#the holidays are usually too busy for me to sign up

[midnight-leaf]

@pk-freezer-burnt I am your @mlsecretsanta backup gifter!

This is my first time participating in the event, I hope you like this Marichat piece! It was so great to draw something cute and fun, I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed working on it.

Thanks for waiting, happy Valentine’s Day!

[a-pute11as]

always you - leila ouahabi

word count - 4.4k | summary - leila was your older brother's bestfriend, but you start seeing her differently as you get older

warning - age gap (5 years)

you were young when you first met leila, really young. your family had moved to mataró, along the coast of beautiful catalonia, not far from barcelona. one of the first things your parents did was sign your older brother up for the local boys football team, your family was always the loudest on the sidelines, until leila joined the team.

her family matched yours in energy, loud cheers, homemade snacks and the sense of family from people you’d never met before. it wasn’t long until your families blended effortlessly. from meals after games to spending travel days together when football camps popped up even the occasional group holiday to some of the most beautiful destinations. 

leila easily became your brother’s best friend, the two of them bonding over practically everything. and whilst you tried to keep up with their chaos, the five-year age gap made you the perfect target for their teasing. often chasing after the ball and stumbling over your own feet, you knew football was never your strong suit, which made you the perfect person to cheer along.

so naturally, when leila left your local boy’s team to join la masia, your families support never wavered. the trips to barcelona for game days got more frequent, soon enough you were kitted out in a barcelona kit, cheering for your brother's best friend at any chance you had. 

but somewhere in your mid-teens, something shifted.

when you were 15 it was little things at first, appreciating the way she’d pop her head into your bedroom when she came over to check on you, or offering a ride if you were out with friends for the night. 

but when you were slightly older, just past your 18th birthday, you started appreciating her in a different way, your eyes would linger a little while longer when her shirt would lift slightly, or the family beach days where you’d peer under your sunglasses playing football in her bikini. 

by the time you were 22, your brother wasn’t playing football as much, turning down the ability to play in the us to study accounting. he had since moved out of your family home, with his fiance and a newborn baby to keep him busy. 

though he’d still turn up randomly, and if you were lucky, leila would be with him too. she had started paying attention to you, not just as your brother's annoying little sister, but actually to you. she’d ask questions about your life now, about university, dates, how much you enjoyed her most recent football game. 

you were already curled up when she arrived, an oversized hoodie on, bare legs tucked under a blanket, pretending to scroll on your phone but really zoning out. 

that’s when the front door opened. you heard voices, your brothers usual annoying one and one others, hers. 

“hola chiquita” she grinned, 'little one' it had been your nickname since you were little, it had never left even as you grew older.

“hey lei” you murmured, lifting your head as she walked in. 

she stopped in the doorway, her eyes sweeping over you, stretched out on the sofa, a slow smirk tugging at her lips. 

“you always take up the good spots, huh?” before you could answer, she was already making her way over, flopping directly next to you, thighs pressed firmly against yours as she stole half your blanket like she owned it.

you blinked, “you’re unbelievable.”

she hummed, adjusting the blanket with an infuriating air of comfort, “you missed me.”

“don’t flatter yourself.”

“i don’t need to, i saw the way you looked at me when i walked in.”

you rolled your eyes, a flush creeping up your neck. “delusional.”

leila leaned a little closer, her voice lower now, playful. “you were staring.”

you turned your head toward her, only to find her face closer than you expected. too close. her gaze was steady, and her lips twitched into that smug smile that drove you insane.

you opened your mouth to say something back, but your words disappeared when her hand slipped under the blanket, brushing lightly against your knee as she reached for your phone.

“let me see who you’re texting.”

“no!” you yelped, scrambling to wrestle your phone from her grip, laughing despite yourself.

leila laughed too, not trying very hard to win. “why so secretive, chiquita?”

“because you’re nosy,” you said, clutching your phone to your chest like it held the world's most important secrets.

she leaned back, her arm casually draping behind you on the back of the sofa. her fingers brushed against your hair, light, almost absentminded, but it sent a little thrill down your spine anyway.

“still teasing me like i’m fifteen,” you mumbled, more to yourself than her.

leila’s smile softened. “no,” she said quietly. “not quite like that.”

you glanced at her, heart stuttering just a little, only to be interrupted by the sound of your brother’s laugh from the kitchen.

“so you’re not coming to my match next weekend?” she asked, voice soft but with a pointed kind of pout.

you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically, “please tell me she didn’t already tell you.”

“your mami ratted you out before i even got my shoes off,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow “what’s so important you’re skipping el clásico?”.

“i’ve got to study, my finals are coming up” you explained, sending her an apologetic look.

“do it after, you have to be there” she shook her head adamantly, there was a moment of silence as you considered it “por favor, es importante,” she added, and of course all your morals went falling. 

you agreed, letting her know you’d be there. she smiled at your response, wrapping her arms around you as she pulled you into her chest and planted a small, friendly, kiss on your forehead.

in a way leila got more touchy with you, it was as if the walls that made you your brother's little sister had disappeared. but once she moved to manchester you saw less of her, there were a few trips to manchester to see her play in big games or the texts you would send her after every game without fail, but it felt different.

it felt charged.

now you were 26. you had a few girlfriends over the years but they had come and gone, they were too clingy, hated how much you loved football, or would get jealous of your interactions with the spanish defender. none of them were her. 

but when she finally came back home, you made sure you cleared your schedule to see her. this barbeque had been planned for a while, it was scheduled for one of the only time periods leila was home from manchester, being relieved she was back in the sunshine even if it was another of her flying visits. 

you were running late, you had just received your car back from the mechanic and it had already stopped working again, so at the very last minute you had to rely on the worst taxi service in town. 

“finally i’ve been waiting for you!” leila smiled, her arms wrapping around your waist as she pulled you into a hug, your arms draping around her neck. the two of you stood like that for longer than you should’ve, neither of you particularly wanting to move, “i was starting to get bored without you chiquita” she confessed.

“leila i’m not that little anymore” you laughed, pulling out of her arms, yet one hand still lingered on your back. 

“no no no, you’re still smaller than me so it still makes sense” she grinned cheekily, her hand eventually dropping from your back, your body feeling the impact of the lack of her presence. 

“my brother got the tall genes, i got the good looking ones” you laughed playfully, sending a small nudge to her arm.

“you’re joking but it’s the truth” she agreed, “he looks like a troll most of the time” she nudged her head towards your brother. he’d only got there half an hour before you but clearly the few beers he already had were having their impact as he struggling to stay awake, his wife occasionally nudging him as his eyes jolted open again. 

the two of you laughed at the sight, “but you do look really good” she commented, turning her attention back to you. 

“s-shut up” you defended, your cheeks flashing a deep red.

“no” her eyes unashamedly travelling up and down your body, her tongue flicking over her top lip before her gaze met yours, “you look gorgeous”.

there was silence between the two of you, not awkward, but not necessarily comfortable, so you decided to change the subject instead “anyways, my car broke down, again, so i had to get a taxi, which is why i’m late” you explained. 

her eyebrows furrowed as you spoke, “why didn’t you call me? or at least your brother? taxi’s are not safe chica” she shook her head, disapprovingly.

“i called him, but he didn’t answer so i assumed he was busy, and i didn’t want to bother you” you shrugged.

“you have facetimed me multiple times drunk at 3am but calling me for a ride is a bother?” she questioned, her eyebrow raising as a smirk appeared on her face. 

“i told you to forget about thattttt” you whined, your hand coming up to rub your temple. you were never really sure what you said during those facetime calls, but you knew they left you with massive hangxiety the next day. 

“i will never be able to forget about that” she laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

—

“nena why are you calling me? has something happened?” leila asked concerningly, holding up the phone as the dim lamp lit up her face, checking her alarm clock which read 4:06am.

“yes, bueno, i’m so good” she immediately knew you were drunk, “don’t hang up, i want to talk to youuuu” you slurred, a happy smile on your face as you leant back on your sofa, a similar dim light making you just about visible to leila. 

her concern quickly switched to something more relaxed, content that you were safe in your apartment and you weren’t calling to tell her you’d been kidnapped from manuelas, “did you have a good night carino?”.

“leila it was so fun! i went with some of your barcelona friends? patri and pina and some of the other girls, we had sooo much to drink!” you giggled, slipping off your shoes as you adjusted yourself so you were laying on your stomach as you propped your phone up on a pillow for leila to see you. 

“wow that’s brave of you, i remember how scared you were when you first met them” she laughed slightly, reminiscing on the memory of a much smaller version of you being scared to meet her previous teammates, yet it was only a few years ago that she was trying to set you up with one of them.

“callate, i’m a changed women now, so many girls tried to talk to me but the only person i wanted to talk to was you” you rambled, leila’s eyes widening as you spoke, “if you weren’t in stupid manchester i’d so come and see you right now” you continued, no hesitance in your voice as you confessed exactly how you felt about your brothers best friend.

that’s when leila noticed the unread texts she had from patri,

patri ❤️💙 - this girl is in love with you, i don’t know if you’re oblivious or stupid or both but what are you waiting for??

her family loves you, and i know your family love her. you better tell her how you feel soon or i will

“tell me you haven’t thought about us, not even once” you pressed, your eyes hawking at leila as she furrowed her eyes at your question, “i saw how you looked at me when we went to the beach last month, i wore that just for you”.

you watched as her breath hitched, reminiscing on the patterned blue bikini that had leila’s mind going crazy, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, “i have” she admitted a slight warriness in her tone, “but amor, you’re drunk, now is not the time for this conversation, we can talk about this another day?”.

“fine, just dont tell my brother i called you” you sighed, now standing up as you directed yourself to your bedroom.

you threw your phone down on the bed, the camera facing the ceiling as you got yourself changed into something comfier, “stay on the phone with me, por favor” you asked, tucking yourself under the covers as you looked at her with convincing eyes.

“estaré aquí, i always am” leila smiled, her heart warming as she watched you quickly flutter off to sleep, a pang of quilt hitting her chest as she realised she missed every sign you’d given her. 

—

“gilipollas” you muttered, sending a playful smack in her direction, “i’m going to say hi to our mums, are you coming?”. 

leila followed quickly behind you as you wandered to the garden table where your mums were sitting, sunhats on, wine in their hands, looking as if they’d been there for hours. 

as you approached your mum sent you a kind smile, simply raising her glass and blowing you a kiss, leila’s mum on the other hand, was on her usual mission, the same one she’d be on when you turned 24. she claimed she ‘waited too long for it to happen naturally’ so now she was determined.

“ay, por fin llegas!” she said dramatically, waving you over like a long-lost daughter. “i was just telling your mother how beautiful you look today. like a movie star. and so smart and nice unlike some of the girls leila brings home.” 

you laughed, your mum rolling her eyes fondly beside you.

“mamá” leila’s voice came from behind you, thick with warning, but her mother barely acknowledged her.

“they can’t be that bad, tía” you tried defending leila, but she was right, leila didn’t always have the best choice in women.

“no, no, i’m serious. when are you going to marry this one?” she teased, pointing between you both, “you two are always looking at each other like you’re in a telenovela” she smirked, taking another sip of her wine.

you choked on a laugh as leila’s eyes widened at her mum’s comments.

“mamá, por favor” she groaned, covering her face with one hand as her mum just laughed, leaning over to kiss both of your cheeks with a satisfied smile.

at that point leila disappeared to talk to both your dads, who were in a similar situation yet they were standing at the barbeque, your dad wearing his ‘top chef’ apron leila had bought him last christmas. 

“did you have car troubles again?” your mum asked, you simply nodded in return, this had been an ongoing problem for way longer than you’d like to admit. 

“mi niña, how many times have i told you? you need a reliable car, or even better, someone reliable to drive you.”

your eyes flicked briefly to where leila was across the garden, laughing at something your dad said. you quickly looked back.

“i tried to call my reliable brother,” you said with a smirk, “but he didn’t answer.”

leila’s mum shook her head and let out a dramatic sigh. “you should’ve called leila, she would’ve come. she always comes for you.”

you tried to hide the heat creeping up your neck, but your mum noticed, she always did. with a subtle eyebrow raise sent your way she spoke, “we’re just lucky they’re both home at the same time,” your mum said, glancing toward the garden. “leila hardly stays still long enough for us to see her anymore.”

that was a lie, you’d seen leila every month of the year so far, twice a month even when she offered you her spare bedroom in her flat when you mentioned you wanted to explore some more of manchester since your last visit. but you were sure they didn’t know that.

leila’s mum sipped her drink, eyes twinkling, "well i keep telling leila she needs to come home more’  she turned to you now, her confidence unwavering, “you’re right here, gorgeous and grown-up now, so what is she waiting for?”

you shook your head at her words, “tía please, that'll never happen”.

“don’t ‘tía please’ me,” she grinned. “i’ve seen the way she looks at you, even back when you were just a little thing running after them with a football half your size.”

you let out a groan that mirrored leila’s previous one, running your hand through your hair dramatically. leila’s mum reached over, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in.

“listen to me, niña. when you two finally get your act together, i’ll be ready. i’ve already told leila i expect a wedding in the next five years”

you let out a mock gasp, “mamá ouahabi, you’re plotting our wedding?”

she just sipped her wine and smiled like a woman who knew she was right. “i’m not plotting, i’m manifesting.”

right on cue your nephew came running up to you, with sticky fingers and a face you couldn’t say no to. you excused yourself from the two of them, scooping him up in your arms as you retreated over to the picnic blanket that had been laid out and covered in his toys. 

you cleaned off his hands before settling to play with his toys, you tried not to look across the garden again. but you failed, and your eyes drifted to where leila was already watching.

she was just watching you, that look you’d only seen when she thought no one else was paying attention.

your attention snapped back when the small child made his way into your lap, your hands working their way through his dark curls as he got himself comfortable. 

but the sight of leila behind you had him occupied, “xavi just sit down” you huffed, wrestling with the abnormally strong 3 year old, yet he was incredibly determined to get what he wanted. his hands started grabbing in leila’s directions, obsessed with the spanish defender more than you were. 

you eventually got him distracted by the swing set, “tíaaa push me” he whined as he sat on the swing as if it was a throne.

“you’re so bossy” you teased, settling behind him.

you started pushing, slow at first, then higher, his giggles carrying across the garden. for a little while, it was easy to get lost in it, in the sun, the breeze, the safe little moment that smelled like grilled vegetables and sunscreen.

you didn’t hear her approach until you heard her voice, soft and familiar behind you.

“you’re really good with him” 

you turned to see leila, her hands in the pockets of her shorts, her sunglasses pushing back her hair. 

“he just likes the attention” you said with a small smile, the swing slowly coming to a stop, “and i like being his favourite auntie”.

“everyone’s talking about us you know”.

“who is everyone?”.

“your mum and my mum and basically every older woman at this barbecue.”

you laughed nervously, glancing down, “of course they are”.

“i think they’re convinced we are secretly together” the way she said it would make you think she was joking but there was a look in her eyes when you met her gaze, like she was waiting for you to say something more.

before you could reply, xavi interrupted “i’m hungry now, can we eat now”. 

with that he pushed himself off the swing, grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you away from leila, a sorry look on your face as you glanced back at her. 

she later found you lounged back on a sun lounger tucked under the lemon tree, the golden light of late afternoon drawing patterns across your skin. xavi was curled up on your chest, mouth slightly open in sleep, one tiny hand gripping the fabric of your shirt. your fingers moved slowly through his hair, calming and steady, helping you feel the same.

leila paused for a second before approaching, watching you like you were everything to her, as if the sight in front of her was simply perfection.

“is that comfortable?” she asked eventually, her voice quiet so as not to wake him.

you turned your head slightly toward her, a soft smile on your lips. “it’s not the worst.”

leila perched on the edge of the sun lounger, her thigh brushed yours ever so slightly, a touch you felt more than you probably should have.

her eyes were on you.

“can i uh drive you home later?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

your fingers stilled for a beat before continuing their gentle pattern through xavi’s hair. you glanced at her, studying the nervous way her thumbs were twiddling in her lap. you’d seen her argue with refs, fight for trophies, hold her own against some of the greatest players but this version of leila felt so much softer.

“are you sure?” you asked, tilting your head, “i don’t want to bother you.”

“you never bother me, chiquita,” she said firmly, her voice full of warmth, “let me drive you home.”

a small smile crept across your face, “i really appreciate that, thank you lei”.

and then it was quiet, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. yet the garden buzzed around you but right here, under the lemon tree, it was just you and her.

your voice was barely a murmur when it finally broke the silence.

“this is nice.”

leila turned slightly, her gaze still soft, firmly focused on you. “you’ve always been good with him, i can see how much you love him.”

“he’s easy to love,” you looked down at xavi again, running your hand gently down his back.

she murmured something, something you didn’t hear but it had you looking up at her, your eyes locked on each others.

it felt like there was something to say, like a confession, or a question at the least.

but before either of you could speak, xavi shifted in his sleep and stirred, and you both blinked as if the moment had dissolved around you. leila cleared her throat, standing slowly.

“i’m going to get some water” she excused herself, her voice noticeably shakier than before.

the light blue sky had been replaced by the dim glow of the moon as the evening progressed. you had slipped away from the buzz of the dinner and found your way upstairs, needing a moment alone to breathe, saying you were grabbing one of your mum’s jackets to excuse yourself. 

you sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, taking a deep breath as you attempted to process everything that had happened. your hands ran through your hair as you took a deep breath, when all of a sudden your train of thought was interrupted by the door opening, you quickly scrambled to stand up.

no knock, just the low creak of the door opening followed by leila’s footsteps on the hardwood floor, before she closed it again.

“are you hiding?” she lilted, her usual teasing tone had reappeared as she took steps closer to you.

“me? never” you smiled, shaking your head adamantly as your eyebrow creased.

“you used to do this when we were younger too, especially when we teased you for not scoring” she laughed.

you crossed your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes at her “you guys would call me slow, yet there was 5 years between us and you guys played for actual teams."

she reached up, squeezing your cheeks in one of her hands as you pouted, “you were always a bit of a sore loser." 

you smacked her hand away. her laughter was soft, but genuine, it made you feel safe.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was difficult to hide, “maybe i just don’t like being ganged up by football obsessed teenagers'"

leila tilted her head slightly, her eyes softening as she looked at you. the kind of look that made you feel like she was seeing every version she had seen of you. the kid she used to tease, the awkward teenager who blushed every time she smiled, and finally whatever you were now. 

“do you ever wonder what could’ve happened if i said something sooner”.

your lips parted slightly, not sure what to say, or if there was even anything to say. your thoughts were caught between her words and the way her hand had ever so gently brushed against yours. it sent your mind spiralling. 

“all the time” you confessed, your eyes locked on hers.

your heart was pounding, and it only beat faster when you realised just how close the two of you were standing, her hand coming up to cup your cheek.

and just like that, the moment disappeared. 

the door slammed open. 

“oye!” your brother’s voice announced itself, startling both of you causing leila’s hand to drop from its place on your cheek. the loss of her touch causing your heart to sink. his eyes were glassy and his words slightly slurred, clearly a few drinks past sober. 

your brother’s eyes flickered between the two of you, he knew he interrupted something, but he wasn’t sure what, “we’re taking you home, xavi won’t leave without you so vamos, let’s go”. with that he left the room, no room for discussion as you watched him stumble down the hallway. 

leila’s jaw tensed as she stepped back, putting some space between the two of you. 

you shut your eyes briefly as you huffed in frustration, “i’m sorry this keeps happening”.

“i understand” her words said it but the look on her face was pure annoyance. 

“lo siento lei, i’ll text you i promise” she nodded slightly, leaving her standing in your mum’s bedroom as you walked away from yet another chance.

much to your reluctance, you got in the car, your sister-in-law driving as you were cramped in the back with xavi and your brother was already fast asleep in the passenger seat.

they dropped you off outside your apartment building. as soon as you closed the door your back slumped against it, taking a deep breath in, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. desperate to figure out what was going on.

your heart picked up as you saw the text from leila flash across the screen.

leila 🩵- i can’t wait, let me come see you

thank you for the request anon! as always, i appreciate any feedback, my asks are open! <3

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Small Talk with a Dead Man

After a dramatic realization during Christmas break, Y/N has been peacefully trying to live her life without the influence of the Batfamily. One night after classes, she is visited by an old friend...

*Fluff*

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern Small Talk with a Dead Man

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

I shouldn't have been surprised. TV broadcasts. Google Alerts. The radio guy who complained about Gotham's newest Crime lord during my morning commute. A few local news stations dared to ask, "Is Red Hood more dangerous than the Black Mask?"

Despite all those warning signs, my heart stops when I see him again. A flash of lightning illuminates the man across from me. The signature Red Helmet drips rainwater on my ratty tan carpet. Judging by the watercolors across his knuckles, he must have driven from patrol.

From the corner of my bedroom, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. Dick's grinning face covers the screen. I hurriedly decline the call. Tim's face makes an appearance. The screen goes black. I drag my gaze back to the dead.

"Hatchling?" Jason observes motioning to Tim's contact name, "What's Damien's? Infant?"

I pause to think about it. What did I make Damien's?

"Sassy pants... with several angry emojis." I elaborate showing him the contact.

"Ahh... fitting for a child raised by assassins."

The room feels too small. Stuffy even. After years of dreaming of what I'd want to say to him, I blank. How do you even begin to approach this conversation? A painful silence forms. The helmet drops from his trembling hands with a thud. My heart stings when I hear his voice break.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

That breaks me out of my stupor. Crossing the room, I shush him.

"Take this jacket off before you track any more water in. My landlord is terrified of mold."

Reluctantly, he lets me peel the wet leather away from his goosebumped riddled skin. The hulking man slumps towards my touch. In the darkness, his features soften. He stops my quiet fussing by brushing the side of my cheek with the palm of his hand. For a moment, he takes a labored breath. Slowly, I meet his gaze. I can almost forget how long it has been.

