#they looked so happy for him i love this team so much

[mickyschumacher]

[BREAKFAST IN BED!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the racing season is finally over and lando is more than excited to have you all to himself. or in which lando prefers his breakfast in bed with you as the main course.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay, grinding(?), teasing, oral sex/eating out/cunnilingus, fingering, pure moments of fluff because bf!lando is the sweetest, discussion of lando mentally struggling at the start

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: i promised a post before the end of the year and it happens to coincide with a holiday of giving ;) merry christmas and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it! and happy new year! // as usual poorly proof-read ♡︎ (sorry if it's shitty, i haven't written a full-piece in a while)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The season was over. Finally.

Not to be offensive or anything but you had been waiting for this moment for what, this year, felt like forever.

Yes, it was action packed–largely due to the fact that a certain RedBull wasn't winning every race. Yes, McLaren had whipped up the fastest car on the grid to shake things up. And yes, the same team had clinched their ninth World Constructor's Championship.

And while that made you absolutely over the moon, all you had wanted was for some peace and quiet on a random Wednesday morning so you could (maybe creepily) ogle your handsome boyfriend.

Was that too much to ask for?

It had been a tough season for Lando and naturally, as you promised from the very start of your friendship alone–that you would stick by his side no matter what–you had also been through the thick of it.

Convincing Lando to not look at the comments after every session or race had been difficult. You tried your best to remove any negativity that clouded his mind. Some days it worked and some days it didn't.

But that was life. And that was then.

Now you were wide awake at some odd time in the morning, laying comfortably on your stomach with your head turned towards Lando. There was about one degree of separation between the both of you, allowing you to carefully observe him.

Lando was never an early bird. If he was, it would be by some miracle or your upper arm strength pulling him from the sheets. A small smile crept onto your face. You had been friends for years now and together for even shorter. Yet you still couldn't believe that the sleepy bird next to you was yours entirely.

His dark tousled and recently cut curls, the stress lines on his forehead you were always aching to smooth out and comfort with the pad of your thumb, his "perfectly normal sized ears" that you definitely never made fun of, his lovely lashes you were jealous of, and the soft pink lips you couldn't decide whether to touch or kiss.... all yours.

Behind all the stupidity, humour, and claimed 'indifference' Lando sported on camera and with others, you always knew his heart. It was open for everyone and had more than enough love to go around. You were in love with the biggest sap you had ever known.

And on top of all of that, he made it out of that car to you... alive... every goddamn time.

You were luckier than you could ever imagine.

"How long are you going to stare at me, love?" Lando's voice queried, thick with the rasp of the morning and the events of last night.

You slightly widened your eyes, watching him open those beautiful baby blues and land on you. An flustered flush of heat wavered up your skin. You bit your lip before slipping beneath the covers, feeling the warmth envelope your skin entirely. You started with a muttered curse.

"How long have you even been awake, Lan? That's so embarrassing," you chided with a muffled tone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando couldn't help but grin at your sudden shy demeanour. It was hard for anyone to imagine you as shy but he had seen every side of you. How enjoyable it was that even after all these years, he could tease you and see how flustered you could get. If he had met you when you were kids, this is exactly how he imagined you'd be.

He stretched out his taut arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he pulled you over him. He moved your knees so you straddled him.

He pressed his lips to prevent a full blown smile at what he was seeing.

Your hair was fully covering your face, head down and hands hovering over to hide the tinges of pink and red on your skin.

"Baby... come on, love. Show me your face," Lando encouraged, nudging your hair lightly with the side of his finger. "Come on, baby."

You groaned, lifting your head, feeling all your tresses go back. You blankly stared at your boyfriend with burning cheeks. "I hate you," you mumbled, giving him a small glare.

Lando snorted, putting his hands firmly on your waist. His fingers edged up behind the hem of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your bare skin. "You love me. Someone who hates me wouldn't stare at me so lovingly."

"I–" You tried to open your mouth to retaliate but to no avail as you quickly came to the realisation that he was indeed correct. As Lando usually was with these things.

"Fine. You got me," you sighed admittedly, "I just missed waking up next to you in the morning. Is that such a horrible crime?" You dramatically asked, tease heavy in your voice.

In any other situation, Lando would've narrowed his eyes at your teasing but all he could do was gaze softly at you. You weren't able to travel with him all the time and he wasn't able to spend every day with you. You both knew that. And while it sucked, you had both gotten used to it, cherishing when you were together.

But this year... Lando had spent every living second wishing you were next to him. He wanted you to tell him your god awful jokes. To look at him from across the room and take his entire breath, mind, whatever, away. To drop the fake smiles and rest in your arms with all the time in the world.

"No," Lando whispered, warm eyes travelling over your face, trying to find anything new to memorise. Anything he had missed since seeing you. "That isn't a crime. If it was, I'd be guilty as charged."

Your breath hitched while a small shiver trickled down your body as Lando pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. You chewed down on your lip before breaking into a smile gently. "I love you, Lando Norris. Forever," you murmured, placing a brief kiss onto his lips.

Lando stared at you hard, far more awake than he had ever been. He lifted his head slowly, holding you close to him. And without a second thought, he brought his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that different but the need, the love, the softness and the brutal passion was poured into every fibre of your being

Your hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter while your nose glided against his as Lando only just begun ravaging your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans passing your lips.

His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your heated back exactly where the dark freckles he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Lando's ears as he curled his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled path of possessive kisses down base of your skin. He could feel your pulse against his skin and God, he wanted to burn it into his brain and save it.

"Lando," you gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your pillowy bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Lando's bulge.

"Ah, fuck," Lando cursed, feeling his cock throb in his underwear. His eyes fluttered shut, hands immediately returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

You were driving him crazy.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Lando's clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Lando," you moaned his name in his ear, fingers curling into his skin.

Lando opened his eyes, drawing back to capture your face. Your dazed eyes, glowing skin, panting lips, the way your hips bowed towards him... he had missed you. So. Fucking. Much.

"I want breakfast," Lando blurted with a slight gasp as the pleasure rocked through his body.

You stopped moving your hips, body shuddering from the halt. You raised a brow at the sudden desire but shrugged it off considering you were way past breakfast hours and you were only human. "Okay," you responded, about to move off of Lando to head to the kitchen.

Lando reached over, hand pulling your body back towards him, rolling your body so he hovered over you between your legs. "Where are you going?" he tutted, "Breakfast is right here."

You seemed to lose the ability to speak with Lando's hand kneading the flesh of your thighs, implying exactly what he wanted. You breathlessly watched his head move over your body. His tongue lapped at your skin, travelling to any bare patch he could find as though he wanted to feast on you. His warmth made your core tingle as you arched into his touch.

You were positively going to lose your mind.

His hands slid under your shirt, burning your skin until he could fill his palms with your breasts. "Oh baby," Lando moaned, fingers teasing your soft mounds. "I love your tits so fucking much."

A choked cry broke through your lips upon hearing his confession, fingers brushing against your hardened nipple almost painfully slowly. No matter how many times he said it, it set you alight.

"Lando," you moaned loudly, hoping he could read and hear the sound that beckoned him towards your aching core.

He paused, allowing you to take in the heavenly sight of Lando's bare chest, decorated only by the necklace you had gotten him on his birthday last year. In turn, his gaze was only focused on your core.

You tested your lung capacity, taking in a sharp inhale as he pressed his knuckles against your panties, purposely pushing harder against on the ball of your clit. You faltered at the smile sprawling on his face, your hips jolting forward and mouth unable to contain a desperate yelp.

Lando was every inch as desperate as you were, taking no time to waste. His fingers hooked onto your panties and removed them in one swift motion, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Lando nestling his head into your inner thigh, his once light blue eyes now dark and heavy with desire as he inhaled the scent of you. The moan escaping his lips made you shiver.

You were sure you were dripping. You could feel the slick trail down your pussy, glistening in a patient wait to be touched just like you were.

Your eyes fell back to Lando who groaned your name. "I promise to God, I'm going to make you cum so hard that breakfast in bed will be the only option you have," he stated so surely against your skin as his fingers slid from the seam of your entrance to your clit, bundling all your wetness onto his hand.

Oh god.

"Lando, please," you begged shamelessly, legs aching to clench together to relieve the pain of being untouched.

Your legs trembled around Lando's head, his hot breath nearing your pussy while his mouth drew closer. You watched him take you in for the last time before his lips firmly sealed over your aching clit.

The burst of pleasure cut through your body so sharply. Your cry of joy echoed in the late morning, hips bucking against his mouth.

Lando's hands travelled to the outside of your thighs, grasp tightening to keep them spread open on his shoulders. "Keep them open, baby," he ground out.

It took everything in your power to keep your legs from collapsing, particularly as he made his point with another hard to suck to your clit, but you body seemed to follow his command. His mouth returned your wet folds, tongue swirling around every crevice before coming back to the most sensitive part of you, turning you into absolute mush.

Your hands had found their way to those mop of curls you cherished so much, legs trying to conform around Lando's shoulder to welcome any better angle of pleasure.

Your gasp at the sudden dismissal of his mouth was short lived, any chance to complain gone as his fingers pushed into your slick folds, stretching your clenching muscles out.

"Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," Lando encouraged breathlessly as something feral inside of him emerged.

His fingers stroked your swollen walls from the inside, ensuring you felt every inch of them along the sensitive front wall of your pussy while his tongue glazed over every puffy slick fold like you were golden honey.

Lando watched in torture as he pushed his fingers in and out of your walls, your body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you.

"Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, a gleam of your wetness coating his lips. Moving his free hand down your thigh, he gathered your flesh in his fingers before reaching the small bundle of nerves, thumb going in small firm circles.

You were beginning to feel numb. A cold yet hot tightness coiling within your core, waiting to be unleashed. "Lando," you gasped, struggling to keep your head up, "fuck, I–I think I'm going to cum."

"Yes, baby," Lando coaxed, fingers speeding up with every action they had entailed, "Cum for me, please. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love."

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyes to travel to those familiar baby blues. All the trillion nerves in your body felt like entangled knots tied by Lando's tongue while his fingers found the sweetest spot of your pussy and held to you that pinnacle.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip while Lando held your gaze, tongue sliding, curving up, and pushing in and out of every crevice. Your pussy finally succumbed to the hard pressure, clenching muscles squeezing hard at the sharp pinch of pain.

The pain was explosive, searing, and all-consuming.

You cried.

You cried so loudly you were sure your neighbours would be complaining any minute now.

It didn't matter. Not when the pleasure shooting through you was disproportionately and literally blowing you out of this world as though it had been seated and waiting to be released since the dawn of time itself. Your hips bucked and stuttered while you squirmed and writhed against the bed, the fabric of your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin.

Lando's mouth had never left you through your orgasm, tongue still deep in your folds, savouring all the convulses, shudders, and clenches of your body.

Even better yet, he had watched every second of you falling apart.

And it absolutely drove him crazy.

Lando's hand rushed to catch your falling body, holding you up as a small wave of exhaustion crashed into you. You stared at Lando shiftless, still seeing the faint image of floating stars across his face.

Oh my god.

Lando had broken you with his tongue.

You watched Lando lick his fingers clean as you slowly removed your legs from his shoulders. You lifted your head, pressing a long kiss onto his lips.

Lando grinned, cradling his arms around your body as he pushed you both into the bed yet again. He pushed back your slightly greased hair, caressing your cheek gently. "You okay?"

His query made you feel soft all over. You smiled into his hands and nodded. "Perfect," you chirped, hands hanging over his neck.

"So... breakfast in bed?" Lando offered knowingly as he massaged your thighs gently. You were not walking to that kitchen.

You furrowed your brows. "What about my breakfast?"

Lando wanted to question you but as his eyes followed your gaze, the answer became as clear as the aching bulge underneath his boxers.

"Oh."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[coffeegnomee]

I finally finished the vod and BRO. derap just reminds me so much of eclipse zam. I think that's why i forgive all his wrongs. his leading questions, his wanting proof of change of zam choosing him over mapicc.

Derap has found himself on a team that he loves dearly. That he never wants to leave. That he refuses to leave. That was there for him at his lowest, and accepted him in when he had nothing. (and he feels like the anchor to keep zam from going evil, feels like he's making positive change on zam whom he was (and still is) convinced will go insane and evil if he doesn't take care of himself)

And every conversation he thinks zam will be the one to leave him. kick him out.

Every damn meeting in eclipse zam left being like "yippee im so glad they didn't kick me off the team!" completely, completely missing the concept that vi and subz desperately loved him and didn't want him to leave. the last thing they wanted was for eclipse to fall apart. they would change and adjust the plan as much as necessary to make zam know they wanted him to stay. that they wanted him to love the project they were working towards. and every time zam said he was okay with the plan again, they breathed a sign of relief.

