#the tiny christmas tree is from 1-1

[aucrowne]

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ Don't worry, Sakura. Santa was just a lil lost. Now that you have a safe and permanent address, he can deliver your presents -- plus the ones you missed!

--- also last art for this year |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞSee you next year, peeps. Will def make a pinned post next year to make it easier to navigate through my art lol

Happy Holidays ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰

⬅ Windbreaker Silly little sketches ◼

[hazelira]

not on the menu (#1 of 2024)

The baby’s babbling took a sudden turn as her curious eyes locked onto Heeseung’s shirt. Her tiny hands grabbed the fabric, pulling it toward her as she leaned forward.

“What are you doing, squishy?” Heeseung chuckled, his tone light with amusement.

Before he could react further, she opened her little mouth wide and attempted to gnaw on his shirt, her gums working determinedly against the fabric. Her face scrunched up in concentration as if this was the most serious task she’d ever undertaken.

“Ah, so my shirt’s food now?” Heeseung said, raising an eyebrow as he gently pried the fabric from her grasp. “Sorry, sweetheart, but this isn’t on the menu.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth to muffle the sound as she frowned, clearly displeased with her dad’s interference. She let out a series of loud, disgruntled babbles, her tiny fists clinging stubbornly to his shirt.

“Looks like she’s not taking no for an answer,” you teased, watching as she tried again to bring the shirt to her mouth.

“She’s relentless,” Heeseung said, shaking his head with a soft laugh. “She gets that from you, too.”

“Oh, please,” you retorted, leaning closer. “That determination? That’s all you.”

Heeseung smirked, though his focus remained on the baby. “Alright, baby. Let’s negotiate.”

He reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the bottle you’d prepped last night. “How about this instead?”

The moment she saw the bottle, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Her little hands released his shirt immediately, reaching for the bottle as she squealed with delight.

“Thought so,” Heeseung said, his voice filled with mock triumph as he handed her the bottle and helped guide it to her mouth.

You watched her tiny body relax, her hands gripping the bottle tightly while she drank with contented little gulps. Heeseung’s gaze softened as he adjusted her in his arms, his fingers lightly brushing over her chubby cheeks.

“Saved your shirt this time,” you joked, leaning against his shoulder.

He smiled, tilting his head to press a kiss to your temple. “She can have the shirt if she wants it. She’s already got my heart, anyway.”

The tender moment stretched between you as she drank her fill, her little legs kicking lazily in her dada’s lap. The world outside remained a distant blur, replaced by the pure, uncomplicated joy of family.

[lay-z]

inamorata | 1

Summary: Two retired veterans decide to adopt a domestic hybrid on a whim to bring some much needed light back into their dire lives.

Pairing: hybrid!Ghoap x fem!hybrid!Reader Warnings/Info: 18+ | Hybrid AU ft. black panther!Simon, grey wolf hybrid!Johnny, and maine coon cat!Reader. Despite ears, tails/feathers, and their adapted nature/instincts and personalities, hybrids have human features. | strangers to lovers; class differences; fantasy/fictional setting racism; hurt/comfort; humour; eventual heavy smut; dom/sub elements; fluff; cussing; angst (Mind the warnings for each chapter!)

Based on this idea 🖤

There is an atmosphere of departure around the common hazel just outside the fenced backyard.  

The pair of robins has found their ideal nesting spot in between the high branches of the early blossoming tree after days of scouting the pretty territory. As early as January they start to sprout, Nana had explained to you once, and it’s February now. While other trees around are still leafless and recovering from winter, the common hazel is turning colourful; working hard and earnest to change the lifeless scenery with its tiny deep green leaves and pale-yellow catkins hanging from the branches. 

And joining its effort, the common birds of the area are starting to build their nests, looking forward to spring with natural optimism; stacking sticks and stones and moss to build a home in harmonic teamwork. A home for their offspring to hatch and grow; hidden and protected from predators.  

A breeze makes the thinner branches and catkins sway while the reddish birds huddle together, seeking shelter in a notch of the trunk, puffing their plumage for warmth. Out of a hole at the base of the trunk, a hare pokes its head out, large ears perked. 

You wonder what the hare must’ve heard. You wonder if the breeze is cold, if it would nip at your exposed face and make your furry ears bristle. You wonder if the air smells fresh, perhaps flowery, though definitely exhilarating. And you wonder how the robins sound, if their lovely chirps would make your heart flutter with happiness and longing for more. 

Exhaling a soft, discouraged sigh, you continue to gaze out of the meagre overhead window, curled up on the metallic windowsill high up off the ground of your tiny enclosure; chin resting on your forearm while you clutch your long and cottony, golden tail to your chest, petting it self-soothingly while you try to get lost in your daydreams; drowning out the awful ambient noise of the hybrid shelter along with your terribly empty stomach and grief stricken heart. 

It’s gotten even more crowded after Christmas, now that given away hybrids have been returned to shelters, to the illegal breeders they were bought from, or simply dumped into the streets and on highways before they were snared and detained by the regulatory agency for homeless hybrids–the RAHH. Although the only “homeless” hybrids always only happen to be domestic. The lesser species, meant to serve and obey. 

The other female cat hybrid in this enclosure has been taken to the vet last night after her water broke, leaving you with the luxury to be alone in the tiny space, along with the puddle of amniotic fluids that no one has bothered to clean up yet, so you simply had to let it dry by itself as you lack any towels or blankets to spare for a proper cleanup, though the smell isn't half as bad as the general stench of this wretched place, and to your own horror, you’ve noticed that you’re starting to reek, too. Then again, you can only groom yourself limitedly without a clean source of water and a piece of soap.  

Then, a particularly loud wail from one of the younger dog hybrids in a kennel close by disturbs your thoughts, makes you flinch, and your fuzzy ears flatten anxiously as you peek over your shoulder just in time to watch one of the shelter workers unlock the gate to your enclosure. 

Your ears perk up again, tail twitching hopefully in your grasp as your eyes flicker to her–empty hands. No food. It’s been three days. Your stomach clenches and a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm you at the prospect of going another day without a meal before something else catches your attention, something way more surprising–two large apex hybrids standing behind the worker, both oozing power and dominance. 

The shelter worker, a stern-looking woman with a tight bun and a clipboard, sighs impatiently as she spots you hiding higher up on the windowsill again. She's used to the skittishness and fear in the domestic hybrids under her care, but your avoidant and clever behaviour is getting on her nerves. Turning to the two apex hybrids, she gestures towards you. 

“This one seems fairly docile and well-behaved. A purebred cat hybrid, female, late 20 or early 30s, we’re not sure. She's healthy and not... uncooperative like some of the others, and it seems like she’s still a virgin.” The worker says, her voice devoid of any real concern or compassion. 

Your eyes widen slowly as the wolf hybrid enters your enclosure confidently, uncaring of the still drying puddle on the concrete floor. His bright gaze is fixated on you, neck craned to meet your fearful gaze with what you can only describe as a cheeky grin; his long grey tail swishes behind him slowly while you get lost in the cerulean colour of his eyes. Bright like the sky, promising freedom. His haircut looks funny. 

“Well, well, well... aren’t ye a bonnie wee thing,” he purrs, his Scottish brogue rumbling through his friendly words. His tail starts to wag as you shift your position, turning around fully and releasing your grasp on your tail to bend over the windowsill to get a better view. Your tail uncurls and stands up straight, its fluffy tip crooking like a question mark–showcasing your curiosity. Your nose twitches as you take a tentative sniff and catch the pleasant cologne on his tanned skin, mixed with his natural musk. 

The other apex hybrid, a massive feline missing half an ear and wearing a black surgical mask, watches the exchange with a guarded expression. His dark tawny eyes, visible above the rim of his mask, are calculating as he assesses you. He takes a step closer and enters the enclosure as well, his broad shoulders and muscular build now crowding the small space while the shelter worker steps out into the corridor. 

“She’s feckin’ gorgeous, Simon,” the wolf hybrid says in awe, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he nudges the other one with his elbow while you duck your head at the compliment, a flush rising to your cheeks. “Looks jus’ like the pic on the website.” 

Simon glances up at you appraisingly; eyes gauging your body language while you tilt your head at the way he wears his sleek black tail tucked around his waist like a belt, still wondering what kind of hybrid he is.  

“Aye, she’s... a vision, and calm, too,” Simon agrees, and his voice catches you off guard–low and gravelly, bordering on a deep, soothing purr that leaves your fur bristling pleasantly. They’re both nice to look at. Strong. He glances over his shoulder at the shelter worker, who’s tapping her foot on the ground impatiently, clutching the clipboard to her chest. “This one will do. We’ll take ‘er.”  

Your breath hitches and your heartrate increases swiftly while your doe-eyes flicker between the apex predators, not quite processing what this means, though the wolf hybrid’s tail wags as he reaches a meaty hand out to you encouragingly. “Ye think it’ll work on her, Si? It certainly doesnae with ye,” he chuckles boyishly before flashing you a charming smile. “C’mon, bon–pspspspspspsps–” 

You tut, brows furrowing at the blatant insult before you glance at the other one, Simon, who simply shakes his head slowly, muttering: “Fuckin’ hell, Johnny.” There is no doubt he’s some sort of feline.  

Meanwhile, the shelter worker nods and makes a checkmark on her clipboard. “Very well, gentlemen. I’ll have her things and the necessary paperwork ready at the front desk in a minute.” 

“You’re... serious? You–You want me?” you ask in disbelief. It cannot be that easy. It cannot be that simple. And they cannot be serious about this. Your stomach growls as you push yourself up on the windowsill, waiting for confirmation while your tail flicks nervously. 

Johnny beams and reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, retrieving a bundle of black leather along with what looks like a chocolate bar. “Ye heard what Simon said, didn’t ye? Hard ta believe those pretty ears are deaf,” he snickers, fumbling with the items before holding a collar and candy up for you to see. A friendly offering, a mouth-watering temptation. You swallow hard and move to climb down from your safe haven, drawn in by the prospect of food, of getting out of this hellhole.

Behind him, Simon clasps a hand over Johnny’s shoulder, squeezing it some and making the shorter man’s tail wag again as dark eyes look up at you expectantly. “Come on down now, sweet’eart. Let’s get you home.” 

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part V

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

This chapter can be read as a one-shot without having to read the whole story! :)

"Are you staying for Christmas?" You ask casually, decorating the cookies you baked with Simon's help. Your daughter is sleeping peacefully in her crib, a small Santa Claus onesie on her, preparing her for the celebration even when there's still a few hours left.

"You want me to?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, brown eyes fully focused on decorating the head of one of the cookie figures, steady hand drawing a skull pattern with ease.

"It's her first Christmas, I think she'd like having her father around." I want you around as well. He's lucky you're focused on decorating your cookies, missing the way his face lights up with a proud smile. It's a lot of progress.

''Right. I got you both some presents in the car.'' He washes his hands on the sink, giving his daughter one last look before leaving the house, trying to gather as many of the gifts he bought as possible. ''Some presents'' was clearly an understatement— he has been building a pile of gifts for months, his car full of boxes and bags for both you and your little girl.

''Jesus Christ.'' You wash your hands and go help him as you see him struggling to carry the pile, taking some from him and putting them under the Christmas tree.

''There's more in the car.'' He seems almost sheepish as he confesses, giving him a small pat on the arm as you go outside to help him. You almost laugh as you look inside, the entire backseat full of presents. It's almost ridiculous, yet so charming how much he wants to make both of you happy, knowing how much it the holidays mean to you, especially now that you have a daughter.

''Isn't this... a bit overkill?'' You joke, earning you a playful pat on the ass now that your arms are busy. You miss the kick thrown his way, jogging after him with a smile when he playfully gets on the other side of the couch to avoid you getting revenge.

''I still got one more present coming, but that's for later.'' He walks back to the kitchen once he made sure you weren't going to kill him for patting your ass.

''I swear to God, Simon, if it's another d—'' He interrupts you by smearing frosting on your cheek, shooting you a cheeky smile that gets erased the moment you do it back— smearing way more than you should have all over his cheek.

''Bastard.''

Your baby was up by the time it was midnight, excited to see her mum and dad opening up presents and even joining in, tiny hands clearly struggling with the wrapping paper, yet somehow managing without help.

''Strong girl, like her mum.'' You smile softly at his words, looking at the way your daughter stares curiously at one of her last presents; a cactus activated by sound.

''Say 'hello'.'' Simon says, getting closer to the toy until it activates, dancing around and lighting up. Astrid looks confused as she looks at it, brown eyes looking up at you before looking back at the toy.

''Hello.'' He repeats, a warm smile on his lips when the toy starts dancing again, much to your daughter's confusion. She babbles at it, tiny hands reaching out to touch it once it starts moving and playing back her sounds, giggles escaping her lips as the toy imitates her laugh.

Simon's phone vibrates in his pocket, getting up from the couch before looking down at his phone with twinkling eyes.

''My mate's here, I'll be right back.'' He doesn't wait for you to reply, already out of the house before you can even say anything. Your focus is back to your daughter, happy that she enjoys playing with the toy rather than being scared of it like you've seen in videos online. Brave girl she is, not a single lick of fear in her.

Simon comes back a minute later, holding a big German Shepherd that can definitely walk on its own. You give him a questioning look as he sets it on the floor, holding his collar just in case.

''Absolutely not.'' You try to protest, yet your gaze softens when you see Astrid crawl to the dog.

''Wa-wa!'' She points out, tiny hands reaching up to pet the dog the same way you've taught her, gentle. The dog doesn't react much besides laying down on the floor for your daughter to pet it, making it much easier for her.

''His name's Riley, he's a retired K-9. Look, I'll pay for his food and even for someone to come take care of him when I'm not here, I just... want you to be safe.'' There's hints of pleading on his tone, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

''... I'll take care of him.'' You say with a small sigh, knowing Simon wants nothing else than for both of his girls to be safe, especially when he's deployed.

''We gave him extra training to deal with kids and emergencies. Big geezer's patient and good.'' He keeps trying to sell it as if you didn't say yes already, a small giggle escaping your lips before giving him a reassuring smile.

''We'll keep him, don't worry.'' You crouch down to pet the dog, who is clearly enjoying the attention from your daughter, allowing her to rest on his side while petting his head.

There's a smile on his face as he looks down at his family, hands fumbling with the small box in his pocket.

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[cuteandhughesy]

A Wonderful Christmas Time | William Nylander

summary: you and william living through the christmas eve traditions with your kids - as well as frantically preparing for santa's arrival. (dad!willy)

[word count] 3.1k

warnings: SFW! pre-established relationship | children | dad!willy | mom!reader | christmas eve shenanigans | suggestive comments

a/n: based off this request! merry christmas eve!! my present to you is another highly requested willy fic 🥰 also there’s 360 of you now, which is insane…I love you all omg <3 I’ll see you guys on new years for a quinny fic

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"honey you can't play with the ornaments." your tone is warning but gentle, gathering the attention of your daughter, lennon.

she giggles, plopping down in her diaper covered butt beside the tree. lennon smiles her two toothed grin, big round eyes looking at you with nothing but joy.

you smile from the couch. "yeah i'm talking to you lenny baby."

the 1 year old laughs again—that adorable baby belly laugh than never fails in making you join in. she's not long out of the bathtub, with damp blonde hair flat against her head and wrapped up in her candy cane onsie. lennon grabs onto her toes through the soft material, rocking forward slightly. "ma." she gurgles, reaching towards you.

that is all it takes for you to get up, making your way towards the christmas tree—decorated in various coloured and homemade ornaments—and pick lennon up under her arms, pulling her against your chest. you kiss your daughters chubby cheek three quick times, igniting another round of baby giggles from her tiny body. "should we see what daddy and lukey are up to? should we go see?"

she snuggles into your neck, smiling at the mention of her dad and older brother. you bring yourself up the stairs, bare feet barley padding on the carpeted flooring. you reach the landing and the familiar sound of your husbands voice, followed by your sons sweet laughter ring in your ears.

rounding into the warm and blueberry soap scented bathroom, your smile widens even further. luke reaches towards william, the water just merely missing the side of the bath tub as he bounces up. he covers your husbands face in scented suds, creating the illusion of a big white beard—very fitting for the day.

"you look like santa daddy." he laughs, small hands continuing to pile more bubbles on top of william's already full beard.

"ho ho ho." your husbands mimics father christmas's deep rumbling slogan, leaning further over the the edge of the grand bath tub to nuzzle your sons neck, transferring the bubbly mess to luke.

you watch with an amused expression as luke's laughter increases, squirming away from the bubbles and the scratchy feeling of william's beard. then his bright blue eyes find you standing against the door frame, and instantly he's distracted. "mummy!"

william looks over his shoulder, and the sight of you and lennon has him grinning wildly. "hey you two."

"hello my boys," you hum, walking further into the vintaged decorated bathroom. "how's bath time coming along? you getting clean lukey baby?"

"i'm not a baby mummy." your 4 year old is ever the sassy one, crossing his slippery arms over his tiny chest. "i'm a grown up." although his attitude drives you up the wall slightly, his little lisp and side eye makes it a little more on the cute side.

you snicker. "oh are you now?"

"yeah. i'm the grown up and lennon is the baby." luke points a finger in your daughters direction, and with that momentary attention on her, lennon squeals happily, fisting your pyjama top in her chubby hand.

william quirks a brow in luke's direction. "santa doesn't come to grown ups lukey."

he gasps loudly, eyes widening to a comical state at his dads words. "okay, Im a baby!"

it seems that lennon has realized her dad is crouched by the tub in front of her older brother, and she instantly starts whining, her chunky little arms stretched out as she asks for william.

"mummy, when's santa coming?" luke questions.

you put lennon down between your bare feet, sitting her on her bum. she doesn't stay, immediately crawling towards your husband while babbling his name happily.

"not until you're sleeping, bub."

he pouts, "but what if I want to see him?"

"that's not how it works buddy." william sighs gently, scooping lennon into his arms. "his magic will go away if you see him."

luke gasps, eyes wide with panic and unshed emotion. "I don't want his magic to go away daddy!"

you coo, joining your husband and daughter infront of the tub, getting down to your knees. you mimic your sons pout, reaching out to run a hand over luke's wet, curly hair. "it's okay bub."

he leans into your touch, blinking up at you with his wet eyelashes. luke's always looked identical to his father, meaning it's always been hard for you to be mad it him—but you're working on it. "we just gotta make sure we get into bed soon! so santa can come and bring you and lenny some presents."

that seems to do the trick, and a smile pulls at his tiny rosebud lips. "okay mumma."

you help luke get out of the bath and wrap him in his favourite blue dinosaur towel, holding him in your arms as you help dry him off, as well as keep him warm. taking baths in the nylander house was never such an event, but as soon as luke turned 4, he decided that you and lennon could no longer share bath time with him.

you really weren't going to argue with him about something so insignificant—so separate bath times it's been.

"you've such a good boy this year, lukey." you mumble into your sons chubby cheek, pressing two kisses against the flushed skin. "I love you."

"I love you too mummy, but we have to put the cookies out now." his serious deadpan stare up at you has you giggling, and you nod quickly.

you get luke dressed in his matching candy cane pyjamas before taking him downstairs—joining william and your sleepy daughter who'd previously slipped back to the fire lit family room.

"baby do think santa wants chocolate chip or oatmeal? what should we leave out?" you eye luke from across the kitchen island, an empty santa plate between you.

"I think santa wants chocolate chip." william says enthusiastically, holding lennon in his strong arms. she's practically asleep now, blinking dangerously slow against his chest.

you send your husband a warning look, to which he sends you a quick wink.

you look back at luke, who is leaning on the counter top with a thoughtful finger to his chin—something you often do that's he's adorably picked up on. "mhmmm..can we ask uncle alex?"

"why do you want to ask uncle alex?" you question with amusement, brows pulled together tightly.

"because he's smart." luke says matter of factly, looking at you with a curious expression.

william snickers. "that's going to inflate his ego."

you shake your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips—you already know your brother-in-law will absolutely eat up his nephew's statement.

"lukey, uncle alex is sleeping right now. but I think you're smart too and you should pick the cookies."

"okay," luke chirps, "chocolate mummy!”

william leans down and presses a firm kiss against his sons damp hair, clearly feeling at peace with luke's cookie choice. "good pick baby."

you help luke put two cookies on the plate, reminding him multiple times to not eat the cookies himself, especially before bed, which proves to be a bit of a broken record—but you get there eventually. luke takes the plate and glass of almond milk over to the coffee table, barley keeping the milk from spilling over the rim as he roughly places them down.

right before finally getting luke to head in the direction of the stairs, he turns back towards you and william with wide eyes. "daddy! we have to put out the reindeer food!"

aryne tavares had seen the cutest DIY reindeer food craft on pinterest a few days ago, and the two of you got a bunch of the leafs kiddos together to make some before santa and the reindeers arrival. luke's been so excited for days about the damn glitter oatmeal concoction, and you're surprised he's only just remembering it.

you look towards your husband. "yeah daddy, you gotta put the reindeer food out."

after william bares the freezing cold christmas eve temperature and sprinkles the magic food mixture on your front step, you finally get luke into bed. your read him a holiday book while william gets the rest of the unwrapped christmas gifts from your linen closet, bringing them to the living room for your last minute wrapping session.

as you finish the last line of the book, you watch luke's eyes flicker closed, some much needed sleep taking over as he goes limp against the lightning mcqueen pillow.

you slip out of the dark room and tiptoe down the stairs, joining william and the rather large pile of gifts by the couch. you exhale loudly, hands on your hips as you asses everything. "you're on tape duty."

he groans. "I hate tape duty."

your pout is exaggerated, walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his sweater covered waist. "awh baby, you'll be okay."

30 minutes later and what feels like a hundred presents later, william groans for the 10th time, falling backwards against the shaggy rug beneath you. "ugh my back is killing me." he peeks over at you. "how do you do this every year?"

you slide the scissors down the holly printed wrapping paper. "i'm very flexible."

a boyish grin tugs at his lips. "yeah you are."

you look away from the present and over towards your dramatic husband. despite your cheeks burning red at his insinuation, your give him a deadpanned stare. "willy."

"I think we should take a break." he hums.

you sigh gently, folding the paper over a box full of ella nylander's favourite sephora pieces. "honestly as much as I'd love a break, it's quite literally christmas eve, babe. these presents gotta be wrapped."

he pushes up to his elbows, looking at you pointedly. "my family doesn't need their gifts wrapped."

you laugh. "yes, they do."

"fine—but if I strain my back and can't play...i'm giving staff your number." he teases you, sitting back into a proper position, fingers fiddling with some bows spewn across the rug.

"yeah yeah, pass me the damn ribbon."

thankfully you're only wrapping gifts for another 20 minutes, wrapping a beautiful velvet ribbon over every single one. you're sure your limbs will punish you for the extra ribbon work tomorrow morning, but the perfectionist in you doesn't care about that with how aesthetically pleasing the gifts look.

you make william drag out the bags full of presents for luke and lennon, passing them to you while you put them next to the christmas tree, ready for the morning.

you've definitely spoiled your two kids for another christmas now, but you and william can't help it—this time of year is so special and magical, and your kids are so well behaved that it's hard not to get them lots of things to celebrate another year.

hours after you would've liked to go to sleep, you're finally walking up the stairs, william hot on your trail, when you suddenly stop, a low groan rumbling through your chest. "the cookies."

his head hits your butt in exhaustion and defeat. "fuck me."

—

"santa came!" the shrill squeal of luke is the first thing you can register, tired eyes blinking open in the dim room.

beside you, willy groans, rolling onto your side of the bed under the warm covers.

luke pushes open your bedroom door, bare feet smacking against the hardwood as he runs towards your bed. "mummy! daddy! santa came." he slaps his hands on the side of the bed, a command that he wants up.

usually you'd work on his method of asking, but not today, his haste much understood. you gasp loudly, sitting up so you're able to lift him onto your and william's shared bed. "what? are you sure?"

he giggles, crawling into your lap. "yes!" subconsciously he starts playing with the buttons on your pyjama top, something he used to do when he was a baby.

"oh my goodness." you grin, gently tickling his sides. "well should we get up and head downstairs?"

he squeals again, and the sound is like gold—instantly walking you up. "yes mummy!"

beside you, william sighs sleepily, pushing up on the mattress into a sitting position. his smile is lazy, hand pushing back luke's crazy hair.

"daddy, it's christmas!" you're quickly forgotten about, luke sneaking over to william's lap and cuddling into his shirtless chest.

"I know buddy." he smiles, kissing his head.