How many nights did we do this? Bruce starting a fight. Jason sneaking in through my childhood window with a devilish grin.

"I figured I've already disappointed one father figure. Why not disappoint them both?"

The image of his charred corpse flashes in my mind. I flinch away from his grasp. Some memories don't age well.

"Go sit in the living room," I command throwing a towel in his direction, "Do you want tea?"

"Yes please." He agrees following my heels, "Do you have-"

"The usual? " I interrupt with a sly backward glance, "Who do you think I am?"

I almost blush at the look he gives me. Good God. My back turns to face him while I turn the kettle on.

Which mug do you give a dead man?

I correct myself.

Which mug do you give a crime lord?

I look past the cluster of random holiday cups to my shining star. A brand new Superman mug complete with a washable cape napkin. Water. Green Tea and chamomile bags. A little bit of honey.

While I set everything up, Jason studies the collage of photos on my wall. Some from Gotham. A mix from school. His eyes fall upon a selfie of Dick, Alfred, Barbara, and I. Encrested on the frame, it reads, "Jason Todd Memorial 2022". My throat gets tight. It seems so meaningless now. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I analyze the man. The new uniform is much more outwardly utilitarian than his Robin costume. No more shorts. The guns are new. He had set a few in a cluster on the coffee table. Jason takes a postcard from the collage in his hands.

"George Clooney?" He muses turning over the card, "Dick always had a flair for the dramatics."

"It runs in the family," I retort setting down his mug on the table.

As I draw near, he smiles at the choice of mug.

"I didn't realize that you picked sides."

"Alfred sent it to me as a peace offering," I shrug.

I motion to the brown patched-up couch. Jason eagerly reclines. His body stiffens at the strange lumps towards the center.

"Courtesy of Ma Kent," I joke, "I'm convinced she lined it with kryptonite, so Clark wouldn't jump on it."

Rubbing his sore shoulders, Jason grimaces sitting up.

"Well, I'm sure this is the only couch that could cause the Man of Steel back pain."

Sitting next to the sweaty young man, I sip on my own tea. The bitterness of the green tea grounds me to the present.

"Do you want to talk about what happened in Gotham tonight?" I question glancing at the freshly bandaged cuts on his arms.

He shakes his head grimacing at the memory. New City. New topics.

Grabbing the remote, I start, "What are you feeling tonight? I've been aching to rewatch "You're Next" for a while."

He eyes me with playful suspicion. Jason folds his arms behind his head.

"What? I've always found scary movies comforting after a long day."

"Like the way you find Ma Kent's Couch to be comfortable?" He teases fidgeting with the coarse fabric of the homemade pillow.

The random stains make him raise an eyebrow. Thunder shakes my apartment.

"It's an acquired taste." I reply pulling the pillow flush against my chest, "Besides, horror is the only genre where your anxiety is always right, but the horror never stays for too long. It’s nice to see the Protagonists survive to the end of their story."

For a moment, he looks like my Jason again. The slight bruising around his left eye causes him to squint ever so slightly, but he flashes me an amused smirk. Studying the man beside me, everything about him feels so familiar yet so foreign simultaneously. He has the same onery smile, yet it doesn't stretch as far as it did before. This new Jason is big... Somehow in the last few years, Jason doubled in size. What were they feeding him?

"You watch too many movies." He remarks offering me half of the blanket.

I pause trying to ignore the pit in my stomach. My Jason had blue eyes. A flash of lightning illuminates the small TV screen. Sitting next to the furnace of a man, I inadvertently inch closer.

"That is probably true." I reply lying my head on his shoulder.

Taking his large, calloused hand in mine, I turn it over in examination.. The skin is torn at the knuckles probably due to some unknown crook starting something he couldn't finish. His swollen splotchy purple fingers wrap around mine.

"Does it hurt?" I ask curiously

He responds with a painful shrug.

"Not as much as dying."

Jason eyes me curiously waiting for my reaction. Against all odds, I laugh until I snort. He turns his head to hide the smile on his face. Eyes on the TV, Jay continues.

"Well, it's true."

Taglist: @nosyrobin,@jjsmeowthie.@epicy0n,@gaychaosgremlin,@rory-cakes,@luna-zendra-star,@b4tm4nn,@anuttellaa,@chibiduck

[callsign-mayhem]

too sweet (part 1)

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female!Reader Word count: 6.4k CW: Use of Y/N, occasional swears

As Natasha's lifelong best friend, you've always known her crew was off-limits, especially one cocky aviator with a killer smile: Jake "Hangman" Seresin. But when you take a writing retreat to sunny San Diego, a break that was supposed to help you escape distractions, you find yourself sharing late-night conversations, beach bonfires, and undeniable chemistry with the one person you've been strictly forbidden to date.

This is a multi-part fic.

As soon as your plane touched down in San Diego, you were switching flight mode off and texting your best friend. It had been almost six months since the last time you saw her, and your patience had worn thin not long after the second week of her being gone. Now, you were practically bursting with excitement. As a result, you’d become one of those annoying people who got up as soon as the seatbelt sign went off, standing in the aisle with your carry-on even though the steps for the plane hadn’t even been brought onto the runway yet. 

Once you eventually got off the aircraft, you ran as fast as possible with a backpack and a carry-on suitcase, not stopping until you reached passport control. Once past that particular hurdle, it was onto baggage claim. Being a full-time writer afforded you much more flexibility and freedom than most other people, especially your best friend. This was why you usually visited her and not the other way around. Since it had been so long since you last spent time together, your ticket to San Diego was one way. It seemed as though Nat was setting up shop in Fighter Town for a while, and with your latest manuscript almost ready to be sent to your editor, you were taking the opportunity for a much-needed change in pace and scenery. 

The airport was busy, and you were swarmed by people from your flight trying to spot their bags on the carousel. This included the screaming set of twins and their dishevelled parents seated two rows behind you. 

They were still screaming, and you were briefly reminded why you didn’t want to have any children yet. Not that there was any chance of that happening, anyway. You’d been single for so long that it was a basically a personality trait at this point. 

When you spotted your suitcase, you ran to meet it and hauled it off the conveyor belt less than gracefully. The arrivals lounge was an assault on your already overloaded senses, and dragging two suitcases wasn’t making it any easier. But when you got closer to the exit, you saw Nat’s black Suburban parked right out front, and all the stress dissipated. 

When you barelled out of the doors and onto the sidewalk, she jumped out of the car with a huge, uncontainable grin. Her hair was freshly cut and styled, and her skin glowed beneath the Californian sun. 

North Island looked good on her. 

Bags be damned, you ran into her arms, almost knocking her over. She still smelled of citrus and vanilla, which was to say that she still smelled like her family home where you’d spent most of your childhood. You’d had a couple of boyfriends in and just after college, but their hugs had never lived up to Natasha’s. There was nothing more comforting to you in the entire world.

‘Lieutenant Trace in the flesh!’ You squeaked. 

‘Y/N Y/L/N, bestselling author. It truly is an honour.’

Reluctantly, you let go so you could take her in. ‘Those FaceTime calls just weren’t cutting it anymore.’ You told her, smiling. ‘You look good, Nat. Better than good.’

‘I think this place agrees with me.’ She replied. ‘You look like you need a holiday.’

‘Wow, thanks.’

She laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘I know.’

She glanced at your luggage with a raised brow. ‘Let’s get what appears to be everything you own in the trunk, and then we’ll get on the road. ‘Kay?’

‘I know it looks like a lot, but you know I like to be prepared.’

You took the smaller case, and she took the bigger one. ‘For what? Moving states?’

‘My ticket is open-ended.’ You explained. ‘Once I get my manuscript in next week, I’ll be free as a bird until my editor is ready to shatter all my hopes and dreams.’

Natasha eyed you somewhat disbelievingly. ‘You’re saying you might be staying a while?’

‘If that’s okay with you, yeah.’

‘Let’s see how long it takes me to get sick of you.’ She jibed.

‘How do you know I won’t get sick of you first?’

‘Because I’m a delight.’

On the way to Nat’s apartment complex, she pointed out landmarks and told you about the latest happenings. You were mostly caught up since you spent every other evening on FaceTime, but it was always different when you caught up in person. The two of you always remembered other details you’d forgotten about. 

The drive from the airport to Nat’s apartment on Island Avenue took just over fifteen minutes, and before you knew it, you were being shown to the guest room. She’d moved in a little over a month ago, after being told she was being stationed in Fighter Town indefinitely along with some of her crew from a super secret mission she’d been involved in. Nat told you more details about her work than she probably should because even if you had someone to tell, you wouldn’t. Your friendship wasn’t like most other female friendships, where you think your secret is safe until it’s not. The two of you trusted one another wholeheartedly because there genuinely wasn’t any reason not to. 

The guest room was as tidy and organised as the rest of the apartment. With Autumn just around the corner, she’d adorned the double bed with pumpkin throw pillows and a dark red teddy blanket you immediately wanted to crawl under. You were thoroughly exhausted, but you knew neither of you would be going to sleep anytime soon.

‘I put my desk in here,’ she told you. ‘Since I knew it would be your room. That way, you can write while I’m on base.’

Even after all these years, things like this still warmed you. ‘Thanks, Natty.’ You said, reverting to your childhood nickname for her. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘You hungry?’

‘Practically wasting away over here.’

‘I thought you might say that. Wanna go out or order in? I can take you to this amazing restaurant I went to with some of my team a few weeks ago. It’s right by the beach.’

‘Sold.’

An hour later, you were sitting in the outside area of a trendy new steakhouse. You were so hungry after your flight that you doubted you’d have noticed if the food had been awful. Nat enjoyed her brisket immensely, so it couldn’t have been bad. 

‘So,’ you said, around a mouthful of food. ‘Tell me more about this new squad. Better than the Black Aces?’

‘They’re so different, they aren’t comparable. But they’re pretty awesome.’

‘Any of them particularly awesome?’ You asked, waggling your eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes playfully. ‘No, no, and no. Even if there were, I wouldn’t do anything about it. I don’t date navy guys.’

‘I still don’t understand that.’

‘I don’t like to shit where I eat,’ she said simply. ‘Or rather, I don’t like to let men shit where I eat since usually they’re the ones doing the shitting.’

You nodded in understanding. ‘Am I gonna get to meet any of the famous Daggers?’ 

‘Yup. Tonight.’

Your stomach dropped. While you were definitely up for meeting them, you were a little nervous, especially since it was happening so soon.

‘Tonight?’ You echoed.

‘Friday nights, we always go to The Hard Deck after work. I’ll come back to the apartment first, change and then we can head over together.’ 

You hoped you were doing a good job of hiding your nerves. Nat would never let you live them down. 

‘So not only am I meeting the famous Dagger Squad, but I’m also gonna experience the highly acclaimed Hard Deck on the same night.’

‘Don’t bother wearing socks, ‘cause they’re gonna be knocked right off.’ Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

‘The novelty might have worn off for you, but this is big for me. I listen to you talk about these people and that bar day in and day out without understanding. I’m finally getting to put faces to names my best friend doesn’t shut up about. It would be like you stepping into one of my books and meeting all the characters.’

‘Okay, when you put it that way, I understand why you’re excited. But you gotta promise me one thing.’

She was suddenly all serious. ‘Anything.’ You replied earnestly.

‘Do not let Hangman charm you. I’ve already told him you’re off limits, and I’m saying the same to you. He’s bad news.’

You knew all about Hangman from Nat’s stories. There were only a few where he was one of the good guys. As a writer, you were all too familiar with the good girl falls in love with the bad guy trope, and as tantalising as it was to read about, you knew better than to fall for it in real life.

At least, you’d like to think so.

‘You don’t have to worry about that. He sounds like an asshole.’

‘You say this now, but he’s a charmer, and you’re vulnerable.’

You threw a chip at her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I mean no offence when I say this, but it’s been a while since you dated anyone, Y/N. I’m not saying you’re naive, but I know he’ll lay it on real thick just to mess with me, and I don’t want you to fall into his trap and get hurt.’

‘You think he’d pretend to hit on me just to get under your skin? This guy sounds even worse than I thought.’

‘You can never be too sure what his intentions are. Safer to assume that he has an ulterior motive.’

‘Well, thanks, Nat. Now I’m really nervous.’

‘You’ll be fine. I’ll be there to yank on his leash if he starts barking too loudly. And Rooster is always looking for an excuse to take him down a peg.’

In true best friend style, Natasha had emptied your suitcase in search of the perfect outfit for you to wear to The Hard Deck. Thankfully, she’d settled on one of your favourites: a black velvet romper with bell sleeves covered in little silver moons and stars. You didn’t have to debate whether to wear your hair up or down because Nat had already decided for you and was almost done curling it. You applied a thin layer of lip gloss in front of her vanity mirror while she worked her magic. You’d gone easy on the makeup since you often felt self-conscious when wearing a lot. 

‘Okay, done.’ She announced, running her fingers through the curls. 

She’d done a great job, better than when you did it yourself.

‘Thanks, Nat.’

‘You’re welcome. You look drop-dead gorgeous.’

In her skinny jeans, white tank and leather jacket, you thought Nat looked like a sexy biker chick, and you told her so. 

‘Anyone would think you’re in love with me.’

‘So what if I am?’

You decided to get an Uber since neither of you wanted to stay sober to drive the other home. You spent the whole journey fretting that the Daggers wouldn’t like you. Maybe they’d think you were boring because you weren’t in the Navy. Perhaps they’d think being a writer wasn’t a real job (it wouldn’t be the first time someone had told you that). Or worse, maybe they’d think you weren’t good enough to be friends with the highly decorated fighter pilot who was your best friend. 

By the time the Uber driver pulled up in front of The Hard Deck, your stomach was tied in knots, and you were gasping for a shot of something strong to give you a confidence boost. Despite your overwhelming sense of anxiety, you were able to appreciate how incredible The Hard Deck was. Adorned with lights and overflowing with all different kinds of people, it was the kind of place that felt almost dreamlike. Music spilled out through the open doors and windows, and the surrounding area thrummed with a near-tangible electric current. 

Natasha looped her arm through yours as you headed into the bar, and you were grateful for the physical and moral support. Inside, it was a hubbub of activity. The wraparound bar—which had at least five people behind it—was surrounded by people. The crowd was at least three people deep; as soon as a bartender finished serving someone, there was another to take their place. You’d done a brief stint as a bartender just after college, and while you’d never worked somewhere quite this busy, you had a pretty good idea of how they were feeling. 

A Bon Jovi song blared from a jukebox you couldn't locate. A large pool table and a mounted dart board stood in the far corner of the bustling bar. This appeared to be where Nat was leading you. A group of aviators—some still in uniform from the day, some not—stood around the pool table. 

Your heart was in the base of your throat. It was beating erratically. 

‘Ready?’ Nat asked, flashing you an encouraging grin.

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

When you reached them, those who had been immersed in their game stopped, and the others let their conversations die out. All eyes were on you, and you briefly wondered if something was on your face. 

‘Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my squad.’ Each one beamed at you as they swarmed around you to shake your hand or hug you. ‘For better or worse.’ Nat said.

The tall, handsome one with the moustache and the Hawaiian shirt you knew to be Rooster playfully poked Nat in the ribs. ‘Hey, you know it’s for better.’

‘Depends on the day.’ She shrugged.

‘Y/N,’ Rooster smirked. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

He had to reach down to wrap his arms around your shoulders. He smelled of sandalwood and sun lotion, and you’d already forgotten Nat’s reasons for not wanting to sleep with her squad members. 

‘All good things, I hope.’

Before Rooster could respond, a strapping blonde guy with a movie-star smile cut in. ‘Better than good,’ he said with a southern drawl. ‘I feel like I’m meeting a celebrity.’

The squad collectively rolled their eyes. ‘This is Hangman.’ Nat sighed. 

He held out his hand, and you took it. ‘Jake Seresin.’

‘Pleasure.’ You replied. 

When you finally worked up the courage to look into his eyes, you saw chaos swimming in the blue depths. He smiled at you as if he knew what colour underwear you had on, as well as all your darkest secrets. He was disarming, and you’d always made a point to steer clear of men like that.

‘Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, darlin’.’

‘Alright, Bagman, that’s enough.’ This voice belonged to one of the shorter guys with a buzzed head and a much nicer vibe. ‘You’re gonna scare her off.’ Instead of hugging you or shaking your hand, he kissed your cheek, and you felt a surprised blush creep across your cheeks. ‘I’m Mickey, callsign Fanboy. Welcome to North Island.’

‘Thanks, Mickey. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘This here is Payback, but you can call him Reuben. I’m his backseater.’

‘Hi,’ you grinned, starting to find your feet and your confidence. ‘I hear you’re quite the pilot.’ 

Reuben glanced at Nat, apparently pleasantly surprised. ‘Damn, you say nice things about us behind our backs?’

‘Not all of you.’ Nat shot a pointed look at Jake. ‘But yeah. Don’t sound so surprised.’ 

Coyote—AKA Javy—was less intimidating than Jake, but you could tell they were privy to something you weren’t. Your mind flicked back to the conversation you’d had with Nat earlier, and you were starting to understand what she meant. Maybe they had some kind of awful bet on who could bed you first. Either way, you planned to be cordial but not engage with them any more than you had to. 

Last but not least, you were introduced to Bob, Nat’s backseater and perhaps the team member she spoke most highly of. You’d been desperate to meet him for months, partly because Nat had told you he had a really funny side to him once he came out of his shell and partly because you wanted to thank him for keeping your best friend alive.

‘Y/N, this is Bob Floyd. My WSO.’

In one hand, he held a half-empty cup of peanuts. The other, he held out to you.

‘Bob, it’s an honour to meet you. Thank you for looking after Natty. I didn’t need to meet you to know that there’s nobody else I’d rather be in the sky with my best friend.’

Bob blinked at you behind his wireframes, dumbfounded by your kind words.

‘Uh, thanks, Y/N. I’m just a Weapons Systems Officer. Phoenix is the hero, not me.’

‘Don’t put yourself down. Your job is just as important, if not more so. I know she won’t mind me saying that.’

‘I agree,’ Nat said. ‘I’ve told you before, Bobby; you gotta give yourself more credit.’

Bob flushed. His eyes remained fixed on his peanuts. ‘Well, thank you. It sure means a lot.’ 

With the initial introductions out of the way, you could relax. Payback and Fanboy headed to the bar to get a round of drinks in while you made yourself comfortable at one of the tall tables. Rooster and Bob joined you and Nat while Coyote and Hangman resumed their game of pool. They’d been playing doubles with Payback and Fanboy, and it was their turn. 

You found yourself staring at Hangman as he leaned over the table and expertly sank three balls—one after the other—into the pockets. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud, but he was gorgeous. Walking, talking Texan Ken dolls weren’t usually your type, but it was impossible to deny Jake’s appeal. Maybe it was because Nat had explicitly told you not to look that you found your eyes wandering back to him, even as Rooster launched into a story about a recent mission. Didn’t something always feel more endearing when you weren’t allowed to do it?

When Payback and Fanboy reappeared, each with a tray of drinks in hand, you could finally refocus your attention. 

‘Tequila shots!’ Fanboy gestured with bravado.

‘And some beers to chase them with.’ Payback finished.

You giggled, reaching for your shot. There was enough for everyone to have two, and you made a mental note to get them both back. Hangman and Coyote sauntered over at the mention of hard liquor. It was difficult to ignore Jake when he came to your side of the table and reached over you for his shot. Was he making a point, or were you hyperaware of him after your warning from Nat?

‘What’re we toasting?’ You asked.

Rooster’s eyes twinkled as he raised his near-overflowing shot glass in your direction. ‘To old friends and new.’

The whole squad echoed his toast and downed their shots. Bob coughed and sputtered, and Fanboy smacked him on the back encouragingly, only making him cough more. Your stomach ached from laughing, and you weren’t even drunk yet. 

One shot of tequila, and you were already wondering if there were any apartments for rent close to North Island. 

As the night progressed and you got tipsier, you found yourself playing some kind of game with Hangman. The rest of the squad seemed totally unaware of it, for which you were incredibly grateful. If Nat or Rooster caught so much as a whiff of attraction between the two of you, you were sure they’d haul your ass home and sit you on the naughty step. You’d only known Bradley for a few hours, but you’d hit it off immediately. You understood why he and Nat were so close. He’d already adopted some kind of brotherly responsibility for you, and apparently—before your arrival—he and Nat had made a pact to protect you from Hangman at all costs. Super dramatic, but you were sure it was warranted. 

Of course, this approach had the opposite effect. You found yourself drawn to him for reasons known only to the almighty. Nat and Bradley had said (not in so many words, but still) ‘fuck around and find out.’

And here you were, fucking around and finding out. 

He was standing at the dart board nursing a whiskey on the rocks. Payback was taking his shot while Fanboy egged him on from the sidelines. It seemed that the two pairs had a mission to thrash each other at various bar games, and you sincerely hoped that Payback and Fanboy won at least one round of something by the end of the night just to see the smug grin wiped off Jake’s pretty face. 

As for the game the two of you were playing… Well, you’d started that. He’d caught you staring at him after the second round of shots, and the look he’d given you in response had been incendiary. More for something to do with your hands and mouth, you’d taken a sip of your cocktail (courtesy of Bobby Floyd) and looked away again. You’d looked up again a little while later and caught him staring. You’d raised your eyebrows, and in response, he took a long drink of his whiskey before mouthing ‘bet.’ Thus, your little drinking game was born, and you hadn’t even had to speak to each other.

Whenever one caught the other staring, the guilty one had to take a drink. 

You were more than tipsy now, so you silently promised not to look at him for a while lest you end up on the floor before 10 pm. 