But every day zam swallowed his own opinion and kept moving forward with the team. and freaking derapchu is doing the same thing. there have been so many instances of this, i could never list them all. zam thought of bringing his tree from spawn to zaun and derap almost said he hated how it looked and zam shouldn't build it, but swallowed that and said if zam wanted to build it he could. he said he wanted to start going on a murder spree and zam said he didn't want that at all, and next thing you know derap is saying he doesn't want to kill anymore. There's a hundred little instances of derap realizing his opinions differ from zam's wants and he shoves his own opinions away. if he doesn't, he will be kicked off the team.

And as derap tries to bring up what his concerns are, he shoves the responsibility for deciding the fate of the team on zam. Just like zam did. zam could not tell eclipse he wanted to leave, he wanted them to choose for him.

eclipse was doomed because zam had to face the fact that he couldn't put his needs last. that he couldn't just ignore what mattered most to him. period. and because he was terrible at confrontation and communication.

and somehow derap, despite founding this team precisely upon making zam realize he needs to put himself first and be selfish, doesn't realize he needs to do that too. and that he's not doing it. even if he rebuttled zam when zam brought that up. tbh imo he switched it up fast when zam brought that point up.

it does help that zam isn't lying to derap: unfortunately eclipse was keeping secrets from zam. big secrets.

But derap is convinced zam is still lying to him. he said it and then immediately went back on it.

And fundamentally, it was not so much that eclipse lied to zam about the wormhole, and more that zam thought they were lying when they said they weren't going to be the villains. he didn't believe that it was about protecting the three of them, not taking over the server. and it was always about protecting them. vi proved that in the end with banning himself and letting spoke completely take over the project.

There is a massive conflict of interest and a deep insecure distrust. and derap cannot admit how much that bothers him. he says he's fine with zam doing things with mapicc. he says he's just wants zam to be happy. but he is so desperately unhappy. no matter how much he insists on the opposite.

devotions only got their win (yipppe!!!) because zam refused to stop talking to mapicc and mapicc felt comfortable enough saying exactly what he thought. and then zam felt comfortable saying exactly what he thought too. both aired their real grievances, not shooting hypotheticals and asking only for the other to make choices about wether or not they would stay teamed. and it earned apologies and resolution all around. devotions w.

and mapicc compromised with zam, he didn't change his opinion for him. he still thinks mawn was good, did do good, doesn't want to let it go, but thinks it's done what it was meant to do. so he is letting it fade away. zam compromised with mapicc. he still thinks mawn was too much, that he can't join it, that he won't go against it, but thinks maybe it wasn't all bad. so he's going to help mapicc if mapicc needs help. W being secure in having your own opinions.

derap keeps changing his opinion for zam.

maybe they don't fall apart. derap is not zam. everybody is unique. but damn if the parallels aren't here and aren't looming like a storm cloud over it all.

[dronningreid]

Between the bitter reality and a sweet ending.

After Reid's visit to his mother and his conversation with Cat Adams, you notice how what seemed to be the best news of their lives receives a reality check.

Between letters: Part 1 (it is not necessary read the first part to understand this, but I recommend it)

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings: pregnant reader, reid is again pessimistic, overthinking (poor thing) and isolates himself, mentions of alzheimer's and schizophrenia, mention of cat adams 💀 english is not my first language and this is a two-part story.

word count: 2.1K

a/n: Thanks to everyone who gave so much love to the first part of this, it really made my horrible days more beautiful. Well, I made this somewhat based on entropy (11x11) and christmas (it's soon!) because that episode always gave me a lot of that vibe. (Spoilers below) But I did this in particular because we talk enough about how Spencer would be the best dad in the UNIVERSE, but where is his fear that his children will have the mental illnesses that he so afraid of? we don't talk about that enough.

It is said that after the storm comes the calm. So what do you do when after the calm comes another storm? Much stronger, more devastating.

"Marry me." After kissing you he got on his knees.

You laughed nervously. "Nooo, yet."

He looked at you with those beautiful puppy eyes. "Please..." Reid leave a kiss on the back of your hand.

You caressed his cheek and he rubbed his face against your palm. "Happiness is what speaks. I don't want you proposing to me five minutes after finding out I'm pregnant with your baby."

"One hour?" You denied. "Two?" You denied again. "One day?" He tilted his head to the side.

"Get up, everyone is looking at us strangely." You insist.

He snort before obeying, he was a good boy. "Fine. But I'm still waiting for an answer, you have two options: yes or of course."

"I'm not going to marry you just because i'm pregnant." It hurt you to see his look of disappointment. "And of course I want to marry you, but not like that. I don't want you see this an obligation because it isn't."

"Men of the 19th century think differently." He did a small joke. "But this isn't an obligation for me, still I understand and I will wait... a year?"

"But I want a nice ring or I will say no." You decided to push his buttons a little.

He of course got your joke. "Anything for the mother of my baby." He gave you a kiss on the cheek.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

A couple of months passed, your belly was growing every day even though it still was small. Spencer was always there to praise and pamper you and his baby.

It was a heavenly, beautiful, perfect couple of months, proof that perfection can exist. But there is entropy, things break down, wear out and if they are ordered, sooner or later it return to their natural chaotic state.

You had only been without Spencer for a couple of days but you already missed him so badly, like you needed his presence to breathe easier. Sometimes you hated how much you needed him.

"I want to go with you."

He left his suitcase at the door just to go and leave a sweet kiss on your forehead. "I'm just going to check on my mum, it's better for you and the baby to stay here, safe."

Even when he was gone, you could still feel the sensation of his lips on your forehead. Like the ghost of a kiss...

When Spencer came back home there was something different on him. Something he wasn't telling you.

You were barely able to talk to him, as the team was very busy working on the strategy to end the network of online hitmen that threatened Garcia.

You were with Garcia when Reid came down the stairs, adjusting his tie.

You focus your attention on him. "I don't like you being the bait." Translation: I don't like you look so handsome for another woman, especially if she's a psychopath.

"I'm the closest in age." He explained again.

"I know, but that doesn't make me feel better." You helped him adjust his tie. "Especially if your alibi is wanting to pay to kill your pregnant wife."

He shifted his eyes to the small lump on your belly. "Is this some kind of revenge for me not agreeing to marry you?" You joked.

That didn't go at all the way you wanted, because both of you gained Penelope's attention and he didn't laugh, not even a smile. He just brought his hand to your belly before placing a kiss.

"I don't like my alibi either, but the point is to irritate her." He sounded so terrifyingly serious. Something was definitely wrong and you couldn't rest easy until you figured out what it was.

"Spencer-"

"I have something!" Penelope said as she typed something into the computer.

Reid simply walked past you and paid attention to what Penelope had discovered.

You didn't even hear what your friend had discovered, it was like it was just background noise. Well, all your attention was revolving around a single unknown, there was only one thing you wanted to discover.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You wish that after dismantling a network of hitmen things would be better, but that was all it was: just a wish.

Everything that happened at Harry & Glenn's Grill and Bar tested your ability to not die of a heart attack. First the bomb, then that Cat Adams pointing a gun at your boyfriend. Luckily the BAU won, but it didn't quite feel like a complete victory, at least not for Reid so it doesn't feel like victory for you either.

It didn't help that Spencer had a mysterious conversation with Cat after he arrested her. If he was already acting weird with everyone (especially you) this new variable did not help your situation.

But at least now you had hope that everything would get better, it was Christmas Eve dinner. Everything was supposed to get better, right?

"Do you think anyone will make turkey? The baby wants turkey."

Reid opened the car door for you. "JJ maybe. Penelope definitely not and Rossi might make his famous pasta."

∗⋅✧⋅∗

The car ride was unpleasantly quiet. Usually you'd enjoy the silence with Spencer, it used to be comfortable. But now, now it was fucking torture.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You sounded more aggressive than you intended. Bad idea, because he looked away from the road to look at you with a frown.

"Excuse me?" His harsh tone was like a punch. He didn't usually talk to you like that, never.

You laughed nervously, he of course doesn't. "Sorry." You looked at your hands in your lap. You couldn't stand his gaze, it burned.

And this is where he would ask what you meant, using a calmer tone of course. But that didn't happen, he just left you with a lump in your throat and a headache.

The ride continued in silence, a deathly silence.

At least when you got to the Rossi house, sorry, Rossi mansion you were able to relax a little with the girls. Although there was definitely still that little thorn that didn't leave you in peace and it was called: what the hell is wrong with Spencer Reid?

It was almost Christmas, you didn't want things with him to be like this, complicated.

After going down the stairs you returned to the dining room where the others were. "Hey guys, has anyone seen Spence?"

Everyone looked at each other, but only one knew the answer. "I saw him go to the back garden." Morgan said.

You just nodded before putting on your coat and walking outside. Immediately a light gust of cold wind brushed your cheek.

You saw him there standing in front of the pool, just thinking. Something common with him, always, but at least before he used to share that throughs with you.

You approached, putting a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. "Morgan told me you were here."

"I just needed to get some air." He didn't even bother to look at you, because his gaze was lost in a place you couldn't reach.

Silence soon filled the air between you two, turning what was once warm into something frigid. You meditated on what would be the best thing to say, you searched for magic words that would make him speak. But there was nothing.

"I'm mad at you." That came out before you could stop the words.

At least this time you had his attention, but it hurt to see how his eyes betrayed the pain that his mouth could not express. Still he remained silent, waiting for you to say something more.

"I can forgive you, of course." You rushed to say something that would make the guilt in your chest go far away. "But it hurt how you first told a criminal what's happening with your mother. I guess that's what's been bothering you these days, but if there's anything else, Spencer, I need you to tell me."

He ran a hand over his face before sighing in frustration. "It's not like I told her because I wanted to." he said defensively.

"I know, I know or maybe you did because you needed to vent and tell someone. But I would have preferred that person to be me..." Your voice broke.

He was starting to feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Spencer immediately sought comfort in your hand and you didn't stop him.

"I hate it when you walk away and retreat into yourself, like you're the only person you can trust. And I say, I understand that you do that with others, but with me?" Every word that came out of your mouth began to weigh on his chest.

"I know I can trust you, but it's hard to just stop doing something I've been doing all my life." He brushed the back of your hand with his thumb.

You looked at his hand. "At least try..." You hated that that sounded like a plea. "Maybe if we share the load, it will be easier for you."

He nodded and took a deep breath, but it took him a few more minutes to speak again. "It's no secret that I'm afraid..." He took another deep breath and you gave his hand a gentle squeeze to encourage him to continue. "I'm afraid I might have schizophrenia like my mother, and when I turned thirty I thought I'd dodged a bullet. But now dementia and alzheimer's are on the list."

You stayed silent, waiting for him to continue telling you what had been hurting him lately.

"Anyway, if it's only about me I can live with that." It wasn't like that, it obviously affected him more than he wanted to admit. But then his gaze fell on your belly. "But I can't live with the idea that I've been selfish for so long...

You frowned. “Selfish?”

"Yes. Because I have wanted children for a long time without thinking that they could be like my mother or like me..." His voice broke. "And now it's too late, because I've already ruined everything, I've already got you pregnant and this baby could have schizophrenia, dementia, Alzheimer's or all three." Breathing began to become difficult. "And I feel like the worst father and boyfriend in the world, because it would only be my fault if the baby is like that and you would have to pay the price for my mistakes."

"Enough, enough." You placed your hands on either side of his face. "We don't even know if it will happen and even if it did, this is not your fault, Spencer."

He placed his hands on your wrists, holding you there. "And who is the blame?" That bad habit of always wanting to find someone to blame.

You forced yourself to shut your mouth, you didn't have an answer for that.

"I don't know..." The guilt in his eyes was hard to see. "I just know it's not your fault. And it's done, the baby could be like you, like your mother or like me and all those things are okay, because I know that I will love it no matter what and I know you'll love it too." You brushed his cheekbones with your thumbs.

"But I don't want the baby to hate me if it inherited some of that, its life will be difficult and I don't want that..." He whispered.

"The baby won't hate you for it and me neither." You gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

"You say that now." He swallowed. "But in a couple of years we may not have much time left and I won't be able to recognize you, the love of my life. I will not remember that I love you and then you will hate me." How could he say such beautiful words like the love of my life, I love you and still say the most devastating thing in the world?

"But that may not happen." You preferred to remain optimistic.

"But the odds-" Then you put a finger on his lips, you rarely wished he would shut up.

"I don't care about the odds, even if in a couple of years you don't know who I am, I will know who you are. And no mental illness in the world can ever change how much I love you." You continued to caress his cheek and that, combined with your words, made him feel calmer. "I will stay, until the end."

He immediately wrapped you tightly in his arms, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "I don't deserve you." He whispered against your skin.

You caressed his hair while your free hand caressed his back. "If you didn't, I wouldn't be here."

Only time would tell if Reid's fears would come true, but one thing was certain: He always have you by his side. That and the daughter you and him had together was enough for have his happy ending.

[wilhelminyard]

compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 2) :

ANDREW :

"I'm not here for your entertainment" "but as expected you are talented enough to multitask"

"you are neil josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive. I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. but you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it. on that day you're not going to run. you're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call."