"let's get your sister first, lukey. and then we will go downstairs." you chime gently, already pulling the covers back to slip out of bed. luke follows suit, sliding belly first off the tall mattress.

lennon is already awake when you open her door, holding onto the crib railing as she bounces on the mattress. she makes an adorable cooing noise as you greet her, gummy smile making an appearance as you get closer.

as soon as you all make it downstairs, chaos ensues. it's a mess of ribbon, bows and teared  wrapping paper as luke quickly opens all his presents. although the mess is a bit overwhelming, it's overshadowed by the joy of watching your sons face full of excitement.

at every present, luke will stop and bound over to your husband, gift clutched in his hand. "daddy can you open this one?" or "look at this one daddy!"

and everytime william shows the most enthusiasm, making that christmas magic linger as long as humanly possible.

"look daddy I have a hockey stick just like you!" luke jumps up and down in one spot, practically vibrating with excitement as he holds up his brand new hockey stick from santa.

he'd been begging for a 'big boy stick' for almost a year, and william thought this christmas would be the perfect opportunity to wrap up his sons newest obsession.

you hold lennon on your knees, letting her play with the velvety green ribbon from her gift. like usual, you watch luke waltz up to william, displaying his new hockey stick like his life depended on it.

"wow!" william beams, "you're very lucky lukey."

your son nods with enthusiasm, eyes still tranced on the stick. "now I can come play with you and uncle mitchy."

"that's right baby."

you make them pose for a photo after that. william tucks luke into his side, a smile on both of your babies faces as luke holds the stick out. you make sure to send it to steph marner, followed by how excited he is to play with mitch. it's all so cute, and you're so in love with your little family.

luke plays with his toys while you and william make breakfast, lennon gurgling happily in her high chair, sucking on a strawberry while she waits for her food.

eventually you get him to stop playing and come get his serving of eggs, bacon and toast—although he does bring the hockey stick to the table, but you didn't expect anything else.

it's when william is tidying up the dishes and you're just getting lennon out of the high chair, william's family arrives, walking through the front door in a flurry of snow and presents, smiles on their faces.

"merry christmas!"

luke's tiny gasp is almost humorous, and he drops the hockey stick and runs towards his grandparents, tiny feet smacking against the floor. "papa! nana!"

"oh my goodness!" camila greets warmly, dropping her bag to embrace her grandson. "hello my baby." william's mom kisses luke's face multiple times, which sends the toddler into a fit of giggles.

"and here's the other little baby." michael smiles gently, reaching towards your daughter, running his index finger along her soft cheek. "hello lenny bear! merry christmas sweet girl." she smiles, shying away from her grandfathers tickle.

his parents greet you both briefly, but their too wrapped up in the magic of christmas with their first set of grand babies that you're not even mad about the hasty greeting.

"lukey!" ella looks down at her nephew, arms open expectantly. "do I get a hug?"

"yes auntie ella!" he runs into her arms, squeezing william's sister as tight as he can manage.

she pulls back, looking down at luke with sparkling eyes. "did you open your presents from santa?"

"yes," luke beams, blinking up at his aunt warmly. "and he got me a hockey stick!"

"what?! you're so lucky." ella relates the words he's heard a million times today, running her palm flat over his unruly head of hair. "I bet uncle alex will want to see it!"

at the mention of his favourite person in the world (besides his father of course), luke gasps so hard you think his little lungs might explode. he catches sight of alex in the kitchen, chatting with you while he plays with lennon's tiny toes affectionately.

"uncle alex" luke giggles, running over to his uncle.

at the sound of his name, the second eldest nylander sibling looks over just in time for luke to run at his legs. alex smiles, grabbing your son under the arms and swinging him to his chest. "hey dude."

luke immediately lays his head on his shoulder, rubbing his cheek on the soft fabric of alex's hoodie. it's a rather sweet sight, and you're instantly feeling emotional about it.

you clear your throat, adjusting lennon on your hip. "lukey, wanna tell uncle alex what you said last night?"

your son nods gently. "you are smart."

alex gasps happily, pulling down luke's pyjama shirt from where it's ridden up against his sweater.

"he wanted to call you and ask what cookies santa would like because you're smart." you continue, adding a bit more context to the story.

alex nods triumphantly, "you're right lukey I am smart." he kisses your sons cheek once, a loud smacking noise that has lukey laughing, trying to squirm away from the tickle of alex's beard—something he's used to with william.

you'll never get tired of the holiday season, and seeing your family so content and happy with one another just adds to the festive atmosphere and pure joy of christmas.

you feel your husbands arms wrap around your waist from behind, william gently kissing the side of your face as he greets you. "merry christmas, babe."

lennon gurgles happily as she catches sight of william, reaching over you to touch his face, fingers raking through his grown-out facial hair and running over his lips. william nips her tiny hands gently, making her squeal with laughter.

you smile warmly, watching with loving eyes. "merry christmas willy."

[hwangism143]

all i want for christmas

synopsis the three christmas parties minho spent loving you and the one where he finally told you.

pairing non-idol!minho x fem!reader

genre holidays, best friends to lovers, fluff, comfort, 3 + 1 format

warnings mentions of foods, fires, cheating, physical violence (jokingly), swearing, pregnancy ;) , kissing, not proofread

word count 4.3k words

now playing all i want for christmas - mariah carey

a/n wow. so. i'm back. i genuinely missed you guys so much and im so happy to write again. i felt really guilty for just disappearing but this might be my only fic for a while. im sorry if it's bad im genuinely so out of practice.

"i don't need a lot for christmas, there is just one thing i need"

zero.

Love was a dreadful, terrible thing. Minho knew firsthand.

He also knew that love could be beautiful. It existed everywhere.

It existed when Minho would feel a smile break out on his face when he would step through his door to the sound of his cats. He knew it existed in the way Chan always made sure that Seungmin had eaten and Jeongin wasn't too hard on himself. It existed in the way Hyunjin wore his emotional scars with pride and in the way Changbin's face would scrunch up adorably as soon as he saw his girlfriend.

But love must be a horrendous thing if it could someone as deserving of it as you through such excruciating pain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year one.

Minho always associated loving you with Christmas. It was mainly for two reasons: because you loved Christmas, and Christmas was when he realized he loved you.

Minho had become your best friend on the first day of college when you stumbled into him while looking for your batchmates after orientation. It was almost fate (despite Minho considering fate to be bullshit), the way he held onto your shoulders to make sure your face didn't hit the floor and you gave him a weak, petrified smile.

"Computer Science major?" he asked, and your quick reply in the positive laid the foundations of your unbreakable friendship.

Minho knew he loved you for a long time. But the realization of it dawned on him during your annual Christmas party when the two of you were in your second year of college.

You were absolutely fanatical about Christmas. Despite Minho's protests about your fascination being sickening, he secretly found it extremely endearing. You had confessed to him once, how your love for Christmas stemmed from the fact that you only saw your father during Christmas due to his demanding job of a military's medic.

That was the day Minho vowed to make sure nobody could ruin your Christmas.

You went all out Christmas decorations at your apartment. Your Christmas tree was huge and adorned with ornaments of various shapes, sizes and colours. Minho came early to help you and your roommate Kyujin with the Christmas baking, considering how last time the two of you tried to bake it took swatting towels and spraying water to get the smoke detector to stop.

But you were most excited to introduce your boyfriend to the rest of your friend group.

Minho wasn't happy about it, but he was happy for you. You loved the idea of romance but for some reason that Minho could not fathom, thought yourself undeserving of receiving the romantic variant of it. But your first boyfriend, whom you'd been seeing for three months, quickly changed that.

You were practically bouncing up and down on your toes as your mutual friends trailed into your tiny apartment.

"Y/N!" Jisung squealed as he barreled into your arms.

"Sungie!" you replied in equal enthusiasm.

Minho's heart melted watching you, his best friend, and Jisung, his roommate, getting along so well. In fact, sometimes he felt third wheeled by his two favorite people who wouldn't have known each other if it wasn't for him.

"Tonight," Jisung declared proudly, "I will serenade Minho with a tear-jerking rendition of 'All I Want For Christmas'."

Jisung stood on top of your couch, arms spread out proudly. He sent Minho a boisterous wink and Minho tried to hide a chuckle while rolling his eyes.

"The only tears shed will be because of Jisung's pathetic voice," grumbled Hyunjin, Jisung's best friend, already dreading the moment when he would have to drag his drunk and sappy ass back home.

Your cheeks turned pink in a poorly contained laugh while Hyunjin just gave you a shrug, only the three of you privy to Hyunjin's comment. Minho saw your face and found his own flushing, quickly blinking to make sure nobody noticed. Jisung shot Minho, you and Hyunjin an accusatory glance, but your little smirk caused him to look away in annoyance.

"I will not date you, Jisung," said Minho in an overly dramatic voice. Jisung pouted and this time, the whole room burst into laughter until Kyujin yelled a string of obscenities at him to get him off the couch.

But throughout the whole debacle, Minho's eyes only belonged to you. He couldn't help but wonder, how would you feel about dating him? These feeling had been brewing for long, even before you started dating Taehyun What's-His-Face. Minho knew he had feeling for you, but today he would realize just how deep they ran.

"You okay? Your cheeks are red man. Like, tomato red," asked the ever vigilant Chan.

"Oh, um, yeah. I'm good," replied Minho nervously, hoping that Chan didn't notice.

"Yep," said Chan, clearly unconvinced, his eyes still narrowed on Minho.

Minho did not get nervous easily. He was calm, stoic, composed. But around you, he was a ticking time bomb. You made Minho feel like a thousand dazzling fireworks had lit up in his stomach. You made him want to be spontaneous, silly and scream from the rooftops that he liked you and wanted to be with you.

You made Minho feel things he had never felt before, and it broke him everyday watching you feel those same things for someone who wasn't him.

Minho's eyes looked for yours, you slipping away sometime when he was contemplating his lost love. He finally found you, leaning against Kyujin bedroom door. Your loose sweater hung off a shoulder and pointer finger of your right hand was caught between your teeth. In your other hand was your phone which lit up when you opened.

God, you looked ethereal.

Until your eyes flickered up and down, you blinked multiple times and your brow creased while your bottom lip quivered. Minho had known you long and intimately enough that something was very, very wrong. Before you even looked up at him, your eyes conveying a silent cry, Minho was striding towards you like a man on a mission.

"Minho," you choked out, and he whisked you into Kyujin's room, giving a concerned Kyujin watching everything a tight nod as he did.

"Minho, Minho, he -" you were sobbing, gasping in wretched breaths that made it feel like a knife was twisting into his heart.

He watched you nearly terrified, rubbing your back soothingly. Minho murmured sweet nothings into your ear to get you to calm down and explain to him what had happened as his on heart raced at nearly a thousand miles per hour.

"What happened sweetheart? Y/N?" Minho asked, his voice laced with worry.

Wordlessly, you handed over your phone to him as you buried your face into his shoulder.

[7:32 PM]

taehyunnie: look y/n, i hate to do this on christmas but

taehyunnie: i have had something come up

taehyunnie: so i won't make it

[7:34 PM]

taehyunnie: quite frankly, we should break up

taehyunnie: i don't think either of us is in the right mental state to date right now.

taehyunnie: sorry.

Minho was seeing red. How could someone do something like this to you? You, who was perfect to the extent where even your imperfections were perfect? Minho was about to ask you what day you would like for him to murder Taehyun when you interrupted him.

"He's not wrong," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I was so excited to date someone that I probably got to clingy and scared him off."

"That's not true," said Minho shaking your shoulders, "That's not true, anybody would be tripping over their feet to date you."

And as Minho repeated those words to you like a chant, over and over again until you believed them as much as he did, he felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Guilt simmered in his stomach because of the thoughts he was having.

Amidst the winter chill and your broken cries, Lee Minho realized that he was hopelessly and damningly in love with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year two.

The second year Minho spent Christmas with you, things had changed. Minho's hair grew longer, curling at the base of his neck and you forbade him from cutting it. You had let go over your initial heartbreak from the events of the previous Christmas and for some reason, deluded yourself into thinking that you were unlovable.

The only thing that barely changed was Minho's love for you, apart from maybe how it increased in magnitude.

"You should tell her, you know. Or else you'll end up regretting it," remarked Hyunjin wisely.

The ever so observant boy was the only one who knew about Minho felt when it came to you. Even then, he didn't know the uncharted depth of how much Minho loved you. Just that he hopelessly and unequivocally did.

Minho glared at him in response, snatching a brownie from Hyunjin's hand, and began eating it as Hyunjin grumbled next to him in vain.

Minho was well aware that he was right. But he (foolishly), thought he was sparing you pain by miserably keeping his feelings to himself.

Minho hated and adored every second of loving you. He hated how stifling it was, not being able to whisper soft words of romance in your ear late at night and wake with you in his arms the next morning. But he adored how his heart picked up pace at just the sight of you and how he felt weightless at your featherlight brushes of his arm.

To put it simply, loving someone from afar was as temperamental as the oceans; the tides were hauntingly beautiful and gorgeously devastating but they were impossible to escape from.

An ugly metaphor, felt Minho, who had yet to master the art of swimming.

Minho sat on the couch, Hyunjin and Jeongin playing Mario Kart on one side of him and Chan and Kyujin engaged in an intense game of Uno on the other side of him. You were off socializing as you often did during your annual Christmas parties, but Minho knew you would come back to him.

You always did.

Minho set up shop at five in the morning that day with you. Kyujin had a Christmas dance recital that day, and you both were one set of hands down. From morning, the two of you diced, rolled and baked, dusted and decorated, troubled each other and even had a little tickling bout followed by a pillow fight (and plate of burnt snowman shaped cookies).

This was the future that Minho wanted, you by his side engaging in mundane activities with lazy, soft kisses peppered to each others lips every dya.

He watched, sick with envy, as Changbin scooped up his girlfriend Chaeyeon in his arms and start pressing kisses to her face while she squealed. Minho watched in dread and unease at all the couples around him engaged in extravagant acts of romance and subtle domesticity, dreaming of when, if ever, that would be you and him.

He was so distracted by the torrential current inside him that he hadn't noticed when Kyujin and Chan shifted their game to the kitchen island and you had sat down next him.

"Hi," you told him softly.

Minho blinked rapidly a the voice he would recognize anywhere, the one that beckoned him in his dreams and went silent in his nightmares. Behind you, Jisung and Seungmin were brazenly building a stacked tower of cookies which Minho knew would fall and create a mess unless prevented, but he chose to ignore it.

"Hey," replied Minho, turning around  to drink in your entire figure.

"I'm happy I've detached from romance, Minho," you informed him as your arm brushed his, "I don't think dating's for me and..."

Your voice trailed off and you turned to look at him, look into his eyes with an oddly melancholic smile that was contradictory to your earlier statement of happiness.

"I think I'm finally healing."

And under the Christmas lights with you in your Santa hat with the tip of your nose tinted pink from the cold, Minho had never loved and lost more.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year three.

Christmas this year was filled to the brim with nagging from your end about why Minho refused to find a girlfriend despite your self-proclaimed temporary vow of celibacy. It was also the year that Minho realized the importance of the time he had with you.

"Come on Min," you groaned at Minho as he pulled up his sleeves and start kneading the cookie dough, "You'll love Sullyoon."

No, he wanted to say, I love you.

Instead, he responded with, "If I'm off with a girl, who'll make sure Jisung, Kyujin and Hyunjin don't end up burning down the apartment?"

You just laughed and made your way from behind the counter to the dining table, where Minho was busy at work. After he was done, you took the dough, neatly rolled and cut the cookies into shape and propped them in the oven. Minho was busy setting up a Christmas movie in the living room and you sat next to him, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder.

Minho would have tensed, if it weren't for how habitual he had become to these touches form you he was the recipient of after practically moving in with you.

Kyujin moved out of the apartment after she got a part time job at a dance institute about a half hour away from where you both lived. She needed the easy commute, and rent was not that difficult to pay for you due to your comfortable internship since sophomore year of college at a reputed tech company.

Minho, the only other person who was in the internship program with you, basically lived at your apartment. He had his own bed, clothes and even toothbrush at your apartment. He stayed nearly five nights in a row, going back to his actual apartment over the weekends to make sure that Jisung was alive and feeding himself more than just chicken breast.

This new development caused Minho to think that maybe, just maybe you harbored feelings for him the way he did for you. The two of you basically functioned like a live-in couple, so much so that your neighbors would mistake Minho for your boyfriend more often than not.

That's why Minho couldn't understand why you were so insistent about him meeting Sullyoon.

The party started soon after. Seungmin begrudgingly wore a Santa hat on his head and Jeongin clicked a picture of him at every possible occasion. Hyunjin and Chan introduced their girlfriends and everybody positively loved Karina and Lisa. Jisung gushed to everyone about the current guy he liked, Yeonjun, and Changbin informed his friends that on New Years, he planned to propose.

In the midst of it all sat Minho and you, arms looped around each other, both feeling love of different magnitudes.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You were dragging Minho to meet Sullyoon, evidently sitting in your room, despite his protests. You were wearing a long, billowy dress with a checkered pattern of red and white boxes that Minho teased made you look like a picnic blanket. But the truth was he loved it, he loved you and he did not love being taken to meet another woman by the one he was in love with.

"Have fun!" you grinned and shut the door behind yourself, waltzing away with immense satisfaction.

Minho let out a defeated sigh and turned around to see the fabled Seol Yoon-A, affectionately called Sullyoon. He could tell why you were gushing over her. She wore a red dress with a small bow, had pretty doe eyes and was beautiful no doubt.

But nothing in Minho's head could compare to you.

"So," Sullyoon laughed sweetly, "She threatened you to be here too, huh?"

"Yep," responded Minho curtly and in defeat.

Sullyoon got up and made his way to him, arms snaking around his shoulder and for a terrifying moment, he didn't want her to stop. Not because he enjoyed it, but maybe because this would help him get over you, you who would never love him the way he loved you.

But then the scent of Sullyoon's vanilla perfume hit Minho and it was nothing like your fragrant lilac mist. It was nothing like you.

Minho gently moved Sullyoon's arms from they were and took a step back. Sullyoon raised an eyebrow and studied him. She then snorted and sat down on the bed again.

"Ah. So you are in love with her," she said matter-of-factly.

"I-what-," Minho stuttered, unable to figure out what to say to such a statement.

Sullyoon sighed and patted the space beside her. "It's obvious you know. All men are stupid." And under her breath she added, "Thank god I also like girls. Much more mature."

Minho sat down, Sullyoon gave him a knowing look, and he told her everything. He told her about how he met you, how he realized he loved you and how he thought you might like him too. He told her about your favorite color, the way you always wore two extra rubber bands because one always seemed to break.

When he was done with it all, Sullyoon gave him a comforting pat and said, "You are in some deep shit, Minho."

"How would you know?" he scoffed.

Sullyoon shit eating grin turned sad, "Because I went through the same thing you did."

This time it was Minho's turn to survey Sullyoon, to try and understand what she went through that made her so intimately understand his situation.

"I was hopelessly in love with my best friend, but I didn't tell him for two years. When I finally did, I found out that even though he didn't completely feel the same, he was willing to give it a try. Loving him was the best year of my life. And he fell in love with me too. We were attached at the hip and I will never forgive myself for what happened."

Minho had a bad feeling that this story did not end happily. He swallowed a lump in his throat and asked, "What happened?"

Sullyoon had a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. "I held Felix as he died."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

year four.

[5:23 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: so. today's the day, huh.

[5:24 PM]

You (Minho): today's the day.

[5:27 PM]

sullyoonie-tunes: MY BROTHER IS NO LONGER BITCHLESS

sullyoonie-tunes: not insinutating that y/n is a bitch of course

sullyoonie-tunes: YOU'RE the bitch

sullyoonie-tunes: she's an angel

sullyoonie-tunes: pls dont kill me

[5:30 PM]

You (Minho): are you done???

"Hey, who are you texting?" you asked Minho, settling down next to him on his bed.

"Ah, Sullyoon," he responded.

You smiled at him, pulling his blanket over the two of you and weaving your fingers through his hair. "When did you two become so close?"

Minho snorted, "When I got her a girlfriend." And now she's getting me one, he left unsaid.

"Oh, I adore Haewon," you smiled, setting your head on Minho's shoulder.

Minho decided that if he was ever going to confess his feelings to you, it would be during Chrismas. You loved Christmas, he loved you, and what would be more perfect than that?

Over the course of the last year, you and Minho were offered permanent jobs at the company you were interning at. Minho had officially moved in with you, and had learned to live with the fact that he could only love you from a distance, completely unaware of the turmoil you felt about your feelings towards him.

Minho had also developed a strong friendship with Sullyoon, who he truly saw as a younger sister. He helped her meet Haewon, and she helped him dissect every move you made to glean information that would support Minho's hypothesis of you maybe liking him back.

Minho had expected his love for you to pass, to ebb and flow away with the changing seasons.

Instead, it blossomed into something he would forever live with. Minho was madly in love. To him, you weren't just a love.

To him, you hung to moon, stitched the stars onto the sky and gave the cosmos every diaphanous colour it glowed with.

The doorbell rang five times in rapid succession and Minho leapt off his bed. "He's mine," he laughed, watching you struggle to get out of the cocoon you had made for yourself in his blanket.

"Well he clearly loves me more," you retorted, catching up to Minho at the door who, ever the gentleman, opened for you.

Chaeyeon smiled at you and behind her was a beaming Changbin. In his hands he held two things. A large bag in one hand and a carrier in the other. You and Minho urgently ushered the two inside and Chaeyeon placed a gift on the kitchen counter.

"Meet Seo Sun-woo," said Changbin proudly, and you and Minho gushed over Changbin and Chaeyeon's two month old son.

Ever since Chaeyeon had announced she was pregnant after her and Changbin's wedding, a sense of reality dawned upon your entire friend group. You had to grow up, become mature and fend for yourself in this world. Gone were the days when you and Minho would party hop playing beer pong. Now, you both stayed up talking about your future and you hopes, dreams and aspiraitons.

You dreamt of making a name for yourself in the tech world, starting a company that would teach disabled kids coding and give them opportunities to work for gigantic tech companies. Minho dreamt of you and with that came the silent promise of adopting your dreams as his own.

"I want kids some day," you said as you held baby Seo in your lap. This year's party was quieter, much more secluded and only had your direct close circle of friends, "with Chris and Lisa expecting twins and even Hyunjin adopting a dog for Karina, it feels like everyone is growing their family."

Minho pouted. "Am I not growing your family?"

You laughed, "Minho, you've always been home."

Minho gave you quite possibly the widest smile until he heard a tin can fall to the ground and a set of four groans erupt from your bedroom. "Look, we're practically raising Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin."

You sighed in affectionate annoyance. "In between them and SonnieDoongieDori, I think that's enough family expansion for now."

Another crash came from your room and you both shared a knowing look. You either got the situation under control, or something broke.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

"I feel dead," you moaned, falling onto the sofa after cleaning up well into the night. The party had ended with Lisa unceremoniously vomiting on the floor and everyone ushering her out and enquiring about her state of well-being.

"Let's go, I have one last present for you," Minho coaxed you out of your shell in the sofa, his own heart pounding incessantly.

"Just give it tomo-"

"I'll dump the litter box in your-"

"Fine," you groaned, "Ten minutes and then we start our Home Alone movie marathon."

Minho nodded, to anxious to argue, "Deal."

Both of you stepped out onto the balcony where the cold nipped at you. There were still couples strolling outside and children hurling snowballs at each other. Christmas lights covered virtually every apartment in sight, red and green lights glowing in tandem.

"What is it?" you asked, looking around him for maybe a box or a letter. Minho stood frozen in the anxiety of every way you could say no to him, until you nudged him back to reality.

Minho coughed. "It's not so much a thing and more of something I have to say."

"Oh."

Minho looked at the way your hair curled at the bottom, grazing the hem of your sweatpants. He looked at your jackets' cuffs, stained with chocolate when you both were lathering Nutella over a layer of cook. He looked at your face, full of beauty and kindness.

But mostly he looked at you, strong, gracious, and lover of Christmas.

Minho thought that confessing his love for you would be the hardest thing he's ever done. Instead, it came as naturally to him as snow falling on the streets of Seoul in winter.

"I love you," the confession fell from his lips. "I have loved you for four years and I will spend the rest of my life loving you if you'll let me. You understand me on a level that nobody else ever has. I love you Y/N, and I have never known anything else the way I have known that."

A song started in him that time, a scratchy beat of hopeful terror that started from his toes and came up to his heart.

"Plus, the cats won't accept anyone apart from you as their mother, and that includes Lix," he added for good measure.

You stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, and Minho felt his initial confidence wearing off. That was until you launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. Minho wrapped his arms around you, a sigh of relief escaping form his mouth.

"You don't know how long I've loved you for," you mumbled into his sweater.

And everything came to a beautiful crescendo when the nights Minho spent tossing and turning, the four years of assumed unrequited agony did not go in van because you loved him.

You loved him.