‘So, Phoenix tells us you’re about to finish another book.’ Bradley said, bringing you back to Earth.

‘Yeah, I’ve just gotta mess around with the ending, and then it’ll be good to go. That is until my editor tears it to shreds.’

‘Did you always want to be a writer?’ Bob asked.

He’d come out of his shell significantly since you walked into The Hard Deck earlier that evening. The two shots had helped since he wasn’t a big drinker. They’d gone right to his head, and his cheeks were stained pink. Bob was sweet and kindhearted and had a knack for making you feel seen and heard in the conversation. You’d never met a man who was so attentive before, and you got the feeling that Nat and Bradley had an agenda, what with the knowing glances they shared whenever you went off on tangents about music and different novels you’d both read. 

Bob was perfect. Bob wouldn’t break your heart. Out of all the guys in The Hard Deck, he was the one who made the most sense to you. 

But Bob didn’t have you shifting in your stool whenever he looked at you as warmth pooled in the bottom of your tummy. 

‘For as long as I can remember, yeah.’ You responded. ‘Most people thought I was insane for choosing a liberal arts major in college. They’re notorious for leading you absolutely nowhere, but I was persistent, and now here I am.’ 

‘Not many people are successful enough to live off their writing, even if they get published.’ Nat added proudly. ‘She’s a one-percenter in the writer world.’

‘You know, I’ve actually read one of your books.’ Bob said, smiling down at his Corona Light, suddenly shy. 

This was the kind of moment you always dreamed about as a kid: meeting someone and finding out they already knew your name because they had a copy of one of your books at home. 

‘Seriously?’ You leaned forward. ‘Which one?’ 

‘Fourth of July.’ 

You were taken aback. Fourth of July wasn’t the book you were best known for, but it had been your favourite to write. It was literary fiction, and few people had the stomach for it. After publishing it, your agent practically forced you to write something on the opposite end of the spectrum, more for sales than anything else. 

‘What did you think?’ 

‘I thought it was extremely provocative. You know the kinds of books you think about for months when you’re finished?’

Your smile was so big, your face ached with it. ‘Yeah, I know the ones you mean. You really think that?’

‘I do.’ 

‘I don’t even know how to respond to that. I’m so happy.’ You gushed. ‘So I’m just gonna buy you another drink.’

Bob chuckled. Nat and Bradley shared another knowing look. ‘You don’t need to do that.’

‘I want to. Besides, it’s my turn to get a round in.’

You floated up to the bar on cloud nine and made the order in such a daze that you didn’t notice Hangman slide up next to you. 

‘I’ll be paying for this round, Penny.’ He drawled. 

Your head snapped up. He still had that shit-eating grin on his face, and you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to slap it or kiss it off. 

‘I can pay. It’s my turn.’ You insisted.

Jake waved you off. ‘You’re the honoured guest.’

‘And it’s my turn.’ You repeated sternly. ‘Plus, I’m buying Bob an extra drink as a thank you.’

Jake recoiled slightly, a bemused grin on his face. ‘For what?’

‘He gave me some great feedback on one of my books. The one I’m the least proud of. Nothing in the world beats that feeling, so I want to thank him.’

‘Trust Bobby to have read your work before knowing who you are. I bet he’s mighty pleased with himself.’ Jake ruminated. ‘He’s not the one trailing behind for once.’

You frowned deeply. ‘That’s not very nice. Bob seems like a great guy. He probably doesn’t seem like it to you because his ego isn’t the size of North Island.’

Jake laughed. ‘And you think mine is?’ 

Penny was smirking to herself as she poured all the drinks, and you had a feeling she’d probably back you up. 

‘I think it’s probably quite close. You and Bob don’t speak the same language, so you think he’s beneath you.’

‘Come on, I don’t think he’s beneath me. You’re making me sound like a dick.’

No, actually, I think you manage that quite well on your own.’ You quipped.

Jake staggered back, clutching his chest, feigning hurt. You laughed despite yourself. His energy was contagious like that.

‘So, are you gonna let me pay for my round?’

‘How about I pay for the round, you just pay for Lieutenant Bookworm. You know, to save your conscience.’ 

‘Fine,’ you said, rolling your eyes. ‘But I’m gonna get the next one. I’ll just wait until you aren’t paying attention.’ 

Jake glanced at your lips so quickly that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. 

‘Good luck with that, sweetheart.’ 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. He’d disarmed you yet again, and you disliked feeling so helpless. It was almost as if you were at his mercy, and he knew it. Jake Seresin didn’t need any more power than he already had. 

He paid Penny and took the tray of drinks over to the table. You hadn’t ordered any shots because you wanted to remember some of this night, and it was probably a good idea because you could no longer walk in a straight line. Jake went right back to the dart board, and you took your seat at the table.

‘What was that about?’ Nat asked, voice laced with concern.

‘He paid for the round, even though I asked him not to.’ You took Bob’s beers off the tray and set them before him. ‘I got these, though.’

‘Thanks, Y/N.’

Bradley’s eyes were boring holes into Jake’s back. ‘It’s rare for him to do something nice without an ulterior motive.’

‘Well, that’s easy. His ulterior motive is getting in Y/N’s pants.’ Nat growled.

‘Okay,’ you said with a sigh. ‘Let’s change the subject. I’m sick of talking about him already.’

Although Bob didn’t speak as much as everyone else, you felt he noticed more than they did. You could tell he saw right through you. You just hoped he wouldn’t say anything to your best friend. 

You felt truly alive, as if the electrical current surrounding The Hard Deck had been injected directly into your veins. Your first meeting with The Dagger Squad had gone incredibly well, and they’d exceeded your expectations tenfold. It had only been one day, and you already felt like you’d made some friends for life. You were beginning to understand why Nat looked so healthy, why she seemed to be glowing from the inside out, the amazing people, the energy of North Island, the beautiful weather. These things separately were better than any multivitamin, but together? You felt as though you’d drunk some kind of magical elixir that would permit you to live forever. 

You wouldn’t mind living forever if you got to stay here permanently. 

Was it too soon to be thinking this? Did you care? 

Penny had called last orders, but nobody was ready for the night to end. Your exhaustion had worn off long ago, and thankfully, you were experiencing a rather mighty second wind. Somebody had suggested going back to Nat’s for some more drinks. Reuben’s place was the biggest—a three-bed detached house right on the outskirts of North Island—but nobody wanted to Uber that far, so you settled for Nat’s. Her apartment was the second biggest, spanning two stories. You knew she’d received a considerable inheritance a few years ago, and paired with her Navy money, she was well-off. It helped that her finance-managing skills were impeccable. She’d been the one to help you invest and save money from your first book deal when you’d wanted to blow it all on an expensive trip to New Zealand. 

It took two Ubers to get you all to Island Avenue. You carpooled with Nat, Bob, Bradley and Reuben. Mickey pulled the short straw and had to jump in with Jake and Javy. To be fair, they weren’t bad guys; you just knew their type and weren’t accustomed to it. 

Back at Nat’s, everyone was assigned a job. You and Nat set about turning all the fairy lights on, putting more chairs out on the generously sized balcony and finding throw blankets for those who got chilly. Bradley was connecting his phone to the Bluetooth speaker and queuing songs since he insisted he had the authority in that particular department. Bob was hovering, suggesting more songs for him to queue, arguing that he had just as much authority as Bradley did since they had similar taste in music. Reuben and Mickey went through Nat’s drinking/board game selection, picking out a few to keep everyone occupied. Dangerously, Javy and Jake had declared themselves bartenders. On the way back, they’d stopped at an off-license and grabbed a wide selection of booze to add to what Nat already had stocked in her kitchen. They’d set themselves up on the kitchen island and were attempting to make homemade cocktails. 

You and Nat found a moment of solitude in her room when she was searching for some sweats to give Mickey, who was still in his uniform. 

‘So it’s going pretty well, huh?’ She smiled. ‘You like the squad?’ 

‘Hell yeah, I do, they’re a riot.’

She opened her wardrobe door, smirking knowingly. ‘Who’s your favourite?’

‘Don’t have one.’ You said, a little too quickly.

‘I know you’re lying. Just tell me.’

While she rooted around in her wardrobe, you gave it some thought. You didn’t have a favourite because you liked them for different reasons. Bob was genuine and intelligent, and he understood your writing almost as well as you did. Bradley was vibrant and interesting, and he made you feel safe, as if you could be yourself unapologetically. Same with Mickey and Reuben. You liked the fact that Javy was sure of himself without coming across too cocky (mostly).

And as for Jake. Well, you didn’t have the words to describe how you felt about him. 

Nat poked her head out of the walk-wardrobe. ‘Well?’

‘I like them all, Nat. But if I had to choose, it’d be Bob.’

She smiled. ‘I knew it.’ 

‘Knew what?’

‘You have a thing for Floyd. And he has a thing for you.’

‘Jesus Christ, Natty. No. Not like that.’

She’d finally found sweatpants and a T-shirt that she didn’t mind lending to Mickey. When she came out of the wardrobe, she wore a cunning expression.

‘You wouldn’t date him? I think he’s perfect for you.’

How were you supposed to tell her that the reason you wouldn’t date him was because Jake caused a swarm of butterflies in your stomach? How were you supposed to tell her you were crushing on the only guy from her whole crew she’d warned you off? 

There was only one answer to that: you couldn’t. 

‘I didn’t come here to date. Why would I start something here that I can’t finish? I’ll be back in New England before the leaves change.’

‘Everything is always so poetic with you. But you’re right,’ she relented. ‘Bobby is someone you have a quick fling with, anyway. He’s too nice, and I don’t think that’s his thing.’

You gestured as if to say, ‘there you go.’ 

‘Shall we get back out there and see what havoc those two dickheads are wreaking in my kitchen?’

‘Let’s do it.’

It turned out that they were wreaking a lot of havoc. There were open spirit bottles everywhere, and the kitchen island was lined with shots. Not only that, but a selection of cocktails surrounded the bottles. You didn’t know what any of them contained, and honestly, you were scared to ask. 

‘Ladies,’ Javy said. ‘What’ll it be?’

‘Something that’s not gonna put me on my ass after two sips?’ You offered.

He looked at the selection of drinks with a pained expression, and you laughed. 

‘I’m guessing that’s not on the menu?’

‘Er, no…’

‘Okay, give me something sweet.’

Jake stepped around the island and came right up to you. He was so cocksure that it should have been cringe, but it was just incredibly sexy.

‘Here you go, darlin’.’

Natasha and Javy laughed, but you couldn’t stop looking at him. He was drunk, but there wasn’t a hair out of place. If you hadn’t watched him throw drinks back all night, you would think he was sober. 

‘Nice. Does that work on all the girls?’

‘I haven’t tried this one before.’ He winked.

‘I’ll take whatever concoction that has the most vodka in it. No whiskey.’ 

Your swift change of subject didn’t phase him in the slightest. ‘Anything you want.’ 

When he handed you a drink and your hands brushed, you had to glance around to see if Nat noticed. Because if she had, she’d have seen you linger for a moment before you turned around and walked away. 

After a few particularly vicious rounds of Cards Against Humanity that had you all creasing on the floor, you took yourself off to the bathroom. Bob and Javy were talking about heading home. Bradley and Mickey had called dibs on Nat’s huge, L-shaped sofa for the night, and Reuben was trying to convince Nat to let him top-and-tail in her bed. While they were arguing, you headed inside and up the spiral staircase to use your bathroom without worrying about a drunken aviator trying to get in.

Or at least, that had been your plan. 

You reached out to grab the door handle, and someone’s hand closed over your own.

‘Jake?’

You turned around, your back against the closed door, and he moved in front of you, his chest flush against yours. 

‘What’re you doing?’ You breathed.

‘You’ve been givin’ me those come-to-bed eyes all night. I assumed that’s where you were headed.’

He leaned in closer, but not so close that you thought he was going to kiss you. 

‘I thought you were suspiciously quiet when everyone was talking about sleeping arrangements.’

‘Mhm, so you were thinkin’ the same thing?’

You shook your head, but your smile was a dead giveaway. ‘Even if I wanted you to, you couldn’t spend the night here. Nat would crucify both of us.’

He leaned even closer. You could smell the liquor on his lips now. ‘Who says she has to find out?’

‘I can’t do that to her. It’s disrespectful.’

He regarded you thoughtfully. ‘Come on, Y/N. Take that halo off for one night.’ 

Bravely, you nudged his nose with yours. When he tried to kiss you, you pulled back. His expression was a mix between hurt and challenged. 

‘I’ve been warned to stay away from you, in case I get hurt.’

‘Well, that’s funny,’ he responded, closing the space between you. ‘Because I’ve been warned to stay away from you so I don’t wake up and find my balls missing.’

You laughed. ‘Nat threatened to castrate you?’

‘That she did.’

‘I suggest you go home and sleep in your own bed then.’

His lips were basically touching yours now. ‘You don’t really want that.’

You reached up and put a hand on the back of his neck. The first kiss you shared with Jake Seresin was exactly how you imagined it would be. There was no softness, no easing you into it. One minute, you were talking, the next, you were tasting the whiskey sour he’d just finished. He had both hands on either side of your face and was kissing you more intensely than you’d ever been kissed in your entire life. It was raw passion and desire—you could feel how needy he was. 

When he pushed against you, you felt his hard-on through his Levis, and a small whimper escaped your lips. You found yourself grinding against him, hoping for any kind of friction to ease the tightness in your stomach. 

When he pulled away, you followed his mouth and kissed him again, but he stopped you soon after.

‘What was that about me going home and sleeping in my own bed?’

You groaned. ‘Don’t make this hard for me.’

‘You’re the one making things hard, sweetheart.’ He smirked. 

‘I’m gonna go down first, and you’re gonna follow me a couple minutes later. That way, nobody will be suspicious.’

He shook his head in disbelief, but he was grinning like a fool. ‘You’re seriously not gonna let me stay?’ 

‘I told you, it’s disrespectful.’

‘So what, then? That’s all I get?’

You flashed him a devilish grin of your own. ‘For now.’ 

A/N: This is the first part of this series. There shouldn't be more than two or three parts. For some reason, I struggle to write one-shots; it always turns into a series...

[jsbluu]

left on seen | chapter 28: mistletoe by justin bieber

➨ chapter 27: party time pt.2 | left on seen masterlist | next

➨ chapter 28 omg MERRY CHRISTMASSSS BABIESS and happy holidays to those who don’t celebrate christmas 😘 hope you guys like this chapter LOL.. 2114 words isn’t that crazy

TAGLIST: @yizhrt @bococostree @sunghoonsgfreal @dinonuguaegi @ddolbyong @4chensungs @vixensss @jirsungs @luffysprincess @nosungluv @akunoeyebrows @sinsgaybutthatsokay @joyzluvr @n0hyuck @mrsbyun-baek @queenrachelpink @botchedbrat @livingdoll-hara @minkyuncutie @gomdoleemyson @17ericas @cookydream @bitchzitschimi @luciavrseblog-com @minhosprettywife @hyukkstar @kyanmeai @shadysnoopy

the uber ride to sunghoon’s party was filled with light chatter (aka gaon yelling and disrupting the poor driver), but your mind was a million miles away. despite being with your friends, you couldn’t stop thinking about jisung. it had only been a few days since you spoke, but those days had made you spiral into a storm of overthinking. had you gone too far asking him to hangout at your apartment? its not like it was a date, especially after he invited mark along. maybe he sensed your intentions and invited mark to let you know he didn’t see you that way. the thought makes your stomach twist, but you try to shake it off as the party approaches.

“are you excited?” liz asks, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“yeah, i think” you reply, trying to sound enthusiastic, but there’s a slight hesitation in your voice. the idea of talking to jisung again had you on edge.

gaon’s beside you, clearly distracted by his own thoughts. you knew he’d been waiting for an excuse to see sunghoon, and this would be the perfect chance to do so. you smile at him, trying to distract yourself from your own anxiety.

“are you planning on talking to sunghoon tonight” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

he blushes a little, glancing out the window shyly like he wasn’t just talking about making out with him 10 minutes ago. “maybe. hes been kinda busy so i haven’t been able to see him recently. but who knows?”

you giggle, nudging him gently with your elbow, “good luck.”

meanwhile, ningning was busy with her phone, the bright light of the screen lighting up her entire face as she smiles. “i still can’t believe chenle asked me to go”

“you guys have been talking for weeks, i’m surprised it took him this long to make a move. i should’ve done it before him…” liz replies, eyeing ningning up and down. you raise your eyebrow at her, holding back laughter to keep the moment going.

“right..” she replies with, looking at liz with an unreadable expression. you giggle and shake your head, looking out the window at the passing christmas lights. its silly, really. you’ve never stayed on campus for christmas before, you always wanted to be with your family and do all the cheesy holiday traditions like usual, but not this year. something about it keeps you here.

as the car pulls up to the house, you notice the sound of music growing louder. the party is in full swing already, and a wave of excitement and dread wash over you at the same time.

“we’re here!” gaon exclaims, practically jumping out of the car.

ningning grabs her bag, throwing you a quick glance. “you okay? you seem kind of distracted.”

you give her a small smile, nodding, “im fine. just.. thinking.”

“about jisung?” gaon teases, catching on instantly, but you quickly shake your head, trying to dismiss it.

“no no, just.. you know, the party. a lot of people are here.”

he raises an eyebrow, patting you on the shoulder. “well i’m sure you’ll be fine. just try to relax and have fun, okay?”

you nod and shoot him a small smile, though it doesn’t feel as easy as it seems.

as soon as you head inside, you scan the area for any sign on jisung. you don’t see him immediately, but you can’t help like you’re waiting for something. as you make your way further into the apartment, you spot chenle and ningning already talking by the dinner table. he’s smiling at her in a way that makes your stomach do a weird flip, but you look away before they notice you staring.

“lets grab drinks first” liz suggests, grabbing your arm and heading towards the counter.

you enter the kitchen, making your way around all of the people standing in the way. gaon follows behind you, admiring the counters covered in various bottles, cans, and half empty solo cups. its noisy, people chatting and laughing around you, but it feels kind of nice. liz immediately grabs a can of soda and hands it to you.

“you’re overthinking again” she teases, nudging your shoulder. “seriously, stop worrying. he’ll either be here or he wont. either way we’ll have fun!”

you glance at her, grateful for her blunt but comforting words. “im trying, its just.. you know, everything is weird right now.”

she shrugs, popping the tab on her drink. “if he’s acting like that, that’s his problem, just have fun, and who knows, maybe you’ll find his replacement” he jokes, smirking at you.

you roll your eyes, a smile escaping your lips despite trying to hide it. “maybe i will” you say, trying to sound confident.

“exactly!” she laughs. “come on, lets go find gaon.”

you’re eventually dragged into a corner of the living room next to the christmas tree, a small break from the chaos of the party. you stand next to gaon, looking somewhat relaxed, he’s a lot quieter than usual. but that’s not surprising since sunghoon is here, and even though this is his party, you haven’t seen him yet.

you let your gaze wander around the room as your sip your drink, trying to let yourself calm down from the anxiety that had been building up for a while. just as you start to settle, something makes you pause.

jisung.

he’s standing near the punch table with mark and leehan, laughing about something. his hair is a little messier than usual, and he’s wearing a sparkly grey sweater, much different than what he usually wears. your heart skips a beat as you watch him. he’s standing there, looking so effortlessly attractive, and you find yourself staring for way too long. you quickly look away, feeling the heat creep up your neck as you avoid eye contact with your friends.

“i.. need some fresh air.” you announce, walking away before anybody could reply. you find yourself walking towards the balcony, and silently thank god that nobody is on there.

jisung watches as you exit the living room, closing the sliding door behind you. leehan follows his gaze and smirks to himself before speaking. “you gonna talk to her?” he asks, his voice low but teasing.

“huh?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from you. his heart speeds up and it’s clear through the tremble in his voice that he’s on the verge of panicking.

mark raises an eyebrow, his tone still teasing, “you’ve been watching her for like 5 minutes straight dude. she’s going outside.. seems like the perfect opportunity.”

his throat feels dry, and his thoughts start to race. he wasn’t exactly planning on talking to you tonight, but he can’t keep pretending like you don’t exist anymore.

“i—uh, no” jisung mutters, his fingers running through his hair showing how stressed he is, “i don’t know, i don’t even know what to say.”

leehan grins, clearly amused by the way jisung is borderline freaking out, “just say you’re afraid to talk to her.”

“i’m not afraid,” jisung responds quickly and sternly, though the slight edge of uncertainty in his voice betrays him. the weight of his words settle over him, and his instincts are telling him to go chase after you and just say something, anything. but he stays still in his place, still letting his thoughts consume him.

“whatever man, just don’t blame us when someone else talks to her.” mark shakes his head, clearly unconvinced by jisung’s words.

he swallows hard at the idea, a pit forming in his stomach at the thought of somebody showing interest in you. he hasn’t even come to terms with his feelings for you yet, so why does this bother him so much? it’s all too confusing for him and all he wants to do is hide in a hole and disappear forever. but he can’t. because he cares about you too much.

he knows you’re not gonna wait around forever for him to accept his feelings, you deserve better than that. but he can’t let anybody else do it before he can.

after a boost of confidence, his feet move before his mind can catch up, and before he even realizes it, he’s walking towards the balcony. each step feels heavier than the last, his palms starting to sweat as he approaches the door.

you’re standing against the railing, the cool december air hitting your face as you admire the christmas lights that are across campus. the way you stand, so quiet and alone, makes all the confidence jisung built up almost completely disappear. you looked so pretty, the lights shining against your face lit up all your features he liked so much, it almost made him forget how to speak.