"I'm not afraid of you" "that's why you're so interesting"

DAN :

"don't thank us, remember us. we're your teammates. we're here to help you with whatever you need."

"you've got us now"

"that was perfect. but don't do something that reckless again. we can't replace you. hear me?"

"neil, you can use the girls' shower while we're busy"

MATT :

"just try not to think about it until we get there. you won't do yourself any favorite if you spend the ride stressing out about things you can't change."

"if you don't have anywhere to go, I'll drag you home with me"

KEVIN :

"if you get hurt out there, you do something about it. you take it easy, you have coach pull you, you ask abby for help - I don't care. if you ever say 'I'm fine' about your health again I will make you rue the day you were born"

"neil has no place in riko's games. he is a fox."

"run. it's the only way you'll survive"

"you should be court."

"will you still teach me?" "every night."

"I will watch you. if you want to drink tonight. I won't let you say something you'll regret." "you'll be drunk inside an hour. then who'll stop me?" "I would stop drinking."

"you're not going. do you know what he'll do to you?"

WYMACK :

"why did you pay for stalls coach?" "maybe I knew you'd need them one day"

"neil, if you can't be here say so. abby can take you elsewhere until it's time to leave. get out of here and get some fresh air."

"what can I do?" "I don't know" "when you know, tell me"

"sometimes the world feels so big but then I'm reminded how small it is" "big or small just remember you're not alone in it."

"if riko really was behind it somehow, the blame is all on him. he chose to take out his petty rage on seth. he chose to cross a line. you didn't. you hear me? you didn't. don't ever blame yourself for seth's death. that it too dangerous a road to walk down. you keep your eyes on your own path and keep moving forward"

"neil" "I'm fine" "be fine inside where it's warmer"

"look I know I've always told you all to take your personal problems up with betsy or abby. I've said it's not my place to get into anything outside the court. I hope you've figured out by now I'm just blowing hot air. I'm not real good at being a shoulder, but I do have a working set of ears."

"help me" "let me"

"this doesn't mean anything. I'm still a fox." "of course you are."

NICKY :

"kid you're killing me. why do you always get that deer-in-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?"

"you worry about neil's career. I'll worry about his personal happiness."

"I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't reallt dan and matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you."

"there's obsession and there's dysfunction. you can't make exy your end-all be-all. this won't last forever, okay? you'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? you gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies? you can't be just this, neil. this isn't enough to live for."

"thanks for taking one for the team, neil. you're a real friend."

"are we? friends?" "you are going to be the absolute death of me. yeah, kid. we're friends. you're stuck with us, like it or not."

"I only see that look on neil's face when someone tries to do something nice for him, but we all know kevin's as bratty as they come. what did you say, kevin, and do I need to defend neil's honor or what?"

RENEE :

"I am not the girl I once was but the shade of my old life will always existe inside of me. that is what helps me connect with andrew. I am hoping it will help me connect with you."

"I do not know your story. if you've trusted andrew with anything, he hasn't shared the details with me and he never will. but if you are as like us as we first predicted you to be, perhaps one day you can also come to see me as a friend."

"if either andrew or I can help you, please know we are here."

"and you neil? are you all right?"

[kqutie]

THE PRINCESS' SEVEN MERCENARIES

CHAPTER SIX : THE FOOLISH GENIUS

relations. : cevans various/reader -- steve rogers/reader ; curtis everett/reader ; ari levinson/reader ; lloyd hansen/reader ; andy barber/reader ; jake jensen/reader ; ransom drysdale/reader

chpt. sum. : Ari urges Jake to stay home with you and the team realises you know more than they thought about their own mission.

tags. : snow white and the seven dwarves au ; fairy tale au ; fluff ; domestic fluff ; angst if you squint ; a/b/o universe but it's not the central point ; disney princess reader and her seven sexy mercenaries hehe~ ; jake jensen centric chapter ; jake being a lovable dork again ; world building ; reader proving ; misunderstandings ; confrontation ; everyone feels a little betrayed ; Lloyd gets confrontational ; the truth will soon come out

length. : 7.8k

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Steve starts his day the same way, always, before and after you’ve made yourself a place in their lives. Each morning, he wakes up early, makes himself a cup of coffee and reads the paper while sipping at his morning joe — it’s the only time he can feel an ounce of normalcy and savours every peaceful second. Ever since you’ve willed yourself to prepare breakfast, lunch and dinner for him and his team, Steve has been there to see your efforts from the table. Sometimes it’s hard watching you milling about the kitchen from over his morning paper and the lip of his mug but it was also very heartwarming, knowing that he and his team were being taken care of for once. You dance about the area as if you’ve always lived there, and as if it’s completely natural for you to cook such a large breakfast each morning. The first day, you were happy to express your love for cooking if only to comfort his self-reproach.

“I love cooking and your kitchen is so beautiful; it’s a joy to cook in it!” Steve remembers your upturned lips and smiling eyes vividly, “I’ve always been familiar with kitchens, and I love to cook because it's such a comfort for me; please don’t look so troubled,” your soft words eased his nerves effortlessly, a rare occurrence for the Captain. Usually, he was kept highly strung from the responsibilities of keeping his teammates safe and their missions on track. Your calming presence was something he dared not complain about. Even your delicately hummed tunes were appreciated. Steve can’t remember the last time he’s had such a calm morning. For the first time in a long time, he was allowed to sip on a delicious cup of coffee and read his paper in peaceful silence without having to remain alert for when he urgently needed to rush somewhere with his men.

Judging by how you’re still preparing the breakfast ingredients, Steve expects he still has plenty of time before the rest of the men wake up and make their way downstairs; he plans on savouring every second of it. But he was mistaken at the sound of footsteps walking down the first-floor hallway and eventually down the stairs. From the general area where the footsteps originate, Steve reckons it’ll be Ransom.

The captain was soon proven right when his charming mercenary teammate emerged from the stairway and made a beeline straight for you. Steve smiles into his mug as he watches your morning exchange.

“Good morning, sweets,” Ransom softly whispers into your hair as he pulls you close by the waist. You happily return his embrace and kindly offer him a cup of coffee but Ransom declines with a shake of his head, “I’ll help you with breakfast,”

“Oh Ran, that’s so kind of you,” the merc glows at your praise and leans into your touch when you reach up to comb your fingers through his sleep-mused hair. Steve raises a brow. Peculiar. Ransom barely leaves his room without making sure he looks a little presentable, he’s particular like that. The only other person with a similar habit was Lloyd, however, the assassin was much more diligent. It was peculiar that Ransom, someone who often obsessed over his appearance, was coming to you with his hair barely combed, face unclean and still in his wrinkled pyjamas. The fact that he offered to help you prepare breakfast was even more astounding.

“So…may I?” Ransom asks against the skin of your knuckles after bringing your small hand down from his hair to kiss.

“I’d really appreciate that, thank you!” you chirp happily and Steve fondly watches as his Beta makes himself useful in an environment he doesn’t usually associate himself with. It was amusing to see him trailing behind you and obediently complying to your instructions, a similar image to the night before but Steve still can’t believe his eyes. The captain doesn’t know what you’ve done but he appreciates the positive change it’s had on the usually arrogant Beta.

With Ransom’s help, you were already setting up the table long before the others came down for breakfast and joined Steve in appreciating a mug of coffee while sat together. Today’s morning spread was an assortment of freshly cut fruits, buttered toast with a side of jams, egg, ham and cheese breakfast muffins, crispy bacon, tomato and cream cheese bagels, and coffee and tea. Everyone was free to assemble their own plates for breakfast and you were open to any suggestions they may have for future spreads. You liked offering a consistent breakfast but also enjoyed switching some items every now and then, today you added the egg, ham and cheese breakfast muffins. Steve thought they smelled amazing and eagerly awaited the others’ arrival so he could finally have a piece.

“I’ve been meaning to ask but are your newspapers tele-delivered, Steve?” you ask after placing the teapot at the table for everyone’s reach. You make a mental note of knitting a tea cosy for it later.

“Yes, it makes life much easier,” he answers, careful not to show his shock at your casual question. There’s a rumbling of footfalls travelling down the staircase and he finally sets aside his paper. He prepares to finally eat with everyone despite his distracted mind.

You greet everyone a good morning as they take their usual seats before returning to your conversation with Steve, “It really is convenient. And I appreciate that you have groceries tele-delivered straight to your cool storage too. Magic is so helpful, it’s as if you never run out,” you giggle and smile at Jake who eagerly starts chatting about the magi-tech such conveniences require. You speak of the technology with Jake easily, adding to the tech genius’ excitement more. Jake has never had anyone other than Ari to speak to about his tech before and even Ari doesn’t indulge him as much as you do. Even now, the breaded man smirks at the way Jake interacts with you – he’s happy their Beta finally has someone to talk extensively with; he’s always felt quite guilty for not accommodating his comrade’s interests more in the past.

You converse with Jake easily on the topic and even bring up magi-tech knowledge that the average person typically doesn’t know about. It was all well and good but it was very… suspicious.

Andy makes eye contact with Steve as they reach for a breakfast muffin together. In their periphery, everyone else seems to have picked up on the notion too. There’s a touch of conjecture in everyone’s eyes except Jake’s, who happily kept rambling on with you. Curtis is as stoic as ever despite his inner turmoil and Ari hardens his features. Only Ransom seems to be in denial and conflicted at the implications of your knowledge. He remembers your level of expertise the day before and struggles with himself as the rest of the team silently continues eating.

You shouldn’t know about topics like this. Tele-delivery is a privilege exclusive to noble families and highly decorated merchants who sell the service.

Steve doesn’t want to be suspicious of you but you weren’t giving him much of a choice. You look like an ordinary girl, although much lovelier and sweeter than the ones he’s met so far, that didn’t mean you came from a noble or merchant family, right? Women born to those families are usually married off by your age… but how old were you? Slowly, Steve was beginning to realise just how little they know of you and it seems everyone was coming to the same realisation also.

Looking about the table, there’s a silent agreement that this topic not be brought up in front of you to keep you blissfully unaware. Steve doesn’t want to believe you’re an unsavoury character, nobody else does but they’re all conflicted. If you were going to harm them, you would have already done so by now, you’ve had plenty of chances already. You could have attacked them in their sleep or one by one when Curtis was escorting you and while Ransom was home alone with you the day before.

“Jake, why don’t you stay home today?” Ari cuts in, catching everyone’s attention and Steve’s alarmed stare. Ari will always be a deviating factor. He’s a team player but when it comes to the topic of you, he’s shown clear favouritism and a determination to keep you close. Although this was going against their plans the night before, Steve still trusts Ari. He needs to trust Ari. They’ve all been together for several years now and the trust they have for each other is impossible to break. Steve has never been led astray by trusting in his comrades’ intuition so, despite the growing suspicions surrounding you, he doesn’t protest and succumbs to observing what may happen.

What was Ari planning?

“Me? How come?” Jake asks, oblivious to what had just transpired within the team. Instinctively, he meets eyes with Steve, their Captain, asking for silent approval of the change. Steve gives an accepting nod.

“I need you to feedback on information from your library of books,” Jake immediately lights up and nods so eagerly that his teammates worried his head would detach from his neck.

“Oh! Sure! That’s a really good plan, Ari,” the broad-shouldered alpha smiles beneath his heavy beard, always an appreciator of his Beta’s laid-back approach. He claps the tech genius on the shoulder and shares a meaningful look with him, both already understanding their plans.

“I’ll be counting on you then,”

“What’s this about, Ari?” Steve searches the lumbering man’s eyes for a clue but is met with a soft, relaxed assurance translated into a lazy stare.

“Jake has an extensive library on magi-tech and artefacts that would be useful to have while I’m in the field. It’ll be easy to narrow down our search if he has access to the info here. Maybe we can find what we’re looking for much quicker if we do,”

After a long pause, Steve nods, “Very well, if you believe that’s what’s best,” Ari grins but doesn’t escape Steve’s suddenly sharp, narrowed eyes, “I’m trusting you, Ari,”

“Of course, Captain,” Ari nods, voice firm and expression suddenly more serious. That was confirmation enough for Steve to ignore Lloyd’s grumblings. It also seemed to be the perfect assurance for Curtis and Ransom, who had, undoubtedly, become entranced by you from the time you’ve spent together.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

As always, Steve is the first out with his packed lunch and you deliver his kiss on the cheek as sweetly as ever. In that brief moment, Steve allows himself to forget his suspicions of you, reasoning that acting normal was the best step forward to keep you oblivious to their growing wariness. It was worrying, however, how little he cared for the deep affection he was fostering for you.

“Have a good day, Steve. Please stay safe,” You’re too irresistibly precious that, although Steve knows it’s in his best interest to maintain his guard, he’s desperately hoping that you aren’t guilty of willfully deceiving them.

“And you as well,” the captain utters ever so softly, only for you to hear. His soft blue eyes linger on you for a moment before briefly glancing back at his team’s tech genius. “Look after Jake while we’re gone, okay?”