That night, Minho held you tightly in his arms underneath the blanket and was at a complete disregard of Kevin's plight in New York. He pressed kisses to every exposed surface he could find, your giggles louder than the shenanigans the character was playing on TV.

"This festival is my whole world," you told him with love brimming in his eyes.

Minho then finally told you three words that he believed summed up everything he felt towards you for the entire time he's ever known you.

"And you're mine."

please reblog and comment if you liked this fic! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps @lina-linny @yrqrnc

@calypsohan @minluvly

also tagging @stayblrofficial for their christmas writing event!

[eringobragh420]

♣️ Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader (no use of y/n) ♣️ Summary — Damian’s fiancée receives a head injury during a match resulting in amnesia. (Part 5/5) 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 ♣️ Word Count — 4.2k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v, dirty talk, cum 18+ ♣️ Notes — Spanish translations at the end of the story provided by Google Translate. ♣️ Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!  ♣️ MASTERLIST

DAY FIVE — CHRISTMAS DAY

You stretched—the kind of stretch one takes after a satisfying evening followed by much needed restful sleep—smile slowly creeping across your lips. Still half-asleep, you rolled over, attracted to warmth and comfort, and you felt a rather large hand slide from where it had been resting on your belly to your side as you moved into the new position. Your head rested on a firm bicep, and you smelled deodorant and the aroma of Damian, and you remembered what he’d done for you the night before, triggering your need to again be as close as possible to him.

“You gonna sleep all day, sweetheart?” Damian softly asked. You nodded, eyes closed, and Damian’s smile widened. His thumb caressed near the bottom of your ribs. “But it’s Christmas.”

He meant well, you knew that, but as you’d fallen asleep on Christmas Eve, after Damian had made you cum with his fingers, you’d considered the holiday. It didn’t mean much to you, if anything. You weren’t looking forward to spending time with family and friends because you couldn’t remember any of them, you felt no excitement to open presents or watch Damian open his because you didn’t know if any of them would bear any meaning for you. 

“Bah-humbug,” you rasped, pressing your face into Damian’s warm chest. His chuckle rumbled against you as his hand slowly slid from your side to your back. Now you most certainly did not want to get out of bed. Maybe you could convince him to use his fingers ag—

“Grumble, grumble, complain,” he growled, teasing you, and you smiled, nuzzling your forehead into a faded tattoo. “Come on.” He tenderly patted your back. “I think Santa came last night.”

“That makes two of us,” you mumbled.

One of your eyes popped open as Damian guffawed, untangling himself from you, rolling over, and he sat up, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. He’d donned a pair of red boxer briefs sprinkled with tiny Christmas trees on them before he’d fallen asleep last night, and you snickered as you watched him stand. The giggle died on your lips, though, when he stretched, every toned muscle rippling throughout his perfect body, tattoos dancing, and you thought again about asking, or at least implying, that the two of you stay in bed and make out, and oh, by the way, would you wanna—

“You were a very good girl this year, mi vida,” Damian said, pulling on a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts he’d hung over the back of a decorative chair the night before. He turned back to you and placed his fists on the bed beside you, the mattress sinking as he leaned closer to you. “I think you really wanna see what Santa brought you.”

Sighing, you tossed the covers aside and sat up yourself, realizing Damian wasn’t going to let you stay in bed any longer. Standing, you waited—watching closely—as Damian pulled his unruly hair into a high bun before he turned to you and extended his hand. You looked at his hand, imagining that middle finger pumping inside you and the thumb on your clit, and you had an inclination to just jump on his hand and see if his fingers landed inside you, but reason prevailed, and you were able to stop yourself just short of liftoff. Instead, you placed your tiny hand within his, his fingers wrapping around yours, and his smile was so sweet and happy and utterly contagious.

Damian led you downstairs to the living room, kissing the back of your hand before instructing you to take a seat on the plush couch. So many colorful and glittering gifts were under the tree, and you were relieved when Damian only grabbed a few—the rest of the gifts were for various family and friends. As nervous as you were to open the presents from Damian—what if the old you would have liked what he got you, but the new you didn’t?—you were even more nervous you might have to be present to distribute those gifts to people you didn’t know. Setting three boxes at your feet, he set the same amount at his, and you assumed the number had been agreed upon by the both of you before you’d gone shopping. Maybe you’d done it every year. 

“Is there a certain order …?” you asked. He handed you the biggest box first, and instructed you to open yours, then he would open one of his.

Taking a deep breath, you gently ripped at the impressively wrapped gift, glancing anxiously at Damian, and he tilted his head, smiling. He laid a long arm across the back of the couch, his hand heavy, yet gentle, on your shoulder, and his touch was both comforting and … knowing? You suddenly felt confused, but alert, like you were so close to remembering something important, but you couldn’t find it in your scattered brain. Choosing to ignore it, you removed the paper, and opened the box to find a Louis Vuitton tote. Eyes widening, you pulled the bag from the box, inspected it a moment front and back, and then looked back at Damian. 

“I love it,” you whispered, incredulous. 

Damian exhaled, eyes closing for the briefest moment, but he quickly recovered, shining that winning smile. “Good,” he replied, squeezing your shoulder. “You told me which one you wanted, but not which color …” 

“It’s perfect.”

Holding the bag to your chest like someone might steal it from you, you watched as Damian picked up one of his boxes, thankfully not asking you which one he should open first. He tore into the snowman wrapping paper like an ape, tossed the trash behind him, and the Nike logo on the box pretty much gave away what was inside. He pulled one shoe out, marveling at it, and gushed about how much he loved them and couldn’t believe you’d been able to locate them. You shrugged, having no answer, but his excitement was just as contagious as his smile, and you giggled as he fist pumped while putting the shoe back in the box.

Damian handed you the next gift—a pair of black heels from Jimmy Choo—which you also loved. Damian opened a rather fancy watch that he seemed overly excited about—like Randy from A Christmas Story when he got a Zeppelin—but you giggled at his childlike wonder. The last present he gave to you was much smaller than the rest, so you treated it more delicately than you had the others. This time, Damian opened his final gift as you opened yours, but he was paying far more attention to you and your reaction to what he’d gotten for you. The removal of the wrapping paper revealed a deep blue velvet box, and you suspected jewelry would be hidden within, and that gave you pause. You’d loved the other gifts, so you weren’t worried about loving this one just as much, but would you react the way Damian was hoping for? You lifted the lid, gasping at the gorgeous bracelet nestled amongst satin the same color as the box. You touched the single, tiny charm, smiling, and you weren’t sure what possessed you to do it, but you brought the golden bow and arrow—the tip of the arrow a sparkling diamond—to your lips. 

“Can I put it on you?” Damian asked, disrupting your love affair with your new piece of jewelry. You sniffed, eyes becoming misty as you nodded and handed the box to him. He set aside some sort of combat weapon you’d gotten for him and clasped the beautiful bracelet around your wrist before kissing your pulse point. 

“It’s … it’s really beautiful,” you stammered. You fingered the charm, watching the diamond sparkle.

You turned your hand this way and that, grinning as the light caught the bracelet at different angles. Your brows came together, wrist rotation slowing as you stared at the back of your left hand. Something was missing. Something important. “Aren’t we engaged?” you asked, looking at Damian.

His eyes lifted, wide with sudden worry. “Of course,” he said. Why would she suddenly be doubting they were engaged, he wondered, heart pounding. “You’ve got your dress, we have a venue and about three hundred people coming …” 

“Where’s my engagement ring?” you interrupted. Damian’s mouth clamped shut, pillowy lips rubbing together. “I can’t remember you or our relationship, but I’ve learned enough to know you’d never propose without a ring, and even if you did, I’d have one by now … right?” 

Damian smiled, nodding. “You’re right,” he said. “You have a ring. I’ll be right back.” He hopped over the back of the couch, and you giggled. You turned the bracelet over again to watch the little bow and arrow dangle and the tiny diamond catch the sun as it peeked through the curtains. When Damian returned, he was carrying a small, teal box, and anyone who had ever shopped for engagement rings knew the Tiffany’s teal. You gulped. “I didn’t want to bring it up so you wouldn’t feel obligated to wear it if you weren’t comfortable with it.”

He looked at you a moment, approaching you still seated on the couch, and your breath hitched as he descended to one knee. He opened the box, having never guessed in a million years he would get to present you with the engagement ring you’d adored so much a second time, and your eyes rounded at, not only the size of the diamond, but it was your favorite cut, your favorite metal, and your favorite person was offering it to you. Favorite person? Suddenly you couldn’t catch your breath. Something was there, right there in your fucking brain, and you almost had it. 

“Put it on me,” you whispered, words laced with desperation.

Damian’s brows furrowed, but he did as he was told—removing the ring from its velvety home, taking your hand in his, and he slid the diamond effortlessly into place where it hugged your finger, almost as if it had missed you. You smiled, touching it, remembering Damian stuttering through a proposal on the beach in Puerto Rico.

Wait.

The fight you’d had on the way back to the hotel about how fast he’d been driving.

Your eyes closed.

The fight only led to him pulling over and fucking the complaining out of you on the side of the road.

You sucked in a breath.

“Your tattoo is stupid.” 

“Your tattoo is stupider.” 

“Mine’s actually the best.” 

“Yeah, well, mine’s the prettiest.”

The wedding dress you’d chosen clung to your curves perfectly, the train sparkled, the veil tucked into your hair. Damian’s gonna love this … especially when he finds out I’m not wearing any panties.

Damian.

Damian.

Your eyes shot open, and Damian was there, watching you curiously. Your fiancé. Damian Priest. You remembered when and where you met, you remembered your first date and your first fuck and your first fight and your first Christmas, and fuck, you remembered everything! All of it! 

“Damian,” you whispered, grabbing at his hands, his arms, shoulders, until you came to the floor on your knees. Damian tried catching you, unsure of what was happening or how to react. You cupped his face. “Papi.”

Damian’s body twitched as he eyed you closely. His hands came up to your face next, your noses grazing. “Oh, my God,” he whispered, every bit on the verge of tears as you were. “Querida.” You nodded, because you knew what it meant, and you knew what it meant when he said it. His arms suddenly came tightly around your waist, nearly squeezing the life out of you, and you did the same to his neck. “Fuck, you know I can’t ever let you go now, right?” he asked, only half teasing. 

You sniffed, a single tear streaking down your cheek, nodding. Memories were still playing one after another, your brain taking each one and filing it in its appropriate cabinet, which were mostly labeled never fucking forgot any of this ever again. “Sounds good to me,” you said, and then you felt him tuck his face into your neck, his hot breath ghosting along your skin, and your nipples were suddenly small pebbles, and your heart skipped a beat or two and— 

Damian pushed you away with both hands on your face so his lips could claim yours. The kissing from the night before had been hot, but this kiss was a goddamn atomic bomb, because you remembered the love you had for this man, felt it to your core, and you were suddenly dizzy and just a little lightheaded. It was like falling in love with Damian Priest all over again, like being on a rollercoaster that was only corkscrews, like debuting to a thunderous pop on the main roster of the WWE.

Damian whispered your name, pausing the kiss only to declare, “I need you.” His hands slid teasingly from your cheeks to your neck, shoulders, arms, landing heavily on your hips. “If it’s not the right time—” 

“It is,” you interrupted, lifting your shirt over your head, dropping it dramatically beside the two of you—Damian’s eyes followed the garment with an arched eyebrow before he slid his gaze to your bare breasts, tilting his head, inhaling deeply. He removed his own shirt, your eyes examining him much the same way he’d done you, and you gasped when he suddenly stood, towering over you a hell of a lot more than he normally did. You grinned, reaching for the waistband of his shorts, but he had other plans. 

He grabbed one of your arms, hooking it around his neck, and he hoisted you gracefully off the floor and over his shoulder. He smacked your ass, the bottoms of your cheeks hanging out of the shorts you’d slept in, and you squealed, kicking your legs. “We are not having reunion sex on the floor in the living room,” he said, carrying you effortlessly up the stairs, even taking two at a time, as he made his way to the bedroom you shared. You hadn’t actually planned on fucking him on the floor—there was a comfortable couch nearby with cushions the width of a twin bed—but you let him manhandle you because it had been, what, five days since you’d been manhandled? The manual stimulation the night before hadn’t counted, not with how caring and slow and intentional Damian had been.

You were tossed on the bed, bouncing, snickering, and Damian stole several moments to watch you smile, to watch your tits jiggle, massaging a growing lump in his shorts. Your eyes became slits, focused on Damian’s big hand passing over his even bigger cock, witnessing it grow and strain, almost able to feel it stretching you and filling you and satisfying you like no man had ever done before. Dying to join in, you removed your shorts and panties, though you kept your legs mostly together even as you slipped a few fingers within your dampening folds, Damian only able to get a peek of the action. The fingers of Damian’s free hand grazed your knee, his thumb on the inside applying gentle pressure, and you spread your legs for him, biting your lip, cheeks heating up as he watched you touch yourself—one of his very favorite pastimes. 

“Can I taste you?” he rumbled, thumb caressing your skin, hand slipping within his shorts and briefs, eyes briefly closing when he wrapped his fingers around his cock, giving it a few satisfying strokes. He wasn’t sure why he asked, especially since you’d always told him it didn’t matter what you were doing—if he wanted a snack, you would always be more than happy to oblige. But what if now wasn’t the time for the … normal sex? What if you weren’t ready, and the awkwardness from the night prior happened again? He didn’t want you to think he’d simply been waiting for you to remember who you were and who he was simply so he could fuck you stupid. Would you ever think that? And why the hell was he overthinking so much? 

Your brows furrowed. “Of course,” you softly replied, sliding back on the mattress as Damian crawled forward. “And if I ever say no, take me back to the hospital because my brain is broken again.”

Damian chuckled, continuing to crawl up your body, pressing his full, perfect lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, but something felt different, off. Any other time, not only would he not have asked permission, his face would have been buried in your pussy before you even knew what was happening, not making a beeline for a makeout session.

Disconnecting your lips, you placed a hand on his cheek, and your eyes met. “Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I just …” he trailed off, positive that any explanation he gave about his sudden apprehension would make no sense at all, or worse … give you the impression that he didn’t want to have sex at all.

You tilted his chin up, an action he’d done to you many times, and when his eyes met yours, you were punched in the gut by the turmoil—he was confused, hesitant, turned on, and utterly at the mercy of his own negative thoughts. Placing a hand on his warm, bare chest, over his heart, you found the organ beating so fast it was vibrating. Smiling softly, you pressed a tender kiss to Damian’s lips, but it did nothing to slow his heart rate, though you weren’t sure it would have under any other circumstances—you made his heart pound on the regular, he’d told you, and you remembered him telling you. Like you suddenly remembered everything your fiancé had done for you (and because of you—he still had a meeting with WWE about pushing the guy at the airport) up until this point. He’d cared for you, he’d been so patient and understanding, all the while no doubt worrying about whether or not you’d ever remember him. You couldn’t imagine the stress he must have been under. How much had he actually slept in the past five days?

Your smile grew as you kissed his cheeks, his eyes, forehead, nose, and you felt him relax. “I know what you need,” you whispered. You pressed on his chest, and after a moment, he understood and rolled onto his back. “You can taste me this way,” you said, hushed, sliding along the sheets and blankets until your head was facing his feet. “Because I think it’s only fair I get a taste of my own.” He wouldn’t have allowed you to do what you really wanted to do, which was to have him lay back and enjoy a long, slow, wet blowjob, and then you would swallow what would have to be a huge load—unless he’d found the time and desire to jerk off in the last five days. Maybe he did last night, after he made me cum and after I fell asleep?—which would be followed by a Christmas morning nap. Well, you supposed he might have agreed to you swallowing, as well as the nap, but certainly not the part where he was the only one receiving pleasure. Jesus, why were you overthinking this?

“You gonna sit on my face or not?” Damian wanted to know, instantly snapping you from your reverie. Giggling and blushing—blushing because, even though you’d been in this position hundreds of times, you still felt just a twinge of embarrassment, of insecurity, every time—you straddled your fiancé’s face, eyes fluttering as he kissed your thighs, the stubble from his beard causing your entire body to quake. And then his tongue was exactly where it belonged: licking along your bare folds before slipping between them, flattening, and you threw your head back as he did things to your pussy no one else had ever been able to do. He smacked your ass, not nearly as hard as he was known to, but you smirked and squeaked just the same, using one hand to untie his shorts, tug them loose and down, and you pulled his thick cock free from the Christmas tree briefs. You spit on the head, and Damian grunted, sucking and nibbling on your clit like it was his final meal as you spread your saliva along his shaft with a few quick strokes before engulfing the head in your hot mouth.

Damian kept one hand on the back of your head, merely encouraging, until you intentionally gagged yourself, forcing his dick as far down your throat as you could, coughing, spluttering, barely able to come up for air before he pushed your face back down again. As you fought for sweet oxygen, Damian’s other hand squeezed your ass, shoving his tongue into your gushing, pulsing hole. Your face hot, tears streaking your cheeks, your fiancé’s cock lodged in your neck, your hips still rolled, pressing down, riding Damian’s face much the same way he was doing yours. 

Suddenly he lifted your hips with one hand, the other grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you off his dick. Strings of spit and precum and drool bridged your lips to Damian’s rigid cock, and you worked on disconnecting the mess and wiping at your face as he maneuvered you off him. “Ain’t no way I’m not cummin’ in that pussy,” he growled.

Before he could manhandle you once again into whatever position he desired, you spun around and straddled his hips, flattening your palms on his chest. He was a bit shocked, and rightly so, as up until this point, he’d been the dominant one in the relationship. And this wasn’t you being necessarily dominant—you were simply being proactive in making sure Damian did as little work as possible. He held onto your wrists as you raised your hips, rocking your clit along his head before slowly descending, allowing yourself only seconds to adjust to his size. Maybe a perk from all this would be your pussy having had an opportunity to tighten up without its daily pounding from a very proportionate six foot five Puerto Rican man. 

“Fuck,” Damian shouted, and you grinned, though you’d never know if your hypothesis had been correct or if he’d just really missed being inside you.

”Little gatita missed her Papi,” you purred, enunciating the Spanish words, biting your lip, eyes fluttering as you swiveled your hips to get every last bit of him inside you.

Damian pressed his head into the pillow, hips thrusting, lifting you as if you weighed nothing, somehow going deeper, kissing your cervix, and your nails dug into his pecs. “Come on, querida,” he said, and you knew he would never agree or admit to it, but it sure sounded a hell of a lot like begging. “Ride Papi.”

Transferring most of your weight to your hands on his chest, your hips bounced, jaw dropped, and you did exactly as you’d been instructed. Sweat was beading around your hairline at the back of your neck, your lungs were tight from your labored breathing, but you could feel that familiar, delicious ache deep in your cunt. You watched Damian with a small grin, biting your lip, as his blown pupils were laser focused on your pussy and the glistening trail it left behind every time you lifted your hips. His brows were knitted together, lips pursed, and you actually had to fight the laughter bubbling in your throat at how utterly determined he was not to cum. He wanted to impress you with his stamina and willpower, you knew that much, and you suspected he was probably savoring the moment, making it last as long as possible. Maybe next time, you thought. You’ve waited long enough. 

“You gonna gimme me that nut, Papi?” you panted.

His eyes rose to yours, and you were no longer in control of the fucking, your entire body jolting with each pump of Damian’s cock. “That what you want?” he grunted. 

“Fuck yeah,” you breathed, eyes closing, that ache getting stronger, spreading further. “It’s been too long. I need your cum inside me.” 

“Been too long,” he mocked breathlessly. “You’re gonna be so fuckin’ full …” 

“Give it to me, Papi,” you begged, cunt squeezing Damian’s pulsing cock as you gushed all over it. “I want all of it.”

Your fiancé made good on his promise—unloading so much inside your pussy that it started leaking out before he’d even pulled out. Hand on the back of your head, he pulled you down for a kiss, massaging his lips along yours in that delightful Damian way. “I love you so much,” he mumbled against your mouth. 

“I love you more,” you grinned, pulling away enough so you could look at each other comfortably. “It should take, what, five minutes for you to be ready for round two?” 

“Five minutes,” Damian chuckled, shaking his head, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, if it helps at all, I’m gonna go try on my heels.” You carefully raised yourself off Damian, his half-hard cock smacking his abdomen lewdly once your pussy released it, and you crawled out of bed. 

“Just naked? You’re just gonna try the heels on naked?” Damian asked after you. 

“Kind of,” you replied, glancing at him over your bare shoulder. “I’ll be wearing your cum.”

Damian’s eyes darkened. “It’s like that?”

You winked, continuing out of the bedroom, a millisecond passing before you heard Damian’s heavy footsteps following quickly behind.

જ⁀➴°⋆ Mi vida — My life જ⁀➴°⋆ Papi — Daddy જ⁀➴°⋆ Querida — Beloved/term of endearment જ⁀➴°⋆ Gatita — Kitten

[joeyfranchise]

𝟙𝟚 𝕕𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕚𝕔-𝕞𝕒𝕤: 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕖

secret santa

boyfriend!joe x fem!reader

NSFW! MDNI! bulleted blurb about going to a christmas party & playing secret santa with joe and his friends… but he has to give you his best gift at home ;) (warnings included unprotected p in v, the usual shebang.)

you had to ask joe THREE TIMES if the party you were meant to be attending for christmas was playing white elephant or secret santa

he assured you it was secret santa but you were confused because you didn’t know who you’d be shopping for

AND CHRISTMAS WAS ONLY A WEEK AWAY???

sure, they were his friends & yours… but a little extra time might’ve been nice…

although, gift giving was one of your outward love languages

FINALLLY you met up with everyone and drew names

but now you only had FOUR DAYS to shop ?? FOUR. ??

alright. you’ve got this though, right??

luckily you got one of your closest friends, so buying for her would be a piece of cake

OR SO YOU THOUGHT

now of course, so close to the holiday… every storE WAS PACKED

but you were on a mission

you knew your girl like the back of your hand sO

this was gonna be easy

at the first store you visited you got her a candle, palo santo and orange scented

cuz she needed cleansing energy in her life rn

at the second store you grabbed her some comfy socks, a thick knitted blanket, and some cute sparkly pink lipgloss

you had to REALLY TRY not to go overboard

the last few things you got her were

2 new books, a new travel mug, some packets of hot chocolate, and FINALLY

a dainty silver paperclip bracelet

you fixed it all up in a basket and you were SO EXCITED to give it to her at the party

the only thing bothering you now was

you didn’t know who joe got

and he WOULD NOT tell you

and you couldn’t find anything around the house

OR IN HIS CAR

and you were afraid that 1. he wasn’t getting anyone anything

or 2. HE GOT YOU and he was being super sneaky

it bothered you for DAYS

literally up until the party

because here you and joe are, headed to the party, your gift is loaded up and

joe has nothing

he didn’t bring a SINGLE thing with him

you tried to play it cool, you knew he was watching you squirm over it

whatever. it’s okay. right?? RIGHT??

anyways. you made it to the party and joe came around the car to let you out like the gentleman he is

“you look beautiful, baby.” he says, kissing your cheek

and you’re like THAT’S RICH

cuz on top of him apparently not having a present

he also hasn’t BEEN PRESENT really all week

not in a bad way… just a little distant. there’s a lot going on but… you just missed him

you thanked him softly and he grabbed your gift, heading in to the party

inside it was decorated so beautifully from top to bottom, you were in awe of what your friends had put together

you placed your gift in the designated area and then eagerly jumped into the festivities

joe started talking to the guys as you and the girls finished plating food and decorating baked goods

you all ate and then played a few games, you were happy the party was pretty low-key

and then FINALLY

it was time for the secret santa reveal

you watched everyone with joy as they all loved their gifts and you were even MORE ecstatic when your bestie opened hers

she gave you the worlds BIGGEST HUG and peck on the cheek when she thanked you

but

there was one problem

you didn’t get a gift

i mean it tracks right??? if joe got you then

maybe he was waiting? because he’s your boyfriend so like. he got you gifts anyways

you searched the room until you found his eyes, locking yours with his

he cocked his head, nodding over his right shoulder in a “come on, let’s go” gesture

you excused yourself from your friends and met him by the doorway

he led you to the kitchen and out the sliding glass doors

the backyard was decorated beautifully as well, fairy lights hung from the tiny gazebo and the patio even had a miniature christmas tree

joe closed the door behind you and you hugged yourself in your sweater as the cold air bit at you

he was sTARING you down

“you okay, joe?” you question, watching as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth

“i’m okay. are you?”

you nod your head yes but - you know joe knows you better than anyone

“are you upset? obviously you know by now i was your secret santa.” he says, taking a step toward you

his gaze on you was soft, but still commanding

your knees were weAK

“yeah, but it’s okay joey. i mean, i figured you already had gifts for me or something so… i’m not worried about it.”

but you were lying

AND HE KNEW IT

because really you just wanted to open gifts with all your friends

and you knew joe wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you on purpose but

it was kinda giving you fomo and that sucked the most

joe took another step toward you, his hand reaching out to caress the back of your arm

“do you think i’m a jerk?” he asks, smiling softly

“no, of course not!” you tell him. you were a little sad but

nothing detrimental

“i have a gift for you.”

your eyes widen at his confession and the gap between you is finally closed as he takes the last step toward you

and then he kiSSES YOU

oh shIT

joe pulls away slowly and tells you to close your eyes

when he tells you to open them—

he’s. on his knee

in front of you

oh fuck is he—

OH FUCK IS HE????