“hey” he speaks up, his voice thick with uncertainty.

you turn around, immediately recognizing his voice behind you. your eyes widen when you see him, you never thought he’d be the first to reach out after so long. you stand and stare at him for a bit too long before replying. “hi..”

you raise an eyebrow in confusion, and he finally finds his words. “i just wanted to talk to you. to apologize, i should say. i’ve been kind of avoiding you, and i didn’t mean to make things weird.”

a small pause, and your gaze softens. “its okay, jisung. i didn’t really know what was going on either.”

he feels a small pang of guilt when he realizes the weight of his actions. he left you completely in the dark, and he can’t imagine the way you had been feeling the past few days. if he had been all over the place, he had no idea what it could’ve been like for you.

you meet his eyes, and for a second, neither of you say anything. there’s a strange tension in the air, like an invisible force pulling you two closer, but neither of you act on it, you’re just standing in front of each other awkwardly.

“yeah,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “i didn’t mean to ignore you. i guess i’ve been overthinking it.”

you smile at him softly, though it’s a little unsure, like you’re trying to figure it out together. “leehan says we have that in common.”

the comment catches him off guard, and for a moment, he just stares at you before letting out a small laugh. it felt awkward at first, but when you laugh too, the pressure subsides.

his eyes flicker away from you, looking upwards when he notices it. a small piece of mistletoe conveniently hung above you two. he freezes for a second, his breath catching in his throat.

you notice his pause and follow his gaze, looking up at whatever caught his attention “what is it?”

he hesitates, his lips twitching likes he’s fighting a smile. “..there’s mistletoe.” he says, pointing upwards with his finger.

you glance up, spotting the small plant above you two. your cheeks warm despite the chill, and when your eyes meet his again, there’s a flicker of something unspoken between you two.

he scratches the back of his neck, his confidence wavering for a moment. he takes a breath and steps closer to you. “maybe..” his voice lowers, quieter now, “maybe this will prove it.”

your breath hitches as his hand comes up to your shoulder, his warm hands sending sparks through your body.

“i-“ you start to say something, but the words get caught in your throat when he leans in.

the kiss is slow at first, his lips were soft and tentative, like he was trying to figure you out. its awkward, you shift slightly, making your noses bump, but when you pull back in a nervous giggle, he doesn’t seem bothered.

“sorry..” he mumbles, his face flushed. “that wasn’t..”

you shake your head quickly, a smile breaking through your nerves. “its okay, it wasn’t bad”

he tilts his head, his hands cupping your flushed cheeks. he softly rubs the skin under this thumb, smiling at you before speaking. “can i try that again?”

you nod and he leans in again with more confidence this time. the kiss is deeper, and more certain than the last. he knew you wanted, needed this as much as he did, and this was the only way to show it. his hands stay cradling your face, your hands wrapping around his torso gently and gripping the material of his sweater as a way of grounding yourself.

jisung’s thoughts are a blur, and yours are no better. but one thing is: neither of you want this moment to end. the way you respond to his kiss, leaning in like you trust him completely. the way he gently holds your face, like if he holds on any tighter you’ll break. everything about it feels right.

when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and he closes his eye for a moment. “that was..” he trails off, letting out a breathless laugh. “better?”

you nod, your voice barely a whisper, “better.”

for a moment, you two stay there, admiring each other’s faces like you’re the only two people in the world. inside, the party continues like before, but you’re way too occupied to care about that right now.

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[anystalker707]

Catch me when I fall

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Being stuck in a small city with barely any service during the business rush of the holidays feels like hell when you're an agent of a great company. Tags: very generic, cliche, cheesy christmas plot / very very very sweet / comfort / decorating christmas cookies / watching christmas lights / ice skating / christmas activities

requested by ms rain the queen herself @bimbo-baggins17

MASTER LIST

          Christmas wasn’t important. Well, actually, it was, when it came to numbers. Profits went high, people and sales everywhere, and you’d usually always be the one going on business trips for the company, going around to sign contracts or take pictures shaking hands with people to seal business deals and keep the appearances.

Business kept your mind busy during the holidays, set on what needed to get done, away from distractions. The November-January period was busy, much like June-August, so the main difference was simply the weather and decorations.

This year’s destination seemed nice—a little, cozy city that made its profits mainly during the holiday season because of tourism, and encouraging small businesses was the company’s great aim this time. The pictures of you with the mayor and other local authorities were everywhere by now for the new campaign.

Everything was going great. Maybe a little too great to be true.

“The road’s blocked?” You blinked a couple of times, taking a deep breath.

“Well, you see…” The driver cleared his throat and coughed, looking away, looking at the cars that eventually passed down the frozen streets, though there weren’t many. Not in such a small city.  “The weather was too intense, so the bridge’s under maintenance. It will take a while to fix since we gotta make sure it’s safe ‘n all, y’know. Gotta have a good weather t’work.”

Something felt like it was about to snap inside you. There was going to be another important meeting in two days. “What about the other exit? Plane? Boat? Helicopter?”

The driver flinched a little more with each word. “Look, Mx., I really believe the best’s t’wait. M’bad, but safety comes first, y’know? ‘N the city’s small. No other exit.” He shrugged as he leaned back against the car, but quickly fished his phone out of his pocket with a sigh. “Look, Mx., I really gotta go. Y’got my number ‘lready. Y’gonna know when the bridge’s fixed, then y’can call me. Uh—” He paused before he answered his phone. “There’s a lil’ inn there, good prices.”

He didn’t spare another word, pressing the phone to his ear and getting in the car before he slammed the door shut, and the car sped away with a rhythmic sound of something loose, leaving you standing alone in the cold streets with your suitcase. Fuck. You had planned to stay in a hotel in the state’s capital, not… there.

You finally found the sign hanging from a large building, black letters on light brown wood saying ‘Donna’s inn’ in cursive. The wooden building seemed cozy, surrounded by dark green pine trees and deep red decorations that matched the ornaments along the light posts that decorated the street, with the touch of accumulated snow. It hadn’t snowed so much since you arrived in the city by the morning, but it was noticeable the weather had been harsh lately. Now that you think of it, the drive into the city took longer than expected, and the line of cars seemed explainable now, given the bridge’s situation.

A sigh escaped your lips. It is what it is.

          The nice smell of gingerbread cookies and cherry pie greeted you the moment you stepped past the door, welcoming you with a warmth that gave your nerves a break from all the trembling—a little piece of heaven in the middle of nowhere. Small cities felt claustrophobic when you were used to big centers.

You inhaled to call for someone when an old lady showed up behind the counter in a red dress and a dark green apron with a nice print of white polka dots around the edges, which matched her mitten. “Oh, hello, dear, good afternoon! What can I do for you?” She adjusted her glasses with her free hand.

“Oh, hi,” you said with a nod, observing the flour fingerprints on her lenses for a moment. “I’d like a room. Uh, until the bridge’s fixed. However long that takes…” You sighed.

A crease showed up between her brows, and the lady sighed. “Everyone knew that was going to happen. I—” A clanking sound came from the kitchen, along with a patterned beeping. “Give me a moment, dear, I’ll fetch your keys. Make yourself comfortable, huh?” She smiled warmly before walking through the door, which you presumed to lead to the kitchen, leaving you alone in the reception.

The room was cozy and warm, with a fire, an armchair, and a couch. Christmas decorations hung everywhere, a nice jar with some flowers sat on the side table, and the carpet seemed to be picked out for the holiday season as well. Red, white, and green were practically everywhere, aside from when they gave place to the golden wallpaper. Whoever took care of the place did it well.

You left your suitcase near the counter to step closer to the window, observing the darkening sky, the snow accumulating on top of trees and houses—

“Fuck!” Your heart almost jumped out of your chest when a figure emerged outside, making you take a step back, but damn, it was just a man. He had a few layers of sweaters and a hood on as his gloved fingers tried to untangle a line of Christmas lights. The dumbass— Fuck, he didn’t even notice you standing there, almost having a heart attack as you held your chest and gripped the window sill with your free hand, trying to catch your breath.

Blue eyes glanced at you once, then twice, before they widened in realization. “Did I scare you?” He mouthed, letting out an awkward chuckle when you nodded. “Sorry.”

The man leaned forward to look at the counter through the window before he let the Christmas lights down, and the next thing you knew was that he was walking through the front door, exhaling as he brushed the snow off his shoulders and took the hood off, tucking it somewhere behind the counter along with his gloves.

Now that you took a better look at him… Fuck, if he had a sharp suit on, you’d easily mistake him for one of the great businessmen you didn’t even dare to look at directly. Tall, handsome, and intimidating even in his gentleness.

“So…” He cleared his throat, grabbing a book from behind the counter. “A room?”

You blinked a couple of times and looked past him, but the door to the kitchen was still closed. “You work here?”

“Maintenance guy. A little bit of everything, really. I fill in when Mrs. Lee is busy in the kitchen,” he said with a shrug as he grabbed a pen. “So?”

Reality dawned once more, making you sigh for the thousandth time of the day, rubbing your temple. “A room. Until the bridge’s fixed.”

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head, eyes raking over you swiftly. “Oh, shucks, big city kid.” Something in it sounded like mockery, but you left it at that, only watching him grab a key that hung on the wall and check the number on the tag before writing something in the notebook. “Uuh, sign your name here, also write down your number,” he said as he turned the notebook towards you, handing you the pen. “Room number twenty-five. Very Christmas-y.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head to yourself. As if it had to do with anything. Irrelevant. After checking your information a last time, you handed the pen back. “Is there any fee?”

“Nope,” he said. “As long as you don’t run away during the night.” A chuckle escaped his lips, but you didn’t share the humor, and he didn’t mind it, simply taking the notebook back and nodding to himself. “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” He walked around the counter in long strides and reached for your suitcase, not caring that you were already holding the handle. “Leave it with me, sweetheart. You seem tired.”

His gaze held yours for a longer moment, blue eyes warm. His hand covered yours to squeeze it gently. The touch was so warm and caring, and fuck, did he call you sweetheart? That— Damn, you were supposed to—

“Sweetheart?” He called from the hall, and you cursed yourself while rushing after him. He stopped in front of a door, the frame lined with red and white decorations that made you think of candy cane and holiday profits off decorations. Your suitcase was by his feet as he unlocked the door. He was so annoying, suddenly. Something about the way he stood, spoke, talked to you…

“Do you have a name, or are you just the maintenance guy?”

Maybe the bitterness was easy to notice. He raised his eyebrows lightly as he looked at you and handed the keys over. “It’s Hayden.” He smiled softly. “Uh, dinner’s from seven-thirty until nine. Self-service, with pretty much all kinds of options. No extra fees charged. Breakfast is from seven to nine, and lunch is from eleven to one,” he said before he paused, rubbing his chin lightly. “Just a tip, but since you’re staying until the bridge’s new again, then maybe you should check the city lights at some point. If you need me, ‘m just down the hall, sweetheart.” Hayden winked before walking down the hall, probably going back to fixing the Christmas lights or anything.

Damn. He looked so… Ugh, you weren’t supposed to pay attention to those things. Reality barged in again within seconds, preventing you from just stupidly standing there while looking at where Hayden had disappeared.

          The mess hall was quite cozy, making it feel like a big family was eating together despite the different tables. A sweet smell of something being prepared for later came from the kitchen when you walked past the door, catching a glimpse of the old lady—Mrs. Lee—with another younger woman with aprons and bowls. And yeah, they did a great job. Hayden wasn’t lying when he said there were a lot of options.

Quite a few other guests had lunch at the inn, enough to fill the mess hall with quiet chatter and the clinking of ceramic against ceramic, but still, not enough people to fill out all the tables, leaving a four-seat one free for you.

Your phone rested beside your plate, ever loading, unresponsive with the bad signal that’d been pestering you ever since you woke up. Those dark clouds in the sky didn’t seem promising at all, though.

“Oh, look at who’s here!” The sudden voice made you look up to see Hayden approaching with a plate of food to take a seat across from you. “Didn’t see you during breakfast.” He raised an eyebrow, picking up the cutlery.

You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head. “I had gone to check if the bridge was fixed, or if I could find another way to leave,” you exhaled, pushing your food around the plate a little before finally taking another bite.

Hayden hummed as he nodded slowly. “Not successful, I presume.” He only smiled at the glare—that damn smile. “Why the rush? Going back home to see family for Christmas?”

“No!” You scoffed. As if you’d go back home right at that time of the year when business is so agitated. “I have an important meeting in two days. It’s important for the company, and I can barely get enough signal to let anyone know that I’m stuck here, though, hopefully, the bridge’s news will reach them.”

A crease showed up between Hayden’s eyebrows as he looked at you, swallowing before he could speak up. “What could be that important that you couldn’t enjoy Christmas with your family?” He paused and cleared his throat. “Sorry, that sounded too intrusive. I mean—” he paused. “What could be so important that you would rather work than enjoy Christmas?”

After a moment of staring at Hayden—at that stupidly handsome face—, you took a deep breath. “How else is the market supposed to keep running if people like me weren’t active during the Holidays? I mean, things can’t just stop completely.”

Hayden raised his eyebrows as he hummed slowly, that attitude from the first day coming back already. How entertaining could it be to mock you? Honestly… “Not so lucky, it seems.” And you sighed, about to say something when he looked at you. “However, you’re actually lucky to be here to see the city’s Christmas festivities.”

You shot him the same mocking look. “How productive.”

A hint of exasperation crossed his face before Hayden shrugged. “Better than just sitting there, since you can’t work or anything anyway.” And a small, fake apologetic smile crossed his face because he knew exactly how much of a low blow his words were, then proceeded to go back to eating as if nothing had happened. He even had the audacity to look at you with an inquiring gaze, blinking a couple of times as he still smiled, munching on his food, and you had to hold yourself back from wiping that look off his face. Whatever it took…

          Most of the guests left after lunch to explore the city or anything else related to Christmas, but there was barely anything you could do when the signal was so bad and the bridge wasn’t fixed yet. After being trapped in your room for long enough, you decided to lounge a little in the reception, given the warmth of the fireplace and the snacks in the glass jars, but you found yourself standing by the window and watching sparse snow fall. Being trapped in that city made you think of all the reports you could be writing, all the e-mails that must be flooding your inbox, the missed calls, unanswered messages…

“Oh, you’re still around, sweetheart,” the voice cut through your thoughts. Was Hayden everywhere? Though you didn’t mind seeing him, even if he wore that ugly sweater, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and an apron much like the one Mrs. Lee and her helper were using. Where did all that charm come from? “Got nothing to do?”

“No.” It sounded heavier than intended, but the frustration was real.

“Maybe you could help me with decorating some cookies?” Hayden raised his eyebrows a little. “Mrs. Lee left last minute and said I could decorate this batch, and since you’re around so melancholic like that… ‘Could be a good way to pass the time.”

Cooking was far from the reality of paperwork, meetings, and screens that filled your life, and that reality only hit you now that you imagined yourself in a kitchen, decorating cookies. Christmas cookies.

“It’ll be fun, I swear,” Hayden said before you could overthink, and maybe it worked, because he soon had an arm wrapped around your shoulders while guiding you behind the counter and into the kitchen, also decorated in a Christmas theme, wide, with enough apparel to attend the demand of three daily meals for the inn’s guests. The surface of the island’s stainless steel counter was covered in cookies. “We have gingerbread men, trees, snowflakes, and icing in different colors,” he said as he grabbed one of the aprons that hung on the wall. Dark green, polka dots details. “There we go.”

Hayden slipped the top part around your head and stood behind you to gently tie the straps around your waist, fingers brushing against you gently. “Well, aren’t you just cute?”

Cute? Out of your element and dressing something like that? But he said it in such a smooth voice and genuine appreciation. How even were you supposed to feel about that? The embarrassment and confusion must’ve been evident, given the chuckle you earned from him.

“Uh, thanks,” you muttered with uncertainty, trying to move past the situation as you washed your hands in the sink.

“Let’s start with the gingerbread men, how’s that sound?” Hayden clapped before he grabbed one of the bags with icing and pulled the closest cookie closer, glancing at you with those pretty blue eyes.

Focus. You took a deep breath before adjusting the icing in your hands, trying to find any position that made it feel more natural, or at least… less difficult to decorate those cookies and make something that didn’t look ugly. Unfortunately, measuring the pressure and coordinating things was a little too hard, making you curse under your breath when the white icing started falling off the side of the cookie.

Hayden looked at you once, twice, then hummed before rushing over. “Oh, fuck, it’s okay, sweetheart. Happens to the best of us,” he said before he moved to next to you—a little too close, but not unpleasantly. He took the cookie from the counter, wiping the extra icing off the counter with his free hand before he licked his fingers clean, his lips wrapping around his middle and ring finger…

Blue eyes met yours, and Hayden raised his eyebrows lightly. “Tastes good,” he whispered as if it were a secret before licking the white remnants off his lips and wiping his fingers on the apron. “Well, the thing is, you have to hold it like this and do not apply pressure on the bottom, okay? Not a lot, at least.” He set the ruined cookie aside before wrapping his arms around you, hands over yours ever so gently, his face next to yours, so close you could catch a faint hint of cigarettes in his breath. “Careful, sweetheart. We want pretty cookies, hm? I’m sure you can make some as pretty as you.”

And you didn’t know whether it was Hayden or you actually doing the thing because your brain could barely process anything but every point where your bodies touched, and his words still swam across your mind. Nonetheless, you still had to put some minimum effort into it so that you didn’t look like a complete fool.

“There we go. This one looks cuter, don't you think?” Hayden tilted his head before his eyes met yours. So close. “I knew I was making a good choice by asking you to help me. Well, let’s go back to work. Try not to waste anything, okay?”

Even out of your element, even if you’d laugh if someone told you yesterday that you’d be doing that today, decorating the cookies with him, it gave you some sense of home, even if you never grasped the concept properly before. It felt like a glimpse of a life you’d have if things had gone differently in the past. Living in a small city, being married, doing the simple things, it all felt so distant.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Hayden’s voice cut through your thoughts before you nodded, finishing organizing the cookies so that the icing could dry before they were put in jars. There was a clear distinction between the ones you decorated and the ones Hayden decorated.

You nodded. “Yeah, just lost in thought,” you said softly, giving him a small smile, a forced one, for the sake of the moment. He smiled back with an understanding nod, and none of you really seemed to be truthful.

“Well,” Hayden took a deep breath as he nudged a cookie into place before placing his hand on top of yours. “I know you’re very frustrated. Being stuck in a city like this, nothing like what you’re used to, away from a lot of things, it might feel at least,” he paused, seeming to think for a word, “claustrophobic, but it doesn’t have to be totally bad.” He glanced down at your joined hands before nodding with a hum. “Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “I’m very thankful for your help. We were a great duo today.” And you couldn’t even continue your overthinking, not when he sent you that smile.

Everything was organized again, back into place or put away, aside from the cookies that waited for the icing to dry. Having the moment slipping through your fingers gave you a weird sensation in your chest, almost an ache.

“Let me help you,” Hayden said softly, and his hands grazed your back again as he untied the apron, always so caring and attentive, with some sort of tenderness that only seemed unreal until now. How real could it be, though? “Do you want to go with me to the rink someday?” He always interrupted your thoughts in the best-worst moments, as if he had a sixth sense or something. “Ice skating can be boring when you’re alone, y’know.”

“Ice skating?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Far from your usual activities. “What if something needs maintenance by then? Will you just be away, ice skating?”

“Normal humans don’t work the whole time, I’m not sure if you know that.”

You blinked slowly, glaring. How could someone be so annoying and nice all at the same time? Far from your usual conversations. “And what if there’s service before we can go? Maybe the bridge’s already fixed by then.”

Hayden scoffed. “Yeah, no. This is no New York—”

“New York isn’t—”

“—so the best you can do is really just wait patiently. You may not see how you can make it better, but making it worse won’t help either,” he said slowly, holding eye contact. Part of you wondered where all that patience came from. Surprisingly, he didn’t sound patronizing, but caring instead.

Despite how annoying it was to admit it, Hayden was right. Just staring at the ever-loading circle on your phone or laptop screen while stressing every second that went by didn’t seem so helpful, and even if the bridge did happen to get fixed and service suddenly came back, you wouldn’t be able to solve everything in a snap of fingers either. Damn it. Rationality felt like defeat, even if there wasn’t anything to lose.

A hand rested on your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. Intentionally or not, Hayden did a good job at comforting you.

You had to use every ounce of strength to avert your eyes away from his, trying to find something interesting in observing all those colorful cookies, anything that didn’t show his reaction. “When’s the rink open?” You asked, voice strained through all those feelings.

Hayden’s approval simmered in the air before his voice replaced it. “Uh, this weekend, if I’m not wrong.”

“What?” You widened your eyes at him. “It’s Monday!”

Despite your panic, he laughed. “You overestimate some things ‘round here.”

          You rubbed your forehead, observing the fire flicker in the fireplace, trying to think about anything other than checking your phone. Your brain melted like the marshmallows in the cup. “Now, what’s this again?”

Hayden sat on the armchair beside yours, ankle on his knee, hanging out with you in the inn’s lounge while Mrs. Lee cooked in the kitchen to the sound of cheerful Christmas songs on the radio. The inn wasn’t so agitated during the afternoons, the space between lunch and dinner always filled with a nice calmness, even if everything still gave you a small sense of unease. Some of your emails had been delivered through the night, but service was still too slow to let you check all the updates properly. At least someone knew you weren’t dead or something.

“Chilling.”

You feigned a smile. “Uh huh, wow.”

“Do you like the hot chocolate though?”

“Well,” you tutted, “it's not bad.” Giving in was hard, but you didn't want to be unpleasant either. After all, Hayden was just being nice so far, despite the attitude… “What's this? A streak of Christmas activities? Christmas to-do list?” You grabbed the mug from the small side table, taking a look at the exaggerated Santa Claus design. “Is everything over here Christmas-themed?”