With a giggle, you nod, “Aye-Aye Captain!” it was a playful saying but you made it look and sound so adorable. You even teasingly saluted him. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that he couldn’t resist kissing your forehead as he left through the door.

Next up was Andy, who’s grown the habit of kissing your knuckles first before leaning in to savour his kiss on the cheek. “Take care, Andy,”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” there’s an emotion that flashes in the neat man’s azure eyes, one that you can’t quite place as he allows his stare to delicately float over you. He regrettably ignores your adorable and curious head tilt to finally head out whilst adjusting his cuffs. Try as he might, Andy can’t feel anything suspicious about you. In his many interrogations of guilty targets, he has never seen such incorrupt eyes. You have secrets but that didn’t mean you meant them any harm – that was his conclusion.

Ransom is the third up, pushing past Curtis, Ari and Lloyd, leaving the latter openly grumbling to himself whilst glaring at the group’s machiavellian Beta. Rather than lean down for a kiss, Ransom holds your face in both of his hands and searches your innocuously bewildered expression.

“Ran–?” you voice but he presses your cheeks together, puffing out your lips in a way that makes your spoken words incoherent. His eyes are narrowed into a judging expression but there’s no malice in his stare. In all of his work as the group’s covert agent, he’s never been more perplexed by a person. You’re too unguarded and virtuous to deal any real harm to them and he can tell you don’t have ill intentions just by the look in your eyes so…why does the mystery surrounding your identity irk him so much?

“Sorry…” Ransom frivolously bats away the grumbling complaints of his teammates as they grow impatient behind him. You’ve brought your hands up to hold onto his wrists as he slowly eases the pressure mushing your cheeks together.

“I’ll see you soon, Ran, please be safe,”

No…There’s no way you’re dangerous — not when you’re smiling up at him like that.

Ransom is tempted to kiss your sweet lips but refrains at the last moment, your lips brushing against each other as he swiftly moves to kiss your cheek instead. He silently leaves your flustered state with a hidden smirk. Aghast by the display, Ari rushes forward and guides your eyes to meet his by tilting your chin up with his fingers.

“You’re not kissing him before me, are you, beautiful girl?” Ari almost growls in annoyance. He loves his teammates but he’s grown a slight possessiveness over you and the idea of being the first to embrace your pretty lips. It’s unhealthy, he knows it, especially when he’s been aiming to form an official pack so he forces himself to calm down. He controls his breathing and tempers his gaze but keeps your chin tilted toward him.

“Don’t be silly Ari…” you look to the side in embarrassment, “everyone gets a kiss,” the implications of your innocent words aren’t lost on him and, although his mind starts racing with flashing images, Ari chuckles lightheartedly at the prospect.

“You’re always so fair, darlin’...” he begins to lean down and aims straight for your lip as his words become a whisper, “I love that so much about you,”

“Oi!” Ari gets shoved aside just as his lips brush against yours but is too slow in securing the embrace. In his place, Lloyd stands, huffing and puffing.

“This isn’t some fairy tale princess kissing her prince type shit. We need to fuck off to work so stop holding up the line!” Lloyd glares as Ari simply laughs at him, not a trace of annoyance on his features despite the rude interruption.

“Lloyd–” Your sweet call of his name immediately steals Lloyd’s attention and everyone watches his figure bend down to accommodate your short height. He does it too quickly to backtrack from remembering breakfast and the uncertainty surrounding your character. He didn’t plan on accepting your kiss but now he had no choice; his body had him doing the opposite.

“Gimme my kiss then, I don’t have all day,” with a smile, thoroughly enjoying the grumpy man’s crabby facade, you rise to your toes and kiss him on the cheek. You know he wants to pull away quickly but you trap him by holding his cheek in place. Somehow, you wanted to affectionately dote on this grumpy man and it amused you to see his reactions each time — his ears always become such a bright pink. “H-hurry up, woman! I don’t have all day for this!” you smile into his cheek and prolong it a little more before finally pulling away.

As Lloyd grouches to himself with your lunchbox tightly clutched in his hand, Ari tries to make his way back to you for another kiss on the cheek. The bearded man is already puckering his lips in a mock kiss, clearly trying to push Lloyd’s buttons and succeeds when he barely makes it to you thanks to Lloyd yanking him away by the collar. Ari laughs and teases Lloyd as you giggle at the display.

Curtis silently comes up to you while distracted and hugs your waist so that when he stands to his full height, he lifts you with him. Smiling down at the mercenary, you hug him around the shoulders and allow him to press his face into your neck where he’s reminded of your intimate moment at the village square and savours the calming effects your fragrance has on him.

“Please take care, Curt,” you whisper into his ear and he grunts, stoic as ever when you pull away. You take a moment to caress his cheek with your hand and look into his steel-grey eyes before sweetly kissing his cheek. You then kiss his forehead and utter your wishes (“I hope you have a good day,”) against his skin.

“We’ll be home soon…” Curtis utters gently in his rough voice after finally setting you down. He walks out to join the rest of the mercenaries and you wave at them with a bright smile as they leave. You don’t stop waving until they can no longer be seen through the trees. When you finally turn back into the cottage, however, you’re met with Jake, who has his arms wide open for you to run into if you please.

“E-even though I’m not going out today…Can I still get a kiss too? Please?” he asks with a pout but grins brightly when you nod and run over to fall into his arms. Easily, you press a kiss to his cheek and move to pull away when— “Can I have another one?” he wasn’t satisfied with just one cheek being kissed and, thankfully, you were willing to appease him. “Can I get two more?” you give him a look but when he utters the magic word��‘please’, you can’t possibly say no. “A-and just one more?--”

“Oh Jake!” he giggles freely and mischievously, relishing in the idea that he’s the first person to see you so adorably faux-frustrated. You give him one final kiss anyway and leave him feeling like he’s walking on air. Never before had such a beautiful lady indulged in his antics the way you did. There’s no animosity coming from you, only acceptance and affection.

Life can’t get better than this~

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Jake had a self-collated library all about magic, artefacts and modern tech in his room. It was a personal collection he was rather proud of and eager to finally store on physical shelves and admire freely. He always felt rather pleased with himself when he looked upon the collection, many of his editions were special, annotated with auxiliary details by the original authors themselves. He’s even personally written several of the observation journals within the collection. They were never officially published and purely stemmed from his interests. So proud he was of his collection that he couldn’t resist bringing down the books to show you. He would have happily brought down more but limited himself only to the relevant material needed for his coordinated search with Ari. He’s confident you’ll be able to keep up with his musings the same way you did during breakfast.

He’s so excited!

Getting to talk to such a beautiful and intelligent lady with a honey-esque voice and kind warmth was heaven on earth for a loser Beta like him. Jake knows that, compared to his other teammates, he barely stacks up but you treat him fairly and with the same sweetness. He never feels left out around you. In his eyes, you glow like the sun. Even more so now that he knows you’re just as interested in magi-tech as him. Have the gods made a more perfect woman than you?...

You promised to look over his books with him after you cleaned up the kitchen and did some of the laundry, which was perfect considering Ari was on call with him that morning. Jake expertly coordinated the search with the lumbering man who took on-site images of any potential artefacts and swiftly copied any paper trails that could prove useful to their mission. Thanks to Ari’s suggestion that Jake stay home for the day, it was much easier to reference certain aspects of the artefacts they were looking for and focus their search efforts.

The morning was a fruitful and busy one. As the grandfather clock’s face gradually reached noon, Ari called off the search and promised to feedback to Jake when he finally returned to base and had lunch to refuel him. Jake was then reminded of his carefully prepared lunch and the growling of his stomach. He finds it far too easy to get caught up in their operations, especially when it concerns a topic he was so passionate about.

“Don’t worry about me and eat your lunch, Jake,” you assure, stepping into the kitchen with your apron on, “I’ll make something simple but yummy for my lunch today and I’ll join you in a bit,”

“Okay,” Jake concedes, no longer feeling as guilty for starting his lunch first but still expecting a call from Ari —if not during lunch then after. While your back is turned, he goofily smiles at the note you had written and suppresses the urge to fall back and kick his legs in the air. "Just a small reminder: you make the world a better place."

Despite the wariness fostered by your seemingly innocuous exchange with Jake that morning, the mercenaries still made the time to regroup at their city-centre base to eat your lunch together. It’s become a silent ritual now. Nobody spoke a word in a collective attempt to evade their propagating scepticism of you. For now, all they wanted to do was guiltlessly savour your palatable cooking again, maybe even for the last time – that was a thought they all shared but one that didn’t comfort them, not even Lloyd, who silently opened his boxed lunch first.

“I hope this lunch helps you conquer your day…” Lloyd mutters to himself. Rather than store away your note as he had always done, he crumples it in his hand, motivated by the lingering bitterness of unwarranted betrayal in his chest. Nothing about you is confirmed but that didn’t mean your words and actions weren’t dubious – Lloyd knew he shouldn’t have allowed himself to get soft like this, that was his mistake. He beats himself up mentally for being unable to resist you that morning and dreads the notion that it may be too late for him despite his denials. The merc no longer felt hungry but ate your lovingly prepared lunch anyway. It would be a waste otherwise.

“A tasty pick-me-up for my favourite person,” Ransom smiles down at your sweet note and carefully savours his lunch. He doesn’t want to be stubborn about you, he knows that you’re a good person; his doubts can’t be easily shaken now.

“Today’s special ingredient: all my love,” Ari bites down on his lower lip hard. The squeal of joy he was tempted to let out at that moment would be too embarrassing, especially for an over 6-foot, heavily bearded alpha like him. He eagerly digs into his lunch and happily awaits his call with Jake. Maybe if he hurries, he can put in his call for feedback before the mid-day debrief and everyone leaves to resume their missions.

Andy enjoys reading his notes from you in his head, only whispering it to himself aloud when he reads it the first time. He likes to read your note a few more times before finally relenting to his aching stomach, “Every bite is proof of how much I care,” It’s hard not to smile while eating your delicious food. It tastes better when he ignores all the sour uncertainties about you.

Curtis rarely smiles but the mercs are treated to his rare, chaste grins every time he reads your lunch note. The stoic guard resists the urge to look up and face his smiling teammates whenever he does — he cares deeply for you but you getting him to smile is quite flustering, "Lunch made with love for someone who’s truly special." Curtis doesn’t believe he will ever grow accustomed to your sweet gestures but he doesn’t mind.

Steve tries to ignore your note this time, knowing that it’ll make him smile and his heart flood with warmth. He knows that he must avoid your affection at all costs, he needs to remain the most level-headed amongst his team. However, just as he’s finishing up his last few bites, the guilt has already weighed down his stomach significantly and he can’t resist reading your elegant handwritten note for the day, "I thought of you while making this—hopefully it’s as wonderful as you are!" Steve would be a monster if he didn’t smile at your sweet words and, thankfully, he isn’t one.

In his periphery, Ari sees the team diligently packing up their lunches to sit around the main table with Steve. Their mid-day debrief was drawing near and he rushed to call Jake. He turns his voice up to be heard aloud by everyone else.

Lunch finished later than usual for you but quickly got back to sewing beside Jake as soon as possible. While you sew, Jake takes diligent notes on a spare pad of paper, drawing from the open books piled up around him. His gaze remains focused, silent and studious, it was a side you rarely saw in the goofy, excitable Beta but was one you appreciated seeing in him. Smiling to yourself, you return your attention to your sewing just as Jake’s small shell-shaped magi-tech device rings atop the coffee table. He reaches out to answer it and Ari’s voice filters into the empty air.

“Afternoon Ari! How’s work?” Jake begins with an unfaltering grin.

“Afternoon Jake, it’s all good,” Ari happily greets over the specialised device, “How’s the weather at the cottage?” Report on current affairs.

“We have some clouds,” There’s company who can hear. The mercenaries tense up knowing that you’re near enough to pick up on their conversation. Ari and Jake will have to keep their dialogue highly censored so as not to reveal anything. Andy can easily hop on the call and take over as he was the better speaker but only Ari and Jake had adequate knowledge of the magical artefacts so they were better suited to conversing.

“I see, it’s been cloudy here too,” Everyone can hear. “At least there’s no rain,” the two lightly chuckle, “Did you get a chance to water the peonies as I asked?” Speak cautiously.

“Not yet, but I will in a bit,” Jake carefully eyes you in his periphery and almost sags in relief when you’re too engrossed with mending Steve’s torn-up shirt. “The peonies will be watered generously but I could never do a better job than you,” It’s safe. I’ll keep you informed. Hearing Jake’s assurance, the mercenaries relax ever so slightly. Due to their limited codes, it’s hard to pinpoint how safe it was to speak openly but they trust their Beta. They’ve all survived off of their trust in each other, if Jake says it’s safe, then it’s safe.

