking you out. He got in a huddle with his team in the remaining fifteen seconds they had before they had to get in formation and lowered the facemask of his helmet. It was up to this one last play to determine whether they would win the game or not.

“Just like we practiced, alright?” Juyeon told them. “Double-wing power pass. We get them to bite thinking it’s a run play and then open up a passing lane.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Jaehyun cheered, and the rest of them put in their mouth guards and lowered their facemasks.

Juyeon took a shaky breath as he got in formation at the line of scrimmage. His heart was racing but he wasn’t sure it was about the game. Nevertheless, he steeled his nerves and held his ground. The whistle blew and the crowd was silent, observing the tension on the field carefully.

“Silver-80! Silver-80! Hut! Hut! Hike!” Juyeon yelled, and the center, Sangyeon, snapped the ball to him.

Juyeon faked a handoff to Jaehyun, the fullback, and spun around, rolling to his right. Changmin sped up in front of Juyeon to defend him. A smile tugged at Juyeon’s lips. Their plan was working just as he intended, but there was a problem: they couldn’t open up a passing lane for the running backs like he thought they would. The play was too rushed, so it wasn’t ever a guarantee.

So Juyeon had to do what he would normally deem crazy.

He spun at the sight of the other team coming to tackle him and skirted around the field, belting down the field. He dodged past another linebacker that tried to body him. His primary motivation was that he didn’t want a concussion before he confessed to you, but he assumed it was okay to admit that to himself as long as he didn’t throw the game.

Juyeon felt a hand grab him but he pushed forward, running across the goal line and into the end zone. He threw the ball down and cried out in joy as he scored a touchdown. The whistle blew and the scoreboard flipped. They won.

He did it.

Juyeon’s team ran to him, cheering at the top of their lungs. He was lifted up on Jaehyun and Younghoon’s shoulders, grinning happily before his heart sunk back down. The cheerleaders ran to the field, cheering and tossing their pom poms up. The crowd was roaring. Juyeon was realizing that he had to do the scariest thing that a heterosexual teenage boy ever had to experience.

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun,” Juyeon tapped his shoulder quickly. “We have no time. I have to do it now.”

“Oh shit.”

Jaehyun and Younghoon dropped Juyeon onto the turf. Juyeon winced at the sudden impact, gathering himself back to his feet and hoping you didn’t witness that. Jaehyun gave him a half-assed apology and pushed him forward to run and get his poster and flowers from Minho. Jaehyun then grabbed Changmin by the shoulders, urging him to go to the announcer’s booth.

Juyeon sprinted over to Minho, waving his hands dramatically. “Give, give, give,” he demanded amongst all the cheering.

Minho didn’t waste any time and pushed the poster and bouquet into Juyeon’s hands. “Break a leg, tiger.”

“Trust me, I nearly did.”

Juyeon jogged back onto the field, cheeks hot and head a little dizzy for what was about to come. He didn’t even tell his mom he was going to ask you out and she had to watch her son ask his best friend out to the dance. This was probably going to be a moment of utter humiliation but once Juyeon saw you in your high ponytail with a bright smile on your face, all that fear faded away and it was just you and him.

More importantly, you were wearing his jacket over your uniform and Juyeon felt like he was going to combust from the cuteness.

“Guys, guys,” Jaehyun called to the team. “Surround Juyeon. Make sure Y/N doesn’t see him.”

Juyeon’s heart was beating a hundred miles per second. He was glad he was running on the adrenaline from winning the game because otherwise, he would be cowering in fear and sweating buckets right now.

“Everyone, listen up!” Changmin spoke over the intercom. “First of all, the football team scored a major dub today—ow! Sunwoo, cut it out—alright, I’ll get to it!” Changmin broke from the mic and started bickering with Sunwoo.

There was a pause, and Juyeon was surprised to hear Minho’s voice fill the speakers, “Anyways, my buddy and our star quarterback, Juyeon, has something to say for a special someone.”

The crowd fell silent, a couple cheers and wolf-whistles as it was pretty obvious that a confession was about to happen.

“This is so fucking fluffy,” Sunwoo mumbled.

“Shut up, Sunwoo,” Juyeon replied, nudging him with his elbow.

The football team moved out of the way so that they weren’t huddled around Juyeon anymore. Juyeon’s breath caught in his throat as he walked forward to the middle of the field, holding up his sign, reading: Will you be my sunshine?

“Y/N,” he called out loudly, “honestly this confession is long overdue, but will you go to Winter Ball with me tonight and be my sunshine?”

The crowd started cheering and whistling again, and Juyeon wanted to die. She hadn’t even given him her answer yet and everyone was acting like she had agreed and they eloped. The cheerleaders pushed Y/N forward and she approached Juyeon, looking like a deer in headlights.

Juyeon took another shaky breath and continued, “I’ve been in love with you for so long so it would be an honor if I could take you to the dance,” he said and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if this is uncomfortable for you.”

You bit your lip but that wasn’t enough to contain the happiness that showed on your face. You zipped up Juyeon’s jacket and threw yourself into his arms. Everyone practically exploded but Juyeon was sure his heartbeat was louder. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face into your shoulder.

Was this what people called a Christmas miracle?

“Oh shit!” Changmin screamed over the intercom. (“Shut up, they’re having a moment,” Minho’s faint voice was picked up in the background).

“Oh my god, you just made me the happiest man alive,” he mumbled.

You pulled back and reached forward to move his damp bangs off of his forehead. “Took you long enough.”

“Wait, did you—did you like me?” Juyeon choked out.

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands. There was a shaky inhale and exhale of breaths when his lips brushed against yours, and Juyeon closed the distance, kissing you like he was starved of your touch. His hold tightened on you as you melted into him, and then you both pulled away, smiling and dazed and lovesick.

You giggled. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” he breathed out, grinning as he brushed his nose against yours.

Juyeon could care less about all the presents and holiday cheer because he had you and you were all he wanted.

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sserpente · 4 years ago

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A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente

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