Hayden looked around, from the ceiling to the floor, before looking down at himself, then at you. “Uh, I suppose you aren't Christmas-themed.”

“You’re so funny.” You sighed and sipped on the hot drink.

“Thank you.” Hayden tilted his head, his eyes scanning your face for a moment. His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he spoke up. “Any success contacting your company or something?”

“Actually, yes!” You replied a bit too fast, but he smiled. “It seems like my email was sent! I received a few, but they won’t load, unfortunately. At least they have time to rescue me or send someone else in my place.”

Hayden nodded slowly. “That eases part of your stress, right? Now that they know, you don’t need to keep observing your phone your whole time.” His hand found yours before you could grab the phone, warm fingers enveloping yours and giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, staying here isn’t all that bad, you’re just…” He paused, shrugging. “…not used to slowing down like this,” he said each word carefully and nodded after noticing you didn’t complain, but how could you think about anything other than how nice his hand felt around yours? His thumb gently tracing your knuckles in such a nice, loving way.

“Hayden?” Mrs. Lee showed up from the door to the kitchen. “Think you can buy me some more sprinkles, deary? I need those.” She adjusted her glasses, squeezing her eyes while bringing up an empty wrapper. “The red and green ones. Silver or golden will do just fine if it’s sold out already.” She waved it a little, compelling Hayden to stand up with a soft sigh and retrieve the plastic bag, letting the cold air replace the warmth of his hand around yours. “You know they opened the Christmas expo near the glass house, hm? You should take your partner with you.”

Hayden glanced back at you, your eyes meeting for what were just seconds but felt like an eternity. His partner…? You couldn’t afford to have a partner, no matter how appealing the idea sounded. Despite the shared look, he just nodded at Mrs. Lee before he pocketed the wrapper and made a motion for you to follow as he walked to the door, seeming pleased when you stood up. Well, it was no use arguing with Mrs. Lee over something so insignificant, right?

Gentle hands helped you into your coat, delicately adjusting the lapel. “Let’s go.” Hayden waited for you to make sure you were ready before he held the door open. “She’s probably preparing donuts. You gotta try them on, even if you’re not into donuts.”

You hummed with a nod, watching your breath turn into steam in the cold air, before avoiding slipping on the frozen part of the sidewalk became your new focus. 

“Easy there,” Hayden said as his hand immediately grabbed your upper arm until you were steady enough for his hand to drop to your waist. “Good, sweetheart?” His hand pressed firmly against your waist, and you couldn’t help but gravitate to his side. After all, Hayden was so warm, and his presence gave that sense of protection. Comfort. Naming it was hard.

“Yeah,” you said softly, glancing at him. He didn’t let go of you, and you didn’t push him away either.

The walk was silent, and you didn’t do much besides following Hayden around the little convenience store and accepting the warm cup of coffee he bought for you, and another for himself. A shiver ran down your spine as you two left the store, leaving behind the muffled talk with a background sound of distorted voices among the TV’s white noise and warmth, replaced by the silence brought by the snow accumulated on the streets and steam rising from the coffee cups, their warmth pleasantly penetrating your glove. Mrs. Lee’s sprinkles were safe inside the pocket of Hayden’s jacket, leaving his hands free for you and the coffee.

“Let’s take a different way back.” Hayden’s hand went from your waist to your hand to guide you into the street you would’ve otherwise walked past, and you followed with a light groan when your coffee almost spilled over. “They always decorate the square nicely. Last year, the decoration was a little… weird. The angels— They were supposed to look like angels, but were more like ghosts,” he said with a chuckle, grin widening once he noticed your smile.

“Oh? That’s…”

“I don’t think the decorator thought it through,” he said, clicking his tongue, that charming smile still across his face. Fuck, he made you feel such things. “But it’s beautiful this year.” He sipped on the coffee, finishing it before he tossed the empty cup into a trash can, and you did the same. Appreciating the decoration would be better without the coffee to worry about.

Golden and silver lights lined the trees and light posts, fading out a little until they became bright again, giving a cozy vibe to the square. Just like Mrs. Lee had said, there was, indeed, a building with big, glass windows, lined with lights as well. The Christmas tree was made out of golden LED lights with a pretty star on top, and there was a tunnel of silver lights and stars hanging in it… Everything was far from the extravagant decorations you were used to, but something about it gave you a comfort you’d never felt. It was scary, overwhelming, like it would burst out of your chest, explode, and…

“It’s beautiful,” Hayden said as he walked through the tunnel with you, his hand down your arm until his hands found yours then gently intertwined your fingers, grip firm and caring. “I’m glad it’s beautiful this year, so you don’t have a bad impression about our town,” he whispered.

Your gaze averted to him briefly, and you nodded faintly, unable to look away from the stars that hung in the tunnel of slowly twinkling lights for too long, accompanying Hayden in unhurried steps. Everything is so different, and it didn’t feel like you’d expected it to be—like you’d feared. You stopped by the end of the tunnel, afraid that magic would disappear if you stepped out of it, so you just stood there, by the end, a step away from all that daily stress, anxiety, and bullshit.

“You know, it is so—” The words escaped your grasp when your eyes averted to Hayden, and he was already looking at you. Something about his gaze made your heart skip a beat. He offered a smile, but it only helped your brain malfunction more, and the only thing you could give in return was to squeeze his hand back after his fingers tightened a little around yours. You exhaled, trying to look at anything other than Hayden, maybe at the… mistletoe.

Hayden’s eyebrows raised as he followed your gaze, eventually noticing the mistletoe, which seemed like the most important thing in the world until your eyes met again, hesitant, expectant, something like that. How could you ignore the pull? The sweet gaze that seemed to look right through you…

How it happened didn’t matter, not when Hayden’s lips pressed to yours, and only now did you notice how much you’d wanted it to happen, now that his arms wrapped around your waist and your body molded against his so perfectly, and no kiss had ever felt that good, never made your heart beat like that.

His lips were as gentle as they appeared, making you feel better than any good millionaire deal made on Christmas ever could, and it felt pathetic now to think that your Christmases had been filled with that until now. Felt stupid. Was that how everyone else saw you? As someone stupid? Because it didn’t feel very wise to have spent all that time drowning yourself in work, just work, not even enjoying all those places you’d traveled to, and fuck. No, no, that was your life. You couldn’t throw away all those years because it wasn’t stupid. A few kisses wouldn’t keep money running, people employed, and money in their accounts.

It hurt when Hayden’s lips sought after yours after you pulled away, but it was needed. You hadn’t gotten so far—dedicated so many years—just for that, but you couldn’t help letting your hands linger on his chest before finally stepping back and looking away. Falling in love was too far off the question, too much for someone like you. 

Not much was left to be said.

          “Oh, honey, good morning,” Mrs. Lee said as soon as she saw you by the main table to grab some breakfast, adjusting the thick glasses that made her green eyes seem a lot bigger, but in an endearing way. “Has Hayden told you?”

Just hearing his name made your heart skip a beat, making you thankful you weren’t holding your mug with hot coffee. It wasn’t like you did anything wrong. Get a fucking grip. “Uh, told me about what?”

“The bridge, honey!” She clapped her hands together. “It’s fixed!”

“Fixed?!”

“You can go home!” Mrs. Lee seemed happier than you, patting your shoulder before she rushed into the kitchen as soon as a beeping sound cut through the chatter and clinking of porcelain. Not that it was too hard to be happier than you—or anything at all more than you—given the mess of sentiments swirling inside you like… Ugh, not everything is like something else. Maybe all those feelings were starting to take up food’s space, making your appetite vanish, but you still grabbed a cookie, since Mrs. Lee could be watching. That cookie looked awfully familiar.

Focus. The bridge. You had to find that driver’s card somewhere in your things.

“Gonna pack up, sweetheart?” Hayden almost gave you a heart attack, standing there when you turned into the hallway, and you wanted to smash his face when he chuckled at your reaction.

“I mean, the bridge’s fixed.” It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts, take them away from how loving and gentle he is, and the kiss was so perfect— Get a grip. “Can’t waste time.”

Hayden took in a breath to say something, but he ended up replacing it with a sigh when you walked past him, shaking his head to himself. “Well, let me drive you to the city, then?” He followed. “I can take you there in a second, no charges.” And it was easy for him to take long strides to stand between you and the room’s door.

Seriousness swam in blue irises, like you’d never seen before, sending a shiver down your spine, and the silence it created was heavy and oppressing. Hayden made you feel weak, but not like the powerful, grumpy bosses would—no, that was like hell, but this? You actually wanted more of it, more of him. If only it didn’t mean putting so many things at stake. Damn him, for seeing right through you with those beautiful eyes and charming smile.

“What?” You asked as if your tongue was made out of lead.

Hayden gave you a look, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to throw yourself in your arms or run to the capital without even getting your bag back from the room, and that same indecision kept you rooted on the ground.

“I don’t want to force you into anything,” Hayden said softly. “But I really don’t want to lose this. You know what I’m talking about,” he continued, despite how you looked at the ceiling, thankful there wasn’t another mistletoe around, but his sigh made your heart ache. Giving up seemed easy until things started slipping through your fingers. “At least keep your promise? The rink opened today.”

Low blow. How were you supposed to resist that voice tone? Not even risky deals had your stomach doing flips like that. Damn. Work.

“I don’t…”

“Will some hours really make a difference?” Hayden moved into your sight. His gaze always carried that softness and intensity at the same time, perfectly balanced. “I mean, it’s okay if it does make a difference, but I want to make sure.” A heavy pause. “You showed up out of nowhere and made Christmas feel different for once in a lifetime. I just…” Maybe you weren’t the only one who had a lot going on. “I can’t just let this go without even trying first. I— You know what I’m saying. Or at least trying to.”

It felt like forever ago, uselessly arguing with that driver while he pointed at the inn, and you had been doing everything and going everywhere with Hayden ever since, sometimes just sitting there and watching him do something as mundane as fix the heaters. It had been such an experience. Worrying about anything other than deadlines, calls, e-mails, signatures. Nonetheless, Hayden had never looked that vulnerable during all this time; he was always strong and caring, as if he was smoothly encouraging you through what seemed to be the most difficult terrain ever—standing on thin ice as if he belonged there while you walked over pointy rocks, preferring the comfort of the wounds you already knew.

“I don’t know how to skate,” you muttered quietly. You’d dealt with so much shame for not having done such trivial tasks during these past days, so admitting it didn’t feel like punching through a wall anymore.

“I will catch you.” The promise meant more than just for skating.

          Taking Hayden’s hand felt like stepping into the darkness, but his words from earlier still rang through your mind, and he was right. You didn’t want this to end in regrets, either.

The rink was crowded, with people gathered in small groups while kids ran around and Christmas songs played in the background, ones you’d grown familiar with lately. Warm Christmas lights reflected on the snow, illuminating the place, despite the moon already being high in the sky. Hayden made sure to keep an arm around you, protectively guiding you through the people. He was so caring and gentle while helping you put the skates on, chuckling warmly at the messy waddling toward the rink, but you had to pause when you finally reached the ice.

Hayden stood there so confidently, holding your hands in his. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to for you to know he would be patient and take care of you. Catch you if you fell.

You squeezed Hayden’s hands, finding the exact safety you looked for when you looked into his eyes, and you tried not to think much before you finally stepped on the ice.

“It’s okay,” Hayden reassured as he adjusted his hands around yours, slowly moving back as you moved forward. “Try to keep balance,” he said as he moved to your side, still holding one of your hands despite how one of his arms wrapped around your waist for leverage. “Don’t look down so much or else you’ll lose your balance, okay? Keep firm, sweetheart.”

With a certain notion and Hayden’s tips, you tried to glide instead of taking steps. And fuck, it wasn’t so easy, far from being as easy as people made it seem. You could end up falling on your face, breaking your nose, your teeth, being away from business for so long— Your heart skipped a beat when you lost grip on the ice, but firm hands did hold you firmly, just as promised, slowly helping you regain your balance while everything still spun around you, your chest heaving up and down.

Hayden’s face came into sight, in front of blurry lights, with concern in his eyes. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

You nodded slowly, trying to catch your breath. You didn’t fall, nothing happened. Everything was alright. You held his hand tightly before wrapping your arms around his neck, craving his warmth, trying your best not to lose balance. “Never let me go, please,” you whispered, and he knew you meant it beyond just letting you fall on the ice.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” Hayden whispered, kissing your temple, your cheekbone, gently coaxing you to turn your face until his lips met yours again. It felt like coming home—finding home.

︶⊹︶︶·𖥸·︶︶⊹︶

[nickeverdeen]

Snowy Eyes | Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

Pairings: Hazel x reader (romantic)

Type of fic: Fluff

Warnings: None

Summary: Hazel isn’t one for traditional Christmas holiday especially with her mom home, so she figured a way how to spend them in a better way

——————

It was December 21st, just a few days before Christmas, and Hazel had, as usual, an idea. Not a conventional Christmas idea—nothing involving caroling or sipping hot cocoa by a fire. That wasn’t her style. Instead, you were standing outside an old community center with a bag slung over Hazel’s shoulder and your hands shoved deep into your coat pockets against the cold.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here,” you said with a smirk, watching her wrestle with the bag’s zipper.

Hazel grinned, finally pulling it open to reveal a jumble of art supplies—construction paper, glitter, scissors, markers, and even a few googly eyes. “Trust me, this is going to be awesome.”

Inside, the community center was buzzing. A group of local kids, ranging from kindergarteners to middle schoolers, were sitting at folding tables with piles of crafts scattered everywhere. Their parents stood off to the side, chatting over coffee.

“You signed us up for… arts and crafts night?” you asked, a little surprised.

Hazel shrugged, pulling off her coat. “It’s more fun than it sounds, I promise. Plus, I thought you’d like it. You’re the artsy one, remember?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. Hazel knew exactly how to rope you into things.

The two of you found a table near a cluster of kids who were busy making Christmas decorations. Hazel dove in immediately, showing a second grader how to glue googly eyes onto a paper snowman. You watched for a moment, heartwarming at how natural she was with the kids.

“What are you making?” you asked, sitting beside her and grabbing a pair of scissors.

“I’m thinking something avant-garde,” Hazel said, holding up a piece of red paper that she’d cut into an uneven circle. “This could be a wreath… or modern art. I haven’t decided yet.”

You laughed and started cutting out stars from gold paper. As the evening went on, the two of you worked side by side, helping the kids make everything from paper ornaments to glitter-covered reindeer. At one point, Hazel managed to get glitter in her hair, which only made her look even more festive.

“I feel like this is the Christmas spirit,” she said, leaning over to inspect the snowflake you were working on. “Not all the commercial stuff. Just… making something together.”

You smiled, nudging her shoulder. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Only for you,” she said with a wink.

By the end of the night, the two of you had a pile of creations to show for your efforts, including a questionable snowman Hazel had made with entirely too many eyes. As you helped clean up, one of the kids ran up to Hazel and handed her a messy, crayon-drawn picture of the two of you surrounded by snowflakes.

“Merry Christmas!” the kid said before running off.

Hazel looked at the drawing, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Okay, this is the best thing ever.”

You laughed, taking her hand as you left the community center. The cold air hit you, but Hazel’s hand was warm in yours.

“I have to admit,” you said, leaning into her as you walked. “This was a good idea.”

“Told you,” she said, grinning. “I’m full of good ideas.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Like the time you thought starting a fight club was a good idea?”

Hazel snorted. “Okay, fair. But this one turned out pretty great, right?”

You stopped walking for a moment, tugging her closer. “Yeah, it did.”

The two of you stood there under the streetlights, your breath visible in the chilly air. Hazel leaned in and kissed you softly, her lips cold but her presence warm.

“Merry almost Christmas,” she murmured against your lips.

You smiled, pulling her back into the walk. “Merry almost Christmas, Hazel.”

[togrowoldinv]

Home for the Holidays

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

When you get home from a work trip, you and Natasha reunite just in time for holiday celebrations

Note: I’m back! Sorry for the lack of fics lately. I’ve been finishing up classes for the year, studying for an exam, and getting a job lol. Plus, a little family trip to Vegas last weekend. I hope y’all enjoy this one! Happy holidays!

Natasha Masterlist 1, Natasha Masterlist 2, Natasha Masterlist 3, Main Masterlist

You’ve been gone on a business trip for four days and Natasha misses you like crazy.

She finally understands what it’s like to wait for her wife to come home as you waited for her all of those years. Nat counted down the days until she could see you again.

Your flight landed and she insisted on being at the airport even though you assured her you could get home by yourself. It was early in the morning so once she drove you home you fell into a deep slumber.

When you stir awake, Natasha is sitting up in bed next to you. She’s got a coffee in her hand and a smile on her face.

“Good morning, detka,” she says. “How did you sleep?”

“I slept okay,” you reply. “Still tired.”

She nods. You maneuver yourself over to place your head in her lap. Her soft, but strong fingers brush over your cheek.

“I’ve missed your beautiful face,” Natasha says, her voice barely above a whisper. She still gets a little shy with outright affection.

“I’ve missed you too, Natasha. What do you say we just stay in bed all day?”

“Hm,” Natasha begins. “We actually have some plans.”

“We?”

“Yeah. I made them on our behalf, but you know we’re a we. A package deal,” Nat explains.

She tries to read your expression. Maybe you’re too sleepy to read, she thinks. You just sigh and close your eyes.

“What are the plans?” You ask.

“Christmas lights with the team. Well, at least with Wanda, Steve, Sam, and Carol. They seem to be the most excited,” Natasha says.

“Carol is excited?” You ask in disbelief. She usually keeps her feelings to herself, but it’s a good sign she’s feeling like part of the team enough to be herself.

“She is. She reunited with Monica and some teenage girl that she’s bringing along. I’ll need to ask them how exactly they are connected, but yeah Carol is excited,” Natasha explains.

“Maybe I’m just tired but all of that sounds kind of insane.”

“That’s our line of work,” Nat says. “Are you ready to get up?”

“Lights happen at night,” you mumble, burying your face in Nat’s thighs.

“We’re having lunch with Yelena,” Nat says. “It’s the last time we’ll see her this year.”

You grumble and try to go back to sleep. Natasha chuckles at the way you cling to her.

“It’s going to be okay, baby. If you get too tired later we can always come back home and another type of fun,” Nat suggests.

“Oh,” you say. “Can we?”

You sit up and Natasha smirks. You’ve missed that expression.

“If we’re quick, we can probably do that right now too,” Natasha says. “What do you think, sweetheart? Do you want to show me how much you missed me, detka?”

God, was her voice always so enchanting or did you just miss her?

You find yourself nodding and leaning in to kiss Natasha. For the next 30 minutes, she welcomes you back home with fervor.

Once you get dressed, you leave to meet Yelena for lunch. Natasha brings her Christmas gift for her with you.

“You guys didn’t need to get me anything,” Yelena says. She begins to open it anyway.

“Oh, it’s fine. We-“ Natasha begins.

“Yes we did,” you interject. “You’re our family.”

You swear Yelena is about to cry, but Natasha cracks a joke about the gift effectively lightening the mood. You have no idea what the gift is honestly. Some kind of equipment for her missions.

“Thank you,” Yelena says. “I- um- I care about you both a lot.”

“I love you, Yelena. We love you,” Natasha says.

The affection from her sister makes Yelena begin to cry. Nat crosses the table and hugs her tight. You’re not sure who needed the hug more.

“Why don’t you stay with us for Christmas, Yel?” You ask her.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose on your holiday,” she replies.

Despite her usual confidence, she can be a little insecure about her place in your lives. Natasha drops a little kiss to her head. Her sister folds into her further.

“You’re never imposing. It’ll be fun. Right Nat?”

“Absolutely,” Nat says. “You’re staying. I’ve decided for you.” You all three laugh.

Later that evening, Yelena tags along to the Christmas lights with the team. Everyone is happy to see you and everyone really is excited to be there. Especially Carol.

The lights and the company are perfect, but eventually you look sleepy enough for Nat to excuse you to go home. She tucks you in bed and climbs in next to you.

“Goodnight, detka,” Nat says.

“Wait, we were going to-“

“Sleep,” Nat says. “There’s time for that tomorrow. I know you’re exhausted.”

“Okay,” you reply. “I love you, Natasha.”

“I love you, y/n.”

[strikefourth]

Fourth Strike Nov-Dec Roundup

Featuring Bandcamp Friday, a new garages goodbye album, and more!

Today is Bandcamp Friday, and we've got loads of goodies in store for you. Before we jump into it, just a reminder that today is Bandcamp Friday. All album sales today have 100% of their profits go directly to the artist (as opposed to the usual 85%). If you've got the funds and are looking to spend on some absolutely SICK tunes, consider giving some love to this month's roundup <3

And with that, let's get started:

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The Garages announced the final installment of their We Are The Garages series, appropriately titled "we've been the garages." It's up for pre-order on Bandcamp right now, along with the first single "we stood at the precipice of total collapse, fingers intertwined, our truths settled with words we'd never speak" by Woosh, Amadis, and Bertie.

The album releases on Jan 5th, 2025, and there'll be a listen party the same day to celebrate the album.

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2. @bardapologist's the sound engineer and editor for the new Dragon Age 2 playthrough podcast Codex Entries! We're linking Spotify and Apple Podcasts below, but you can find Codex Entries wherever you listen to podcasts. For a little extra incentive: Carly's also done the theme song!

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3. Yuppie Supper ( @thwackamabob )'s debut album Dracunculiasis came out at the end of last month, and it's certified sick! Grab it on Bandcamp or stream wherever you stream. They've got some really cool t-shirts out too (though the shirts might be sold out by the time this post goes out.)

And if you missed the release show over in Leeds, catch a recording over on YouTube (from a weird angle):

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4. @dynamicentropy has art commissions open right now and is looking to raise some funds! You can find xer commissions sheet below, along with examples of some of xer art.