“Just don’t overdo it,” Ari replies, slightly worried for his carefully grown peonies. To ensure you don’t grow suspicious, Jake will have to water his peonies at the front of the cottage later on but their tech genius doesn’t have the greenest of thumbs — whatever, this was for the team. He can always grow more peonies but he can’t sabotage everyone’s final mission to secure retirement.

After some time passes, Jake suddenly groans in frustration and momentarily distracts you from the sewing, “⏤Replicas have been made and it’s making things very difficult,” your attention is immediately stolen, quickly prompting Jake to snap his head towards you and smile with his teeth.

“Sorry about that, princess. I didn’t mean to worry you, just a little stressed out about work,” Jake apologises, making it obvious to the rest of the team that you were actively listening now and they silently thanked him for it. Especially Ari; the alpha didn’t want his pack to turn their backs on you, not when they’ve barely given you a chance. You may still be a total mystery but that didn’t eliminate the knowing feeling in his chest and the instinctual pull he had towards you.

“Replicas?” you ask before you can stop yourself. At the slightly uncomfortable look on Jake’s face, you bite your lip guiltily, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop like that.”

“It’s alright,” Jake rubs the back of his head bashfully. “H-How much did you hear?”

“Only the end bit, about the replicas. Are you doing some sort of investigation on replica artefacts and tech?” you ask with an adorable head tilt that made Jake’s heart pound like crazy.

“I-I guess you could say that,”

“Wow, that sounds very important. You must work on a lot of forgery cases from all the notes you’ve made,” you nod towards his tireless notations and heavy books.

“Haha! Guilty. The winner deserves a prize~” he teases to which you playfully bat at his shoulder. You’re smiling as if you’re not bothered at all by that deduction so he runs with it and makes sure the team is well-informed of this: follow along. Jake has to remind himself to school his features first. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes normally anymore. He felt like an utter criminal for lying to your face like this. So he focuses his attention back on his messy array of notes and books.

“What artefacts or tech are you looking into? Maybe I can help?” From breakfast, Jake can tell you have an expansive knowledge of magi-tech and artefacts. He knows he should think the decision over more but his words are spilling past his lips before he can think to stop himself.

“That would be great! Thanks!” Jake’s brow suddenly becomes sweaty as he reaches for a worn book with aged pages left open at a particular spread. The movement draws your eyes to the illustration displayed on the two-page spread.

“Oh…” Jake raises a brow at your shocked expression, “For such an ancient artefact to have replicas is astounding…” you utter to yourself, loud enough for your voice to reach Ari and the rest of the team, who were anxiously listening in on you and Jake. They opted for staying quiet so that you divulge as much information as possible. Knowledge is power, no matter the source.

“You know this artefact?”

“It has such a rich history, I’m surprised not many more people know of it,”

Jake chuckles in slight embarrassment, “I only have these old artefacts books on it. And modern tech books aren’t much help; I left those upstairs,”

“It’s alright,” you assure with kind understanding, “It’s one of the oldest artefacts but back then information on it was scarce since the owners didn’t want to divulge too much,”

“How do you know all this?”

You shrug your shoulders and look away shyly, “You’d be surprised at what kind of information you’ll find on the same thing but from a different genre. History books are better at knowing the origins of these artefacts more than these magic books, they are more for showcasing its mechanisms and specifications,” Jake nods along, leaning towards you ever so slightly.

“That makes sense,”

“It’s a beautiful piece of magical technology, one of the first of its kind – hence the ‘artefact’ classification. And, despite its dark past, it led to a massive turning point in history,” You begin to retell your teachings from the generous staff who had taught you behind the Queen’s back. Ernest and Abigail kept your mind sharp and well-learned from the many books the royal library held. Abraham, the palace mage also helped educate you, specifically on your magic capabilities and especially on this history of magic, artefacts and modern magi-tech. He thought for sure that he would no longer be needed at the palace; with no King to aid in magic and a Queen with no desire to support the true heir, he was ready to pack his bags. However, the Queen regularly appeared before him with questions on magic so he could stay. Grateful for the mercenaries’ generosity in letting you stay, you happily provided Jake with the same teachings of Abraham.

An incredible amount of years ago, many people detested those with magical abilities and for good reason. The ability to control and use magic freely came at a heavy price, soul corruption. Over time, an individual with magical abilities would become selfish, greedy, violent and unloving towards others — the human heart and soul can be easily degraded by magic, but not certain metals and other materials. Once that was learned, powerful sorcerers imbued their magic into ordinary objects which would then become magical artefacts.

Jake eagerly listened, as did his teammates on the connecting side of the magi-tech device they were using.

However, there was a small group of people who didn’t get corrupted by the magic ability they were gifted with. The modern-day royal family are the descendants of those same people. It seemed that these individuals were gifted with a high affinity and tolerance for magic, granting them power to rule over the kingdoms. They proved themselves worthy rulers by creating artefacts that protected an entire city of people. Those same artefacts stand to this day, all located at the central point of each kingdom’s capital. The rulers’ natural talents were never challenged nor their rule, thus starting the monarchy.

However, anomalies with magical power did occur within and outside the royal bloodline. And without an explanation, many wrongdoings were committed.

“Because magical prowess became an exclusive trait to the royal family, those who had magical powers but were not born into royalty were treated poorly and executed. But, if you remember, before the monarchy was ever established, others were also gifted with magical affinities. Now that it’s exclusive only to royals, those who weren’t were punished.” you and Jake shared a sad look, “The reasoning was so that the magic user doesn’t get corrupted by their magic but it can’t be denied that magic had become such an exclusive privilege of the royal families that pride was also a factor,” Jake shakes his head in disappointment. His love for magic, artefacts and magi-tech made the history you were telling him hard to swallow. He can understand why this wasn’t common knowledge, although…such rich historical books were also hard to come by…

“It also didn’t help that we, as humans, have a bad habit of gossiping about strange events in search of an explanation. The ‘anomaly’ of a ‘commoner’ having magical abilities was so taboo that it warranted execution, especially when rumours began to spread that those high-magic-affinity people were the illegitimate children of the royal family. Nowadays, it’s no longer stigmatised as it’s been extrapolated that some individuals are just more magically inclined than others. But this was only after King Kloros.”

“What about him?”

“King Kloros was found to be infertile later in life when his five-year-old son, Prince Leto, was found to have no magical powers. Usually, royal children display magic as young as a month old but five years is the benchmark. Since Prince Leto wasn’t magically inclined even at five years of age, the King confronted the mirror of Aleth, named after the Sorceress and Queen Alethea who created the mirror to tell only truths when asked a question. It was found that Prince Leto was not his true son at all but was born out of his Queen consort’s affair. Outraged, King Kloros banished his Queen Consort, he could no longer look into Queen Consort Anwir’s eyes. To the surprise of many, he kept Prince Leto as his heir; he had grown to see the boy as his true son already. He also knew wouldn’t be able to have a son of his own anyway but wanted an heir regardless. Years later, however, Prince Leto, at 7 years of age, developed magical abilities regardless of his heritage and that was when King Kloros decided to banish prejudice against all magic users, vowing to find ways to prevent his son from being corrupted by the magic. It was found that as long as magic users practised the flow of magic within them and released them into objects regularly, they were less likely to be corrupted, which is why most sorcerers help create magi-tech products or participate in healing the sick,”

“Thank goodness for that,” Jake voiced playfully after thanking you and you both giggled. With scrutiny, Jake focused on the ancient pages showcasing the Mirror of Aleth, “But I do wonder… why don’t more people know about the mirror despite its influence on King Kloros and, therefore, the world as they knew it,” Jake mumbles to himself.

“It’s probably because it only did one thing. Yes, it generated a huge wave of influence but that ‘huge wave’ completely masked its original impact.” Jake nods beside you, “I also read somewhere that it only responded to true descendants, as in, the royal family so it’s been kept securely at the Okisha Kingdom’s Palace vault. As honourable people, they like the use the artefact’s abilities sparingly — they understand how damaging it is to know all truths, hence why Queen Alethea made sure the mirror only responded to descendants of the royal family,” All mercenaries tensed at the mention of their client but only for a millisecond; you were only reciting your knowledge. The intel they were given by the Okisha Kingdom’s mage was very lacking compared to your intelligence. However, that only made them more curious and cautious of you.

You move to continue your sewing but Jake, hypnotised by your voice and knowledgable insight, hurries to keep you talking, “Would you know how to identify the real one from a replica?”

His words make you think in silence as all of the listening men await your words with bated breath. Steve, Andy, Jake and Ari anticipate what your valuable intelligence may provide them in their mission, preferring to disregard their suspicions for the time being. Curtis and Ransom look at each other momentarily and keep their ears perked as well. Lloyd, however, tries to tune out your voice as much as possible; he feels a pang of sickening betrayal every time you innocently add to their suspicions because how could you possibly know all this bullshit?!

“I would first consider why replicas are being made — potentially to throw off whoever’s wanting to snatch the original, a decoy perhaps?” that’s a line of thinking you would rather return to at a later time for its many possibilities, “And then I would think about what the most telling signs would be of a fake…” you gesture to Jake’s open book and politely ask if you could touch it; you only do so after he gives a nod of permission. With that simple but considerate gesture, Jake thinks you’re even more of an angel now — he’s head over heels! He doesn’t allow just anyone to touch his prized possessions lightly but he trusts your delicate hands. “Notice how the mirror is made of only precious materials?” Jake nods eagerly, ecstatic to know you were just as vigilant as him in that observation. He hopes you can give him some sort of explanation as to why that is; he has his personal theories but they’re only that, theories. Another’s insight, especially from one who’s as knowledgable as you is very valuable. “Do you know why most ancient artefacts are only made with precious metals?”

“Not a clue,”

“It’s because magic can corrode materials as much as it can a person’s heart and soul. Precious metals are precious because they corrode very very very slowly, to the point that it’s barely noticeable. Nowadays, all magi-tech products only need to be installed with imbued magic crystals to work,” Jake has a eureka moment in his head and restrains himself from jumping on you with a scream of joy. That’s a better explanation than anything he’s come up with before. And is one he can use when training or creating his own magi-tech devices after his retirement with the boys.

“That’s amazing! All we have to do is see if the materials are made of precious metals or not!”

“Exactly!”

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Jake and Ari were able to make progress with their specific mission thanks to your precious intel. Ari stiffly worded his gratitude over the device and swiftly ended the call, leaving Jake to bite at his already short nails. Unphased, you returned to sewing Steve’s shirt. Glancing at the grandfather clock, it was still early afternoon so keep with your sewing but regularly glance at the clockface so that you don’t start on dinner too late. While you did that, Jake was drowning Ari’s peonies from anxiety. The tech genius can only imagine what his team would do as soon as they arrived home for dinner that night. He tends to lose track of many things when magic, artefacts and magi-tech are involved so he could hardly restrain himself when you talked overtly about the ancient artefact with Ari and the boys on the other end. As you revealed everything you knew to him, you also revealed it all to his teammates. It’s safe to say that he was expecting the worst-ever reaction from them.

He’ll protect you with his life! Even against his own! He loved the team but he’s never felt such a strong connection to someone else before. You’re the first lady to ever turn his way without a judgemental look in your eyes; you’re not dissuaded by his dorkiness and zealous interest in magic, you lean into it and happily discuss the topic with him. You’re a rare jewel he would rather sacrifice his life for than ever part with.

Jake slowly loses himself in thoughts of you and your wonderfulness. He was just beginning to smile goofily when he was subtly alerted by a breach in the barrier. They were home early! Rushing inside, Jake beelines it to you.

“Jake?” you ask with a slight tilt of your head as if to say, ‘What’s wrong?’. Jake knows what’s wrong but he’s not going to tell you anything. You stand when Jake keeps striding towards you without a word. You don’t know what to expect but it’s not to be lifted from the ground and into his arms as if you weighed nothing.

“There’s no time, Princess!” Jake turns on his heel and steps towards the back of the house but freezes up when the front door slams open. You gasp and jump ever so slightly in his arms from freight but smile over his shoulder at the sight of the mercenaries arriving in the living room with their shoes still on.

“You’re home early, today,” you beam from over Jake’s shoulder, “how was work? I’m afraid I don’t have dinner ready yet–”

“Quiet!” Steve commands firmly and in a volume that shakes the cottage walls. His eyes are like dull, blue stones, cold and hard as they drill into you. It sends a chill down your spine, “Turn around and put her down, Jake,” Jake turns but doesn’t let you go, only holding you closer.

“Sorry Cap,” Jake apologises without any meaning, “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Ari smiles at the gesture and nods in approval from his place beside Ransom.

“Put. Her. Down. Now!”

“No!”

“Wh-what’s going on?” you whisper, blinking back tears from the frightening visage of Steve. He was always so kind and warm to be around; this is the first time you’ve ever seen him so loud and cold.

“She’s not a bad person, Captain!”

“Then who is she?!” Lloyd barks from Steve’s right, stepping forward to sneer at you with much more animosity than you’re used to. His confrontational step forward makes you reel back and turn away from him in fear, “Tell us your real name!” Your obvious fright makes Lloyd stutter ever so slightly but protecting him and his mismatched pack will always be his top priority, not you.