“y/n, since i met you, my life has changed for the better in so many ways. i couldn’t ask for someone better in my corner, and i wouldn’t want anyone else to be there for me in the hard moments. you’ve sacrificed so much for me and for this relationship and for that i can never truly repay you.”

yOU’RE CRYING

FULL ON UGLY CRY

“there’s nobody on this planet i’d rather spend the rest of my life with and i don’t wanna waste another second. will you marry me?”

WILL YOU!?

OF COURSE YOU WILL OF COURSE YOU WILL OF COURSE YOU WILL

wait use your words .. hE can’t read your mind

choking back a sob you answer him… “yes, joe. i’ll marry you. i can’t wait to be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

meanwhile you’re full on sobbing and sniffling while speaking to him

joe slips the beautiful ring on your finger before kissing it

he stands and pulls you into a tight hug and oH

is… is he crying too? a lil?

you both pull back slightly so you can see each others faces and you both wipe your tears away before sharing a sweet kiss

“we should go back in for a sec.” joe says

but you’re… SUSPICIOUS

and for good reason apparently

when you get back in EVERYONE CHEERS

THEY’RE POPPING CHAMPAGNE

and you’re crying again because joe did such a great job planning this and WOW

everyone hugs you and wishes you love and happiness and

you are OVERWHELMED??? in a good way

joe grabs his gift that he received before coming over to you and getting your attention

he leans down and whispers in your ear, “let’s leave a lil early. i have one more surprise at home.”

and SMIRKS

oh you know what the surprise is

you say your goodbyes to everyone and practically RUN to the car, buckling up and waiting eagerly for joe to get in and take you home

you and joe are both so giddy in the car, you can’t stop bouncing your leg

he reaches over and grabs your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze

at the stoplight he leans over and kisses you tenderly

and you’re like joE FLOOR IT I NEED YOU

when you get home you aren’t sure if the car or garage are locked or anything and you don’T CARE

as soon as you’re inside joe’s mouth is on yours, your back is pressed to the wall

you can’t take your hands or mouths off each other

he trails open mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbones as he pulls your sweater off

then he unclasps your bra, leaving your chest exposed to his mouths teasing attack

you start taking his shirt off as well, scratching your nails over his shoulder blades as his mouth continues to roam over your body

his lips find yours again soon and tHEN

SUDDENLY

you’re being carried to the bedroom and tOSSED onto the bed

joe quickly undresses himself, his cock springing up against his stomach immediately

he then pulls your pants and panties off in one quick motion before crawling on the bed over you

you’re soaked at this point, you need him so bad

he slides his hand between your legs and uses the pads of his fingers to spread your wetness around

“this all for me?” he asks, pulling his hand away and admiring how your slick glistens on his fingers

“yes, joe, fuck.” you mutter, ready for him to fill you

luckily tonight isn’t about teasing or dragging it out

the pure unadulterated need between you both already has you panting as joe strokes himself a few times before finally spreading your legs more and entering you

you’d think by now you’d be used to the size but —

after a few seconds of adjusting he slowly pulls back before thrusting back in

so. tantalizingly. slowly.

you can see his plan is to completely unravel you

iT’S WORKING

your nails scratch at his head and his lips find yours again

you make no attempt to cover your moans as joe continues to fuck into you slowly

he’s moaning too, the hand that isn’t holding him up is roaming the expanse of your exposed skin

the calloused pads of his fingers explore your skin and every brush over your sensitive areas causes you chills

his name falls from your lips like a mantra

all you know is joe, all you ever want to know is joe

he’s moaning your name too, blissed out expressions take over his features

you know you aren’t far from your orgasm, you can feel it sparking over over your skin, the pleasure rolls off you in waves

“joe… i’m—“ you warn, but he knows

“me too.”

you come at the same time. gasps and moans and the sounds of your breathing fill the room as your orgasm rolls over your body

it feels like an ocean wave the way it sucks you under, like tide is throwing you around

pleasure overrides all your senses in the best way

“you with me, baby?” joe asks, concerned eyes raking over your features

“i’m here.” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss

he pulls out of you and rolls over, pulling your body into his

“that was amazing, you’re amazing. that you for today.” you tell him, burying your head into his chest

“you’re amazing, baby.” he assures, kissing your forehead gently

“i can’t wait to make you mrs. burrow.”

all photos and dividers used are not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @slimshiesty @starsinthesky5 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @joeyb1989 @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @definitelynotdomanique @samanthamark5 @superstarshitblog @fa1ry03 @wickedfun9 @xbriexx @venic-bxtch @burrowdarling @angels555 @idbe-theman @yelenasbraid @ladyluvduv @joeburrowshaircurl @joeybisbootiful @livinobx @blairsworld22 @jarring-behavior @joeyburrrow @yomamaslays4lyfe @gazebotori

[mortallydeepestobservation]

The holiday pretense -1-

Summary: Namjoon has never been a fan of the holidays. In fact, he could list more things that sucked about ‘The most wonderful time of the year’, than things that brought him joy. Yet, beneath his cynicism, a flicker of hope appeared this year, as the faint scent of homesickness hung in the air.

Unfortunately, there’s one tiny little thing that keeps him from calling home- his lack of a girlfriend.

But fear not; this holiday season, Namjoon’s smart mouth gets him in a situation where he has no choice but to approach you- his longtime friend and roommate- with an unexpected request.

Pairing: Namjoon x f.reader Genre: fake-dating, friends to lovers/roommates to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff. Rating: explicit. Minors do not interact. Warnings: every single trope in the book; but with a twist. Dialogue heavy. OC is really bad at lying, anddd… I didn’t write in literal years so yeah, this is gonna be fun. And I know I am literally that meme rn, the: summer is over-skips straight to Christmas. But do you have any idea just how slow I write? Yes. It is a warning. Smut warnings: to be added~ Word count: Chapter 1-9k Credits: this was literally one of those ‘if no one is going to write this, I will’ because there are not enough friends-to-lovers Namjoon fics out there. And none (that I know of) where the main character feels bad for lying to his family when pretending to date him. This work would not have been possible without the very kind and patient @callmenoona25, who not only helped me beta-read but also served as a guiding light during those moments when I wanted to rage-delete everything. Thank you for all your help! (and please keep helping me coz idk what I’d do without your constant encouragement) Author's note: again, I didn't write in 8-ish years, so this is very very scary. Add in a dash of 'English is not my first language' and you get whatever this is. enjoy. Merry Christmas. part 1: reading, part 2: here , part 3: here , part 4: here

Ah winter, the most wonderful time of the year.

The season when the air is crisp, and the city gets blanketed in thick, white snowfall. When the satisfying sound of crunching snow accompanies every step and every word transforms into nothing more than a puff of steam dancing through the chilly air.

When Mariah Carey’s voice echoes in literally every store for an obnoxious 24/7, as if she has some kind of personal vendetta against silence…

When the heating bill increases by 37%, and it takes an extra 15 minutes for the heater to kick in and for the hot water to grace the showerhead. Ergo, Namjoon now has to wake up half an hour early if he wants to take a shower and not freeze half to death during the day, because the landlord was adamant that there was nothing to be done about the situation.

But it wasn’t all bad.

Sure, Namjoon was never one to possess the so-called Christmas spirit. In fact, he was known to be a bit of a grinch among his friends.

Jin, in particular, enjoyed telling anyone who would listen about their first Christmas at college, when Namjoon adamantly refused to help him decorate the tree after begrudgingly lugging it to their shared apartment.

And most years Namjoon’s lack of enthusiasm for the season was palpable. While his friends reveled in the cheerful atmosphere, he somehow managed to remain detached and aloof, his grinch-like demeanor becoming a defining characteristic, much to the amusement of his companions.

However, there were still aspects of the holiday that Namjoon couldn’t help but secretly enjoy. The food, for instance, was undeniably good. Although the movies were mediocre and the music overplayed, he still found himself humming along to Winter Wonderland whenever it played. And the energetic buzz that seized his friends was no doubt contagious;

This year, before he could even process it, he was dubbed designated fairy-light fixer, the judge of the ugly sweater contest (solely because he had the audacity to show up wearing a black hoodie) and somehow promised Jungkook to help him pick up gifts for his mom, his cousin, and girlfriend.

And now, with the holidays looming just around the corner, and the entire city buzzing with chatter about family feasts, romantic rendezvous, and the art of gift-giving, Namjoon couldn't help but feel a little pang of longing. It had been a solid two years since he last set foot in his hometown, and the melancholic urge to return home seemed like the only logical response to it all.

Or maybe he just needed a vacation…

But there was just one thing that kept Namjoon, a logical being, from making that phone call home.

He knew that part of the reason behind his mother’s question was for organizational purposes, yet he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous twinkle in her voice each time she sweetly asked:

“And are you coming alone?”

Few things managed to irk him as much that specific question in that specific context. And even with countless nights analyzing the emotions it stirred within him, Namjoon found himself very stupidly replying with:

“Uhm, no actually-” despite being painfully single, and fully aware of it.

Following that, the hope of regaining any sensible thought was gone as a chorus of ecstatic comments erupted form his mother’s end of the phone. With a hurried, “Can’t wait to see you, yeah, love you too,” he was left in the suffocating silence of his bedroom, with a new predicament he needed to solve.

Now, let’s not forget, Namjoon is no ordinary man. He possesses a brain that could rival Einstein’s, and he knows all too well that he could simply call back and clarify that his plus one is as real as Santa Claus.

But Namjoon doesn’t half-ass anything. He full-asses it.

That and showing up alone would undoubtedly result in his mom’s attempts to play matchmaker. And if he were to show up alone, after lying about it, well, he might as well prepare for an arranged marriage.

Namjoon sighed as he looked at his phone. He couldn’t understand why his mother had this new found obsession with his relationship status. Especially after she witnessed just how bad his last one ended. Now sure, he may have taken the whole ‘healing-era’ to a bit of an extreme, seeing as he had no relationship, no situationship and no inclination to entertain any romantic thoughts whatsoever. But this was getting ridiculous. Lying to his own mother?

Perhaps he could ask his assistant to pretend to be his girlfriend for the week? No, that wouldn’t work. She mentioned she was hosting the Christmas dinner this year. And it would involve more explanations to HR than it’s worth…

And he couldn’t overlook the fact that her fiancé would most certainly not be amused by that idea.

Just as he was about give up and plunge into another rabbit hole of despair, the solution to his problem came accompanied by the familiar sound of glass smashing in the kitchen.

You.

You would be perfect.

Most people already assumed you two were dating, seeing how seamlessly you fit yourself into his life after moving in.

And last he checked you couldn’t make it home because of some pesky law-jargon issues that required your presence at the office. And changing your flight to a few days later cost you an arm and a leg, while changing it to January was completely free.

And last he checked; you were just as chronically single as he was. (He knew because your last date was so disastrous that he had to abandon his gaming night and rescue you from the restaurant).  

Another crash in the kitchen summoned him back into action. Swiftly snatching his hoodie from the designated clothes chair and making his way to you, detouring only to retrieve the medical kit from the bathroom.

He was quick to spot you, still clad in your work attire, crouched besides the counter, diligently sweeping the stray glass shards of what used to be an ugly mug. His eyes involuntarily wondering towards your ass, once again marveling at how flawlessly you wore that office skirt before snapping himself out of it.

“And I believe that evens out the score, seeing as I only broke a plate, and you killed two mugs this season” he declares, ensuring you weren’t bleeding before abandoning the first aid kit on the counter to fetch the trusty vacuum cleaner.

It was standard procedure by now.

“You also managed to break the microwave, so the title remains yours,” you grumble as you rose to your feet, a smile unconsciously tugging at your lips when you caught sight of his charming dimpled face. “Hey there.”

“Hello,” he replied, giving you a swift once-over in case he missed any hidden hemorrhages “what happened?”

“It just jumped out of the cupboard when I opened it,” you gestured towards the dust pan, as if to prove the cup suddenly acquired acrobatic skills before its untimely demise, causing him to break into a grin “I’ll get you a new one.”

“No worries, it was a gift form an ex, and it was hideous anyway.”

As he vacuumed the area, you disposed of the glass, making sure it wouldn’t slice through the trash bag like last time.

Once the kitchen was safe again, you returned to your previous task, grabbing a new cup and casually turning your back to him.

" Do you want to try an unreasonably expensive hot chocolate with me?" you playfully suggested, catching his eye as he noticed the purple tin on the counter, adorned with a big red bow, alongside a very generic Christmas card.

"Secret Santa?" he inquired back, picking up the card, already aware of the answer to your question.

Unconsciously, he began mentally listing reasons why you would make a good fake girlfriend. Topping the list was your uncanny ability to understand him without lengthy explanations. And it was all quite digestible, wasn't it? Two long-time friends and roommates, thrown together by chance, suddenly discovering hidden feelings for each other?

All his friends seemed to have unanimously agreed that the two of you would make a splendid pair, back when you met, when his roommate, Jin, started dating your roommate, Myeong.

 On their inaugural date, Myeong, in a fit of paranoia, asked you to tag along, in case her potential lover turned out to be a serial killer. And Jin, ever the considerate soul, felt compelled to invite Namjoon, not only to spare you the agony of being the third wheel, but also in the hope of pulling Namjoon out of his dating slump. Not that you would ever notice, as you were knee-deep in exam session, sleep deprived and buried in a mountain of law books.

Poor Namjoon somehow ended up carrying the weight of being third and fourth wheel simultaneously.

But you eventually made up for it, once your exams were over and had a proper 18 hours of sleep.

In no time you wiggled your way into his heart, transforming those awkward double dates into enjoyable hangouts. You’d spend countless hours discussing everything from books to the latest plot twists in popular dramas, to sharing dreams, fears and hopes.

As Myeong and Jin’s relationship blossomed, they gradually faded into the background of your outings, until they were eventually excluded all together. And neither of you seemed to mind, as you found it easier to focus on your conversations without their constant chatter.

That and they couldn’t be quiet in movie theatres like decent human beings.

It was during one of these outings that Namjoon realized just how alluring he found you. The way your eyes lit up when you laughed at one of his jokes made his heart race. Your sharp mind and wit were a match made in heaven for him. And your ability to render him speechless was both infuriating and exhilarating.

But Namjoon also knew that you were deeply committed to your studies, and he didn't want to do anything to distract you from your goals. So, he held back, admiring you from a distance and hoping that someday things might be different.

And as time passed, and he graduated, he came to terms with the fact that you two would never be more than casual friends.

Little did he know that the universe had its own wicked sense of humor. When fate decided to play its sly hand and leave you virtually homeless, because your respective roommates decided to take the next step in their relationship and move in together.

It was only logical, then, for the two of you to shack up as well. After all, you were friends, both neat freaks, and most of all, desperately in need of a roommate.

“The roommate switch”, as Jimin so eloquently put it.

And thus began the most wonderful living arrangement Namjoon ever experienced. Not that he would never tell Jin that.

Suddenly, his bathroom cabinet resembled a Bath and Body works store, and your pink pots and pans had taken over his kitchen. But he wouldn’t mind, seeing that the cooking interdiction was extended, once Jin started recounting all the times Namjoon almost turned their previous apartment into a bonfire during your housewarming bash.

However, you never scolded him for his butterfingers because, truth be told, you had your own healthy dose of clumsiness, (the cup chilling in the trash an indisputable witness to it).

It was quite refreshing to find someone who shared his knack for dropping things.

And he made up for all the free meals by taking care of the dishes. He even went above and beyond by meticulously following the odd care instructions for your fancy pots.

And the rest of your household chores fell into perfect harmony.

 He willingly handled all the ironing, including your own, simply because you couldn’t be bothered. In return, you would dutifully clean the lint tray in the dryer, even when it was his turn to do the laundry, because he found it absolutely disgusting, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to gross him out.

It suddenly dawned on him why all his friends were convinced that you two were together. He was smitten with you, after all.

But again, time has worked its magic! His infatuation had been long departed, so he could proceed with his plan and not let it affect your friendship in any way, shape or form!

“You know, I never quite understood the purpose of Secret Santa,” you confessed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I mean, sure, it makes sense in a small group where you can actually get to know the person and buy them something nice. But in a corporate setting, where you’re thrown together with people from different departments, it makes absolutely no sense!” you spoke with passion, even stirring the milk a little harder, causing an impish smile to dance across his face.

“Because you end up with situations like this, where creepy Greg from the watercooler suddenly feels the need to win my graces and splurge on stupidly expensive hot chocolate.”

Namjoon was familiar with your HR endeavors involving Greg, especially after he hit on one of your colleagues.

“Do you want to know how much this monstrosity costs?” you asked, trying to contain your amusement at the sheer absurdity of it all. Pouring the cocoa into the milk and placing the mugs in front of him, you couldn’t help but grin.

“Surprise me,” Namjoon took a sip, which he regretted because he choked once you answered,

“Sixty dollars!”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous” he coughed, once he regained control of his lungs.

The hot chocolate was nice, but nowhere close to justifying the hefty price tag. For all he knew, it could have been dollar store cocoa. But your contagious laugh made it all worthwhile, and he couldn’t help but think that maybe Greg deserved to lose his Christmas bonus on overpriced cocoa that you both would mock.

“Tastes like cardboard” you concluded after a mouthful, “maybe it was meant for that hideous mug your ex gave you,” you teased, earning a puzzled look. “This has horrible taste,” you tack on, noticing his raised eyebrow “just like your exes.”

“I’m not sure if I should be offended by that,” he replied, feigning offense.

“Well, they did break up with you, so clearly their taste is questionable,” You ruffled his hair as you walked past him, your cocoa abandoned on the table.

This wasn’t uncommon in your friendship. Afterall, you were his biggest supporter, as he was yours. But now, with the odd favor he was about to ask you; he couldn’t help but ponder your words for longer than usual. Until he heard the door to your room close and he realized he was left alone in the kitchen.

“Any updates on that flight of yours?” he asked, shooting a glance towards your door. Perhaps the universe would take pity on him and spare him the embarrassment he was dreading.

“Still in January!” you hollered back, your voice muffled by the commotion in your room.

“Ah, cool, cool…” he muttered under his breath, more to psych himself up and gather the courage needed to go over and make a complete fool of himself.  

“Are you still planning on heading home?” your voice was barely audible amidst the movement, so he walked over and propped himself against your door to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” He replied absentmindedly massaging the back of his neck.

Not unless he can find a girlfriend for the week.  “Hey,” he continued, his voice devoid of any moisture, “can I ask you a favor?”

The door swung open, almost causing him to stumble, to reveal you, wearing pajama bottoms and a black tank top, clutching one of his sweaters.

“Depends.” You answered flatly. “Mind if I borrow this?” you gestured towards the sweater, awaiting his nod of approval before slipping it on and sauntering past him to claim your usual spot on the couch. With your feet cozily tucked under the cushion, you scrolled through your phone, probably looking up another horrible movie you’d force him to watch. Oblivious to the fact that you ticked off another item on his mental checklist: looking damn good in his clothes.

“Okay” he took a deep breath and settled down beside you, his posture impeccable and his gaze fixed on the blank tv screen. You glanced over intrigued by his sudden shift in behavior.

“This is going to be weird, and you can tell me to fuck off any moment this makes you uncomfortable. And I promise I’ll never bring it up again, and we can pretend this never happened,” he stumbled over his words, a stark contrast to his usually calmed and composed demeanor.

Your mind raced, conjuring up the worst-case scenarios as you slowly set aside your phone, captivated by every word leaving his mouth.   

Was he about to kick you out?

That only seemed to aggravate whatever Namjoon was on, as he continued to mumble, insisting that you didn’t have to agree to it if you didn’t want to. Which didn’t make any sense, because if he was going to kick you out, he should at least have the balls to tell you straight forward.

You gently collected his hands, causing him to halt abruptly. His wide eyes finally locked with yours as you softly uttered “Just tell me.” You peered up at him, bracing yourself for the worst, and completely unprepared for what was to follow.

“Will you please do me a solid and pretend to be my girlfriend for a week?” he stammered, unable to maintain eye contact, his voice fading into a whisper towards the end.

“What?”

“I might have told my mom I’m in a relationship, and now I desperately need a stand-in girlfriend for the next few days” he confessed sheepishly, quickly adding, “But seriously, if you’re uncomfortable with this, just say the word and we can erase this whole conversation from existence.”

“Oh my goodness, Namjoon,” you breathed out in relief, a laugh escaping your lips as you rested your head on his lap, leaving him even more perplexed. “I thought you were kicking me out.”

“What?” he chuckled, watching you raise a few seconds later, rubbing your eyes before fixing your gaze on him, contemplating his request.

“How can you be so brilliant and so dumb at the same time? Just call your mom back…”

“No, you don’t get it. I can’t do that. If I do, she’ll set me up with the neighbor’s daughter again” Namjoon explained, clearly not in the right mindset to entertain that idea again.

“You want me to lie to your mother?” you asked incredulously.

“Please don’t phrase it like that.” he covered his face, deflating completely besides you.

“This is essentially what you are asking me to do... I don’t know how that makes me feel. Your mom, by the way, is an absolute sweetheart…” you trailed off, observing him intently as he brushed away the hair in his eyes.

You didn’t get to know her too well, but the last time she visited she made sure to stock up your whole fridge with homecooked meals. And to top it off, she even baked cookies especially for you once Namjoon mentioned he had a new roommate.

The discussion, however, took a bit of an unexpected turn when she realized the roommate was you. A girl and not another frat guy. But she quickly developed a fondness for you. Or at least, that’s what you believed when she gave you the tightest hug goodbye.

“I know. It’s a stupid idea.” He muttered, rubbing his face a bit harder than necessary. Then he locked eyes with you and continued. “I am well aware of how dumb this is. And that is exactly why I need you there with me.” His statement left you dumbfounded, completely unable to find any words. “I just want to go home and relish in the fact that I am there without constantly worrying about being single.” he took a shaky breath before continuing,

 “I can’t comprehend why my mom is so fixated on this matter.” He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I just need someone to navigate this absurdity with me for the holidays, and then we never mention it again.” 

His little speech left you stunned, and before you knew it, you were actually considering his proposal.

 Your Christmas plan was already ruined, and agreeing would mean that you would not be confined to your couch, enduring cheesy Hallmark movies and crying alone on Christmas eve.

Moreover, you were convinced that you had moved on from the little crush you had on him back when you met. Refusing still to admit that you’ve always had a soft spot for the gentle giant that slowly became a staple in your life, and that spending the holidays with him would be the best scenario that could ever happen.

But could you make it through this without getting your heart trampled and your friendship going up in smoke? As these thoughts started to swirl in your mind, your eyes began to wander aimlessly. From his eyes to his chiseled cheekbones and strong jawline, down to his neck and collarbone, and finally to his impressively muscular chest that seemed to only have grown since he started attending the gym religiously with Jungkook. And not to mention those arms that give the most incredible bear hugs. It was strange to allow yourself to notice his physicality in such detail, as if you had been willfully blind to his newfound buffness until now.

“Forget it, I’m sorry I asked,” he said, sensing your hesitation and preparing to end his suffering. But you stopped him in his tracks.

“If we are going to do this, we need a plan.” His eyes light up, color returning to his cheeks, before he squeezed you in a tight embrace “and just so you know, you owe me,” you laughed once he released you.

“Yes, yes, of course, whatever you want.”

“You take out the trash for a month,” he was too quick to nod “and I want you to take me to that bakery you and Jin always rave about.”

“Ajumeoni’s bakery?” he smiled at your request. That was the bakery Namjoon visited with his sister every Friday as a child, and every other day with Jin, on their way to school, because the milk bread was to die for. “Of course. It’s already part of the commute, so consider it done.”

“Good. We have a deal then,” you extended your hand as if sealing a business agreement, instead of setting yourselves up for a disaster. He reciprocated with a firm shake, and you swiftly retrieved your notepad from the coffee table. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, let’s establish a few key details about us. We need to become well-acquainted with each other’s personal preferences, so it doesn’t come across like we are just… pretending” he looked over at you as you scribbled.

“I mean, it’s a digestible story already. Two oblivious roommates, suddenly realizing they have feelings for one another after living together for years.” You mused, only to be met with his response.

“And once this is all over, we can simply tell everyone that we figured out we were better off as friends than lovers,” he pondered aloud.