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5. Aren't you tired of being human? Why not be tired of being human with lAra-a ( @girltentacles )'s new track, out now on Bandcamp and streaming.

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6. Sparkle on, it's Friday; be yourself: Julien, who you might've seen taking an electric screwdriver to a bass during THE GARAGES SIGN OFF, has some new ✨songs✨ out on Bandcamp!

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7. Keeping up the sparkly, space-y theme here, Gabi ( @girlballz ) has pre-orders up now for faer re-release of infinite spacetime:

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8. Last, but certainly not least, Bertie's got a new Magic: The Gathering inspired track up for pre-order over on Bandcamp. The song releases January 3rd, 2025; sign up for emails to make sure you don't miss it!

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9. This isn't really promoting something I've made, but it was my (roundup writer)'s birthday this week, and I've been thinking some about the privilege of growing up. I've also been, and continue to be, very proud of Fourth Strike's song jam fundraiser from last year, where we raised over $1000 for the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund. Speaking as myself and not as Fourth Strike for a moment, if anyone is looking for places to donate this holiday season, I'd be moved if you chose to donate to some of the many Palestinian relief funds still looking to meet their goal.

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This was a long one, but hey, we've been busy! Thanks for sticking around, and we hope you'll try out all our new directions. Every stream, every comment, every share means so much to us, and the enthusiasm so far has been really cool to see. We'll plug another reminder here to follow the #beyond strike four tag if you want to keep checking in!

We'll see you next month, but until then: Happy Bandcamp Friday. Consider us rounded up.

[justmystyles]

NEED YOU TO WRITE A JEALOUS/Angsty one for the picture of whoever is applying moisturiser to Harry. Your angst is soooooo good

PS: I’m OBSESSED with your work

Business or Pleasure?

read my other works here!

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you return to Love on Tour after an extended break, but after your last interaction, you come back to an awkward situation with Harry.

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for sending in this request, and for your kind words! when i first saw it, i wasn't really sure how to make angst out of it, but i think i figured it out pretty well.

i did take some artistic liberties with timelines here, i know the outfits and tour dates don't line up, but i had to suspend disbelief a little to make the story work out. sorry, don't come for me!

**Hey, so let's try this again! The first time I posted it was answering the wrong ask. That one will still be done snd posted. I promise!**

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

As your car traveled through the streets of Glasgow, you were unable to really take in the stunning scenery around you. You were too busy worrying about what the day had in store for you, panicking about being face to face with him again. 

Love on Tour had been on break since November, so you hadn’t seen Harry in nearly seven months. And the last time you did see him, things got complicated. After the last show, Harry had rented out a local bar to throw what he deemed the ‘Love on Tour holiday party’. Since everyone would be going their separate ways for a bit, he wanted to give this family he had formed a chance to celebrate together. 

As with most holiday parties, the alcohol was flowing rather freely, and everyone was getting loose and having a good time. You noticed that as the night went on, Harry was by your side more and more, his jokes getting slightly more flirty and his touches lingering just a little longer than they usually would. You two had developed a pretty flirty relationship, but he was like that with everyone, so you didn’t think much of it.

Until you found yourselves in a secluded corner of the bar with his tongue down your throat. 

Sure, it was something you had thought about for a while. Harry was one of the most gorgeous people you had ever seen, and to top it off he was so kind, and funny. He was technically your boss, but you would never know it. He treated you like his equal, his friend. Developing a crush on him was inevitable. But you had never expected anything to happen. Then it did, and you hadn’t heard from him since. 

At some point, Harry had gotten pulled away from you to do shots with the band, and you had an early flight the next morning. So you decided to slip out while he was distracted, it would allow you to put off the awkward conversation, at least for a little while. 

You had expected a call or text, anything from him the next day, but you didn’t. You hadn’t heard from him once since that night. You had seen him making appearances and doing interviews, which meant that he had hired someone else for his glam during the break, that hurt. He had regretted that night so much that he didn’t even want to work with you. 

You were contracted for the entirety of his tour, so you knew you would have to go back. When you signed on for the tour, you were excited to see the world, but now you were dreading every second you had to spend with Harry pretending that nothing had happened between the two of you. Pretending that you weren’t heartbroken. 

“Miss?” The driver’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized that you had arrived.

You thanked the driver as he handed you your bags and made your way through the backstage area. As you walked down the hall, you stopped to say hi and caught up quickly with people you’d run into, sharing quick stories about your break and promising to catch up soon. You found your way to the glam room, and took your time setting everything, partially because of how particular you were, but more than that, you wanted to kill as much time as you could so you didn’t have to go out to the common areas and socialize. You knew he’d be there, and you didn’t want to face him. 

Once things were set up, you killed time alone in your space, scrolling through your phone. You heard voices coming down the hallway, one of them was unmistakable. You put your phone down and took a deep breath to prepare yourself. As he walked through the door, you plastered your best fake smile on. 

Harry saw you, and you noticed his expression falter slightly, but he quickly corrected it. “Hey Y/N, welcome back.” He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into a quick side hug. It was significantly shorter than your past hugs, but it was long enough for his scent to overtake your senses. 

“Thanks,” you mumble as you step back, signaling for him to take a seat. You and Jeff say your hellos, and you make your way to your kit. The sooner you got started, the sooner you’d be finished, and you’d be able to get some distance from Harry. 

Jeff stayed by Harry’s side while he was in your chair. No doubt a calculated measure by Harry to make sure you weren’t left alone. As grateful as you were for that, you were also annoyed. He was the one that kissed you, and he wasn’t even man enough to reject you and apologize. 

“You’re all set.” You said once you were finished. You noticed Harry flinch slightly at your tone. You didn’t mean for your words to come out so stern, but you would only be able to hold back your emotions for so much longer. 

“Oh… okay, thanks Y/N.” Harry said cautiously as he got out of the chair, walking out of the room with Jeff. 

Once they were gone, you sat down into the chair Harry had just been in and dropped your face into your hands. The rest of this tour was going to be a nightmare. 

“Y/N, we need you backstage real quick.” Jeff sticks his head in the door only a couple of minutes before showtime. “And grab that lotion.” 

You furrow your brow, but comply. Grabbing the bottle and following Jeff down the hall. You find Harry standing shirtless amongst the hustle and bustle of pre-show preparations. 

“Um…” You got Harry’s attention and held up the bottle. “Jeff asked for this?” 

“Oh, right. I um… well…” He gestures to his bare torso. “I can do it if–”

“No no,” you interrupt him. “It’s fine, it’s my job.” You pump some lotion into your hand and set the bottle down. You rub your hands together and step up to Harry, taking a deep breath to center yourself before placing your hands on his chest and rubbing the lotion in. 

As your hands run along his body, your mind flashes back to that night. Your hands on his, his on you, your tongues entwined. You shake off the thoughts.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, you look up to meet his concerned, almost sad gaze. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your eyes remain locked on each other, Harry opens his mouth to say something. 

“The internet is going to go nuts for this!” You both snap your attention over to Lloyd, who was snapping pictures of your interaction. 

You feel your face heat up and look down, trying to hide your blush from Harry. You hurry to finish applying the lotion. “All set,” you finally say, unable to look up at him. He thanks you as you’re scurrying away, rushing back to your area. 

All you wanted to do was go back to the hotel and hide, but you knew you’d need to stay for a few touch ups before the encore. So you spent the entirety of the show sitting alone in the hair and makeup area lost in your thoughts, wondering how you were going to make it through. 

You kept an eye on the show through the monitor, making your way to the backstage area as he was finishing up his final song before the encore. He rushed over to you, breathing heavy, and adrenaline running high. You made some quick adjustments to his hair, and handed him a towel so he could wipe down a bit before going back out there, avoiding his gaze the whole time. 

He thanks you quietly before he returns to the stage, and you return to your space. While he’s finishing the show, you pack your things, hoping to get out of there and back to the hotel before he’s off stage. As you're closing up your case, you’re startled by a knock at the door. You look up and silently curse yourself for not moving faster when you see Harry standing in front of you. His chest rising and falling rapidly, still catching his breath, his body glistening, a combination of sweat and the lotion you had applied earlier. He was the last person you wanted to see, but you couldn’t look away. 

“Hi,” he breaks the silence. “Can we talk for a minute?” 

“I can’t, my car is waiting. I’ve gotta get back to the hotel.” You pick up your case and move closer to him, but he refuses to move from the doorway. 

“Please,” he pleads with you. You look up and see determination in his eyes. He’s not going to let you go without talking. You relent, dropping your case by the door and signaling for him to come in. “You’re not going to pull some fancy footwork and run past me if I move away from the door?”

You shake your head, you know he’s making a joke, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh. You move further into the room, hopping up to take a seat on the counter. “I’m here.” 

Harry takes a seat, running a hand through his hair as he tries to form the words. “I think I owe you an apology for the last time I saw you.” You remain silent, hoping he continues. “I was drunk, I crossed a line that I shouldn’t have, it wasn’t professional.” 

“It’s okay, we were both drunk.” You say, your feet swinging back and forth. 

“The last thing I wanted to do was screw up what we had,” he confessed.

“It’s fine, like you said, you were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.” 

Harry looked up at you, his brows furrowed. “I said I was drunk Y/N, not that it didn’t mean anything.” 

Your eyes went wide at his words. “I… what?” Before he could continue. “I just assumed it was a dunk fling or whatever.” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘drunken words are sober thoughts’?” You nod, trying to put the puzzle together. “Well in this case, it’s drunken actions.” He stood from his seat, stepping closer to you. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you for a long time. I had liquid courage running through me that night, I knew I wasn’t going to see you for a while, and you looked so beautiful, and you smiled at me like that, and I just couldn’t help myself.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, it was the only thing you could manage to get out. 

“After the guys pulled me away, I tried to find you. I wanted to lay everything out, tell you how I felt, but you left.” He looked down, but you could see the pain in his eyes before they dropped. “We had kissed, it was this amazing kiss, and then you just left without saying goodbye. I realized I had fucked up.” 

“I didn’t, that’s not why I left, I…” You were about to apologize for leaving, but he could have just as easily called you. “Why didn’t you just call? Text? Anything?” 

“I felt so bad. I didn’t know what to say. The more time had passed, the harder it got. And before I knew it, it had been seven months.” He saw the tears welling in your eyes, and his heart sank. “I missed you so much during the break, but I miss you more now. You’re right in front of me, but it feels like you’re a million miles away.”

“I’m right here, Harry.” 

“You’re not though, we’ve barely said anything to each other, and there’s this awkwardness between us. I hate it.” His voice starts raising, frustration growing in his tone. “It was one of the best kisses of my life, but if I could go back in time and stop it from happening so that we could be us again, I would.” 

“Harry?” He looks up at you and you see a vulnerability in his eyes that you’d never seen before. “I wanted that kiss too. It meant so much to me.” 

“But… but you just left…”

“I had an early flight, and I didn’t want to pull you away because you felt like you needed to let me down easy. I just assumed I’d hear from you the next day, hungover and apologize. But I never did.” 

Harry stepped in between your legs, his hand coming up and brushing across your cheek. “You’ve wanted to kiss me too?” Your breath hitched from how close he was, all you could do was nod. He smirked at your nerves, relief washing over him. “You know, when you were putting that lotion on earlier, when your hands were all over me,” his face moved closer, his lips just a breath away from yours. “You were driving me crazy.” 

You couldn’t contain yourself, his husky tone, his breath against your face, you closed the distance and kissed him. He groaned against your lips as his hands rested on your thighs, squeezing gently. This kiss was different than the last, that first kiss was sloppy, desperate. This time, it was slower, more deliberate. 

When you finally separated, you were both breathless, silly grins plastered on your faces. “So, what now?” You ask, unsure about where this leaves you. 

“Well,” Harry sighs, his thumbs running back and forth over your thighs. “We definitely still have stuff to talk about, but I’m hoping it leads to a lot more of that.” He smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. 

“I have a feeling it will.” You smirk, pulling him in for another kiss. 

[sad-soup-and-chaos]

My monthly drabble.

My current favourite Sukuna Mafia boss AU. but with a tragic swing.

18+

Mention of violence, sexual assault, death, suicide. Long. Pain no comfort. Not proof-read.

IF ONLY...

The holiday season was a dreaded time of the year for Sukuna. The business went well, of course, with so many clients seeking easy pleasure and their high. But it also meant that people were unnecessarily cheerful and self-centered. As always he was suddenly short on men and had to deal with some of the clients himself.

The worst, the longest week of the year. He felt so genuinely exhausted. In such a need of rest and relief.. but the thought of any usual hooker he used to go to made his stomach churn with disgust. He was done with cheap people for the week.

He stood in front of his HQ smoking like some hobo, not the most dangerous boss of the most infamous yakuza family. "What a dreadful weather" he thought watching the grey sky, dump cold seeping into his bones, making him shiver.

He needed to think of something. Something less distasteful.. more sophisticated. To feed his empty soul and ease his irritation. His eyes fell on an early XX century poster of a geisha advertising some beer in an antique shop across the street.

A geisha. Now that didn't sound half as bad as it usually would. They were classy, beautiful, artistic. They had strict etiquette and didn't mingle with their clients.

Perfect.

His hand reached for his phone and he googled locations offering geisha services. He groaned. Some looked like cheap imitations, he would probably end up drugged with an old ugly hooker... some looked too flashy for his taste.

And then.. he came across a site of a teahouse in the outskirts of the city. The site was minimalistic. A few photographs of the place looking almost ancient. No pictures of the girls. No flashy advertisements of their skills.. Just the address. But something about it felt strangely authentic and mysterious. Tsk.. too intriguing to pass by.

He checked the route and a few moments later he was driving his overpriced sports car towards the location. In less than half an hour he parked outside the teahouse.

A sign above the old heavy door Tamatori hime

The jewel-taking princess, the famous lady Tamatori who stole a precious pearl from a sea dragon. What a name.

He pushed against the heavy wooden doors and came inside the comforting warmth welcoming him in. He was met with an unexpected sight. Wooden walls with calligraphy and ink and an old elegant woman in a kimono sitting behind a low table. "Welcome, traveller" her voice was calm and almost soothing.

"A tea for one.." he muttered, his voice lacking his usual sharpness "and a companion for the evening"

The old woman hummed. "You won't find what you seek in any rooms here." she said calmly. "But you might.. if you enter the Pearl garden behind the house."

"That is.. if our jewel will accept" she added, her voice slightly thoughtful. Then she lowered her eyes, took a brush, placed a piece of handmade paper on the table and put the brush into the ink on her table.

Sukuna felt confused and slightly irritated. He had the money to buy the whole house, the garden, all the staff with their families together. "And what is the difference between the ones in the house and garden?"

"The women in the house.. will not satiate your hunger and fill your emptiness" the old woman said without lifting her eyes at him. The brush masterfully leaving ink on the paper.

Her words. Her audacity. The way she didn't even look at him yet dared to say those words.. It made him all even more irritated. But the old woman drew with such elegance he didn't have the heart to burst out yet.

"And how do you know, that the one in the garden will satisfy me?" he scoffed

"I don't." she said making him scowl even more "I am here simply to welcome the travellers who decide to enter our establishment. And help them choose one of the rooms" she said the black ink slowly forming a kanji for pearl. "And you, traveller, should go to the Pearl garden" she said softly.

"You make an empty assumption, woman" he scoffed hardly keeping his temper in check. "What happens if i don't follow your advice?" he almost hissed.

And then to his genuine surprise he heard a giggle from behind the wall on his left. Such a pleasant sound, so light.. but so strangely mocking. Was it a coincidence? His eyes darted to the left only to see an ink drawing of a small traditional teahouse over a pond with a garden beside it.

"It is not advice. It is a mere suggestion. It is your choice whether to follow it" the old woman said and took out a small wooden stamp.

"I know a mockery when i hear it. But I doubt you will tell me who it is.." he said coldly referring to that melodic giggle "Then let me hear another suggestion of yours. WHY.. would i enjoy the company of your jewel?"

"Shinju" the old woman said. Her voice still calm and unaffected by the spite in his voice. Was she referring to the name of the person behind the wooden wall.. Shinju.. a pearl. Or was she simply referring to the legend of lady Tamatori after which the house was named?

"Because, she is the crown jewel of this place. And if she accepts you.. and you don't enjoy it.. It only means you are too dead inside already. And no one else would be able to change that" the old woman said leaving him completely speechless. She then proceeded to put the stamp into red ink and pressed it onto the paper before her.

He was so shocked, so utterly confused. How dared she? How dared they?! Didn't they want his money? Weren't they afraid.. that the only words that escaped his lips sounded weak and defensive "I am not dead inside" he muttered despite himself.

The same giggle rang through the wooden wall mocking him. Mocking his words. Mocking his reaction.

"Then why are you here on this dreadful night if not to warm up your soul?" the old woman asked calmly. She took the handmade paper with the calligraphy in her hands and gently blew over the ink.

He blinked. He felt so confused, so utterly taken aback by all that was happening that he found himself muttering "What is that supposed to mean?" his eyes shifting between the old woman in front of him and the cursed wooden wall. "I am here for the company of a beautiful woman. Nothing more and nothing less. Stop making assumptions!"

The same cheerful giggle "It is not a brothel, kakka.. it is a teahouse" the cheerful voice so sweet so sultry so.. mysterious and intriguing.. It made his heart flutter despite the utter irritation he was feeling.

"We have no oiran. We have tea. The brothel is right behind you, across the street" the voice from behind the wall added.

This voice. This sweetness. Its melody. The slightly mocking tone. So infuriating yet so intriguing. He was Ryomen Sukuna, the yakuza boss notorious for his bad temper and his cruelty. Yet despite himself.. "I do not need a cheap woman. I need a woman worthy of my time!" he squeezed out

"But are you worthy of hers?" the voice asked and giggled.

He stood dumbfounded. His hands trembling with powerless rage. He closed his eyes. No need to burst in front of some useless women.

And just when his eyes closed.. he heard a sound so familiar, yet distant. A thud of a folding fan being closed. Then a series of shonji doors opened somewhere to the right. And the heavy entrance wooden door opened behind him bringing in a whirlwind of sharp cold and snowflakes.

His eyes opened instantly, a cold unpleasant shiver running down his body.

The old woman before him straightened herself and held the paper with the calligraphy of a single word for him. Shinju. Pearl. He was given a choice. He was pushed into choosing between the unknown mystery of the Pearl garden behind the teahouse.. and the exit.

Sukuna had a deep scowl on his face. But he didn't hesitate. He grabbed the cursed piece of paper and marched through the open shoji door to the right of him. He was so determined he didn't even hear the soft steps of the old woman behind him who went to close the wooden doors.

Sukuna simply walked along the endless corridor, the maze of shoji doors opening and closing behind him. The alluring mocking giggle still ringing in his head pushing him further, taunting him, playing with his exhausted mind. He didn't even notice that the shoji doors behind him kept closing, cutting him off from the exit.

The maze suddenly ended in a courtyard with a karesansui garden looking haunting in the winter cold. His eyes darted around not seeing anything of importance. He turned around to go back to finally ask questions, to demand.. But then the last shoji door closed before his nose leaving him alone in the empty garden. He groaned and kicked the shoji.. and looked around again. And then to his surprise he saw a round Chinese moon gate to another part of the garden with nothing but the darkness beneath it.

Without much choice he walked to the gate and stepped through. The second he did.. the stone toro lanterns suddenly lit all over the place suddenly revealing a neat stone path and the garden it led through. His legs moved on their own, his eyes hungrily drinking in the peaceful landscape until they stopped on a small teahouse over a pond. The same one from the ink drawing he had seen on the wall of the house making him suddenly pause his confident stride.

And there.. on the side of the lake stood a stone pagoda-like pavilion with a stone table and a woman sitting on one of the stone stools. She was wearing traditional attire with a luscious fur collar. A small stone stove beside her with a pot of boiling water.

He was so shocked by the sight staring at it, completely srill. A stray snowflake hit his cheek reminding him of the horrible weather outside. Waking him up from his daze.

He started walking to the pavilion his eyes never leaving the woman. The closer he came.. the less confident his stride became, until it came to a halt yet again. He stood a few steps away struck by her beauty. She looked so delicate and pure. Was he really worthy of her time? He started to doubt it.

"Good evening, traveller" her voice greeted him like a gentle melody caressing his soul. "Would you entertain me with a game of Go?" she asked so softly. Her calm eyes looked at him. And for once, or rather for the second time this very evening he felt no judgement coming from them.. but also no fear.

Sukuna would have spoken if he could find his voice. But he was almost afraid to hear how it would sound. So he silently nodded and sat on a stone stool opposite to her. He realised, this game of Go should be the test by which the woman would decide if she accepted him as her client. But at this moment he just knew that for the first time in his life he would fail, he would lose pathetically, too captivated by her beauty, by her aura.. by everything she was.

"Please, have some tea, traveller. The weather is rather unpleasant tonight" she offered and put a simple clay cup before him, then poured a herbal tea that was simmering on the stone stove beside her. His eyes darted to her gloved hands despite his better judgement.

They sat in silence for a few moments. All of his confidence, his arrogance gone for good. He blinked trying to move.. to speak.. to do something. Yet all he could muster was a nod. His hand reached for the cup and he made a sip. The herbal tea slightly bitter, yet refreshing and strangely fitting for the cold night. He put the cup down and silently placed a marble on the stone board between them.

Her delicate hand reached for a marble of her own.. but naturally it slipped from her glothed hand. She softly clicked her tongue and took the glove off, then placed her marble as well. His eyes darted to her hand. It was too delicate for such cold weather. What a strange thought.

They kept playing for some time in complete silence. "Can you tell me your name?" at least her name.. His voice came out strangely gruff and almost shaky.