“I-I have told you my real name!” you defend, wrapping your arms around Jake’s neck and leaning into him for comfort.

“You’re scaring her, Lloyd!” Ransom counters, stepping out of the group to stand closer to you and Jake. Curtis does the same but silently, his tall, broad stature as imposing and dangerous as ever. The two have been able to see your true character in the time they’ve spent with you — even though you have secrets, that doesn’t mean you were untrustworthy; everyone has secrets.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s the thief!” Lloyd points an accusing finger at you.

“She’s not the thief!”

“You don’t know that!”

“And what makes you think you do?!”

“ENOUGH!” Lloyd and Ransom looked ready to shout at each other until the sun rose again if it weren’t for Ari cutting in. “Screaming and arguing with each other isn’t going to sort anything out! Plus our angel isn’t any less frightened!” Ari steps up to stand beside your curled-up form in Jake’s arms. “If she meant any harm, she would have done something by now. She deserves to have a say,” Ari gives a pointed look at Andy who smiles at the bittersweet notion that the heavily bearded alpha chose now to recite his personal philosophy.

Everyone turns to Steve, who contemplates the situation. A long pause draws out for what feels like an eternity before their Captain finally turns to their negotiator.

“Andy?” Steve asks. He truly can see things going two ways. He was ready to kick you out for the betterment of his pack but seeing Jake, Ari, Ransom and Curtis firmly standing at your side made him second-guess himself. Trust in the team. Lloyd was too heated. Andy was the only other level-headed Alpha he could fully rely on.

“...Let her speak for herself, Captain,” Andy can’t shake Ari’s reminder of his personal values. With a bit of work, his teammate could make for a great negotiator, “She deserves to have a say,”

Steve nods and meets your eyes with a hard but warmer stare, “Tell us the truth,”

Not seeing a way out, you nod and bite your lip with some insecurity. “Alright…”

navi. | series masterlist | seven. the lumbering repairman →

a/n : this is a pretty long chapter, primarily because of the world-building lore I wove into it. I hope you enjoyed it and the read. The series is slowly getting more interesting so things will pick up from here. Look forward to future updates hehe~ In the meantime, Happy holidays, my darlings!

If you're interested, here's a little note on the names involved in the lore drop:

Chloe, the name, means 'fertility' and is derived from the Greek name Khlóros - I took the ‘h’ out to sort of take away from that meaning somehow and better fit the infertile king.

Leto, the name, means 'hidden' and has Greek and Latin origins

Alethea, the name, means 'truth' and has Greek roots

Anwir, the name, is Welsh, meaning 'liar'

taglist : @imyourbratzdoll @lovinglimerence @saturdayrj @baw1066 @whereismymindnow @urmomw4ntsme @oneandonlybbygrl

[rdng1230]

Sorry op, you awoke the writing demon and it must be satiated.

—-

Sal groans into his whiskey, silently asking god why he sent him such an idiotic best friend with it seems, an equally stupid ex boyfriend.

"You asked him to move in with you? Buckley I thought he said you were smart."

Buck can't help the sad smile that invades his face. "He really said that??"

Sal ignores him, tapping on the bar like he's Columbo laying out a case. "So tell me if I got something wrong here. He kisses you, you go on a date, you pull the no homo routine, ask him for coffee, invite him to your sister's wedding, fucking insane by the way, you spend the next what, 5 or so months happy as clams not asking any deeper questions at all and you think you can just jump into cohabitating with a smile and a Stonewall Spiel?"

Sal straightens up and turns to face Buckley full on. "No foolin, is there an actual goddamn gas leak in your apartment?"

Buck stares back at him sheepishly, either shame or booze flooding his cheeks red. "I may have skipped a few steps."

"Boy you skipped so many steps you took an elevator."

Buck bites the inside of his cheek. "Tommy always made your pep talks sound like, you know, actual pep talks."

Sal takes another sip of his drink and signals for another. "Here's the thing I think you've failed to grasp about ole Tommy Boy. There is nothing more baffling to him than a compliment."

The younger man's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

And this time Sal actually looks sad. Really sad. "I've been his friend for longer than either of us care to remember. I have seen the best and worst of him and I love him more than anyone apart from my girls. I haven't always been good at showing it, but he is my family."

Sal stares at Buck with a strange mixture of vulnerability and laying down a challenge. One Buck desperately hopes he can meet.

"The only thing I would change about Tommy Kinard is that he would believe me when I tell him that. Would believe anyone when they tell him things like that."

Buck reaches out without thinking to grab Sal's shoulder, and surprisingly the old grump doesn't recoil. Buck can't really say Sal and him are friends. In fact they may be far too similar to ever be friends. But Sal wants nothing but the best for Tommy, and for that, they're on the same team.

"The truth is kid, Tommy has a knack for picking roads he knows are dead ends. He was ready to ride the thing with you till the fucking wheels fell off, but he never expects anyone to stick around. There's nothing scarier to him than potential. To him that's the same thing as loss. And believe me, he's lost enough."

Buck stares at the foggy bar mirror. If he wasn't on his second whiskey, Sal would have made an excellent Roman Centurion. Stalwart and intimidating against anyone who would wish harm to the things he cares about. It's probably what makes him such a good Captain.

"How do I make him believe that he's not gonna lose me? How do I convince him that I want to stay."

Sal gives him a sympathetic glance. "I don't know if he'll ever believe it fully. But the best advice I can offer? Stay anyway. Love him anyway. But you gotta love the real him this time, and believe me he will fight you every step of the way on that."

Buck nods sincerely, his whole body singing at the idea of even seeing Tommy, much less being with him. "I'd fight forever if it means getting him back."

Sal grimaces and juts his chin toward the door. "Get the hell out of here and go get your man Buckley, Unless you wanna gimme a toothache on top of this hangover."

Buck grins, tossing a wad of cash on the counter and gunning it for the exit.

Sal goes up to Buck in a badge and ladder bar and asks him what the FUCK did he do to Tommy

And Buck is taken aback and looks so confused as he replies that Tommy's the one who broke up with him?

And Sal juat goes cool, that doesn't answer my fucking question. What the fuck did you do to him?

[scarletwinterxx]

don't make me fall in love again if he won't be here next year - hong joshua imagine

helloooo ~ ngl i was kicking my feet all giggly while writing this HAHA let's see where this one goes, let me know if i should do a part 2🤭

and happy holidays!!!🎄

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You walk into the office, the sound of your heels muffled by the carpeted floors. The usual hum of chatter fills the air, punctuated by the clacking of keyboards and the occasional laughter. As you make your way to your desk in the HR department, you notice a group of your colleagues near the coffee machine. They're giggling, and their glances dart between you and the IT team’s corner. You already know what they're whispering about.

Joshua Hong.

The soft-spoken guy from IT who seems to have half the office swooning over him.

Including you, though you'd never admit it outright. Well, except maybe to Nayeon and Irene, your closest friends, but they don’t count.

Joshua is the kind of guy who’s always polite, always smiling. Whenever someone teases him about the two of you—and they do it often—he just shakes his head with that gentle smile, not saying much.

“She’s great, but we’re just colleagues,” you once overheard him say when Jeonghan Yoon, his closest friend, had nudged him about you. The words had stung more than you'd like to admit.

"You okay?" Nayeon’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. She’s perched on the edge of your desk, a knowing smile on her face. Irene’s just behind her, holding two coffee cups—one for herself and one for you.

"Fine," you reply, taking the cup Irene offers.

"They’re at it again," Nayeon says, jerking her head toward the gossipers.

"Let them have their fun," you mutter, trying to sound nonchalant. But the truth is, your stomach flips every time Joshua’s name is brought up in connection to yours.

The day passes in its usual rhythm, and you try to focus on your work. But it’s hard not to glance toward the IT corner where Joshua is discussing something with Seungcheol Choi, your cousin and, unfortunately, another enthusiastic supporter of the “You and Joshua” ship.

When Joshua looks up and meets your eyes, you quickly turn back to your screen, pretending to be engrossed in an email.

The company holiday dinner is lively, filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint buzz of karaoke in the background.

You’re seated between Irene and Seungcheol, who’s had a little too much to drink and is currently attempting to convince Joshua to sing.

"Come on, man. One song! For morale!” Seungcheol insists, slinging an arm around Joshua’s shoulders. Joshua laughs, shaking his head.

"Maybe next time," he says, his tone as gentle as ever. His eyes briefly meet yours from across the table, and you quickly look away, sipping your drink to hide your flustered expression.

As the night winds down, you glance at your phone and realize it’s getting late. Irene and Nayeon left earlier and you’re left wondering how you’re going to get home. The buses have stopped running, and the idea of calling for a cab makes you wince at the cost.

You're standing on the side, scrolling through your phone thinking of options when you feel a presence beside you

"You okay?" Joshua’s voice interrupts your thoughts

You look up to see him standing by your side, his jacket draped over his arm. Noticing this, you also became extra aware of the cold breeze. Never being the one to stand cold weather, you can't help but shiver.

Joshua notices this, he stands infront of you blocking the direction where the wind was blowing from so you won't feel as cold.

"Yeah, I…" you hesitate. "I’m just figuring out how to get home."

He frowns slightly. "No ride?"

You shake your head.

"I can take you," he offers, his voice calm but firm. "It’s on my way."

"Oh, no, you don’t have to—"

"I want to," he says, cutting you off with that same gentle smile.

You contemplate for a second before agreeing. It's late and it's cold, there's no other better option now, surely you can manage a few minutes alone with him.

The ride is quiet at first. The city lights blur past the windows, and you fidget with the strap of your bag, unsure of what to say. Joshua seems relaxed, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift.

"You don’t have to be nervous," he says suddenly, glancing at you. "I don’t bite."

You laugh, the sound a little more nervous than you’d like. "I’m not nervous."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push. Instead, he switches on the radio, and a soft, familiar melody fills the car. You hum along absentmindedly, and he glances at you with a smile.

"You have a good voice," he says.

"Hardly," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. "But thanks."

A comfortable silence falls between you, and for the first time that night, you feel yourself relaxing. When he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, he puts the car in park but doesn’t immediately reach for the door handle.

"Thanks for the ride," you say, your hand hovering over the door.

"Anytime," he replies, his voice soft. He hesitates for a moment, then adds, "You know, people tease me about you a lot."

Your heart stops. "Yeah, I… I’ve noticed."

"I don’t usually react because… well, it’s private. And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable."

You blink, unsure of where he’s going with this. "What do you mean?"

He looks at you then, his gaze steady but warm. "I mean, I do like you. A lot more than a colleague should. But I didn’t want to assume you felt the same way."

Your breath catches. For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind racing to process his words.

"I…" you start, but your voice falters.

He smiles, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You don’t have to say anything now. I just thought you should know."

The warmth of his hand lingers long after he pulls back. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you. For telling me."

He grins, that boyish, gentle grin that made you fall for him in the first place. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Joshua."

As you step out of the car and make your way to your apartment, your heart feels lighter than it has in months. Maybe, just maybe, the office gossipers were onto something after all.

[anonymousewrites]

A Good Day for Death Christmas Special

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Christmas Special

            “Alright, everyone, you have your teams!” said Enid, standing proudly at the front of the dorm. “Get ready, get set…Time of gingerbread houses! Best theme wins the right to choose the star of our dorm tree!”

            She was instantly running to grab candy and ice cream to make her gingerbread house into the cutest thing ever (and Ajax was more than happy to help her). She had gumdrops, glittery sprinkles, and a hell of a lot of icing.

            Bianca, Xavier, and Eugene (they had been invited and shoved into a team since Enid wasn’t letting Xavier get paired with Wednesday when she could play matchmaker instead) got some supplies and sat down. Bianca and Xavier instantly began arguing over what to make the theme, and Eugene quietly started cracking cookies apart to make a beehive.

            (Y/N) got a combination of a bunch of candy and instantly popped some into their mouth. When Wednesday levelled a look, they grinned impishly.

            “What?” They shrugged.

            “We need our supplies,” said Wednesday, organizing walls of the gingerbread house.

            “You’re into this?” (Y/N) smiled. “That’s so cool!”

            “I want to win. The sweets and colors and ‘Christmas spirit’ have nothing to do with it,” said Wednesday.

            “Whatever you say,” said (Y/N), not offput by any of Wednesday’s “attitude.” “Want me to cut the head off of these gummy bears so they’re dead?”

            Wednesday paused and raised a brow. “Murder on Christmas?”

            (Y/N) grinned. “It would be fun.”

            “Destroy all the peace on earth and goodwill to men with murder,” mused Wednesday. “I approve the storyline.”

            “Great,” said (Y/N). They held out a handful of gummy bears. “What color is the killer?”

            “Red. Blood on the green ones with contrast better to highlight the gruesomeness,” said Wednesday.