“Right,” you replied, looking up from your notebook “How long have we been dating?”

“Anywhere from three to six months” he promptly answered and you jot it down before firing off your next question.

“And why haven’t we told any of our friends and family?”

“To avoid the inevitable ‘I knew it!’ and because we like the trill of keeping a secret.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckled “So, how did we get together?”

“You finally realized how charming I am and just couldn’t contain yourself?” he flashed a cheeky smile and you playfully deflect by giving his chest a gentle push.

“How about your birthday party?” you offered “We were both buzzed enough to share a kiss and then you confessed?”

“Why do I confess?” he whined, peering over at your notebook page where you already wrote down your version of events.

“Because I’m shy about that kind of stuff” you mumble, burying your face in the cozy confines of his sweater, avoiding any potential eye contact.

 “That’s adorable,”

“Shut up.” You chuckle “Alright, is there anything I should know about you?”

“I’m not a big fan of PDA, especially when we’re out and about, so don’t expect me to be all over you.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But since we’re going home and pretending to be a couple, what level of affection are you comfortable with?”

“Well, I’m comfortable with you,” you cleared your throat, that bit of information being more truthful than intended “we can hold hands, and do normal couple stuff.”

“How do you feel about kissing?”

“Well, yeah, sure,” you responded nonchalantly, eyes fixating on the notepad in your hands.

A mischievous grin played on his lips as he teased, “Good, because I happen to be quite fond of leaving hickeys.” That broke you out of your little spiral, rolling your eyes at his poor attempt.

As if you weren’t already aware of this tidbit from his past conquests during your college days, before you two became roommates.

“You do know this is all pretend, right?” you retorted, refusing to take the bait.

“Oh, but baby, we’ve got to make it feel real,” he insisted, his tone dripping with charm. However, it did nothing to sway your logical approach to it.

“Right, ‘baby’” -you said it as if it was a legal term, “any preferences for pet names?”

Your serious charade did little to detour him. “Just promise me that our interactions won’t be like Jin and Myeong’s.”  He smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief.  “And surprise me, I’ll be putty in your hands.”

“So, you are not set on honorifics. I can call you Oppa if you want,” little did you know, your innocent suggestion struck a hidden chord within him. A new kink that needed further assessment later on, preferably after this week was over.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, clearing his throat and reclining against the couch. “Anything I should know about you?”

You pondered his question for a few seconds, allowing a sly smile to play your lips. “I don’t like feet.”

“No duh!” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, before regaining his composure. With a meticulous air, he went over all the details once more. “Ah, you need a new background on your phone.”

 Swiftly, he snatched your phone form the coffee table, catching you off guard, and planted a quick kiss on your cheek before snapping a selfie. “Perfect,” he declared, a proud smile spreading across his face as he set the picture as your home screen and background, leaving you to gather your frenzied thoughts.

“But wait, you also need a new photo,” You retorted, only to find him already one step ahead, pulling out his phone from his pajama bottoms and scrolling through his camera roll.

“Done.” He announced, turning his phone towards you to reveal the horrendous picture he had chosen as his own home screen. 

 A candid shot he took during your last year at college, on one of those late-night noodles runs to the local shop next to the library. You were draped in an oversized hoodie, greedily slurping a mouthful of noodles. With eyes blissfully shut, you savored every bite, as it was your first meal of that day, completely oblivious to his hidden photography skills.

It wasn’t until you accidentally stumbled upon your caller ID that you saw it and naturally, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him, demanding an immediate change. But he stood his ground, claiming it was his favorite photo of you.

Claim proven yet again as now it was Namjoon’s home screen.

“I hate that photo.”

“I know.” He gave a smile, before safely tucking his phone back in his pocket, and rose to his feet, stretching leisurely. “I think we are good to go, girlfriend,” he said it in such a way that sent a swarm of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “I’ll go book our train tickets, and you better start packing soon,” he playfully pointed at you, before gracefully disappearing into his room to retrieve his laptop.

“Oh, wait, I need to get a present for your mom!”

~~~

Before the train even arrived in the station, the sky was threatening to unleash upon you. The air filled with delicate snowflakes, determined to bury you, Namjoon, and your luggage.  But it was yesterday’s conversation that still lingered in the atmosphere, weighing heavy on both your minds.

The darkness of the night had given you both time to process what was about to unfold. Your only anchor on reality being Namjoon’s surprisingly warm hand clasping your freezing one, and tucking it away in his warm coat pocket.

And the fact that he looked like he just strolled out of the latest winter Vogue edition for men didn’t help. While you attempted to make a lasting impression, donning a cream knitted dress, black stockings and boots, topped off with a cream coat, that was far too flimsy for the weather, Namjoon effortlessly sported a navy-blue hoodie, snug jeans and a stylish black trench coat, and even a matching beanie that made his hair look absolutely flawless.

But beyond his impeccable fashion sense, he also proved to be quite the gentleman. Not that you ever doubted it, but now he seemed determined to showcase his chivalry. He wouldn’t even let you lock the door to your own apartment. It was a miracle he allowed you to carry the bottle of Chardonnay you insisted on getting his family, despite his protests that it wasn't necessary. You slightly regretted it now, seeing as your other hand was enduring the elements, instead of being intertwined with his.

“You have snow in your hair,” you pointed out, stating the obvious with the brilliance of a water-is-wet revelation.

“As do you.” he looked up from his phone, where he was engrossed in checking the train’s schedule for any potential delays. “And your lips are blue.” with a swift motion, he untangled his scarf and gently draped it around your freezing form. Something he had done many a time before, anytime he saw you slightly cold, but never before had you considered this gesture to be more than your friend looking out for you.

But today, things were different. Today you were pretending to be his girlfriend.

The sudden surge of warmth that enveloped you left you wondering if it was due to all your blood rushing to your cheeks or his scarf possessing some sort of magical heating abilities.

“It says here that the snow storm shouldn’t intervene with the scheduling, so the train will be here in a few minutes.” He looked up again, a cheerful grin appearing across his features as he caught sight of your pink face. “Aw you’re blushing again,”

“Shut up.” you retorted with the quick-wittedness of a third-grader.

“If I would have known it was this easy to make you flush, I would have made my fictional moves much sooner.” His voice did that thing again, where it went slightly deeper and, only the look in his eyes ticking you off to his teasing.

Your only response was to nervously nibble on your lip. Again, the realization that you are about to deceive not only his mother, but his entire family nestle in your chest, squeezing at your heart like a snake wrapped around it.

“Namjoon, I’m not sure about this.” you confessed, pulling the scarf closer to your face. It was a bit late to be getting cold feet, but this was your last opportunity to speak your mind before embarking on this little ordeal. “I don’t think I can pull this off.”

“Come on now, aren’t you an intern at a law firm?” he raised a playful eyebrow, attempting to ease the tension, but you only glared at him.

“I can’t lie.” You stated firmly “I’m the absolute worse at it. That is why I always find alternative ways of convey the truth. That’s what lawyers do. We don’t resort to lies.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he quickly apologized, before falling silent for a few seconds to ponder a solution. "Okay, listen. You don’t have to say anything."

"What do you mean?" you looked up at him, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

"I can take care of all the relationship talk, and I won’t say anything unless prompted.” he replied, trying to inject a touch of wit into his response. “Afterall, you are just my friend that just happens to be a girl.” He playfully wiggled his eyebrows at you “And I want you to spend Christmas with me and my family instead of being alone at home.” Namjoon gave you a sincere smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the grip on your heart slightly loosen.

“Okay,” you gave a small nod “Thank you Joon.”

The nickname slipped by unnoticed, but you noticed the way Namjoon reacted, rekindling your burning cheeks.

“So, no Oppa?”

When your train arrived, Namjoon swiftly took charge, effortlessly carrying all the bags to your seats, settling in comfortably for the four-hour journey ahead.

He had come prepared, armed with at least three books to keep himself entertained, while you had grand plans of getting a head start on your work, perhaps even sneaking in a personal lecture and a quick power nap. However, much to your surprise, the allure of a nap quickly surpassed all other ambitions, your head found a cozy resting place on Namjoon’s shoulder, and you drifted off into a blissful slumber for the remainder of the journey. A sleepless night imagining what it would be like pretending to date your roommate could do that to you.

Only stirring awake when you were less than a few minutes away, because Namjoon was constantly shifting in his seat, half of his body numb from your weight on him.

“Oh hey,” he whispered, swiftly stretching his legs as soon as you moved off him. “I just spoke to Minhi, she said she’d come pick us up from the train station,”

“Oh, that’s nice.” you yawned, rubbing away any remnants of sleep from your eyes “You could have told me to move, you know.”

“Yes, but you looked so peaceful. It felt almost wrong to disturb you.” He grinned, fully aware that he also indulged in a little nap, using your head as a pillow just half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” you whispered, poking his thigh and retrieving your makeup bag to quickly fix your face before the train pulled up in the station.

The frigid air pierced through your very bones, sending an instant shiver cascading down your spine as you stepped into the snow filled air. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, trying to ward off the cold as you looked around for Minhi, seeing as Namjoon was on luggage duty again.

However, before you could spot her, Minhi’s voice sliced through the chilly air,

“Kim Namjoon, you have got to be kidding me.”

Namjoon’s little sister, all bundled up in a thick winter coat had fixed you two with a piercing stare, her hands on her hips in a classic display of sibling disapproval. 

Namjoon’s wonky smile did nothing to deter her piercing gaze, or calm any of your fraying nerves. “It’s good to see you too?”

You feel your heart drop as Minhi's gaze shifts from her brother to you, her expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. Your worst fears are confirmed - she's figured you out and you haven’t even been off the train for 5 minutes. Now Namjoon will be married off to some rich middle-aged woman and you'll never be able to look him in the eye again.

 You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you look away, silently praying that the snow beneath your boots doesn’t melt into a puddle while she stares.

But then, unexpectedly, Minhi starts to laugh. At first, it's a quiet chuckle, but soon it grows into a full-blown laugh. She laughs so hard that she has to hold her stomach, and at the end she wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye.

“You two are perfect for each other,” she says still chuckling “Fine, I’ll play along. How did you two end up together?”

“Got drunk one night.” Namjoon casually replied, rubbing the back of his neck before wrapping his arm around you, “Turns out all I had to do was say something, because she was all over me the next second.” 

Minhi raised her eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right,” She hugged Namjoon tightly, and then turned to you, surprising you with a warm embrace. She muttered something about Namjoon never confessing his feelings in your coat, but you were too busy drowning in a whirlwind of confusion and relief to register it.

“We'll talk more later about how inappropriate this is." She added cheerfully, beckoning you to follow her towards her little yellow jeep, bright against the snowy backdrop.

You look back at Namjoon just in time to catch him winking in your direction and giving you a thumbs-up that sent your heart whirling in your chest.

 The car ride was over faster than you would have wanted. Minhi navigated the snow-laden road while she and Namjoon chatted away about mundane topics—work, rent, the best coffee in town. You sank deeper into the backseat, overwhelmed and lost in your thoughts. Because What the hell was that and If this was how you were kicking things off you might as well turn around now. Was it just fear of ruining the friendship or was an old crush budding again? The way he ‘claimed’ you in front of Minhi clearly ignited something in your chest that was not appropriate for friends or roommates or roommate-friends pretending to be dating.

As if sensing your turmoil from the front, Namjoon caught your eyes, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile before the car came to a halt. He gallantly opened the door for you, his hand grasping yours and squeezing it tightly.  

 “I got you, baby,” he says, teasingly, but the poorly-timed joke earns him an immediate glare and an elbow to the ribs.  

“Oh, come on. They are lovely people.” Minhi interrupts before Namjoon can retaliate, “You should’ve seen the way mom was dancing around the kitchen once she heard Namjoon was bringing someone over.”

You just blink at her, your breath misting in the air as you unconsciously step closer to Namjoon, giving him a small nod of support. His presence radiates warmth, his fingers tightening around yours as you walked towards the small house that looms in front of you. Minhi ambles ahead, dropping her bag near the entrance, while you could practically feel Namjoon vibrating with excitement.

“Someone’s in trouble” She whispers dramatically, letting you both into the warmth of the household, where laughter and the mouthwatering scent of home-cooked food intertwine. You follow her into the kitchen and you see the older couple husting about, half-focused on a pot bubbling over the stove and half on each other.

“Mom! Dad! Look who I’ve brought!” she announces, and the couple turned, smiles blooming as they spotted you and Namjoon.

For a fleeting moment, you felt exposed. Like an exhibit at a museum, thrust into the spotlight. Your breath hitched as Namjoon gently nudged you forward, a gesture both comforting and terrifying, but steeling yourself, you bravely stepped ahead, bowing as a sign of respect.

“I knew it!” The affectionate glow sweeping across Mrs. Kim face relaxed your nerves considerably, “I’m so glad you could make it!” her eyes sparkled with genuine delight, and you suddenly realized that Namjoon inherited his dimples from her. But the thought was quickly squeezed out of you as she enveloped you in that bone-crushing hug.

Namjoon’s father, a tall elderly man with kind eyes, patted him on the back. His approval apparent, before he turned his attention to you, “Welcome to our home,” he said warmly.

“I’m honored to be here.” You managed to respond, your voice quacking slightly but laced with sincerity. You heard Minhi groaning in the background but did your best to ignore her exaggerations and focus only on Namjoon’s parents, as you exchanged the required pleasantries.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Mrs. Kim said, bustling around the kitchen with effortless grace. The contrast between her elegant movements and Namjoon’s clumsy demeanour in the kitchen made you smile inwardly “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Yes, we didn’t get a chance to eat today,” Namjoon added quickly, casually leaning against the counter and stealing a taste from the simmering pot.

“I’ll call you over once it’s done. Go show our guest to your room until then,” Mrs. Kim commanded, expertly shooing him away from the stove and passing plates to Minhi.

“My room?” Namjoon echoed, his eyes widening as if the concept had floored him.

“Yes, dear. I know we are old-fashioned, but we are not under any illusions that you two don’t already share a room.” Mrs. Kim replied, stirring the bubbling pot without sparing him a glance.

Minhi shot you a look that was equal parts amusement and something you couldn’t quite place—sympathy, perhaps? Or pity?

“Yes- No. I just thought that it would be more appropriate to let her have the guest room,” Namjoon articulated, his voice half-hearted in its conviction.

Mrs. Kim merely cooed, waved away his protests with a flick of the wrist. “Minhi and Jackson are staying in the guest room. You can have your room.”

“Come on, Namjoon. You always make everything so complicated,” Minhi chimed in, her voice laced with mischief. “Just accept it. You guys will have an entire night to sort things out, right?”

“Right.” he grumbled, shooting her a glare that softened as he turned his gaze back to you “Let’s get you settled in,” he gestured for you to follow him.

The moment you step into Namjoon's room, a charged silence enveloped you- like the kind that proceeds a brewing storm. The room was exactly as you imagined, a blend of cooler minimalist décor and hints of his personal touch, a few pieces of art and pictures hung up on the wall, all whispering tales of youth, friendship and moments you yearned to know more about.

But all those sweet memories fade into the background as the reality settled in: there was only one bed.

“So, let me get this straight,” you began, the awkwardness hanging heavily in the air “You thought about everything, including phone wallpapers, but forgot you only have one bed in your room?”

“No, of course not.” He lied, that endearing grin spreading across his face. “I just thought it would be polite to let you have the bed… since you’re my guest.” He seemed genuinely proud of the excuse, but that pride melted when you teased,

“Before or after you plan for the guest room fell through?”

“After.” He admitted at last, glancing away, as if the walls held all the explanations he could not muster.

“Don’t tell me you planned on sleeping on the floor too,” for a brief moment the ridiculous image of him curled up on the hardwood floor, blankets draped haphazardly around him pops into your mind, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“No.” He smiles, “I knew you’d take pity on my lower back,” his dimples deepened and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“Very strategic Mr. Kim,” you laugh, walking further into the room and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The playful banter creating a familiar atmosphere, dissolving any lingering tension. A part of you almost couldn't believe you were in Namjoon’s personal space, taking your sweet time admiring the various little parts of him decorating the room, while another part was acutely aware of his gaze on you, observing you as if he were trying to read your thoughts.

He stepped closer, his expression sincere, drawing you in gently as he took your hands in his. “Are you sure?” The tentative nature of his voice hinted at a deeper question—he was about to add an ‘I was only joking’—but you quickly shushed him.

“Yes, of course.”

There were a few past occurrences where the two of you ended up falling asleep together on the couch, limbs tangled under the fuzzy throw blanket, with a movie playing in the background. Without fail, one of you would wake up in the morning to find the other wrapped around them, as the night was chilly and body heat was a rare luxury. Most of the time it was Namjoon that dozed off first, his head lolling in an awkward position until you gently nudged him into a more comfortable posture, knowing he’d whine about neck and/or shoulder pain come morning time if you didn’t. But his lug of a body was always warm, so you didn’t mind snuggling closer to him when it mattered.

This was more of the same. Just in a bed.

You swallow drily, eyes flickering away for a quick second, “I told you, I’m comfortable with you.”

“Come on, lovebirds!” Minhi’s voice rang through the door, breaking the spell. “Dinner’s ready!”

You shared a hurried glance, perspectives shifting as the familiar nervousness rushed back to you.

“Ready?” he asked, his smile spreading across his face, deepening the dimples in his cheeks as he tugged you up to your feet. You nodded, suddenly buoyed by a sense of belonging.

To your surprise, dinner goes by without a hitch. You may have gone a little overboard on the kimchi, but it wasn’t anything you wouldn’t recover from. However, the warmth of Namjoon’s hand resting softly on your thigh might etch itself into your memory for all time.

Halfway through the meal, Jackson showed up, and you got to observe with amusement as Minhi transformed in his presence, her demeanor shifting from the laid-back hostess to a giddy schoolgirl. The way she playfully nudged Jackson, her eyes sparkling each time she teased him, be it about his late arrival or some inside joke, was a refreshing sight. And you couldn’t help but snicker each time Mrs. Kim would chastise them, before dotting lovingly on anything you and Namjoon did together.

As the lively conversation flowed around you, you leaned into Namjoon’s warmth. It felt easy, and so right to nestle beside him, to let your fingers brush against his with familiarity, each touch igniting tiny sparks. You stole a glance at him, watching as he engaged wholeheartedly in the conversation, his contagious laughter filling the room.

After dinner, you offered to help Mrs. Kim clear up the table, even if it was to get a second to clear your thoughts, but to your surprise, Mr. Kim placed a soft hand on your shoulder, smiling, as he gently guided you back to your seat.

“You’ve done enough, dear,” he said, his tone warm and reassuring “We appreciate your help, but tonight is for you and Namjoon to enjoy.” He gave you a kind nod, and you felt your cheeks warm.

“Yeah, there will be dishes tomorrow too,” Minhi interrupted, getting a heartfelt laughter from her father before he left the room, to join his wife in the kitchen.

You shared a sheepish glance with Namjoon, who watched the exchange with an amused smile. His eyes twinkling in the soft light of the dining room, and you felt your heart pick-up the pace in your chest again. You really needed to get away, perhaps splash some cold water on your face. But just as you felt the urge to excuse yourself, you overheard Jackson's whispered confusion.

“Wait, so they’re not actually dating?” His voice was muted, and laced with confusion as he looked between you and Namjoon, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

“Kyung Min!” Namjoon called Minhi by her full name, which made her owlishly blink up at him.

“What? He asked how long you two have been dating for,” she defended.

“And you couldn’t just say three months, like a normal person?” Namjoon shot back, half laughing, half exasperated and watched as her brows knitted.

“No! He deserves to know.” She persisted, glaring at her brother, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck, trying desperately to remain inconspicuous under Jackson’s incredulous stare.

“So how exactly does this work?” Jackson asked, stopping the siblings from their bickering “Is it like friends with benefits or-?” just when you thought it couldn’t get any more awkward, the sip of water you took ended up going down the wrong way, making you choke and sputter.

“No! it’s nothing like that.”  You stammered, trying to form a coherent thought, but all you could manage was a mangled mess of words.

“No babe, they don’t even kiss,” Minhi added, placing her hand over his as if she were breaking some bad news.

But Namjoon reacted with the prove-your-sibling-wrong part of the brain, making you stare at him in disbelief.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we do.”  

And your pulse picked up again when you saw him leaning in, the implication clear in your mind. You steeled yourself, closing your eyes. But to your astonishment, he didn’t press his lips against yours as you had envisioned. Instead, they grazed the curve of your cheek, followed by a loud, exaggerated kiss.

“I’m confused.” Jackson mumbled, looking over at Minhi as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re not the only one.”

~~~

Why didn’t he just kiss you?

The thought still lingered stubbornly at the edge of consciousness, even as the icy water from the shower jolted you into the present. You fumbled with the knobs, trying to figure out the right temperature, but your mind was elsewhere.

That scene kept on replaying on a constant loop in your head, each time leaving you just as stumped.

What stopped him?

You talked about this- he brought it up! And you agreed, so what was the hold-up? Was he really so uninterested that the mere thought of kissing you sent him into retreat mode?

Frustration bubbled up alongside the steam, and you invertedly cringed at the image of his nervous smile that still haunted you, his eyes darting away. Scrubbing harder at your skin, you wish the shame and embarrassment would simply wash away with the suds.

And the absurdity of getting worked over your friend not kissing you was not lost on you, but at least if he had gone for it, you might have been able to push that nagging question aside ~What would it be like to kiss Namjoon?  

His lips looked so soft, like they were meant for more than just talking…

You violently shook that thought away, and with a resigned sigh, you turned the water back to cold in an attempt to wash away your sins. Friends don’t kiss!

And he clearly wasn’t interested, so the sooner you silence these thoughts, the sooner you could go back to being normal. Just four more days of pretending to be his girlfriend. You could manage that. And after, you promised yourself you’d lock yourself in your room and avoid human interaction for rest of your miserable life.

As the water continued its relentless pour, you felt your fingertips start to wrinkle, a reminder that perhaps it was time to step out of this session of self-pity. With one last shudder, you turned the water off, determined to face the world- if only for a little while longer.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the soft glow of a lamp illuminated the room. Namjoon was already tucked into bed, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he quietly looked over the pages of a book. Only, in reality he hadn’t been able to absorb a single word in the past fifteen minutes, his gaze lost in a world of his own.

Silently, you made your way to your side, wrapping yourself in the blanket and turning your back to him. A slight shiver coursed through you as you felt the warmth envelop you, the little tremor alerting Namjoon to your presence.

“Why are you so cold?” he asked softly, shifting slightly closer to you.

Your heart thudded at the caring tone, and for a moment, all the questions crowd your mind again.

Instead of answering, you huffed in frustration and turned to face him.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” the words blurted out before you could stop them, surprising you both with their boldness, but your face flushed when you met his gaze.

Namjoon’s eyes widened, and he froze, the book forgotten on his lap. “I-I don’t know.” He stuttered, his hand running though his tousled hair, the soft strands falling back in place but not hiding the flush creeping up his neck. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense, eyes averted again in a way that tightened your stomach.

“It would’ve convinced Minhi sooner,” your added, your words hanging heavy in the air. Namjoon chuckled awkwardly, running that same hand down his face.

“You want me to kiss you?”

You hesitated, the corners of your mind fanatically searching for a safe answer

“I’m just saying it would’ve made things easier,” you deflected, avoiding his question much like he had done moments before.

He studied you for a moment, gears visibly turning in his mind before his lips curved into a small, daring smile. “Because I can kiss you if you want.”

Your breath caught in your throat, surprised by the sudden shift in tension.

“Now?” you breathed.

“Why not?” he shrugged “We’re both clearly anxious about it, so why not just get it over with?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, lost for words, staring up at him. All the courage from before evaporating into thin air. You quickly searched his features, seeking the playful glint, the laughter behind his eyes, but instead, his eyes just flickered from yours to your lips.

“Do you want to kiss me?” you finally found the words, and his eyes snapped back to your own.

“I think it would make things easier going forward,” he replied, his voice low and earnest.

A heavy silence settled between you, stretching like an elastic ready to snap at any moment, as snowflakes continued to drift outside, dressing the world in white.

You took a deep breath, “Fine.” Ultimately you mumbled, sitting up against the headboard and turning to face him.

“Are you sure?”, The way he phrased it made your stomach flop, as if he were validating a choice that seemed both reckless and somehow still challenged you.

“Yes, now stop talking and just-” The words were lost as the space between you disappeared. But now you knew; his lips were soft, warm and tentative against yours. It felt wonderful, and sent tingles shooting through your veins while your heart tried erratically to catch up. He hesitated for a heartbeat- less than a fraction of a second- before he leaned further in, deepening the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek. And you soften against him, all the tension melting away. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as if anchoring yourself amidst the storm of emotions that released once you tasted his mint toothpaste.