"You already know it" she answered softly.

"What?" he muttered his eyes darting away trying to understand what she meant. And then he remembered the calligraphy, the name uttered by the old woman.

Shinju. The pearl stolen by lady Tamatori, the jewel kept in the secret garden behind the teahouse. "You are Shinju" his eyes lifted to her face.

She softly nodded placing another marble on the table. Her hand. It looked so pale now. She must be cold in this horrible weather.

He felt an urge to take this delicate cold hand and warm it in his own big warm hands. An urge to touch her and make sure she was warm. But she was a geisha. Someone he shouldn't touch. He gritted his teeth, his eyebrows coming together. Instead he put a marble of his own. Its click too loud in the silence of the winter garden.

To touch the hands, to warm them. But was he even worthy of her time? He was losing pathetically, and by an embarrassingly big margin. But even not this.. Was he, the Ryomen Sukuna, the coldhearted criminal whose hands were covered in blood and violence, was he even worthy to sit in the presence of this pure beauty? He had to remind himself for the mptieth time that she was a geisha, he shouldn't be even considering such acts.

Her hand put another marble on the stone table. It was so pale, it looked almost translucent. Before he could stop himself his hand grabbed hers almost rudely. Her eyes lifted in small surprise. Her hand was so cold, almost as if he was touching a corpse. He blinked.

And then he reacted. His coat was down in no time and wrapped over her. He scooped her in his arms and carried her quickly along the strong path and into the teahouse over the pond.

Her eyes were slightly wide and never leaving his face.. while he was looking straight forward. He knew the consequences of touching a geisha. He was ready to pay any fine. To pay thrice, ten times the price. To be forbidden from every teahouse around Japan.. But he wasn't ready to see her reaction.

He somehow slid the shoji door and stepped inside. He quickly slid it closed to cut off the cold air. And then he lowered to his knees not to spoil the clean tatami floors. He swallowed and lowered her gaze to her still not quite ready to see her face.

He maybe had thought that she would go mad, scream, scold him, or even slap him. But instead she giggled and opened her folding fan. "Welcome to my home, traveller". He sat there completely dumbfounded. Shouldn't he.. Shouldn't he be chasen away? Shouldn't he be forbidden from this place? His thoughts ran a thousand miles per hour.. yet his head felt completely empty with how utterly shocked he was. He finally realised that not the game of Go was her test.

But then.. she kneeled beside him and started to unlace his shoes. "You.." he tried to speak

"Mmm?" she hummed

"You don't need to do that" he finally squeezed out.

"I don't need to.. but I want to." she answered with a small smile. It wasn't mocking or condescending. It was a calm peaceful smile. She took off his shoe and then moved to the other one. He stared in complete dibelief. Staring silently at her like a complete idiot.

"You see.. there is a secret behind the Moon gates of the garden" she said "The girls inside the house are geishas. But I am not." That meant that she was not bound by the etiquette of the geisha. And she indeed did what she wanted.

She then placed her hand on his elbow as if to help him stand up. "You seem exhausted, traveller. And what is a better thing for an exhausted traveller than a warm bath?" she smiled. He swallowed heat rising to his cheeks. He was.. He was so many things. So opposite to her. And here she was holding his elbow in this manner.. He rose himself and nodded silently, now towering over her small form. "Please, follow me then" she bowed her head slightly

"Is there a name, you would like me to use, traveller?" she asked as she led him along the corridor.

"Sukuna" he squeezed out quietly not quite trusting his own voice.

"Sukuna." she repeated as if trying it on her tongue. His name sounding so so gentle all of a sudden. They entered the bathroom. Warm fragrant fog, a big wooden round soaking tub with a small fireplace below it. She turned to him "Would you like me to help you undress, Sukuna-sama?"

His heart went to his throat. He was unable to react for a whole minute and then slowly nodded.

She smiled softly. Not mocking. Not judging. A small genuine peaceful smile almost as if it was her pleasure to take care of him. She approached him and started unbuttoning his shirt. Her movements attentive almost too careful not to touch him in any way. Almost reverent. But most importantly.. unflinching in the face of his impressive height, his big muscular form, his scars and tattoos.

It was so strange. They all flinched. The escorts, his fake girlfriends, gold-diggers, even the expensive professional hookers would flinch eventually. But not her. She removed his shirt. Unbuckled his belt. His pants dropped onto the floor so now he was left only with his socks.. and his boxers on.

"May I?" she asked softly "Or would you prefer to do it yourself?"

To his dismay he answered before he could stop himself "You may" And gods, his face never felt so hot.

She bowed her head politely and lowered to remove his socks. Then went behind him to give him at least some sort of privacy. Her hands gently tugged on the hem of his boxers. Then she very carefully slid them down.

He forgot how to breathe turning a new unexpected shade of red. And quickly, maybe a way too quickly stepped into the wooden soaking tub, sat down, allowing the water to cover his body.

"Would you like some tea and snacks? Or maybe liquor, Sukuna-sama?" she asked

Sukuna-sama. "Both" he blurted out before his thoughts went astray at the sound of his name paired with this honorifics coming from her sweet mouth in that voice of hers. "Tea and sake"

She bowed her head politely and left the bathroom. She returned soon. Sat two cups for him and a small plate of snacks on a wooden tray and.. put it onto water allowing it to float towards him. "And do you like music, Sukuna-sama?"

"Music?"

"Yes. To be more precise, guqin music. I am not very good with shamisen. But I could play you the guqin if you would like that.. of course." she said

"Yeah.. I'd like to hear it"

"Thank you" she smiled.. Grateful for being able to play for him. He wanted to stop her. He didn't deserve it. Her gratefulness, her care, he wasn't worthy of her time and effort. But she was already gone from the bathroom.

A few moments later she settled on the floor, a black old instrument in front of her. Her long fingers lowered to the strings and a melody started flowing through the warm fog of the bathroom. A gentle whisper of the times and memories that were so familiar but had never happened. The melody wrapped around him, so melancholic making his cold heart ache with unknown yearning, with a longing he had never felt before.

After a long long time he had lost track of the melody softly died out leaving him strangely disappointed. "Would you like me to help you wash, Sukuna-sama?" her gentle voice asked

His eyes went wide open. How many times would this woman render him speechless? Before he could dwell into it he simply nodded.

She went behind him. And held his head gently so she could pour water over his hair without allowing it into his eyes. He tried not to move too much feeling strangely restless. She added the shampoo and started carefully washing his hair allowing him to get used to the feeling of her fingers between his locks. And then started massaging his scalp. His body froze and then slowly eased into the feeling. The feeling of being cared for. Maybe for the first time in his life.

She then washed the shampoo away and continued to wash his body. Every muscle. Every crook, every crevice. Constantly asking him if she could, if he felt fine. So considerate and respectful. He forgot his stress, forgot his troubles, forgot the world outside this small warm bathroom. The world outside of her hands.

It was late night or rather a very early morning when she finished. Washing him. Applying oils to his skin. Feeding him. Helping him in and out of clothes. She was helping him one last time. Buttoning his shirt up. He felt a strange tightness in his chest. Watching most non-chalantly her every move, as if trying to memorize it forever.

An hour later he was in his penthouse. And went straight to the bed falling asleep the second his head touched the pillow. He hadn't slept so well for gods know how many years. And woke up the next morning.

"Make me a reservation in Tamatori-hime establishment" he said gruffly to Uraume upon entering his office. He already missed her touch, missed her very presence.

"Tamatori hime? Wasn't it that brothel that burnt in a fire 10 years ago?" Toji mused. Sukuna's heart stopped beating at these words.

"Tsk, it was a teahouse with geisha!" Gojo rolled his eyes.

"Oi, same shit" Toji groaned

"No it isn't! You are such a brut. Sometimes I wonder how you even a Zenin" Gojo huffed

Sukuna was deaf to their bickering. The words repeating in his head *the house that burnt ten years ago*. But he had been in that house *the day before*

"Uraume, make me a reservation" Sukuna repeated.

"Boss? You are pale" Geto hummed. His men suddenly stopped bickering and turned to look at Sukuna. "I will check"

"Oh" Geto muttered "Now I remember, it has become an urban legend"

A what?

"Yes, I do remember too" Uraume hummed deep in thought. "They had this geisha who wouldn't accept every client"

Yes. It was her. Shinju. Their crown jewel. His.. pearl. But why did his men speak in Past tense? He had been with her a day before. Sukuna felt a strange uneasiness creep into his body.

"And one day she refused some big yakuza boss" as the words kept reaching him the air kept getting incredibly stuffy. "He called his men.."

"Or.. I now remember"

Sukuna couldn't even discern the voices of his men anymore, feeling his own pulse drumming loudly in his head. A plitting headache beginning to rise in his head. For the first time in his life Sukuna felt sick and dizzy. "They returned and raped every single woman. And the geisha in question slit her own throat. They then burnt the whole place down to cover the evidence"

"Yeah, but some say, the Teahouse appears every year on the date of its demise and allows customers to enter"

"boss? BOSS?!" He didn't hear them anymore. He was in a daze. Slowly sliding onto the floor. His eyes unseeing. A beautiful face in his head.

If only he..

If only he could..

If only he could.. do what?..

"Mmm? You look.. sad?.. Don't worry, Sukuna-sama. We will see each other very soon." the sweet voice rang in his head before the darkness slowly filled his vision and his consciousness slipped away.

[cha-melodius]

30 for zahra/shaan for the hug prompts if it sparks joy <3

(Thank you for sending this one, I've never really written Zahra/Shaan from either of their POVs and it was a lot of fun. Not to mention this hug prompt was perfect for them. read all the hug ficlets)

30: The reluctant hug from someone who isn’t exactly a fan of physical affection. 

The first time they see each other in person after the email leaks is when Henry goes to DC for Alex’s speech.

Usually, in a situation like this where they’re only interacting for work, neither of them would even think about letting any part of their relationship slip through. All the looks, all the touches, even a hint of personal conversation—that stuff is only let out when they’re off the clock. They’ve crammed a lot into two-day holidays over the last half a year, and even with what little pieces they get of each other, it’s worth it.

Today is different, though. He can see the toll that the leaks and their aftermath have taken on Zahra. Not just because of the political impact, though of course that is her job to deal with, but the personal one too. Zahra cares deeply about Alex, more than she’d ever admit to anyone. Shaan can tell, though. Could tell when he first heard the minute hitch in her breath over the telephone line. She feels responsible, just as he does. They couldn’t protect their charges, no matter how hard they tried.

Now, she’s running around as usual, barely sparing him a glance as she barks out schedules and timing. They’ve landed no more than a half an hour before Alex is due to speak, and it’s a mad rush, even when Alex and Henry disappear for ten minutes, no doubt to do things Shaan would rather not think about. It’s not until later that evening—they’re staying overnight, something he’d quietly insisted upon when they’d made these plans—that Shaan manages to actually catch her.

“Did you need something?” she asks brusquely. He knows better than to take it personally.

“Yes,” he tells her, equally business-like. “Can I speak with you privately for a moment?”

Her eyes flash like she knows what he’s up to. She probably does. Normally, he’d never attempt to request a private moment, even now when most of the White House has retired for the night, but there’s nothing about this situation that’s normal. For a moment he thinks she’s going to refuse, but then she gives a short nod and leads him through a random doorway.

“Ok, Srivastava, what is it? I don’t really have time—” she starts immediately, which is a lie because he personally heard Ellen Claremont say she didn’t need anything else from Zahra tonight.

“Zahra,” he interrupts softly, putting hand over one of hers.

She doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign. Or maybe a bad one. When she looks up at him, the conflict is plain on her face. “We can’t—” she starts. Stops and licks her lips, her lipstick still flawless this late at night. “Not here.”

“I know,” he reassures her. “I’m not asking for much. Just a hug.” She narrows her eyes at him, and Shaan lets his expression soften. “You’d be doing me a favor.”

Even in the moments when they can truly be alone together, Zahra isn’t much of a hugger. She won’t even initiate one on those rare occasions where she wants to be held, so Shaan has learned to detect such circumstances and then ask for one for himself. She always gives a little huff, like it’s a chore, though if she didn’t want to she’d just tell him no and walk away. Then she will reluctantly let herself be drawn into his arms, and only when her face is hidden against his neck will she allow her shoulders to relax. She’ll take a deep breath, her arms tightening around his waist, and he’ll hold her for however long she allows.

Today, Zahra needs a hug, and Shaan will do whatever he must to give it to her. It helps that it’s not a lie—Shaan really could use a hug himself, after everything.

He has to keep himself from smiling when she rolls her eyes and lets out her usual huff. The rest follows as he’s become accustomed to, though she holds him tighter and longer than he was expecting. Then she shocks him by murmuring, “I love you,” into the collar of his shirt. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

“I’m here, my love,” he breathes as he smooths a hand over her hair. “I’m here.”

[stardustrebels]

More of You- Chapter 3

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

WC: 2.6k

Rating: 18+ for eventual smut, MDNI

Series Masterlist | Blog Masterlist Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: After a devastating betrayal and loss, you left everything behind on the East Coast and promised yourself a fresh start in Austin, Texas. Independence as your new mantra, you vow never to let anyone too close again. Then you meet Joel Miller- a man whose warmth and Southern charm makes it hard to stick to your resolve. As your feelings deepen, you’re forced to confront your past- and question if letting someone in again is worth the risk. 

Tags: No outbreak!AU. Coffee shop meet-cute with a slow-ish burn. Sickly sweet fluff with eventual smut. I wanted to write something that gave me the warm fuzzies, and I am kicking my feet and giggling while I write this. Joel Miller just deserves a good life, you know? Joel and reader have a teeny tiny age gap- Joel is 42, reader is mid 30s. Sarah is 19. No use of Y/N, minimal descriptions of reader. She has hair long enough to tie back and she wears skirts and dresses.

A/N: I'm really beginning to enjoy writing again, and this fic has really become the highlight of my holiday season. If you're reading this little story, thank you from the bottom of my heart- I really hope you enjoy it! Maybe these two idiots will actually manage to speak to each other in the next chapter. We can but hope, eh?

Your heart sank a little the next day when you arrived and the table where the handsome Mr. Miller had been the day before was empty. You tried to ignore the little stab of disappointment as you ordered, and sat down in your usual spot, scanning the rest of the tables for any sign of him and told yourself to stop being absurd. You were disappointed because, what, a handsome man in a coffee shop wasn’t there to shoot you half-smiles while you ogled at him? 

Despite the internal scolding you were giving yourself, you kept glancing at the clock as you worked. He’d been here early the last two days. You guessed before his 9-5. You absently wondered what he did for work. Nothing about his phone call yesterday had given it away. You figured if he didn’t show in the next fifteen minutes, then he wasn’t going to. 

Despite your clock-watching, you managed to get a good chunk of your own work done. You’d brought your drawing tablet today and were digitising another logo based on some sketches you’d done the night before. It helped distract you, at least that’s what you told yourself. Every now and then, your eyes darted to the door or scanned the empty tables around you. Each time, the knot of disappointment in your stomach tightened a little more. 

By the time you’d finished outlining the design, an hour had passed and you were resigned to the fact that he wasn’t coming. You felt foolish. He was just some guy whose morning routine had coincidentally, temporarily overlapped with yours. A thought struck you then, harsh and clanging: you hadn’t noticed a wedding ring on his hand. 

Had you even looked?

Your stomach turned at the realisation. No, you hadn’t. You were hit with a sudden shame, laced with biting hypocrisy. Too caught up in a fanciful daydream without stopping to consider the most basic facts. For all you knew, he could have a wife, kids, a whole life that had nothing to do with you and never would. 

You let out a sigh and set down your tablet with as much care as your exasperation would allow, irritated with yourself. You glanced around at the other customers in the coffee shop, caught up in their own busy morning routines and told yourself to let it go. You shook your head in an attempt to clear the thoughts. There was no point in spiralling over a complete stranger. Maybe it was better this way; a stark reminder to stick to the plan you’d promised yourself. This was just the universe’s way of making sure you stuck to it. The universe was a dick, you concluded.

Another fifteen minutes passed, and you were mulling over whether you would be better off finishing your work for the day at home. You were not, you told yourself firmly, going back to your apartment to sulk. 

The chair scraped lightly against the floor as you shifted to begin packing up your things. Just as you reached for your tablet, the bell over the door jingled and a gust of warm air swept in to the shop. 

You glanced up reflexively, and your stomach swooped. There he was. As if you’d summoned him with the sheer force of will. Mr. Miller. 

He stepped up to the counter, his broad flannel-clad shoulders framed by the morning light spilling in behind him. His dark hair was slightly mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. He looked harassed, and didn’t return the cheery smile the barista offered as he ordered.

It might have been wishful thinking, but his expression looked faintly apologetic as he glanced over at you, before turning toward his usual table. He ran a hand through his unruly curls as he glanced down at his phone, frowning. He caught your eye again and you offered him a small smile. The furrow in his brow lessened and he smiled back. He draped his jacket over the back of the chair in front of him and hesitated before he pulled it out to sit. He took a step away from his table towards you and your eyebrows shot up- was he actually coming over here? Was he going to talk to you? You were struck with a sudden panic;  heat rising up the back of your neck as you tried to look nonchalant. Before you could gather any kind of coherent thought, a familiar voice rang out from somewhere behind him.

“Hello, stranger!” 

You looked up, startled, and watched as he paused awkwardly mid-stride. You resisted the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation as the source of the voice bounded past him, her dark curls bouncing as she moved, a bright smile plastered across her face. You would recognise that voice anywhere.

“Summer, hi!”

A genuine smile spread across your face despite the unexpected interruption as you stood and pulled her in to a hug. Summer was the one good friend you’d made since moving to Austin- a whirlwind of energy and unfiltered opinions who, after a brief but unforgettable drunken conversation, had taken you under her wing. 

You’d been sitting quietly at a bar the night that you met her, nursing a drink and privately celebrating your first freelance client. It was a small victory, but one you were determined to savour, even if it was in solitude. Summer had appeared like a bolt of lightning, plopping down on the stool next to yours with a conspiratorial grin. 

“Celebrating alone? That’s tragic. Me too,” She’d declared, flagging down the bartender before you could respond. Her confidence had been disarming, and you found yourself telling her all about the new client and how you’d only just moved to Austin a few weeks ago and didn’t know anyone. “You do now!” She’d said happily, clinking her glass against yours. 

From that night on, Summer had been a constant in your life. She dragged you out of your apartment for brunches, happy hours and art shows. She’d shown you the best thrift stores, the hidden coffee spots, and the parts of the city you’re sure you would have never found on your own. And despite her tendency to bulldoze through social norms with her exuberance and complete lack of filter, she’d become someone you’d quickly considered a true friend. 

“You are not going to believe the morning I’ve had,” Summer said, flopping in to the chair across from you without waiting for an invitation. “I am officially in the market for a new job. Again.”

As happy as you were to see her, as she chatted away you couldn’t help but sneak glances over to the other table when you thought Summer wouldn’t notice. Your heart sank slightly as, not long after he’d arrived, he shot back the last mouthful of coffee and made moves to leave. You tried to keep the disappointment from showing on your face. 

“You’re distracted,” Summer said suddenly, pulling your attention back. 

“What? No I’m not.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving in to a smirk. You opened your mouth to protest further, but the words stuck in your throat. Your eyes flitted back over to the table over her shoulder and her eyes followed yours, and before you could stop her, she turned in her seat to look. You didn’t dare take your eyes from her as she snapped her head back to you, curls flying conspicuously.

“Huh. Well, I don’t blame you. He is pretty distracting.” Summer murmured, looking back again in a way that was anything but subtle. You hissed her name through your teeth, mortified. 

“What? He’s hot,” she said,  shrugging unapologetically as she turned back to you again. “And he’s looking over here.” 

You felt your cheeks heat, and you busied yourself with your coffee. “He’s not looking over here.” 

“He totally is,” she insisted, leaning in with a mischievous glint in her eye.

You hesitated, glaring half-seriously at her over your coffee cup, weighing up whether to throw gasoline on this particular fire. You leaned in, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sketchbook. Summer smiled sweetly at you from across the table, hands clasped under her chin, eyes wide with anticipation.

“He comes in here a lot,” You murmured across the table, setting your coffee down, “Every day, in fact. We’ve… smiled at each other a few times.” You said, only realising how ridiculous it all was when the words left your mouth.

Summer laughed and dragged a hand down her face dramatically. 

“Oh my stars, you’ve smiled at each other? Alert the church elders!” she said, her eyes glinting in a way you didn’t like. “Next time he looks over, wave him over here. I’ll do it for you if you-” 

“No!” You said quickly, ignoring the fact that you saw his head snap up to look at your you in your peripheral. Your heart was suddenly pounding in your chest. 

“Don’t you dare. Summer,” you pleaded, “I mean it.”

Summer laughed again, but held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I won’t.” 

You sighed in relief as he went through his usual leaving ritual, stealing glances as he shrugged on his jacket, checked his watch and carried his empty coffee cup to the counter.

“I wonder what his name is,” Summer said as she watched him leave, her head tilted as she admired him before turning back to you with a sly smile. “Bet it’s something rugged like Jack or Keith.”

You giggled and relaxed a little back in your seat now that there was no danger of him overhearing you, or Summer talking to him on your behalf. 

“His surname’s Miller,” You said on impulse. You shrugged and blushed slightly at the expression Summer shot you. “I overheard him on the phone yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say?” She groaned, grabbing her phone from the table. She tapped furiously at the screen, her brow furrowed with concentration. You sipped your coffee, watching her with a mix of amusement and unease. 

“What are you doing?” You asked warily. 

“Finding him, obviously,” she replied without looking up. 

“Summer, no,” you protested, leaning forward as if you could somehow stop her through sheer force of will. “That’s creepy!”