            “Got it,” said (Y/N), grabbing a plastic knife and cutting off a tiny gummy bear’s head. (They also may or may not have popped another one into their mouth).

            While they did so, Wednesday created the house and began to splatter blood across it. With toothpicks and some incredible ingenuity with gingerbread, a tiny guillotine sat in the yard of the house. (Y/N) happily added heads to one side and bodies to the other.

            “We should put ‘Redrum’ on the side of the house so it’s spookier,” said (Y/N).

            “Cliché but on theme,” said Wednesday. That was her way of complimenting the contribution, so (Y/N) hummed and opened a candy-cane. Wednesday didn’t even comment and just snapped another one into a spike for the yard. (She knew that (Y/N) had a love for all things sweet, which made their friendship that much more a mystery).

            “Times up!” called Enid. “Everyone front and center with your gingerbread houses!”

            She and Ajax were first up to put theirs on the counter. It was a sparkling castle of gumdrops and gingerbread. M&Ms made tiles for the roof, and sparkling sprinkles made the snow shine in the light. It was a lovely, classic gingerbread house and totally Enid and Ajax.

            “It’s so cute, Enid,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Full-on Christmas,” said Bianca.

            “I’m going to choose to pretend that is a compliment,” said Enid.

            “Watch it, Bianca,” said Ajax.

            “Try me, Beanie,” said Bianca.

            “Can we not?” groaned Xavier. It was bad enough working with her, but he had to stare at Wednesday and (Y/N) being so seamless together that it drove him up the wall, and this was the terrible icing on the cake.

            “Come on, show yours,” said (Y/N), eager to stop the conflict.

            “Here,” said Eugene, smiling. He put his (What did Bianca and Xavier have to do with it?) creation on the counter. It was a beehive of gingerbread complete with icing as honey and gumdrops as bees. Candy-canes were makeshift flowers that the bees landed on.

            “It’s so you,” said (Y/N). “I didn’t even realize you could cut these into hexagons.”

            Eugene smiled. “I know bees.”

            “(Y/N), Wednesday, your turn!” said Enid.

            “Tada,” said (Y/N), gesturing to it.

            “Slaughterhouse,” said Wednesday. “Or as I like to call it, home.”

            “You turned innocent gingerbread houses and gummy bears into a murder scene?” said Bianca. “Weird, even by our standards.”

            “At least we had fun,” said (Y/N) “innocently.” Wednesday was tempted to smirk as Bianca glowered and (Y/N) just grinned happily.

            “I hate to say it, but I think Slaughterhouse wins,” said Enid, staring at it. “It’s so…detailed.” She smiled. “You really got into the Christmas spirit, Wednesday, (Y/N)!”

            “Thanks,” said (Y/N).

            “Take that back,” said Wednesday, offended.

            “Congratulations, you two get to choose the star for your dorm’s tree,” said Ajax, smiling.

            “Can it be flames to burn the monstrosity?” said Wednesday.

            “Hey, I let you put a voodoo doll of your family memory handing from a noose on the tree,” said Enid. “No disrespecting the tree.”

            “I like this star,” said (Y/N), picking up a silver snowflake. “Wednesday, what do you think?”

            Enid wiggled her eyebrows at Wednesday as Wednesday’s attitude melted away.

            “The edges are like daggers,” said Wednesday. “We can put it up.”

            (Y/N) smiled happily, and Wednesday’s heart thumped. How unfortunate, she was still alive. At least (Y/N) was there.

            “I’ll put it up. Come and see our tree, guys,” said Enid, pulling the others to see all the ornaments that had been put up in the dorm. (She wasn’t joking when she said she’d let (Y/N) and Wednesday add whatever ornaments they wanted. It was a little…grim, but, hey, it was also familial with everyone making their additions).

            (Y/N) watched the tree light up with the silver star on top. They smiled. “Thanks for making the gingerbread house with me, Wednesday. It was a lot of fun.”

            “Murder seems to be our specialty,” said Wednesday.

            “A lot more fun when it’s candy,” said (Y/N), chuckling. Reaching over, they picked up Hershey’s kisses and held out a hand. “Kiss?”

            Wednesday paused and looked at (Y/N). “What?”

            (Y/N) flushed slightly. “Chocolate? For a job well-done? It’s not dark chocolate, but it’s good.”

            Wednesday hesitated before reaching out and taking the candy. “I like sweet things. Occasionally.” She glanced at (Y/N)’s face.

            (Y/N)’s heart fluttered, and they smiled. “I’m, uh, glad.” They had no idea what that meant, but they could hope, right? Clearing their throat, they looked back at the tree and their friends. “Merry Christmas, Wednesday.”

            “Merry Christmas, (Y/N).”

Taglist:

@strawberriesareprettycool

@im-making-an-effort

@champagnewitnocham

@simpcreator

@ksunoosworld

@dot-and-co

@genderfluid-anime-goth

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@tired-writing-reader

@mary-jinx

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@left-and-right-up-and-down

@star583

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@nemtodd-barnes1923

@likefirenrain

@ziro-the-null-god

@youralphawolf72

@mjoiner1136

@alexkolax

@kitkatlover015

@snowy-violet

[idothisasahobby]

last christams / kys

synopsis: in which she has her heartbroken on Christmas Day one year and fixed the next

cw: angst, fluff, friends to lovers, non-idol au, in this imagine yeosang doesn’t celebrate christmas, like one swear i think?, your ex was terrible, fem!reader, nonidol!yeosang

Words: 3600

i wrote this super quickly so the quality might not be all that, my bad :(

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last christmas

“Are you ready for your gift?” you asked him excitedly. It was finally your favourite time of the year, Christmas. You always loved this time as it was one of the rare occasions where you were able to spend it with your loved ones—your family would all meet up later on at your parents’ house for the yearly Christmas dinner.

Unfortunately for you your boyfriend wouldn’t be able to join you all because of prior commitments he couldn’t get out of, of what they were exactly you weren’t sure but you surmised he must’ve decided to spend it with his own family as that would be the logical answer. You didn’t probe further because you knew he hated being asked a lot of questions.

You didn’t mind him not joining you, you thought he too deserved to share it with those he cared about most so you offered to meet earlier to exchange gifts before you separated to your various plans. You handed him a small box you’d expertly gift wrapped and watched excitedly as he unwrapped it. He finally opened the box and stared into it, his eyes widening.

“No way. You didn’t.”

You nodded enthusiastically, unable to contain your elation. “I did! I saw they were on sale and knew immediately that I had to get them. And look, court side!”

You’d gotten him tickets to go watch his favourite basketball team. He jumped out of his seat and howled with joy. He’d always wanted to see a live game but always fell short on funds when the time would come to purchase them. You figured this would be the perfect gift, plus the two seats were court side. He’d always mentioned he wanted to watch from there.

“This is best, thank you, babe!” He mentioned he couldn’t wait to tell his best friend the news. You furrowed her eyebrows but thought nothing of it because surely he’d be taking you, right? Surely he’d be able to see that that was the intention and so you made no comment further on the matter.

“Okay, where’s my gift?” He seemed to only remember then that you were still in the room.

“It’s not here yet,” he started much to your disappointment, ”but it should be in tomorrow. There was a little delay on the delivery.”

You understood it could happen. It was a busy time of the year after all. “What is it, then?”

“You’ll love it. It’s something I think you’ll really enjoy.” He paused, almost as if for dramatic effect before giving you a wide grin. “It’s a massage chair.”

Your face slightly fell before you recovered before he could notice.

“Oh.”

He, however, sensed you weren’t quite as pleased as he was about your new gift. “What?”

“It’s just that…I don’t think I need a massage chair.”

This was your polite way of saying you absolutely had no interest in a massage chair. In fact, if you remembered correctly, he was the one who’d always wanted a massage chair. You knew exactly which one he’d always wanted as well and figured that was the one he’d gotten for you instead.

“What do you mean? You’ve mentioned it a few times before.”

That was where he was wrong.

“I wanted a foot spa.”

He shrugged, dismissing your statement.“Same thing. Just plop your feet up and it’ll give you a massage. This is a real steal, anyway. Instead of just your feet it’ll do your whole body. You should be happy about this.”

You sighed and said, “Well it’s not exactly what I wanted—“

You weren’t surprised when he wouldn’t let you finish. “Do you know how much this cost me? For you to be berating me like this?”

It didn’t cost him anything, you knew. He’d most likely asked his mother for the money. He hardly ever had some of his own.

“I wasn’t berating you. Actually it’s-“

“No. I’m not taking any of this. I try to do something special for you and you throw it right in my face. That’s so typical of you.”

You were quite familiar with the way this game would play out by now. Whenever he was in the wrong, he’d find a way to twist the situation so the finger would point back at yourself and you’d be the one who would need to apologise and when you would, he wouldn’t accept it, stating how his feelings were the ones that were hurt and how he was the one needed some space from you.

And that’s exactly how it went.

You just hated it had to happen on the one day you always looked forward to the most. You couldn’t believe he’d ruin your favourite holiday. You wouldn’t let him. Instead, you offered to leave his apartment before it could escalate further so you’d have the necessary time apart and you’d still be in somewhat of a cheery mood for when it was time to meet with your loved ones. Nothing would ruin your Christmas spirit, not even him.

The next day, you woke up to numerous missed calls and text messages from him asking if you could come over to his apartment to talk about the previous day.

That was how you found yourself on one side of his couch with him looking pensive on the other end, clearly ensuring there was enough distance between the both of you.

“How was the rest of your christmas? You didn’t call back but I assumed you were probably busy with your family. I know how this time gets,” you said as a means of a conversation opener. Nobody had spoken a word yet since he’d opened the door to let you in and the tension was thick between the two of you. His response didn’t make matters better. “I didn’t spend it with family.”

“You spent it alone?”

Hope dripped in your voice.

“No.”

And soon dried out.

“With your friends.” It wasn’t a question. You knew the answer and knew what would follow.

“She was there.” You knew who he was referring to. You could taste the bile forming.

“Oh.”

“After last night, I just needed someone to listen to me and hear me out and then one thing led to another and…”

“Oh.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anymore. Words evaded you. You were afraid if you did try to say anything more, nothing would come out but your hot tears that already threatened to fall. After a while, he broke the silence. “Aren’t you gonna say anything?”

“What do you want me to say?” came her question in a soft, broken voice.

“Well if it wasn’t for our fight, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

It was in that moment everything seemed clearer to you. The rose coloured glasses you’d somehow worn up to this point fell off and you finally saw him for who he was. You knew for sure in that moment you held no place in his heart, not like how he held one in yours which was an upsetting realisation to come by on one of the most magical days of the year.

“I can’t believe you.” You stood to leave and you weren’t surprised when he hardly moved to try and stop you. “Where are you going?” came his halfhearted attempt at doing so.

With one last look, you turned to him. “I’m done here. I’m done with you.“

Yeosang had asked to meet you in the city later on that night. It was already prearranged. You thought of cancelling but thought being around a friend during this time would be beneficial for you and your other friends were all already busy, helping with tidying up any remaining bits and pieces from the day before. You found herself aimlessly walking around the city, watching as the snow fell onto you and onto the ground. You couldn’t help but notice couples walking with each other, hand in hand, joyfully laughing and talking to one another as if they had no care in the world. You couldn’t help the sad feeling that overcame you and hugged yourself in comfort before going on.

You finally stopped in front of the large Christmas tree in the city square and admired the warm, flashing lights decorating the white tree. A large flashing star was placed on top of it and “We wish you a Merry Christmas” tinkled on from nearby spears on either side.

It brought a tear to your eye which you quickly wiped off.

“Merry Christmas.” You turned and found Yeosang standing behind you with a large red and green box in his hands and a Santa’s hat on. You gave him a small smile and playfully rolled your eyes.

“That was yesterday, dummy.”

“I know but I never got the chance to tell you.”

You realised just how long it had been since you’d last spoken to him and your heart clenched. There was time here you wouldn’t go a day without speaking but because your boyfriend always got mad when you spoke to him, you had to cool your communication. You were glad you didn’t have to worry about that anymore because in all honesty, you really missed him. More than you could ever understand. Now that you were with him again, everything felt like it was beginning to make sense again.

He lead you to a nearby bench and you both sat down. You noticed you could still admire the Christmas lights behind you and how they illuminated a warm hue on his face—almost as if to enhance his already kind and ethereal features.

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” you said once you’d settled down. He shrugged and placed the box in between you. “But you do. So I’ll celebrate for you.”

“What’s this?”

“A gift.” You eyed him suspiciously before opening the box and gasped.

“It’s a foot spa.”

“Well, you mentioned how much you’d like one once so I thought I’d get it for you.” His eyes widened in slight panic. “What, did you already get it yourself?” Then they widened even more said that were possible. “What’s wrong why are you crying?”

You held the box close to you and shook your head to ease his thoughts. “It’s perfect. Thank you. I really do appreciate it, Sangie.”

You couldn’t help your giggle at the red tint brushing over his cheeks.