When he finally pulled back, both of you gasping for breath, the world resumed its muted noised- the quiet hum of the heater, the faint sound of voices downstairs, Namjoon’s breath against your lips. You could hardly meet his eyes, until you heard the first thing that left his lips.

“I just kissed you.”

Your eyebrow arched, blinking at him as if waiting for the punchline that never came.

“I know. I- was there too.” You replied, a little smile creeping on your face despite the rapid thump of your heart. Namjoon laughed softly; his cheeks still tinged with a shade of pink. “You’re a good kisser.” You added after a few beats of silence, before chewing on your lip, and unintentionally drawing his attention back to them.

“You too,” He gave a curt nod, remembering he has a book on his lap and fumbling to bookmark and put it away.

Another moment of silence followed once he settled back, and your eyes desperately scanned the walls for something, anything to say.

“This isn’t weird, is it?” you settled on the worst option, slightly cringing.

“No!” he answered louder than he anticipated, slightly shocking you which in return startled him. “I mean-” he let out an exasperated breath, “Friends kiss all the time.”

He didn’t believe it. And neither did you. But you still nodded in agreement.

[rose24207]

Christmas shopping

Summary: Lando carefully shops for thoughtful Christmas gifts for his girlfriend in Monaco, gracefully handling paparazzi attention as he envisions her joy on Christmas morning.

Genre: fluff, Christmas

TW: a little short

A/N: Love the idea!! Thank you again for requesting!! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The streets of Monaco were alive with the festive spirit. Twinkling fairy lights adorned every tree, and the scent of roasted chestnuts filled the crisp December air. Lando Norris adjusted the collar of his jacket, a content smile playing on his lips as he weaved through the bustling shopping district.

Christmas shopping for his girlfriend had become a tradition he cherished. This year, he had outdone himself, meticulously planning every gift to perfection. He wanted to spoil her, to see her face light up when she unwrapped each present.

First, he stopped at her favorite boutique, a small but luxurious shop tucked away on a quiet street. He spent nearly an hour there, picking out a cashmere scarf in her favorite color and a matching pair of gloves.

From there, he ventured into a high-end jewelry store. He had her tastes memorized by now—elegant but understated. After careful deliberation, he chose a delicate gold bracelet with tiny diamond accents.

Finally, he stopped by a bookstore. It wasn’t just about luxury; Lando knew how much she loved curling up with a good book. He picked out a limited edition of her favorite author’s latest novel and had it gift-wrapped in festive paper.

As he walked back to his car, his arms laden with shopping bags, the familiar click of cameras reached his ears. He glanced up, spotting a cluster of paparazzi stationed near the entrance to the parking lot.

Monaco was no stranger to celebrities, and as one of the most recognizable faces in Formula 1, Lando had long grown used to the attention. But today, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the spectacle they were making of his Christmas errands.

One paparazzo called out, “Lando! Is all that for your girlfriend?”

He grinned but didn’t respond, choosing instead to load the gifts into the trunk of his sleek McLaren. As he arranged the bags carefully, he could hear more questions being shouted:

“What did you get her?”

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

“Any plans to propose?”

Lando smirked at the last one, shaking his head slightly. The cameras continued to flash as he closed the trunk and made his way to the driver’s seat. Before slipping into the car, he gave the crowd a cheeky wave.

Driving home, Lando felt a sense of accomplishment. He imagined her reaction as she unwrapped each carefully chosen gift, the way her eyes would sparkle and her laughter would fill the room.

Parking in the underground garage of their Monaco apartment, he unloaded the bags with care, already envisioning how he’d arrange them under the tree.

Christmas with her was his favorite time of year, and no matter how many cameras followed him or questions were shouted his way, nothing could overshadow the joy of making her happy.

This Christmas was going to be perfect.

Thank you for reading!

[gilbertscurls]

The first day of December started like any other—until you noticed a small box tied with a red ribbon on the kitchen counter. A hand-drawn tag dangled from it, reading Day 1 in Chris' unmistakable scrawl.

“Chris,” you called, holding up the box as he strolled in, coffee mug in hand. “What’s this?”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “That, my dear, is part of your advent calendar.”

“You made me an advent calendar?”

“Yep. Handmade, one-of-a-kind, very exclusive,” he said, leaning casually against the counter. “Open it.”

You untied the ribbon, lifting the lid to find a tiny wooden ornament in the shape of a snowflake, painted in soft blues and whites. A folded piece of paper rested beneath it.

Unfolding it, you read: “December is for little joys. Today’s gift is a reminder that you’re one of mine.”

Your heart squeezed, and you looked up at him, touched. “Chris, this is so sweet.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant but unable to hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Well, you deserve it.”

Each day after that brought a new surprise. Some days, the gifts were small—a pair of fuzzy socks with candy cane stripes, a tiny jar of hot cocoa mix, a scented candle that smelled like a Christmas tree. Other days, the notes carried more weight:

“You make everything feel like home, even when it’s chaos.”

“I know I tease you a lot, but I hope you know how much I admire you.”

The gifts weren’t always store-bought, either. On the seventh day, he gave you a playlist of his favorite holiday songs, complete with an explanation for why he picked each one. On the fifteenth, it was a handwritten card listing his favorite memories of you from the past year.

One morning, you found a folded piece of paper inside a tiny envelope. It was a coupon for “One Chris-Cooked Dinner—No Complaints About My Cooking Allowed.” You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your coffee, but secretly, you couldn’t wait to redeem it.

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, the advent calendar had become your favorite part of the day. The surprises weren’t extravagant, but they were so thoughtful, each one reminding you how well Chris knew you—and how much he cared.

That morning, the gift was simple: a sprig of mistletoe tied to a ribbon and another note.

“Christmas is tomorrow, but I hope I’ve made this whole month special for you. Thanks for being the best part of my every day. Love, Chris.”

When you looked up, he was standing in the doorway, pretending to be busy with his phone but clearly watching for your reaction.

You crossed the room, holding the mistletoe above your head. “I think you forgot one thing,” you said, grinning.

He laughed, setting his phone aside as he leaned down to kiss you. “Consider it an early Christmas present,” he murmured.

As the month’s worth of notes and trinkets sat on the counter behind you, you realized this wasn’t just a DIY advent calendar—it was a reminder of all the ways Chris loved you, wrapped up in 24 perfect little moments.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove, @ghostlythinggoingaround, @sturmatt, @chris-hallelujah, @goingtojohnkramershouseee, @wurlibydominicfike, @straw8berry

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera: babysitting Chiara

hello guys!! (read that in Arthur's voice) im back and i had this on my mind since i saw this picture

The warmth of the Trouche-Leclerc home in Monaco was unmatched during the holiday season. The scent of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, and fairy lights twinkled on the tree that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. The Leclerc’s had always cherished Christmas, but this year felt even more special. Joris had joined the celebrations, and they had a special guest for the day: baby Chiara, the adorable daughter of their best friends.

They were interrupted by the sound of keys jingling at the door. Charles walked in, bundled in his winter coat, a mischievous smile on his face.

“Qu’est-ce que vous faites tous les deux? (What are you two doing?)” he asked, shrugging off his coat and scarf.

“Rien de spécial. We have Chiara for a day” replies Yn to her brother as she comes to hug him.

Marta and Riccardo had entrusted Yn and Joris to babysit Chiara while they ran some last-minute errands. Charles, of course, had opinions about the situation.

“Tu es sûre que c’est une bonne idée? (Are you sure this is a good idea?)” Charles asked as he leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and an amused smirk playing on his lips. “You and Joris, alone with a baby?”

Yn shot her twin an exasperated look as she adjusted Chiara’s tiny Santa hat. “Charles, she’s a baby, not a Formula 1 car. I think we can manage.”

Joris chuckled, placing a bottle of milk on the coffee table. “Plus, we’re her godparents. We’ve got this.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “We’ll see about that. Don’t call me when she starts crying.”

“Oh, please,” Yn scoffed. “You’ll be the first one running in to help.”

Chiara, blissfully unaware of the banter, let out a happy giggle, her hands reaching for Yn’s hair. Yn smiled down at her, her heart melting.

“Tu crois qu’elle s’amuse bien avec nous, hein? (You think she’s having fun with us, huh?)” Y/N called to Joris, who was kneeling on the floor beside Chiara, stacking colorful building blocks.

“Évidemment,” Joris replied with a grin, balancing a block precariously. “Elle adore son parrain, n’est-ce pas, Chiara? (She loves her godfather, don’t you?)”

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

The first hour went smoothly. Joris played peek-a-boo with Chiara, earning endless giggles, while Yn set up a play area with colorful toys. Charles occasionally peeked in from the kitchen, where he was “helpfully” eating cookies and offering unsolicited advice.

“Tu devrais la faire dormir maintenant, sinon elle sera de mauvaise humeur plus tard. (You should put her to sleep now, or she’ll be in a bad mood later.)”

Yn rolled her eyes. “Merci, Dr. Leclerc. We’ve got it under control.” (Thank you, Dr. Leclerc.)

Joris chimed in with a grin. “Charles, maybe you should stick to driving and leave the babysitting advice to us.”

Charles held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

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

By mid-afternoon, things got a little more chaotic. Chiara decided she wasn’t interested in her toys anymore and started fussing.

“I think she’s hungry,” Joris suggested, already reaching for the bottle.

Yn took Chiara in her arms, rocking her gently. “Do you want your bottle, Chiara?” she cooed. The baby’s cries softened slightly as Yn fed her, though her big blue eyes stayed wide open.

Charles wandered back into the room, a smug expression on his face. “Elle pleurait, non? Je l’avais dit. (She was crying, wasn’t she? I told you.)”

Yn shot him a glare. “Si tu veux vraiment aider, passe-moi une serviette. (If you really want to help, pass me a cloth)”

Charles laughed but complied, tossing a burp cloth to Yn. “You’re lucky she’s cute”

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

As the day wore on, Chiara’s energy began to drown. Yn and Joris managed to put her down for a nap, and the three of them sat on the couch, exhausted but content.

“She’s more work than I expected,” Joris admitted, leaning his head back against the couch.

“Mais elle est adorable, alors ça vaut le coup. (But she’s adorable, so it’s worth it.)” Yn smiled, watching the tiny rise and fall of Chiara’s chest as she slept in her crib.

Charles plopped down beside them, handing Yn a mug of hot chocolate. “I’ll admit, you two did a good job. Chiara’s still in one piece.”

“High praise coming from you,” Yn teased, taking a sip of the hot chocolate.

Joris laughed. “Next time, Charles, you’re joining us for babysitting duty.”

Charles’s eyes widened. “Non, merci! (No, thank you!) I’ll stick to being the fun uncle.”

The three of them laughed, the room filled with warmth and the twinkle of Christmas lights. The sound of the front door signaled Marta and Riccardo’s return. They stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Chiara fast asleep, Yn and Joris cuddled on the couch, and Charles nearly asleep on the other end of the couch.

“Looks like she had the best day,” Marta whispered, her eyes shining as she looked at her daughter.

Riccardo grinned. “And you survived babysitting. Bravo.”

Yn smiled, her heart full. “It was a day to remember.”

let me know what you think <3 <3

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 19

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

.................................................................

Jude had an extended Christmas break, but Jobe didn’t, so the family flew in to Sunderland on 24th and Jude joined in that evening. Jobe interrogated him extensively about what went down in Madrid. Denise & Mark were curious too but Denise’s emphatic guideline to Mark was to just let Jude be. He’d talk to them when he’s ready. 

Jobe texted Ananya, while she was on the way to the cabin.

Jobe:  😊

It was simple, but communicated a lot of things. Ananya smiled & responded immediately.

‘Merry Christmas Eve. Sorry for stealing your brother but I sent him back :)’

‘To you too. And thanks, but he’s yapping non-stop now, more than usual.’

‘Well, good luck with that.’

‘Yeah I’m mostly ignoring him & Dad. Mum’s completely ignoring them!'

Ananya smiled while trying to picture the scene.

‘Have a great Christmas, Jobe. See you soon!'

‘You too. See ya!’

Immediately after that, she received a text from Jude. He had texted her earlier when he had landed, and then when he reached home, which was 30 mins ago.

‘Wassup?’

‘On my way. You?’

‘Sitting by the tree. Will read the letters soon.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yeah, we do it on Christmas Eve. The presents are also tonight, so to wake up happy on Christmas Day.’

‘Lovely. Have fun.’

‘You too. But not too much.’

She laughed out loud and Anna turned to look at her from the driver’s seat.

‘Will try. Bye now.’

‘Bye.’

The letters were lovely. The whole family was a little overwhelmed but Mark started to make some silly jokes about Jude’s handwriting, when Jude had expressly warned them not to, and Jobe joined in. Laughter & mock wrestles filled the room while Denise stayed perched up on the side, smiling at the 3 kids.

The presents were a long, long affair. Jude had gone well & truly overboard this time - wanted to celebrate the massive Madrid contract & everything else that had come his way this year with his family. Denise even admonished him a little for the overspending and Mark tried to figure out how he even managed that when all his accounts were under their supervision. Jude just smiled smugly, saying he had his ways.

They stayed in for dinner, preferring a cozy home-made meal by the fireplace. It was already 11 pm. Jude checked his phone. Her last message was at 8:30 pm, when she reached the cabin. His mind kept picturing what could be happening there, and if he had made the right call to nudge her to go. 

Nudge her? You practically threw her into his waiting arms.

Sometimes, Jude hated his mind for playing such cruel tricks. 

He needed to talk to her right now. Fuck maturity! Fuck pride!

Jude called. The phone kept ringing. He tried again. Same outcome. After 15 mins, when his mind was about to go into a full-blown overdrive (he was close to pinging Roma for Anna’s number), his phone flashed with a message from her.

‘Bad network here. Just saw you called?’

Well yeah he called. That’s how the calls got registered on her phone. 

Knowing fully well he couldn’t take that tone with her, Jude took two full rounds around his room before responding.

‘Yeah. Can we talk?’

He proceeded to stare at his screen for 1 full minute, then she called him.

‘Hey youuu.’

Jude could tell that tone from a million miles away. She was drunk. Bad idea, he needed her to be fully in her senses tonight. But, she was away celebrating with her friends and he couldn’t possibly hold that against her.

‘Having fun?’

‘Oh yeah. Just ate half a cake. Downed it with wine. In hindsight not a great call but hey.’

She was still using big proper words. Jude surmised she was more buzzed than drunk. Good, some respite!

‘Nice. What else is happening?’

‘Just eating & drinking & playing some music & a little bit of dancing.’

‘Nothing else?’

She smiled, getting his drift.

‘Nothing that I need to tell, like we discussed.’

‘About that, I changed my mind. Tell me everything.’

Not knowing was driving him up the wall. She knew he wouldn’t last long anyway.

‘Jude, we are just joking, bitching rather, about folks at work & some clients. Typical IB stuff.’

‘Hmm.’

She caught the annoyance in his tone. It was time to change the topic.

‘How did it go there? Your folks were surprised?’

That worked like a charm. He immediately dove into giving her a word by word description, forgetting what was on his mind earlier. His child-like enthusiasm on describing his presents just melted her heart. 

‘Well, you’ve got one more to go.’

‘This year, I’m waiting for that one the most.’

‘Soon. How was dinner?’

‘Food was great. But dad insisted to be in charge of plum pudding and it was a catastrophe. Proper disaster. Too runny. Like he’s a good cook don’t get me wrong. Had to learn when Mom came to live with me at Dortmund and he had to look after Jobe. But man, desserts are not his thing. Jobe nearly choked on it but Mom said we have to finish it without making a fuss.’

‘Awww.’

‘But I had a way to make it taste delicious.’

‘Yeah & what’s that?’

‘Are you alone?’

He knew it was an out of context question. But he didn’t want anyone (one person specifically) to see her flushed cheeks.

‘Ermm yeah.’

‘Well dove, I imagined eating it off your tits.’

She choked on the wine, and spilled it a little. He loved hearing her breathless gasp.

‘You…gosh you…’

‘Are they tingling?’

Well now they were. She had to put an arm around her chest to rein in the sensation.

‘GO AWAY.’

‘I love you too.’

This carried on for a few more minutes before he finally, begrudgingly, let her go back to her friends.

Ananya had to wash her face with cold water to recover from his assault on her senses. 

It was a fun evening/night. It had been a while since she had gone out with her work group. Thought different nationalities, they were all from the same world and talked about similar things. Relatable. It had been a gruelling 7 months at work since she joined, so it was nice to let loose with folks who went through the same rigour as her.

Drinks were flowing freely, and Ananya indulged too. But stopped when her head started to spin a little. She was the first one to retire to her room, around 1 am.

2 hours later, she woke up with her throat parched. Clearly had forgotten to have enough water. It was always tougher to do that with wine. Thankfully, she never really got hangovers but the buzz was still there. A fair bit.

She stepped out to find the kitchen. The whole cabin was quiet now, eerily so. The sound of rain splashing against the windows adding to the atmosphere. Holding the back of the furniture in her way, she quickly stumbled towards the kitchen. And found someone unexpected.

Arjun was standing there with his back to her, staring intently into the fridge. Dressed in night shorts. Like her. She almost turned on her heels to return but her throat was killing her.

He turned around, surprised to find her standing behind.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

These were the first words they had spoken directly to each other all night. And in weeks.

‘Looking for water?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Seems like we drank it all. Nothing in the kitchen and the tap water has a weird smell.’

‘Oh.’

This was not good. Her body was threatening to revolt, desperately seeking some liquid.

‘Wait let me check our stash again.’

Arjun went into the living room, going through all the bags they brought. Ananya followed close behind, sitting on the edge of the couch. 

‘Christmas miracle.’

He emerged after 2 mins with half a bottle of juice and another one with some soda left in it, offering both to her. She took the juice, gladly. And he started gulping down the soda.

‘Thanks.’

‘No problem.’

They sat there for 30 seconds, not knowing where to look, or what to say to each other.

‘Well, this is awkward.’

Maybe it was the drinks that had lowered their inhibitions. Or maybe it was the situation. Or the fact that they were alone. But both looked at each other & burst out laughing at the same time. Which cut through the awkwardness. They laughed for a good full minute, finally settling down again.

‘How are you?’

It was a loaded question but she felt compelled to ask it. A nicer, kinder person should have asked that sooner.

His face suddenly turned sober.

‘Oh I’m ok. Yeah…I mean…all good.’

She cocked her head sideways & smiled, not believing it. He sighed in defeat, not wanting to look at her smiling face for too long.

‘As ok as I can be, I guess.’

‘I’m sorry Arjun, truly. For everything.’

‘Not your fault you love someone else.’

She cocked her head again, but in surprise this time. How did people seem to know this before she did?

Realising he was looking at her, she recovered quickly.

‘Yeah, but, I still am sorry.’

‘That’s coz you’re a good person.’

‘A good person would not have shunned you this way.’

There, she finally said it. This had been weighing on her since forever that it didn’t need to be this way. But she also kinda understood where Jude was coming from, so she had cut off Arjun completely since the proposal.

Arjun gazed at her sincerely. There were no prizes for guessing that her boyfriend was the reason she had cut him off.

‘I get it. Would have done the same in his place.’

She turned towards him, and he just shrugged. She shook her head in half exasperation.

‘Men!’

‘Men in love!’

She was a bit tongue-tied again. Coz last time he had used the word ‘feelings’ for her, not ‘love’ explicitly. 

‘So, he hates me then?’

Understatement of the century, as Jude had put it.

‘Well…’

She smiled and he laughed again. Almost falling from the couch. Clearly nowhere near sober. But she didn’t help him get back up, not crossing the line she had drawn in her head. The laughter subsided after a while and he looked at her sincerely again.

‘He’s a lucky guy.’

‘Thanks, but I think I’m the lucky one here.’

The fondness in her voice & the shining happiness in her eyes when she spoke of her boyfriend tugged at his heart. Suddenly he wanted to run out of there. This is what he deserved for sitting on his ass for months and not shooting his shot when he had the chance. 

Their drinks were nearly over & so was their limited time. He looked at her closely when she took the last sip and kept the bottle down, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

He didn’t wanna lose her completely. At least he could stay her friend. Wanting to end on a light note, he blurted something he never would have without the alcohol messing with his head.

‘So, you got a sister or something?’

‘What?’

It was her turn to laugh uncontrollably now, holding the arm of the couch.

‘Actually yeah. And she’s gonna be visiting soon.’

Ananya played along, still laughing. Funnily enough, her cousin would actually like him too.

‘Single?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Great. Maybe we could double-date then.’

She laughed harder. Jude was more likely to join Barca than to be on the same table as Arjun. Thankfully, Arjun just attributed it to her drunk state & laughed along. 

‘Well, good night. Merry Christmas to you Arjun.’

‘To you too, Ananya. Stay happy.’

‘You too.’

She turned around and Arjun saw her walk out of the room. And from his life. 

Ananya felt light after this conversation. Relieved. Less guilty maybe. Her thoughts went to Jude and she sent him a quick ‘Miss you baby’ message before conking off. Jude saw it at 5 am, in his semi-restless, nightmare-filled sleep. But slept a lot better after seeing it.

Of course when she told Jude the next day, he saw some sinister plot in this harmless conversation again. Which she laughed off, and he didn’t protest too much either. 

Next few days went by in a blur for Jude. Christmas with family was great as always, as was watching Jobe play. It always filled Jude with immense pride to see his brother grow into a force of his own. Then he had to hurry to Dubai for a few quick commitments, and also won the Globe Soccer Award for the best emerging player, which was a special moment for him & his family. No one had expected him to rise so quickly at Madrid but Jude relished the challenge & the responsibilities that came with it. His dad called it a proper ‘galactico’ mentality. 

On his last evening in Dubai, he woke up from his nap to see an alarming message from his girlfriend.

‘What are those photos?’

Panic hit in full force. Had something else come out about him while he was sleeping? He searched like a maniac for a full 5 minutes and also checked with his team but couldn’t find anything damning.

‘What photos?’

‘The dump you posted. What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I’m so confused rn, what are you saying?’

Jude checked what time it was. Was it jet lag or something?

‘You know fully well what I’m saying. Who gave you the right to look like that?’

Finally, he relaxed and leaned back against the bed, smiling giddily.

‘Look like what?’

‘Like a FUCKING GREEK GOD. A SUPERMODEL. Arghhh I wanted to bite you.’

‘Where?’

‘EVERYWHERE. So fucking edible’

‘I’m still in those blue shorts in case you were wondering. Wanna see?’

Jude sent her a quick selfie. Lying comfily in bed, in those barely there hiked up shorts, spreading his legs shamelessly for a better view.

‘What’s your fetish for tightest of tight shorts? It looked like it would rip any second.’

‘Maybe you want to rip it.’

‘I do.’

‘Why don’t you get like this when you are in touching distance of me?’

‘Don’t know, this is a first.’

‘I’ll give you a private show when you are back.’

‘Damn right you will. Especially that suit.’

‘Deal. And you’d wear something of my choice?’

‘Deal.’

‘Come back soon.’

‘I landed here 2 days ago, Jude.’

‘I know.’

He sunk into the pillows. She had to say her goodbye soon, since someone was at her door. It was the first time she had been away from home for so long so her folks were making a fuss around her. Jude knew she’d barely have any time for him next 10 days - between home and her college friend’s wedding.

It was time to return to Madrid tomorrow morning. Alone. His mom would follow in a few days, but he was going to have to be by himself till then. Even on New Year's Eve. 

Jude hated being alone. Not being around people he loved. It was the biggest thing that set him off. But he’d have to make do for a few days. He sulked in the car all the way through. Just when he had dragged himself out & entered his empty home, Agnes followed behind & handed over an envelope to him.

It said ‘Merry Christmas’ - in her handwriting.

She had planned something. There was a surprise waiting for him. All his annoyance was forgotten instantly. 

He jumped up & down then hugged Agnes wildly - the older man trying to keep his composure but smiling back at the display of young love. But when Jude tried to kiss him on the cheek, Agnes took his leave & left the giddy boy alone.

Jude ripped open the envelope and found a small piece of paper inside.

‘Did you really think I’d forget your Christmas present? 

Please remember who you’re dealing with here :)

Now, ready for your gift?

You’ll find it where we had our almost first kiss.’

Wait, so it was a treasure hunt?? His excitement went through the roof. He absolutely loved these little games.

Jude read the text again. Almost first kiss. What did that mean? Their proper first kiss was on her dining table, in her apartment. But he wanted to kiss her in the cafe too. And in the stadium. 

He read it again. Almost should mean where both wanted to kiss, right? He dug his fingers into his head, as if trying to stimulate the blood flow there, replaying the events of their first date. Was it the car ride on the way over, when they had held hands for the first time? No, she was still guarded then. The first time she had let her guard down was later that night….perched up on the kitchen counter.