“It’s not creepy; it’s resourceful!” She countered happily, lips twitching in to a grin. “If you spend every day pining over this guy, you might as well find out who he is.” 

You groaned, sinking back in to your chair. “I’m not pining.” 

Summer raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. A few seconds later, she let out a triumphant noise and turned her phone screen toward you. “Miller Construction,” she announced. “That him?” 

You reluctantly leaned forward, your stomach flipping as you scanned the screen. There, under a sleek header for Miller Construction: Consultation & Project Management, was a row of polished photos of the company’s leadership team. 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you spotted him. His hair was neater, his beard was shorter and he was maybe slightly younger, but it was unmistakably him, smiling at you from the screen. You smiled back at his picture despite yourself, ignoring the flips your stomach was doing. You blinked at the name under his photo.

Joel Miller. 

Summer grinned wickedly, turning the phone back to look. 

“Told you it’d be rugged,” she said, putting on a deeper voice and waggling her eyebrows at you, “Jack. Keith. Joel.”

You laughed, watching as Summer scrolled through the website, her eyes darting about the screen. “If he’s here tomorrow you have to speak to him. Introduce yourself. He clearly wants you to,” she said, flicking her eyes back up to you. 

“I don’t know, Summer. He’s probably married or-”

“No ring,” Summer interrupted, wiggling her left hand at you “First thing I checked.” 

You rolled your eyes at her, but your face felt hot. 

“I’m supposed to be focusing on myself, Summer,” you said, before draining your coffee cup, “I don’t have time for-”

“For what?” Summer interrupted you, “Who says it has to be anything serious? He’s gorgeous, seems polite enough, owns a thriving business apparently. You should just let yourself have a bit of fun once in a while.” 

You stared down at your empty coffee cup and bit your lip as Summer continued, “Life’s too short to pass up an opportunity like that,” she said, locking her phone and placing it back down on the table.

“You’re incorrigible,” you said, throwing her a weak smile. 

“And you’re stubborn,” She shot back, grinning at you fondly. 

“Anyway, you jobless wonder” you said, eager to move the conversation on, “tell me everything that’s happened since I last saw you.” 

Summer left an hour later, only after you agreed to join her for brunch at the weekend. You packed up your things and headed home with every intention of diving back in to your work, but your focus wavered the moment you walked through the door. Your space felt unusually quiet; the hum of your appliances doing little to fill the void. You threw open a window to let the buzz of the city float in before you set up at your desk, determined to finish the logo you’d been working on this morning. It was no use, after ten minutes you’d made zero progress. The pen sat idly in your hand against the tablet. You pushed back from the desk, rubbing your temples, and tried not to think about Joel Miller. 

The memory of his hesitant step toward you in the coffee shop replayed in your mind. The furrow in his brow, the way his eyes had softened when you caught his gaze- it was maddening how much detail your brain had decided to cling to.

Before you knew it, you’d typed “Miller Construction Austin” in to your browser search bar. A moment later, the company website loaded, clean and professional with bold, simple fonts. The homepage featured photos of their completed projects and a blurb about the company. You clicked through to the “About Us” tab at the top of the page without a second thought.  

And there he was. Joel Miller, listed as founder and co-owner. Dressed in a nice suit and tie, dimples framing his easy smile. The image was a different side of him than you’d seen in the coffee shop, but his eyes were the same- dark chestnut pools filled with a warmth that made your chest tighten. 

Your finger hovered over the x on the tab, ready to close it, but you didn’t. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as if putting some distance between yourself and the man staring back at you from the screen would somehow untangle the knot in your chest. 

You’re unsure whether Summer had done you any favours by finding him, by giving him more of a weight in the world. You might have been better off with the limited information you’d had before. With a heavy sigh, you finally closed the tab and shut your laptop. You sat for a moment, staring out the window as the sun set over the city.

You allowed yourself a moment to reflect on your experiences so far here in Austin. You’d arrived here without any kind of plan beyond ‘find somewhere to live’, and ‘make money so you don’t starve’, and everything seemed to be going okay so far. You considered Summer; you always aspired to be more like her- less anxious and worried, more impulsive and hedonistic. You were working on it. It was a slow process. 

You pushed away from the desk and stood, stretching your arms above your head, pushing away deep internal conversation and instead wondering what to have for dinner. 

By the time you climbed in to bed later that night, you’d worked through some of the thoughts bouncing around inside your head, and settled on the rationalisation that you often forgot: that life would unfold as it always did, in its own time, no matter how much you tried to steer it.

For now, you’d let the day end and see where tomorrow took you.

Next Chapter

[synvil]

Chocolates // Matt Sturniolo

a/n : pure fluff. school setting!

synopsis : you weren’t planning on giving out any chocolate, even if you did make one.. but something unexpected happens.

Valentine’s Day.

The holiday that most people cherished, especially the people around you. It was important, one that was often celebrated whether with friends, partners or alone.

It is finally the end of class for you. The long, boring day of classes gave you a headache and all you want to do is go home and crash in bed.

Not to mention, you didn’t really have anyone in mind to give chocolate or spend this special day with anyways, so a nice romantic comedy film and snacks was good enough for you.

Though, it probably didn’t help that the entire day was filled with various couples or confessions or just people exchanging stories, gifts and sweets to one another. It wasn’t like you were jealous but the sight was pretty repetitive to watch.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a small box. “There wasn’t a point in making any chocolates after all.”

Exhaling softly and glance at the small wrapped back in your hands and tuck it into your bag before standing up from your desk.

Making your way out the door, you pass by the lingering students around the classroom and the hallway.

And of course, since it was the end of the day for most people, the hallways were filled.

Everyone was exchanging gifts and chocolates to one another, a few more than others.

Even some of the teachers and staff got some from the students, as today was a pretty special occasion. Everyone knew everyone in this school, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

“Time to go home.”

Heading out through the crowd of people, you go to turn the hallway when you stumble upon another confession, but this one caught your eye.

Matt Sturniolo.

You weren’t sure what your problem with Matt was, Matt was a great guy. He had great manners, is kind to everyone he meets, popular but warm-hearted, and not too mention handsome.

It was no surprise to see his bag overflowing with chocolates and gifts.

But even then, something about him just put you off. Perhaps it was because he seems to constantly be around wherever you were.

It wasn’t like you hated Matt but you were just awkward and confused, wondering why he always seemed to be around you, striking conversations when you hardly even knew him. Even earlier today he tried to but with it being Valentine’s day, he was busy all day receiving gifts.

You go to just walk past but you stop, instead choosing to hide behind the wall.

You’re curious to see what he was going to do with the female in front of him. Not only was she giving him chocolates, it seems she was confessing to him.

“I think you’re really handsome.. Would you maybe go out with me?” Her hand held out a letter for him, signed with just his name and a heart.

Matt blinks before he smiles gently at the girl and pats her head. “For me? That’s really sweet.” He hums, moving his hand to place over hers that grips the letter and you can see her eyes light up with hope.

“But.. I’m afraid I have feelings for someone else. My sincerest apologies, miss. I don’t mind being friends though, if you’re alright with that.”

The usual kind smile plasters over his face and even if she was just rejected, the girl just couldn’t say no.

“Oh.. well I don’t mind. I’m okay with being friends! Thank you, Matt.” With that, the female heads off with a smile, leaving him alone with the letter in hand.

You blink at what just happened before glancing at Matt who was staring at the letter, seeing him put it into his bag. Furrowing your brows, you turn away and shrug.

“Feelings for someone, huh? Surprising.”

For some reason, hearing that made your heartstrings tighten just a little bit, but you figure you were just feeling dehydrated is all.

Just as you went to continue walking, a voice peers behind you.

“[Name]? What’re you doing like that?”

Jumping in shock, you turn around to see Matt standing with quite the puzzled look. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Your eyes narrow towards him and you furrow your brows. “How did he get behind me so quickly??” You decide to disregard it and just exhale heavily.

“Nothing, see you tomorrow, Matt.” You mutter, walking away with your bag to the front of the building, when Matt follows you, smiling.

“Going home already? Hey, did you give chocolates to anyone?”

Confusion laces your eyes at his question but you disregard it, reluctantly answering.

“Yeah, I am going home. The school day ended. And why does it matter if I did or not?”

“Oh, right.” Matt chuckles sheepishly before smiling softly. “Well, I was just curious since you have a box sticking out of your bag. Either you made or bought those for someone or someone gave them to you, so I was just wondering. Sorry.”

“Nothing like that, dumbass... I don’t know why I made them..” You knew exactly why but you didn’t want to admit it.

Matt stays silent as he follows you to the door before offering a smaller smile and reaching into his bag, digging deep to grab a particular item.

“Here. I want to give this to you.”

Hearing him, you glance over and see the item in his hand. It was a deep, crimson red foiled box, with your name on it.

“... is this one of the chocolates you were given?”

Matt widens his eyes and shakes his head assuredly. “No, it’s my own chocolates. I made it myself! I wanted to give it to you before you left.”

Matt reaches for your hand and places the small box into it, his smile widening. “There.”

You glance down at the red box and see a tag, reading your name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, [Name].”

Matt rubs the back of his neck a bit shyly, his cheeks dusting pink. “I really like you so i wanted to get you something today... anyways, I should let you get home, you must have special plans. I’ll see you.”

With that, Matt began to walk away, hands in his hoodie pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

This guy.. always so nice and considerate.. you never would’ve dreamed the person he liked was you.

Slowly, a blush began to form on your cheeks as you grip the box. “..”

“Matt!”

The male turns around at his name, just to be met with a box being tossed his way.

Expecting it to be his box, he was instead surprised to see it [ Color ] instead of his dark red one and he blinks, looking up at you to see you faced away.

“H-Happy Valentine’s Day..”

Matt tilts his head as he glances down at the box again, a bright grin starting to form as he sees the tag, labeled with his name.

“To Matt Sturniolo”

Just as you slowly turn around to see his reaction, you see the beaming grin on his face, seeing him hold up the box of chocolate.

Bringing it to his lips, he presses a tender kiss to it.

“Thank you, [Name]! I’ll savor it!” He calls out as he walks backwards, winking as he did so before running off.

You merely blush at the action and clear your throat, looking down at the small box in your hands.

“Matt Sturniolo..”

a/n : not edited. i’ll finish rafe’s in the morning and post it when i can. being sick has really fucked me up more than i thought. agh this is kinda cringe but hopefully rafe’s is better.

[cozmowrites]

Christmas Eve (2024): Sparks

The snow fell in lazy flurries, blanketing the city in white. Twinkling lights lined every street and storefront, casting a festive glow over the evening. You tightened your scarf against the biting chill, clutching a small bag as you climbed the stairs Bakugou's apartment.

You weren't sure why you'd come. He wasn't the most cheerful person on a normal day, let alone during a season brimming with carols and good cheer. Still, there was something about his text—"If you're not busy, come over. Don't ask why."—that tugged at you. You were too curious for your own good, of course.

When you knocked, the door opened with a grumble. Bakugou stood in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair more unruly than usual. He leaned against the frame, his sharp gaze dropping to the bag in your hand.

"You bring whatever's in there for me?" He asked, his voice gruff and irritated. He hated holidays and winter. The cold was the worst for him.

"Depends," you shot back, stepping past him into the apartment. "Did you eat dinner, or are you surviving on coffee and anger again?"

"Tch. Whatever." He shut the door behind you, the faint scent of roasted coffee hanging in the air. Coffee brews, just as it always does.

His apartment was tidy, but it lacked any sign of the holiday season: no tree, no lights, no wreaths. The only sound came from the radiator near the wall, making it all warm and cozy in there. You set the bag down on the counter and turned to him.

"No decorations, huh?"

"Why would I bother?" He muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. "Christmas is for idiots who wanna waste their money on crap they don't need."

"Not even a string of lights? A candle?" You pressed, your teasing smile softening when he frowned.

"Drop it," he said, his voice quieter than usual.

You hesitated, the weight of his words settling between you. "Alright," you said gently, pulling a small container from the bag. "But you can't tell me to drop this. I brought cookies."

His brow twitched, but he said nothing as you popped the lid and revealed a neat row of snowflake-shaped cookies, their edges dusted with sugar. His frown deepened.

"Did you seriously bake for me?"

"They're for both of us," you replied, offering him one. "You're allowed to enjoy things, Bakugou. Even Christmas cookies."

He stared at the cookie like it was some kind of trap before finally taking it. The corners of his mouth twitched when he bit into it, though he tried to hide it.

"They're alright," he muttered.

"'Alright' is practically a compliment coming from you," you teased, reaching for your own cookie.

For a while, the two of you ate in companionable silence. The faint tension in the air began to fade, replaced by something warmer. You found yourself leaning against the counter next to him, the quiet between you no longer uncomfortable. It's been a while since the two of you conversed as such. After graduating, you hadn't had much contact with him. He's been busy saving up for Midoriya's hero suit.

"So," you ventured, brushing crumbs from your hands. "Why'd you ask me to come over?"

He grunted, his eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall. "Just didn't feel like being alone tonight."

The honesty caught you off guard. Bakugou rarely admitted things like that, and when he did, it was never without some resistance.

"You know," you said softly, "I don't mind being here. You don't have to act like you're doing me a favor."

He shot you a look, but there was no venom in it. Instead, his expression softened just a fraction.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking away. "I know."

You both migrated to the couch, sitting closer than you had expected, though neither of you mentioned it. The bag of cookies was placed on the coffee table, the only thing between you. Outside, the snow continued to fall, the quiet cityscape visible through the window.

"This is nice," you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper.

"What is?"

"Just... sitting here. Not worrying about anything for once."

He didn't respond right away, but you caught the way his shoulders relaxed, the hard edges of his posture softening.

"You're easy to be around. You always were," he finally said, almost too quiet for you to hear. "Not annoying, like most people."

It was such a Bakugou way of giving a compliment that you couldn't help but laugh. "Thanks, I think."

He rolled his eyes. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, as though he was trying to figure out something he didn't quite know how to say.

The weight of his attention made your heart flutter, and you looked down at your hands to steady yourself. "Do you really hate Christmas?"

"Tch. Hate's a strong word," he admitted. "I just don't get why people make such a big deal out of it."

"Maybe it's not about the big deal," you said, leaning back against the couch. "It's about the small things. Like cookies and company. And gifts."

His lips pressed into a thin line, but his gaze softened again, the intensity replaced with something quieter. "Maybe."

The word lingered in the air, as delicate as the snowflakes falling outside. You watched him carefully, his profile illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the window. He looked pretty as the glow cascaded on his usual scowl which was replaced by a soft look you hadn't seen in a long time. Katsuki Bakugou, the explosive, brash pro-hero, seemed almost fragile at this moment, his rough edges softened by the quiet warmth of the evening.

"You know," you said gently, breaking the silence, "it doesn't have to mean anything big. It can just be... a time to slow down. To enjoy the little things."

He huffed, the sound neither dismissive nor annoyed. "You really believe all that cheesy crap?"

"Yeah," you replied, smiling softly. "Sometimes cheesy crap is good for the soul."

He turned to you then, and for a moment, you felt pinned under the weight of his gaze. But it wasn't intimidating. It was searching, curious like he was trying to make sense of something he didn't fully understand.

"Tch. You're weird," he muttered, but there was no heat in his words.

"And yet, you're the one who invited me over," you shot back, your tone light.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, leaning back against the couch. His arm rested along the back, close enough that his fingers brushed the fabric of your sleeve. "Guess I could've done worse. Invited shitty hair or dunce face. They would've been too loud."

You chuckled, leaning back as well. The proximity between you was both comforting and electric, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the cookies or the cocoa.

"Hey," you said after a moment, your voice quieter now. "Thanks for letting me be here. I mean it."

He glanced at you, his crimson eyes softer than you'd ever seen them. "Yeah. Whatever." But the corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly, and you swore you caught the ghost of a smile.

The snow outside grew heavier, the world beyond his apartment quiet and still. Neither of you spoke, content to let the silence settle between you like a blanket. After a while, you leaned forward, pulling a blanket from the arm of the couch and draping it over the two of you.

"Don't read into this," you said teasingly, settling back into your spot. "I'm cold."

"Tch. You're hopeless," he muttered, though he didn't push the blanket away. His arm shifted slightly, settling just behind you.

The weight of his arm, the warmth of the blanket, the quiet hum of the city outside—it all felt like pieces falling into place. Slowly, subtly, but perfectly.

"Maybe Christmas isn't so bad," he murmured, almost too quiet for you to catch.

Your heart fluttered, but you didn't look at him, afraid to break whatever spell had settled over the two of you. Instead, you let your head rest against his shoulder, your voice soft as you replied, "Maybe."

For the first time that night, he didn't argue.

+++

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[666writingcafe]

Pride (Part One)

Everything should have gone according to plan. The House of Lords were going to use one of the businesses they sponsor--an ice cream shop--to hold a contest. Two of the lords in the Upper House rigged it so that MC would win the grand prize: a train trip for two to the Underworld. I would be their plus one so that I can ensure MC doesn't become trapped in the train or the Underworld, effectively foiling the Lords' devious plan and allowing MC to return to their rightful home.

The first time of trouble was that MC was accompanied to the ice cream shop by six of the brothers. Apparently, the contest had started a day earlier than I was led to believe. But it wasn't that big of a deal. All MC had to do was to tell them that they already had a plus one in mind, leading them to believe that it was Solomon. I mean, after the whole flood situation, the two of them certainly have a lot to discuss about the status of their relationship, which requires an extended period of uninterrupted private time.

But then fucking Lucifer had to butt his stupid butt in and insist that the second ticket would be his. I get that the demon puberty thing would strike him eventually, but did it have to be now?! I have just enough political power to protect MC from harm, but both them and Lucifer?! Forget it. He might as well have signed their death sentence.

After relaying the rather vicious argument the two of them had over the train tickets, MC asked me over the phone if I wouldn't mind buying my own.

"Are you sure you want him to join us?" I reply, causing them to sigh.

"I don't think I have much of a choice. Lucifer and I...we share a connection that I don't have with the others. Out of all the brothers' transformations, I figured his would affect me the most due to that connection."

"You know you acquiescing to him is going to feed his ego, right?" Another sigh.

"I know. But if I continue fighting him on this, then we're going to end up destroying something. As it is, the House was starting to shake at the height of our argument, and there's cracks on the walls that weren't there previously." A brief pause. "At least if you're there on the train with us, you can control the severity of our bickering."

"I suppose that's true. I do expect to be compensated accordingly for my services. Just listening to you recount your argument is making my head throb. I'd hate to imagine what it would feel like when I'm smack dab in the middle of it."

"A shopping spree for your brother?" Another pause. "Diavolo told me what happened to him at his school, and I wanted to help lift his spirits. Of course, I can get you something too--"

"Don't worry about it. I accept your offer."

~~~

Famous last words.

It started before we even boarded the train. Lucifer took one look at MC's suitcase and told them that they "needn't worry about bringing it" because he'd "already packed everything for them".

"I even included two outfits that are appropriate attire for tonight's dinner," he continues, ignoring MC's seething. "I prefer the blue one, but I think the color of the other outfit is closer to what you usually like to wear."

"I think I'm more than capable of dressing myself, Lucifer."

"For casual events, perhaps. But this is a train that Devildom nobles often use to go on holidays, since it's known for providing a luxury experience to its customers. Trust me; the clothes I've prepared for you are perfect for this occasion."

"Speaking as a Devildom noble, I think your attendant has dressed appropriately for similar occasions," I chime in. "They've certainly never looked under-dressed, so if they feel like their clothes would work, then I trust their judgement." I don't know whose facial expression is scarier: MC's smug one or Lucifer's irritated one. Or is it the fact that, despite the different expressions, they look eerily similar? Of course, that could be that mental connection that MC mentioned at work somehow.

Things are relatively calm as we board the train, and there are no further mishaps until dinner. I place my order with little issue, but the moment MC goes to open their mouth, Lucifer states,

"We'll both have this dinner here, with the bicorn tenderloin roti as our main course. We'll take our appetizer garnished with blood sauce. Also, a bottle of Talouse vintage 666 Demonus, and two glasses if you would." I don't have to look at MC to know they're wanting to reach across the table and strangle Lucifer. Thankfully, our waiter catches the change in MC's mood and preemptively allows them more time to look over the menu while he leaves to submit mine and Lucifer's orders.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" I hiss at Lucifer.

"Making sure mistakes aren't made," he replies nonchalantly. "What I've chosen will appeal to MC."

"And what makes you so sure about that?"

"I know them, inside and out. So, there's no need to worry. I have everything under control." I take a deep breath, trying my best to keep my voice level. I will not be making a scene in this dining car.

"Listen, Lucifer, perhaps this part of etiquette has slipped through the cracks of what you've been taught, but unless someone makes it explicitly clear that they're okay with it, you never order food for another adult person. It takes away their dignity and tells them that you don't value their opinion."

"Is that how you really feel about me, Lucifer?" MC chimes in. "Do you not think that I'm capable of making my own decisions?" If looks could kill, both Lucifer and MC would be dead right about now, because they're staring daggers into each other's eyes. Unfortunately for us, that's when the waiter returns to check in on MC.

"Are we still deciding what to get?" he asks. MC forces a smile on their face as they reply,

"I do, actually." As they place their order, Lucifer mutters under his breath that they won't like their food for various reasons, whether it's that it'd be too spicy or too tough to chew. The waiter notices this and waves his hand in Lucifer's direction. The next time he opens his mouth to speak, no sound comes out.

"A little spell I've learned," the waiter explains. "You have no idea the amount of people that behave like that. I'll lift it once your friend here has finished ordering." The smug look on MC's face returns as they place the rest of their order, and I quietly tell the waiter to bring me a bottle of Demonus.

This is going to be a long train ride.

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