Surely, that must be it. He ran into the kitchen, looking all around. There was nothing on the counter. He opened a few cabinets. Nothing. 

Think Jude. Think.

Wine. They were having wine then. The wine fridge was not in the kitchen though, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe the glasses? He bent down to open the compartment below the counter, and jumped at the first attempt.

A carefully wrapped package. 

He sat on the counter, tore through the wrapper quickly and found a scrapbook inside. There was a note on Page 1.

‘Special player. Special club. Special debut. Special memories.’

He flipped the page and gasped when he realised what he was looking at. The scrapbook contained clips & images of all the key moments in his life over the last 7 months. Each page dedicated to a particular instance.

When the news first broke of his transfer. 

When he signed the contract with Real Madrid. Photos with Perez and his family on the pitch.

His first interview with RMTV on his presentation.

His first training session.

His first match.

His first goal.

His first press conference.

His first brace.

His first MOTM.

How he first did his celebration with the fans.

When the fans first sang ‘Hey Jude.’

When the whole stadium joined him in his celebration.

His first Champions League goal.

His first Clasico & first Clasico goal. (A heart drawn at the bottom of the page because this had also been the day of their first date.)

When his debut season was hailed Ronaldo-esque. 

When his friends from Birmingham came over to the Bernabeu.

When he won the golden ball.

When Vini did the photo clicking celebration with him.

Some images of just his bromance moments with his team-mates. (A few question marks drawn at the bottom, along with an inquisitive emoticon).

His mum in the stands, cheering for him.

The penalty he won for England.

When he won MOTM in England shirt.

Some other photos from the England camp.

Jobe’s presentation at Sunderland.

The last image was from the last match before the break - with Jobe cheering for him in the stands.

Carefully curated by someone who truly understood what mattered to him - not just the professional milestones but the fact that he was able to celebrate those with his loved ones. That’s what made it more special. The images of how proud/emotional his mum looked, how his Dad had that big smile on his face, how Jobe seemed to be a bit in awe of the Bernabeu, how his friends screamed from the stands when he scored. Special, special memories.

He flipped through the pages one more time, reliving each moment. It still felt surreal. Almost unreal. Somewhere along the way his eyes had turned moist and he felt more homesick than ever. Gosh, what he wouldn’t give right now to fall into the arms of his folks.

Everyone close to his heart was captured in this scrapbook. Barring one person. The one he wanted the most right now. Jude hugged the scrapbook close to his chest, hugging himself in the process.

He flipped to the last page, thinking it was the end. But she was determined to make his day some more.

Jude squealed again when he saw the message on the last page.

‘Did you think this was it?

Nah, not on my watch!

There’s something else waiting for you. But can you find it?

Hint: Think of the first night I spent at yours.’

Holy mother of god! He had the coolest girlfriend in the world. 

Jude ran up the stairs, two steps in one stride, into his room. And started thinking of where it could be. Just then it clicked - she had stayed in the guest room the first few times, not here. In the next 5 seconds, he was standing in the middle of that room, looking around. 

He hadn’t entered the room that night, so there can’t be a special place she would be referring to. It would be somewhere generic. He started going through the cupboard and the drawers, finally finding his prize in the bedside table.

It was another cutely wrapped package, a smaller one this time. Inside was a tiny scrapbook.

He almost couldn’t believe what was happening. A part of him wanted to pause & guess the contents, but he quickly turned impatient and opened it swiftly.

‘A little something about us.

Thank you for making me believe in love again.

Your dove!’

Overwhelmed, he caressed the text with his fingertips, the words tugging at his heart. Then he leaned down and kissed the page, trying to picture her.

Bracing himself for the emotional rollercoaster, he flipped the first page. It was filled with pictures - a little ode to their brief journey so far.

Bill from their first cafe meeting.

Screenshot of their text messages from that night, when he convinced her to come to the game. It was the first time he had called her dove.

A picture of his she had taken from his box, when he was celebrating his Clasico goal. (It was the first time he was seeing this one.)

The attire she was wearing on their first date - Madrid jersey (not his; how he had sulked over it) and denim jeans.

Their texts from that night, when he had pinged her from the Clasico celebration party.

His jacket that he had left in her house - after their first kiss.

A screenshot when he face-timed her from an away game, and kissed the screen while saying goodbye.

Flowers he sent her every week. Not a single one was missing.

A random pic of Bridgerton, the show they were watching when things got a bit heated on their second date.

Different images of his she had taken while watching his matches on TV.

His jersey in her size - symbolic of their first catastrophic fight and also their first time together.

Random memes he had sent her, when he was bored.

A cup of hot chocolate - when he came to her after a tough match or a tough day at work & she cheered him up. 

A drawer in her bedroom - where he kept his stuff.

A goofy photo of him, Ananya and Roma, sometime after dinner on one of the nights in her place.

The crystal pendant he had bought for her.

The famous letter.

And of course, the last page had the heart pendant.

Jude felt like his heart would explode any second. All this while, he thought he was the more expressive one. He was more invested in their relationship. He had poured his heart out to her many times, with paras and paras about what she meant to him.

But she had eclipsed all that with the sentimentality of this gift. And the thoughtfulness to keep the two separate. The first scrapbook he could share with anyone and relive those memories. Because he would want to, she knew that. 

And the second one was only for them. Just him & her. His dove. A piece of his heart that was far away from him right now.

Jude felt like he would die or burst into tears if he doesn’t see her immediately. He video-called her and she picked up soon, smiling from ear to ear.

Of course, Agnes would have told her things had been set in motion. 

But her smile faded when she saw his emotional face.

‘Oh baby, what’s wrong?’

‘You’re not here.’

‘I know. That’s why I left a little something for you.’

‘I loved it.’

‘Yayyy.’

‘I don’t deserve you, dove. You’re too good for me.’

‘Not true.’

‘It is. I know it is. Gosh I’m so lucky.’

‘I’m the lucky one.’

‘I-I don’t know what to do with myself right now. It was so beautiful. So thoughtful. So full of love. Just like you. Come back to me, please.’

‘Soon. Soon, Jude.’

‘Well what do I do right now? Who do I hug? There’s NO ONE.’

‘Vini & Cama live close to you, no? Trent is far away but those two are just there.’

She smiled & winked to lighten the mood with a running joke of theirs. Despite the heaviness in his chest, he ended up giggling too.

‘Stop it.’

‘Did you notice the VERY SPECIFIC section dedicated to your boyfriends?’

‘I did actually. You missed a few though.’

‘Ooh my bad. Will add those admirers of yours too.’

‘Come closer to the screen.’

‘What?’

‘Just do it.’

She did. And he proceeded to sloppily kiss his screen all over, where her face was there. She laughed, the sound uplifting his spirits.

‘Yikes you & your wet kisses.’

‘Shut up you love those.’

‘Mehhh.’

‘How’s it going there?’

‘Lovely. I missed home so so much. Everyone is here right now, which is why I’m whispering, thanks for asking.’

‘I figured, didn’t need to ask. So, did you tell your cousin about us?’

‘Yeah.’

She was looking everywhere but at him. And Jude’s face fell a little.

‘Didn’t go well, then?’

‘Went horribly. She is seriously worried for my sanity.’

‘I see.’

‘Jude, all she knows about you is what she’s seen on the internet. All the articles, images, stories, what people have said etc etc - she googled the hell out of you after I told her. Then told me I’d lost my mind. Obviously it wasn’t gonna be easy in the first go. It’ll take time. I’ve told her my side of the story. But we have to be super patient here. It’ll take a while for the idea of you to grow on her. And on anyone here.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But it doesn’t matter. Coz we have all the time in the world, yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘C’mon don’t be like that. It’s New Year's Eve tomorrow. What plans?’

‘Training.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘I mean after training, Jude.’

He shrugged.

‘Your team-mates not partying?’

‘They are, but I can’t go to that one.’

‘Why?’

‘Let’s just say you wouldn’t particularly approve of that kind of party.’

‘I see. But can you just go for a bit and I don’t know, not indulge?’

He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Or not participate. Whatever. You know what I mean.’

‘There will be questions if I don’t “participate” there.’

‘Because you used to earlier?’

A small pause.

‘Yes.’

Well, he had never made any bones about his lifestyle earlier. Didn’t think he was in the wrong in any way, coz he was single. Her view on it was different and it was a point of contention between them that they just had to live with. 

‘What about non-single folks then? Brahim, Fede, Lunin? You’re close to all of them.’

‘They’d be with their partners.’

‘Yeah so? You’ve hung out with friends & their partners before.’

He shrugged and pouted.

‘It’d make me miss you more.’

‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty?’

‘You abandoned me on New Years. So.’

‘Juude.’

‘Fiiine I’ll plan something with some of those guys. Jeez.’

‘Good boy.’

He stuck out his tongue at her, and she smiled.

‘Baby boy.’

‘Whatever. You really, really have to make it up to me when you get back. Like seriously.’

‘I think you deserve it.’

‘Damn well I do. When do the wedding functions start?’

‘One was last night. The rest are from tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Saw him?’

‘Yeah he was there.’

‘How did it go?’

Truth be told, she was pretending to be ok about this meeting but she had actually been super nervous. Keeping her emotions in check when it came to her ex had never been a strength of hers. It had always proved to be her undoing, which is why she had chosen to completely cut off.

‘It was awkward. We just greeted each other & went our own ways. Honestly, didn’t feel much last night. Or even now.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘You know why?’

‘Why?’

‘Because the person I am with you - I like that person more than what I had become with him.’

‘Mwah.’

‘Mwah to you too.’

‘I need to see all the pictures from all the functions - of you dressed up.’

The one she had sent last night was from the cocktail party but the traditional functions will begin from tomorrow. Jude was super excited to see her in multiple ethnic attires.

‘That was the deal.’

‘It was.’

‘Baby, I have to go now.’

‘I know.’

He said in a deflated tone.

‘I’ll call whenever I manage to sneak away for a bit. Just a bit mad here.’

‘I get it. It’s fine.’

‘I’ll miss you.’

‘I’ll miss you more.’

‘I’ll be back with you in no time. And your mum is coming in two days.’

‘Yup.’

‘Happy New Year in advance. It’s gonna be a special year.’

‘Our special year.’

‘Our special year.’

‘Bye, love.’

‘Bye, Jude!’

…………………………………………………….

Happy New Year, folks!

Hope you like this one. As always, would love to hear your comments / thoughts / messages. Thank you for all the love to Jude & Ananya!

One final chapter to go. There will be time jumps in that one.

[daniiiboo]

day 1 - a christmas miracle - qh43

summary - its christmas eve, and youre feeling a little down. You dont expect much this year, but quinn has something special planned.

trigger warnings - reader feels a bit down and left out, but other than that nothing !

dani's thoughts - the first fic of the 12 days of danimas !!! I hope you guys enjoy <3

word count - 732

find the rest of my 12 days of chrismas here !

It was Christmas Eve, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the season on your shoulders. This year had been a whirlwind, so many ups and downs, and you weren’t sure how to make it through the holiday without getting overwhelmed. Your family was miles away, and your closest friends were all busy with their own plans. As much as you tried to put on a brave face, you couldn’t shake the feeling of loneliness that crept in when the lights on your tree twinkled in the dark.

But Quinn Hughes, your boyfriend, was determined to change that. Even though he’d been away for hockey games, traveling with his team, he’d assured you he’d be home in time for Christmas. Still, as the hours passed on Christmas Eve, you found yourself curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa, wishing he were there.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed. A text from Quinn.

Quinn: I’m home, and I have a surprise for you. Stay right there, okay?

Your heart skipped a beat. You immediately sat up straighter, suddenly awake and alert.

Before you could even type a response, there was a knock on your door.

You stood, walking slowly over to open it, feeling a mix of excitement and curiosity. When the door swung open, Quinn was standing there, dressed in a cozy coat, his hair a little crazy from the cold.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his grin bright and warm, despite the chill in the air.

You smiled, feeling a rush of relief just seeing him standing there. “Merry Christmas,” you replied, stepping forward to give him a quick hug. “I didn’t expect you to be home so soon!”

He chuckled softly, pulling back to hold up a small wrapped box. “Well, I wanted to make sure this Christmas was special for you. You deserve it.”

Curious, you took the box from his hands and examined it. It was light, and the wrapping was simple but elegant. The small bow was perfectly tied, and the edges of the paper were a little crinkled as if he’d wrapped it himself.

“Go ahead,” Quinn encouraged, a twinkle in his eye.

With a small smile, you carefully unwrapped it, revealing a velvet box inside. Your heartbeat quickened as you lifted the lid, unsure of what you were about to see.

Inside the box was a delicate snow globe, one that had a small scene of a cabin covered in snow. You could see tiny little lights on the cabin and what looked like a miniature Christmas tree just inside the window. As well, you saw two figures standing outside the cabin, that looked exactly like you and Quinn.But what made your breath catch in your throat was the inscription on the base of the snow globe:

"Every moment with you feels like a Christmas miracle."

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him, trying to find the right words.

“Quinn, this is… It’s beautiful. I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered, overwhelmed.

Quinn’s expression softened as he took your hands in his.

“I know this year hasn’t been easy for you. And I want to remind you that, no matter what, I’ll always be here for you. You’re not alone. You’ve brought so much light into my life, and I want to give you the same warmth you’ve given me.”

He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before cupping your face gently. “I don’t want you to feel alone tonight. You mean the world to me, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

A lump formed in your throat as you took in the sincerity in his voice. This wasn’t just a gift, it was a promise. He was here, he was yours, and this Christmas would be one you would never forget.

With a shaky breath, you stepped forward and kissed him, the snow globe still safely cradled in your hands. His lips were warm against yours, and the kiss was slow and tender, as if you both were savoring the moment.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his. “You’re my Christmas miracle, Quinn,” you murmured.

Quinn smiled, his eyes soft and filled with affection. “And you’re mine.”

You stood there together for a few moments, the soft hum of Christmas music playing from inside the apartment, the world outside covered in snow. And in that moment, with Quinn by your side, you realized that no matter how much had changed, the love you shared was the most magical gift of all.

[bigmpregnm]

Christmas Magic - Part 1

[Story Collection] | [●] [Part 2🔴]

The night was quiet as the snow fell over the modest home on Christmas Eve. 25-year-old Mark stood beside the bathroom sink, helping his six-year-old son, Asher, brush his teeth. At 6’3” tall, with broad shoulders and a physique honed through years of building houses, Mark was the living definition of strength and kindness as his face glowed with love for his son.

“Buddy, don’t forget the back ones,” Mark reminded Asher, brushing his own teeth and making exaggerated faces that had the boy giggling despite the froth of toothpaste spilling out of the corner of his mouth.

“Like this, Daddy?” Asher asked, his tiny hand scrubbing at his molars.

“Perfect,” Mark said, ruffling Asher’s golden curls, a mirror image of his own. “You’re going to have the shiniest teeth in town. Santa might see his reflection in them and get jealous.”

Asher’s amber eyes, exactly like Mark’s, widened. “Santa’s coming tonight! Do you think he’ll bring me what I asked for?”

Mark smiled, crouching down to meet his son’s excited gaze. “He might, but only if you’re asleep when he gets here. You know the rules—no peeking until morning.”

Asher pouted playfully but nodded. “Okay, but can you tuck me in? I’ll close my eyes super tight.”

“Of course, bud. Let’s finish up here first,” Mark said, guiding Asher to rinse and spit. The two stood side by side, observing their shared reflection in the bathroom mirror. Asher looked like a miniature version of Mark, down to the tousled blonde hair and warm amber eyes. “All right, little man, off to bed.” Mark turned off the bathroom light and lifted Asher into his arms, effortlessly carrying the boy down the hall.

“Daddy, do you think Santa ever gets tired?” Asher asked, resting his head on Mark’s broad shoulder.

“Maybe a little, but he loves making kids happy. It’s worth it to him,” Mark replied.

“That’s what you do, Daddy. You make me happy,” Asher whispered sleepily.

Mark’s heart swelled. “Yeah, I guess I do. I’d do anything for you, Asher,” he said when they reached Asher’s room. Glow-in-the-dark stars and superhero posters decorated the room. Mark laid Asher gently on the bed, snugly tucking the blankets around him.

“Thanks, Daddy. I can’t wait to see my gift. I’ve been a good boy and sent my letter to Santa,” Asher said, smiling, already half asleep.

“I know. But I don’t know what you asked for. You’ve been keeping it a secret from me,” Mark teased, trying to find out what Asher wanted for Christmas. “What did you ask for?”

Asher softly shook his head. “Can’t tell! Santa knows, and that’s enough.”

Mark laughed softly. “Okay, keep your secrets. Sweet dreams, buddy. You’ll have a lot of presents to open in the morning.” He kissed Asher’s forehead and switched off the bedside lamp, leaving only the soft glow of the stars above. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” Asher whispered as his eyes fluttered shut.

Mark watched his son’s peaceful face for a while, getting slightly emotional. He stood in the doorway, his mind drifting to the events that had brought him here. At just 19, a fleeting romance had left him with the unexpected responsibility of fatherhood. The girl hadn’t wanted to stay, and his parents had turned their backs on him and his son. He had to drop out of college and find a job to support his boy. But despite the loneliness and challenges, Mark never regretted his decision to raise Asher alone. The boy was his greatest joy. He was the reason why Mark woke up every morning.

A soft smile spread across Mark’s face as he turned and stepped out. He checked the time—10:00 PM. It was time to set up the presents for Christmas morning. Heading to his closet, he uncovered the stash of gifts hidden beneath a pile of old coats. He carried the brightly wrapped packages to the living room, arranging them carefully under the tree. Looking at the gifts made him smile; he could already picture Asher’s ecstatic reaction. However, he was nervous because he didn’t know what Asher had written in his letter to Santa.

With a yawn, Mark stretched, heading to his bedroom. He was wearing only his Christmas-themed pajama pants, the fabric snug against his powerful legs and hips, highlighting the contours of his muscular butt. His torso was bare, revealing a body honed through years of hard work—broad shoulders that seemed to carry the weight of the world with ease, a powerful chest sculpted with defined pectorals, and arms corded with thick muscle. He had the faint dad bod softness at his midsection, which only enhanced his rugged but huggable appeal.

Mark’s skin had a sun-kissed hue left after long hours spent under open skies. His face, perpetually clean-shaven, was a masterpiece of symmetry and charm, with sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that curved naturally into a warm smile. Framing this vision of handsomeness was his thick, golden hair, a perfect complement to the amber glow of his eyes. He was a handsome man, lusted over by men and women, but he didn’t have time for anything apart from caring for his son. Dating was out of the question.

He flopped onto his bed, letting out a sigh. He occasionally felt the weight of loneliness, but his thoughts always returned to Asher, his pride and joy. “I’d do anything to make him happy,” he whispered before drifting off into the stillness of the night.

The quiet didn’t last. Mark awoke to an unusual chill, his eyes fluttering open. The clock on his nightstand glowed, showing 00:00. He sat up, rubbing his arms against the cold that seemed to seep from nowhere. The windows were shut tight, and the snowfall outside was gentle, not enough to explain the sudden drop in temperature. Then, he saw a bright blue light floating in the center of his room. It pulsed, growing larger and more radiant, casting icy tendrils of air across his skin. Mark’s breath hitched as the light expanded into a massive sphere, illuminating every corner of the room.

The sphere shimmered, and a towering figure emerged as it began to fade. Mark’s hand darted to the nightstand lamp, flipping it on. He gasped, his eyes widening in disbelief. Standing before him was a man unlike any he’d ever seen—an absolute colossus, towering at an intimidating seven feet tall. His body was a masterpiece of sheer power and symmetry, with muscles layered upon muscles and a definition that seemed almost inhuman. His chest was broad and thick, like a massive shield, with every ridge of his pectorals perfectly sculpted. Massive shoulders led to arms thicker than Mark’s thighs, and each bicep looked as if it could crush steel. His torso tapered to a deeply chiseled abdomen, where every muscle stood out like the bricks of a fortress wall, and his obliques curved sharply inwards. He looked intimidating.

The man’s thighs were monumental, each as wide as a tree trunk and leading down to calves that seemed carved from marble. He wore only a red fur-trimmed brief, styled like Santa’s costume, which clung to his enormous, muscular hips and showcased a massive bulge that didn’t leave anything to the imagination. A thick black leather belt wrapped around his thick waist, emphasizing the Santa-like style. His dark, neatly styled hair complemented a strikingly handsome face that defied reality—high cheekbones, a strong, square jaw, and a beautiful smile that could melt the North Pole. His piercing, electric blue eyes glowed as if holding some magic, and they locked onto Mark’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

Even the man’s skin seemed ethereal, glowing faintly with a warm undertone, and his sheer size and presence filled the room, making Mark feel small for the first time in his life. Mark’s voice caught in his throat as he stared, struggling to process the surreal sight before him. The two locked eyes as Mark froze in disbelief, and the room seemed to hum with a strange and inexplicable energy.

The massive man’s brilliant blue eyes softened as he stepped forward, his sheer size making Mark instinctively lean against the headboard. Mark’s eyes inspected the towering figure up and down as the stranger raised his hands, palms outward, in a gesture of peace. “Please, don’t be afraid,” the man said, with a deep, low voice that had an almost musical quality that eased some of Mark’s tension. “I haven’t come to hurt you or Asher.”

Mark’s brow furrowed as his protective fatherly instincts kicked in. “How do you know my son’s name?” he asked angrily. “Who are you?”

The giant of a man offered a gentle smile, his face expressing peace despite his imposing stature. “I know because Asher has been writing letters to me. Well, to my father. But since we work closely together, I’ve taken it upon myself to answer his wish.”

“Your father?” Mark asked, still unconvinced. “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you’re trying to pull, but if you don’t explain yourself, you’re out of here.” It was an empty threat, and Mark knew it. He glanced at the man’s colossal biceps, each nearly as thick as Mark’s waist. There was no way he could actually “kick him out,” but Mark wasn’t about to let his guard down entirely. Not yet.

The man chuckled softly, his massive shoulders shaking, not offended by Mark’s challenge. He was impressed instead. “My apologies,” the man said kindly, inclining his head. “Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Nick, and I’m one of Santa’s closest helpers. Together, we fulfill wishes—especially those from good kids and adults who have been kind and generous throughout the year.”

Mark blinked, trying to process the words. “Santa? Like... Santa Claus? Is he real?”

Nick nodded, his smile widening. “Yeah, he’s real. He’s only ‘Dad’ to me, but yeah, the great and mythical Santa Claus. And tonight, I’m here because Asher made a very special wish. One I felt needed a personal touch.”

“Santa’s your dad?!” Mark’s defensiveness faltered, replaced by confusion and curiosity. “Wait, Asher’s wish? What did he ask for?”

Instead of answering outright, Nick extended a hand. Ten sheets of paper appeared in his grasp, materializing out of thin air in a shimmer of soft golden light. He handed them to Mark, who hesitated briefly before taking them. The papers had Asher’s unmistakable scrawl, with slightly crooked letters and uneven spacing.

Mark read the first aloud: “Dear Santa, I’ve been a good boy. I only want one thing: a little brother.” This text was on all ten sheets. The sheer simplicity of the request made Mark chuckle. He rubbed a hand over his face as he sighed. “That kid… He’s been talking about having a little brother for months. One of the moms in his class just had a baby, and Asher’s classmate talks about it constantly. And Asher is going crazy about also having a little brother. I didn’t think he’d actually write it to Santa.”

Nick’s smile remained. “Well, he did. And I thought it was a wish worth granting.”

Mark shook his head, laughing. “Look, I’d love to give Asher everything he wants, but I can’t make that happen. I don’t even have a girlfriend, let alone the time to date.” He gestured toward the empty side of the bed. “I’m a single dad, Nick. I’m doing my best, but this one’s out of my hands.”

Nick stepped closer, the floor creaking faintly under his immense weight. “Christmas is a time for miracles, Mark. That’s why I’m here—to help.”

Mark arched an eyebrow. “Help? How exactly do you plan to do that?”

With a smile, Nick extended his hand again. This time, a beautifully decorated Christmas cookie appeared, its surface adorned with intricate red, green, and gold icing patterns. The scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and sugar wafted through the air. “Some very talented friends of mine made this. It’s a special cookie—part of the magic that will make Asher’s wish come true.”

Mark stared at the cookie, then back at Nick. “You’re saying this cookie does what? Creates a baby brother out of thin air?”

“Not quite,” Nick said with a wink. “It’s more of a catalyst. The real magic comes from what happens next. You eat this cookie, and we’ll go the old-fashioned way to get you pregnant. You know what I mean?” Nick said, gesturing at his enormous bulge.

“WHAT?!” Mark shouted, his mind racing. “No, no, dude! I’ll stop you there. Look, I was eating your story until you lost your mind. I’m a man. I don’t know how things are in the North Pole, but last time I checked, men can’t get pregnant.”

“I know. But I told you, Christmas is a time for miracles, and this cookie will make the impossible possible. Believe me. My friends have used this, and I’ve lost count of how many babies they’ve had. Oh, and they’re men,” Nick responded, playfully emphasizing his low voice when he said ‘men.’

Mark stared in disbelief, struggling to process the information. Part of him thought Nick was crazy, but deep down, he knew Nick was telling the truth. The sheer absurdity of the situation should have made him laugh or demand Nick leave immediately, but Mark couldn’t help but feel that this was real. He thought of Asher, remembering the boy’s bright smile and unwavering belief in Santa. He remembered the many times Asher had asked Mark to give him a little brother. 

“But I—” Mark said, pondering his options.

Nick’s deep voice broke through his thoughts. “You’ve always said you’d do anything for Asher. Isn’t that right?”

Mark hesitated. “I did say that,” he admitted, his voice softer now. Mark looked at the cookie again, then at Nick, and something else ignited inside his body. Despite the absurdity of the entire situation, Mark felt a flicker of hope—a chance to give Asher the one thing he’d been dreaming about. And simultaneously, a chance to have some intimacy with the most muscular man he had ever seen. Mark had been alone for years, and now the perfect specimen of manhood was willing to spend the night with him.

“I promise I’ll be gentle. Believe me, I didn’t come here to hurt you. But you’ve been a great man, and your son is in the top 10 of the good boys list,” Nick said, gesturing at Asher’s letters in Mark’s hand. “Also, I know we’ll enjoy this.”

“You’re quite a persuasive man, Nick.” Mark took a deep breath and nodded. “Let’s do this,” he said, willing to make Asher happy and also enjoy Nick’s cock.

Nick’s smile broadened, his entire face lighting up with genuine joy. “You’re making a wonderful choice, Mark. I promise you won’t regret it.”

Mark reached out and took the cookie, its warmth surprising against his fingers. As he brought it to his lips, he couldn’t help but glance back at Nick’s towering frame, feeling safe and excited. Whatever magic this was, he trusted that Nick would ensure everything turned out right. The cookie melted in his mouth, its flavor a perfect blend of holiday spices and sweetness, and a soft warmth spread through him. Looking up, he saw Nick watching him with a smile.

“Now what?” Mark asked innocently but well aware of what was coming.

“Oh, I think you know what’s coming. Let the magic begin,” Nick said, clapping his hands and making his briefs disappear. “Remove your pajamas, Mark.”

Mark’s jaw dropped as he saw Nick’s briefs disappearing, revealing a 2-foot-long, soft cock and a pair of basketball-sized balls. “How? What? That thing’s not going to fit inside me.”

“It will, don’t worry. That’s part of the magic in the cookie,” Nick said, approaching the bed as Mark reached for the waistband of his pajama pants and slowly pushed them lower to reveal his wide hips, thick bubble butt, bull balls, and 6-inch-long soft cock. “I’ll admit I’m impressed, Mark. You are a very attractive man, and that butt looks nice. You could have any man or girl you wanted, but lucky me, you’re mine tonight.”

Mark chuckled as Nick climbed onto the bed, making the mattress creak and sink under his immense weight. Nick crawled up until he was right above Mark, looming a massive shadow over him. Mark felt tiny compared to Nick, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach up and caress the huge man’s enormous pecs. Mark’s hands explored the hills and valleys on Nick’s torso, making the big man smile.

“Wow! You’re gigantic,” Mark mumbled, barely able to process Nick’s massive size. “So big everywhere.”

“Thanks. I could always help you get this big, but that’s a task for another day,” Nick said, winking at Mark and tightly pushing his body against him. “So, are you ready?”

Mark swallowed hard, looking down as he felt Nick’s massive cock hardening against him. The fuck tool was so enormous that Mark thought it was all a dream. “I am, but I don’t think this will work. I don’t think it’ll fit. I’ve never... you know—been with a man.”

Nick grinned and leaned to kiss Mark’s lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle, and the cookie will do the rest,” Nick said, slowly lifting Mark’s legs into position. “We only trust the magic.”

Their eyes locked into each other as Nick lined his now-four-foot-long cock with Mark’s hole. Nick pushed softly as the massive head of his cock came in contact with Mark’s entrance, making the smaller man moan and shiver. Mark took a deep breath in preparation for what was coming, fearing the pain that it would bring if the cock even got inside him. Nick pushed harder and felt Mark’s hole gaping for him before it opened to allow the massive fuck tool inside.

“Oh, fuck!” Mark shouted, unable to contain his moans as the enormous cock stretched him, making him feel the most intense and painless pleasure he had ever experienced. “You’re so big!” He added, partly surprised and partly asking for more.

“I know. Thanks for noticing,” Nick replied as he continued burying inch after inch of his massive cock into the moaning single dad. “How do you feel?”

“Good! It feels fantastic!” Mark mumbled, breathing heavily and closing his eyes in overwhelming pleasure. “I—I love it.”

“Told you. Christmas is a time for miracles.” Nick grinned, and his hips bucked hard once his whole cock had disappeared into Mark’s willing hole. “And honestly, your ass is the best I’ve ever had. The list isn’t long, but still, you’re the best.”

Mark smiled and reached for Nick’s enormous arms for support as the massive man pounded hard into him. They locked eyes as the fucking intensified, the room disappearing as the magic flowed between them. Mark could feel Nick’s enormous cock stretching him beyond what he thought was possible, but he could only long for more. He knew the plan was to give Asher the little brother he wanted, but Mark loved the baby-making process. It was a much-needed intimacy for a man who had been alone for so long.

Nick’s thrusts sped up, making the bed creak, and Mark’s moan grew louder. The huge man loved how Mark’s butt felt against his body, and deep down, he wanted to spend the whole night with this man. Nick had been doing things like this for years to grant adults their wishes, but this time was different. He had never gotten a man pregnant, at least not with his own seed, but Mark was special. Mark was a wonderful dad who would do anything for his son, but apart from the emotional side of the plan, Nick found Mark so hot that deep down, he couldn’t help but desire to stay for a while longer.

Nick’s massive cock felt so good that Mark’s 9-inch-long cock throbbed hard even without getting touched. It wasn’t long before Mark curled his toes and shot a massive cum-load all over his own abdomen, accompanied by a loud moan. But still, he was so horny that his cock stayed hard as Nick continued pounding hard. Mark couldn’t articulate words; his mind was foggy with pleasure, and his body only desired more.

“I hope you’re ready; I’m so close,” Nick said, taking Mark out of his pleasure-induced trance. “After this, there won’t be a turning point. You will be pregnant,” he gently said.

“DO IT!” Mark responded, and Nick immediately released a tsunami of cum that made Mark groan as his belly bloated like a balloon. “Fuck! So much! So much! Yes!” Mark shouted as he felt Nick’s warm cum coating his insides, making him feel so good that his cock exploded with another load.

*

Mark lay on his bed a while later, looking at the ceiling, his chest heavily rising and falling as he struggled to catch his breath. The recent events played over in his mind like a vivid dream, leaving him blinking repeatedly in awe and disbelief. His body felt heavier, his slight dad-gut now swollen and firm to the touch, a noticeable fullness pressing outward. Mark’s hands instinctively moved to caress the gentle curve of his belly, his fingers grazing the taut skin as he tried to process what had just happened. He felt full—full of Nick’s cum and full of joy.

Nick lay beside him, his massive frame taking up a significant portion of the bed. He reached over, his warm hand resting gently atop Mark’s belly. The soft motion of his fingers tracing soothing circles sent a wave of comfort through Mark. “Everything is going to be okay,” Nick kindly said. “You’ve done so much for Asher already, and now you’re giving him something he’s wished for with all his heart.”

Mark exhaled slowly, still unable to fully comprehend the situation. “This… it’s all so unreal. How is this even possible?” He asked, looking to his side to observe Nick’s massive, soft cock resting over his tight. The monster was now soft, but Mark still couldn’t believe that something so big had been inside him only a few minutes before.

Nick smiled, his blue eyes shining bright. “Christmas magic has its ways. For now, you need to rest. Sleep is important for the magic to do its work. By the morning, Asher’s wish will be fulfilled, and everything will make sense.”

Mark’s brows furrowed, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “How… How is this supposed to happen? Will it hurt?”

Nick’s hand didn’t falter in its soothing motion. “The magic cookie started everything, and now your body is adapting. You’ll experience everything in one night, including labor. It won’t be easy, but the magic will guide you through. You’ve got strength beyond what you realize.”

Mark swallowed hard, his heart pounding hard at the mention of labor. “Labor? That’s…”

“Painful,” Nick admitted, “but temporary. The magic will ensure you can handle it. Trust me. By tomorrow night, you’ll look back on this and know it was worth it.”

Mark hesitated, his gaze lingering on Nick’s calm demeanor. He was scared but knew he could trust the man despite the overwhelming strangeness of the situation. “Okay,” he responded, his eyelids growing heavier.

Nick leaned in, gently kissing Mark’s lips. “Good. I wish I could stay, but I have a long night ahead. Rest now. Your body needs all the energy it can get to grow the babies.”

Mark’s eyes were already closing when he caught the last word. “Why did you say babies?” he mumbled sleepily.

Nick chuckled softly. “Asher asked for a little brother, but he wrote ten letters. I came here to grant him everything he asked for. Don’t worry; you’ll manage. I’ll return in the morning to help.”

Those were the last words Mark heard before sleep overtook him. The room felt suddenly cold again as Mark drifted off, his breathing evening out.

...

[tati3001]

The Beginning of the End

Till Forever Falls Apart Chapter 1

Word count: 3,162

The war of the cabin lingers in your bones as Lizzie navigates the car through the roads between the mountains. The hum of the heater fills the car, blending with the murmur of the radio and the chatter of the kids, which occasionally turns into giggles.

Emma tucked her bunny securely under her arm as she told a story to Brooke, in a language only toddlers can understand causing Brooke to giggle, pulling her pig's tail as she did. Eli, the youngest of them all, clutched his dino tightly, ensuring he didn't leave his grab. His head rested on the side of her car seat and the paci moved gently on his mouth.

Lizzie kept giving you soft glances, her green eyes flickering under the moonlight, a soft smile on her lips. You could tell she was tired but content, the kind of exhaustion that comes from a week of chaos only family can achieve. She pulls her hand through the console and grabs yours, intertwining your fingers.

"Did you like it?" The question broke the silence, her voice warm and teasing. You turned your head confused. "What's that?". "The bear" She glanced with a hint of mischief. " The one I got you for Christmas. Don't tell me you forgot about Marmalade already".

A light and genuine laugh escapes you. "Marmalade? What kinda name is that?" You scoffed, with a smile on your face and your heart fluttered at the memory of Christmas Eve, how she couldn't contain her giggles and her excitement to give you the bear, and how she couldn't wait until Christmas morning.

"It's a perfect name," She said mocking indignity. "Don't act like you didn't love it, I saw you hugging him when you thought I wasn't looking" You couldn't suppress the grin. "I never said I didn't, love". "Good, because Emma thought it was for her and she kept asking me why Mommy has a bear and she didn't".

You can't help but chuckle imagining Emma's tiny curious face as she tried to understand why her mother needed a stuffie. "Well, it's mine and I'm not sharing. You can tell Emmy to get her own" Lizzie's laugh filled the car like music to your ears. "Good, that bear was expensive" Liz chuckled. "I had to convince her it was not for her and I nearly broke her little heart".

"Sure, love. A five-dollar bear from Walmart. Real high-end stuff," you tease grinning at her. "Hey, it's the thought that counts," Lizzie says mocking being offended. "She's lucky she's cute," you murmur looking out at the snow-laden trees, imagining her little face.

Your smile fades slightly at the thought of the cabin and the endless teasing from Lizzie's siblings. "Your siblings were relentless" You mention quietly. "They're just trying to get a rise out of you, baby". Lizzie says. "It's all in good fun."

But you know it's more than that, it's more than the teasing. It's the way they don't grasp the way your mind works and how words can sometimes feel jumbled, how it's harder for you to process things that are simple to others. Over the years you learn to laugh with them, but deep down it stings.

You nod. "I love them, Liz. But I already feel like I'm stumbling through conversations and when they laugh it's like—". "They're not laughing at you" Lizzie interrupted gently, her hand squeezing yours. "They... They don't get it, they don't see how brilliant you are or how hard you work to make sure words come out right. But I do and I always got your back, okay?"

You glance at her with curiosity. "What did you do?". "I told them to knock it off, that my wife is a multilanguage genius and if they can't handle little mistakes they can leave the group chat". A laugh escapes you, soft and surprised. "You didn't". "I did" Lizzie's smile widened. "I'll do it as many times as I need to. They love you, Nessie. They're just idiots, but don't let them make you doubt yourself, okay?

"I just... Sometimes I feel like I'm the punchline". Lizzie's thumb gently brushed against your skin. "You're not a punchline. You're brilliant, funny, perfect exactly as you are. Don't let them get to you, okay?" You nod, the warmth of her touch soothing the sting of the lingering insecurities. "Okay". She glances at you again, her smile soft and full of love. "Why don't you sleep for a bit, love? You look as tired as I feel".

"Only if you promise to wake me up when you're tired" You reply squeezing her hand. "Deal" She returns her attention to the road as you lean back, pulling the blanket higher and letting your eyes drift shut, not daring to let her hand go.

Outside the car the world is quiet. The snow was falling in delicate flurries, blanketing the mountains with white. The road stretches ahead, winding and peaceful, a picture-perfect end to the holiday. The music was soft, and Liz didn't want to wake any of her loves.

Her thumb kept brushing against your skin, regardless of knowing you were completely passed out. Her hand gripped the wheel tightly, her eyes flickering between the rearview mirror to check on the kids and the road. She hums softly under her breath to the rhythm of the music, a habit you had learned years ago was a hack to stay awake.

The cabin was now a few hours away from them, the night grew colder and the icy road stretched ahead. The car was warm in contrast to the outside. Everyone in the car was sleeping, and at some point, Liz had to let go of your hand to drink her coffee and be able to stay awake. However, her hand would return to yours as soon as the coffee was back in the cupholder.

Out of the corner of her eyes, the high beams in the car behind them stared furiously at her. Her eyes flickered between the mirrors, catching the car getting closer and closer. "God, they're speeding" She muttered, her hand tightening on the wheel. The car wasn't just speeding, it was swerving. Its tires screeched against the ice, the lights going from mirror to mirror.

"Shit. Love, wake up," she says softly, her voice strained. "Nessa" You blink disoriented, the sleep clinging to you as you move to sit straighter. "Vanessa" Lizzie's jaw tightens, and she lets out a low curse under her breath. "What's wrong?".

The car behind them lurches again, too fast, and your heart drops as you catch it. "Liz, be careful—" You start, but the words are swallowed by the screech of tires as the other car jerks into their lane, tires skidding.

"Shit!" Lizzie yells, her voice tight with panic as she swerves the wheel, her body fighting against the slide of the tires on the slick surface. The world tilts, the car struggling for balance as the ice makes it impossible to regain control.

The crash comes without warning—a deafening roar of metal colliding with metal. The sound is sickening, a violent bang that shakes you to the core. Your side of the car is thrown violently, and before you can even register what's happening, you feel yourself tossed across the seat, your head slamming against the window with a sickening crack.

The car spins, the world tilting crazily as the sound of crunching glass fills your ears. Your breath catches, your heart racing in your chest, but all you can hear is the shattering of metal and the screams of the kids.

"Nessa!" Lizzie's voice cuts through the chaos, raw and frantic. She's reaching for you, but everything is a blur. Her hand slips from the wheel as the car flips again, the seatbelt tightening around you as you feel your body thrown, helpless against the force.

Your vision blurs. You feel dizzy and the edges of your world go dark. The pain in your side is sharp, but it fades as the darkness takes over. In the split second, before everything goes black, you hear Lizzie's voice—urgent, desperate, but far away.

The car finally comes to a halt, the sound of its twisted metal groaning like a dying animal, and everything is silent except for the harsh cries of the kids and Lizzie's voice, calling out for them, calling out for you.

But you don't answer. You can't.

The silence that follows is deafening. Lizzie slowly blinks away the blurriness, her vision trying to focus as she tries to make sense of the chaos around her. The world tilts as the car rests on its side, the sunroof crushed inwards with pieces of glass everywhere and the windshield spiderwebbed with cracks. The metallic smell of blood fills the air mixed with the acrid smell of burnt rubber and gasoline.

For a moment all she can hear is the ringing of her ears and her ragged breathing, shallow and panicked. When the pain hits—a sharp and insistent ache that spreads through her back—She almost forgets how to breathe.

"Emma?" Her voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. She tries again, louder this time, ignoring the pain that sets in as she twists in her seat. "Brooke? Eli?".

A whisper breaks through the buzzing in her ears, pulling her attention to the middle seat. Emma's sobs mixed between screaming and crying, her tiny hand trying to untangle the seatbelt from her broken arm that hangs at an odd angle, bunny forgotten on the floor and Lizzie's heart clenches at the sight.

"It's okay, baby," Lizzie croaks, her voice trembling. "I'm here. I'm right here." Behind her, Brooke's cries join Emma's, high-pitched and frantic. "Mama! I want Mommy!". "I know baby, I know. Emmy, baby, I need you to stop". "It hurts!" She cried. "I know baby, I know".

Lizzie twists further, her back screaming in protest, to find Brooke pressed against the remains of her car seat. Her face is streaked with tears, cuts through her arms and face but otherwise unharmed, Squeaks squizzed between her arms.

"Brooke, it's okay," Lizzie says, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "You're going to be okay. I promise." She turned her head searching for her youngest. Her stomach drops as the car seat behind you is crushed inwards, the frame twisted unnaturally and empty.

Her breath catches, her heart hammering in her chest. "Eli?" Her voice trembles as she scans the car. The realization hits her like a physical blow—He's not in the car. "Eli!" She screams, panic overtaking her as she fumbles with her seatbelt. Blood runs down the side of her face, warm and sticky, but she doesn't care. Her fingers are slick with blood, trembling as she struggles to release the buckle. "Elijah?!"

Her seatbelt finally releases, and she grabs the handle before gravity puts her down. The way she back fires in pain seems irrelevant as she forces herself out of the car, calling for Eli. "Baby, answer me, please!"

The wreckage of the car looms behind her, and for a split second, Lizzie glances back. Emma and Brooke are still strapped in their seats, crying hysterically. You are slumped against the door, lifeless except for the faint rise and fall of your chest and her stomach churns. She turns between the car and her surroundings, the need to look for Eli as big as making sure her family is alright. "Nessa," she whispers, her voice breaking as she moves to the copilot's side.

You are still slumped against the door, your head tilted unnaturally. Blood streaks your face, running in thin streaks down your pale skin. Lizzie's hands shake as she struggles with the seatbelt, her fingers slick and trembling. "Come on, baby, stay with me," she pleads, her voice barely audible.

She needed to wake you up. She needed to take care of the girls, get them out of the wreckage and she had to find Elijah before he got hypothermia. His jacket lay next to Bobba, his dinosaur and as Lizzie saw it she knew his time was running short.

The sound of screeching tires makes her head snap up. Relief and urgency collide in her chest as James' car skids to a stop behind them. Jarnette is already out of the passenger seat, her phone pressed to her ear as she shouts into it, her eyes wide with panic.

"We need an ambulance, the fire department anything you can!". Jarnette says, her voice tight but controlled as she moves closer to the wreckage. Lizzie barely registers her voice, her focus locked on you slumped against the door. Your chest rises and falls faintly, each shallow breath breaking what's left of Lizzie's composure.

"Nessa," Lizzie whispers, her voice cracking as she leans into the car. "Baby, wake up. Please wake up!" Her trembling fingers brush against your blood-streaked face. "You have to open your eyes for me, love. Please!"

"Liz, stop!" James' voice cuts through the chaos as he rushes to her side, gripping her shoulders to pull her back. "You can't move her! She could be seriously hurt. We have to wait for the paramedics."

Lizzie jerks against his hold, desperation tightening her chest. "She's not waking up, James! I can't just stand here!". "You'll make it worse if you try to move her!" his tone firm. "She's breathing, Lizzie. That's what matters right now. Let the professionals handle it."

Tears stream down Lizzie's face as she stumbles over to James, panic and fear choking her words. "They're hurt, James. They're hurt! Emma's arm—Brooke—" She pauses, chest heaving, eyes darting between her daughters still trapped in their car seats. "Eli's gone. He's not here—I have to find him!"

James' expression hardens, his hand snapping out to steady her as she takes a step forward, her legs unsteady. "Lizzie, stop!" His voice is low but firm, filled with an urgency that cuts through her desperation. "You're bleeding, you're hurt. You're in shock. You need to stay here with the girls. Let me find Eli."

"No!" Lizzie fights against him, her body trembling as she struggles to break free. "I have to find him, James—he's my son! He's out there alone! He could be... he could be—"

James steps forward, his grip on her shoulders tightening. His eyes search hers, desperate to get through. "Lizzie, I know you're scared. I'm scared too, but you need to trust me." His voice softens but remains unyielding. "I'll find him. You stay here with the girls. They need you right now."

Lizzie's breath catches in her throat as her knees buckle, the weight of her panic too much to bear. Her chest heaves with silent sobs. She's shaking uncontrollably, her heart screaming to go find Eli, but her body won't listen.

Jarnette's gentle hand on her arm makes her flinch, but her voice—calm, steady—breaks through the storm of fear inside her. "Lizzie, listen to him. The paramedics are on their way. Stay with the girls, honey. Let James handle this."

Lizzie's eyes flick to the car, the twisted metal that trapped her family, the muffled cries of Emma and Brooke still echoing in her ears. "He's out there—without a jacket—in the cold—" Her voice cracks as she reaches out as if to go after him, but her legs give way, and James catches her, guiding her to the snow-dusted ground.

"Sit here," he urges, lowering her gently to the frozen earth. He crouches beside her, his hands steady as he looks over her face. "Stay with Mom. I'll find him, I promise."

Lizzie nods, her breath shallow as she watches James dash toward the wreckage again. Jarnette sits beside her, her arm around her, whispering soft reassurances as they both turn their focus to the girls still strapped in the car seats.

Emma's cries cut through the air, her broken arm held tight against her chest, while Brooke clutches Squeaks, her little face streaked with tears. Lizzie's heart aches with every sound, but all she can do is hold them close and hope that Eli is out there somewhere, safe.

James's heart pounds in his chest as he surveys the wreckage. The car is on its side, but the damage is nowhere near the worst of it. Lizzie's voice echoes in his mind as he focuses on his next steps. The girls are crying intensely, but Eli is missing. His eyes flick over to Vanessa's still figure in the front seat, and then back to his nieces, he calms them down, grabs the bright Jacket on the floor he knows it belongs to Eli and leaves the car.

In the distance, the sound of sirens approaching grows louder each second, cutting through the chaos like a lifeline. Lizzie clutches her mother tighter, her gaze fixed on the wreckage as she whispers over and over for you, "Hold on, baby. Please, just hold on."

The firefighters are everywhere at once, their voices calm but urgent as they assess the wreckage. One of them presses a hand to Lizzie's shoulder, gently but firmly guiding her out of the car.

"You're hurt," he says, his voice steady. "We need to get you checked out.". "No," Lizzie snaps, shoving his hand away despite the searing pain in her back. "You need to help my family first"

The paramedic hesitates, but her panic is enough to convince him. He turns to his team, barking orders as they move to care for the kids. Lizzie watches helplessly as they pull Emma from the wreckage, her arm cradled against her chest as she sobs for her bunny. Brooke comes next, clutching Squeaks like a lifeline, her tear-streaked face buried against the paramedic's chest.

The paramedic attempts to get to her, but Jarnette manages to inform him about Eli missing and James looking for him. He nods, turns around and barks more orders for his team.

But Vanessa is still trapped.

Lizzie lunges toward the car, but the paramedic blocks her path. "We're getting her out," he promises, his tone firm. "But you need to let us do our job.". "She's my wife," Lizzie choked out, tears streaming down her face. "Please. Don't let her—"

"She's alive," he interrupts, his voice softening. "We're going to get her out. I promise."

The words do little to soothe her, but Lizzie forces herself to nod, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. The last thing she sees before the medics guide her toward the ambulance is the team working to free Vanessa, their voices urgent but calm, the bright lights casting long shadows over the wreckage.

Lizzie collapses onto the stretcher, her body trembling with pain and adrenaline. She turns her head just enough to see the kids being loaded into another ambulance, their cries echoing faintly in the cold night air.

"Hold on, Baby," she whispers, her vision blurring as exhaustion overtakes her. "Please hold on."