“You’re welcome.”

———

this christmas

“I can’t believe you still haven’t told him how you feel.” You had dragged your begrudging brother along with you to help shop for last minute Christmas gifts. You had been shopping for a good majority of the day and he’d been moaning and groaning for quite some time but you chose to ignore it—more so threatened him with not receiving his own which you’d bought already if he continued to complain.

“What are you talking about?” You looked at him quizzically before going back scouting for a gift.

“Your crush on Yeosang?” You rolled your eyes.

“Can you even call it that anymore? It’s passed that point by now.”

In retaliation, you aggressively shoved his shoulder causing him to stumble and protest about the slippery floor—which aptly you ignored.

“I do not have a crush on him,” you told him pointedly. He scoffed.

“We’ve searched high and low for the perfect Christmas gift for him. I’m sure it didn’t take you this long to find ours.”

“Well, because I know what you guys want, you won’t shut up about it. He doesn’t celebrate Christmas so I have to make sure it’s worthwhile.” You pouted before returning to the task at hand.

“Whatever you get him he’ll love it, I’m sure of it because it’s from you.”

You weren’t budging. “It has to be perfect.”

“And why exactly should it be?”

You could sense the teasing in his voice.

“It just does.”

You knew Yeosang for a little over three years now. You’d met one day through a mutual friend, Wooyoung when he’d convinced you both to attend a party. You stood in a corner, nursing your drink and waiting for the right time to go home but your plans were derailed when you found camaraderie in Yeosang. You didn’t even notice the time passing and you two have been inseparable since, something Wooyoung also never fails teasing you both about. But the possibility of you having feelings for him? You loved Yeosang. He was always so sweet and gentle with you and cared for you like no one else did. You always felt safe around him and comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him but to go as far as saying you had feelings for him? He was simply your best friend. That’s all he was. Was it?

There was a knock on the door and you immediately rushed to get it.

“Yeosang!”

He was standing on the other side, flowers in one hand and a few gift bags in the other. Your mother wasn’t too far behind you and happily greeted the new guest.

“Oh it’s lovely to see you again!”

You’d brought him over a few times before whenever you’d visit your parents and they’d now gotten accustomed to him and treated him as if he were their own. Your mother quickly ushered him in and took the gifts and flowers from him after gushing at how thoughtful he was. She gave you a teasing glance before heading to put the gifts by the tree.

“Uncle Yeosang!” your niece called as she ran inside and hugged him. Your sister and brother followed suit.

“Glad to see it’s you with her,” your sister commented.

“It’s not like that,” you mumble but your sister chose to not acknowledge your comment. It was your brother who had instead.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll take what we can get. Come join us.”

You all lead him into the living room where the rest of your family was. He greeted your father, it would be an understatement to say he’d taken a liking to him, as well as your grandmother, cousins aunts and uncles who’d joined you this year. Christmas was one of the only times where you’d all see each other so it was almost always a full house.

Whilst you helped your mother and sister in the kitchen, Yeosang helped your brother and father outside.

“My ex tried to contact me again today,” you said as you peeled carrots.

Your mother huffed. “Of course he did. You were always too good for him. I kept telling you he was a good for nothing.”

“Mom,” you groaned.

“You know she’s right. Why haven’t you blocked him already?”

“If you must know, I kind of forgot about him after our break up? He didn’t try to get in touch with me afterwards and I just kind of forgot to? I only remembered when I got the message today.”

“Whatever the case is, I thought last Christmas would be the last we hear of him. Should’ve been sooner, if you ask me. We’re on to bigger and better things now. Yeosang.” Your sister gave you a cheeky smile. You playfully nudged her but said nothing further as you continued with your allocated dish.

After dinner was ready, you all sat down to feast. You were well aware of the chosen seat for Yeosang right next to yours at the dinner table. Everyone joked and laughed with one another and you couldn’t help noticing how natural it was for him to be there and how accepting everyone seemed to be towards him.

Whenever you’d brought your ex around your family, there’d always been an underlying tension with their interactions towards him but with Yeosang, everyone seemed so cheery and open. You even stayed longer afterwards with him as you all gathered around for a game of Christmas charades, separating into two teams. You and him were on opposing teams and, unfortunately for you, he was on the winning team. He wasn’t one to outwardly gloat about winning but he couldn’t help himself from teasing you from time to time much to your chagrin. He knew you could be a sore loser and took full advantage of it.

It was finally time for everyone to say their goodbyes. You saw the rest of them out until it was finally only you, your immediate family and Yeosang left.

You and him made it outside your parents’ backyard to see they had gone all out with the Christmas decorations and lights. You lead him to a little archway where a bench sat underneath. You were aptly aware of his knee touching yours.

It was a cold December night but Yeosang had asked if you two could speak where it was just you two and you figured this was the best option where your family wouldn’t interrupt.

“My family likes you,” you said as you smiled at him and leaned against his shoulder. You could hear his own smile when he responded.

“I like your family too.” “What’s this about your mother welcoming me into your family?” You looked up to him to see he was beet red at this point but still tried to come off as playful. You excused it for the cold.

“Don’t mind her. She’s just happy to move on from any reminder of my ex in my life.”

“Does it hurt?” You leaned against him again and shook your head.

“No. Not as much as I thought it would. He tried to contact me earlier today.” There was a pause.

“And?”

“I didn’t respond. He’s not worth it.” You scrunched your nose. “Never was, was he?”

“You said it.” He held up his hands in defense which made you chuckle.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, as comparable as two people could be in the freezing cold, and you closed your eyes as you took in the moment. You felt him shuffling underneath you which caused you to sit up and give him a quizzical look. You excused his crimson face for how cold it was but then you noticed he didn’t meet your eyes as he held a small rectangular box in his hands.

“Here,” he quickly said with what felt like great effort as if he was steeling his nerves to speak.

“What’s this?”

“Your gift.”

“Oh! I actually got you something too but it’s back in the house. I can go—“

“No, no.” He caught your arm before you made it far. “It’s fine. I’ll see it later. Open yours first.”

The determined look on his face stilled your movements as you sat back next to him and opened the box. Inside you found a necklace with a small diamond encrusted snowflake as a pendant.

“I didn’t know what I should get you so I got you this. I hope you like it.”

Your fingers ran over the snowflake and you smiled.

“It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Last Christmas was such a mess for you. I just wanted to make this one a better experience. It’s your favourite holiday and you deserve to have happy memories of it again.”

Your eyes filled up as you looked at him. Yeosang was naturally soft spoken, you knew this but in this moment it seemed he was fighting with himself to get the words out. He looked like he had more to say but struggled to find the words. You had a feeling you knew what it was but you didn’t want to give yourself any false hope. It was then you realised, you actually wanted your not-so-secret wish to come true. It was then you realised, as your heart pumped out of your chest, just how much Yeosang really meant to you.

“Sangie…”

“I really like you, y/n. I’ve liked you for a long time and I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just couldn’t go another day without letting you know how I feel.”

You knew from how fast he spoke he hadn’t fully processed what it was he’d just admitted to. Once his words caught up to him, his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. You would’ve laughed if you yourself weren’t so overcome with emotion.

Suddenly everything made sense, how he’d always been the one you’d run to, call when you needed help or even just to hear his voice, why you needed his gift to be perfect because to you he was perfect and you wanted him to know.

But you were nervous. Yeosang was so dear to you that you knew if he were to ever break your heart the way your ex did, you might not recover from it. You couldn’t bear losing him forever. If you were to take this leap with him, you had to be sure what you both had was true and not a fleeting feeling. You wished there could be a sign to aid you in your decision.

Something touched your cheek and you realised, once you’d looked up that it had began snowing again. You also noticed something above you both and smiled to yourself.

“We’re under a mistletoe,” you whispered but loud enough for him to hear. He looked up as well and noticed what you’d noticed.

“What does that mean again?” You leaned in close to him, a smile still dancing on your lips.

“It means kiss me, silly.” Yeosang cradled your face ever so gently until finally your lips met. It was as sweet and as soft as he was and with it you knew that your heart this time around was in safe hands.

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merry christmas everyone and i hope you have a wonderful new year :) 🩷

[sequinsmile-x]

All I Want for Christmas

Christmas Eve with the Hotchners.

-x-

Hi besties,

One last bit of Christmas fluff for you lovely lot this year. This really is just pure, family fluff and our favs having a typical Christmas eve with their family.

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate, and happy mid-week to those who don't. I hope you have a wonderful couple of days no matter what you do and what you celebrate <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Malls had freaked her out ever since the case with Katie Jacobs. Especially when she was in one with her children, the memory of all the places a little kid could hide, or be hidden, making a shiver run down her spine every time she thought about it. It didn’t help that Aaron wasn’t here with them, that she was on her own and thinking of every terrible thing that could happen to Jack, Hazel and Oliver, but he was on his way. 

The jet had landed back in DC all of 45 minutes ago, and he’d called and told her he’d come and meet her at the mall. He’d sounded tired, worn down by whatever horrors he and the team had seen when they were away. She told him they could just meet him at home, that he didn’t need to come and wait in line with her so the kids could meet some random guy dressed as Santa, but he’d insisted. 

This kind of thing, the achingly normal parts of being a parent and part of a family, were as important to him as they were to her. The extraordinary ordinariness of it all made her emotional sometimes. Love and joy filling the space in her chest that she thinks must have always been waiting for them. Waiting for the man she loves and his son who would one day be hers, and the little girl and boy who would follow.  It was beautiful and hers and everything she never thought she’d get. 

Which is exactly why even though her feet hurt from standing in line for so long on Christmas Eve, and her back hurt from holding Oliver on her hip since she’d lifted him out of the car, she was able to find the joy in waiting in line at the mall for her kids to see Santa. 

Oliver grumbles in Emily’s arms and rubs his face against her neck. She hums and turns to kiss the 10-month-old’s forehead, “I know sweet boy,” she says, kissing him again, “It’s almost nap time, huh?” 

Hazel turns to look at her, her hand still wrapped up in Jack’s where they were standing barely a foot in front of her, “Mommy, I’m bored.” 

“I know, baby,” she says, Emily smiles at the absolute weariness in her four-year-old’s voice and she adjusts her hold on Oliver, so she can run fingers through the little girl’s dark hair as she looks at the line ahead of them and slightly too enthusiastic elves at the front, “But it’s almost our turn.” 

“Santa has a lot of people to talk to,” Jack says, winking at Emily before he turns his attention to his little sister, “It’s only fair everyone gets to talk to him.” 

One evening, back in November, Jack had announced to his parents that he knew Santa wasn’t real. He’d delighted in being in on the secret as much as they’d been sad that he was, a strange mix of sadness spreading through them at the thought of their eldest growing up and pride because of the person he was becoming.

“Exactly,” Emily says, smiling at Jack, “It’s Christmas Eve,” she enthuses, looking back at her little girl, “He’s a busy guy.” 

“Emily!”

She turns at the sound of her husband’s voice and feels herself relax the moment she sees him walking towards them. She leans in to kiss him the moment he’s close enough, her lips stamped against his, “Speaking of busy guys.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” 

She can hear the weariness in his voice, the tiredness brought on by the job they once shared and coming so close to missing Christmas. She’d left the BAU when she had Hazel, something she had never regretted for a second, and she now led the Counterterrorism unit. She’d sent her team early and had her work phone tucked into her pocket in case of an emergency, but it was important to spend Christmas with her kids - especially when they were so young - because her parents had never really spent it with her. It was why she loved Christmas so much, because she saw it through the eyes of her children, the magic of it stronger than it had ever been as she watched them enjoy it too. 

Hazel throws herself at Aaron, excited to see her father after a few days apart, her apparent boredom now forgotten, “Daddy!” 

“Hi princess,” he says, hauling her up into his arms and kissing her cheek before he settles her onto his hip, “Are you excited to see Santa?” 

She nods, “He’s very busy but it’s almost our turn.” 

He smiles and ruffles Jack’s hair, his smile getting wider when he tries to doge his father’s affection, “Hi buddy.” 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Dad.” 

Aaron then leans in to kiss Oliver’s forehead, “Hi Ollie,” he furrows his brow when Oliver grumbles and leans in closer to Emily, his tiny hand tangled up in her necklace. Aaron looks up at Emily, “Is he okay?” 

She nods and rubs a circle on Oliver’s back, “He’s okay, he’s just tired.” 

“The next family can come forward.”

Emily smiles at the elf in front of them and nods her thanks before she looks at the kids, with genuine enthusiasm in her eyes, “Come on, let's go meet Santa.” 

Hazel goes first. She sits on his lap and tells him what she wants - a princess castle which was currently in the home office waiting to be built - and then smiles for her photo. Jack does the same, a knowing look in his eyes as he goes through the motions for the sake of his parents and his sister. 

As Emily expected, the moment she puts Oliver down on Santa’s lap he bursts into tears. He stays there long enough for a picture, something that makes Emily feel a little bad because of just how much it amuses her. She picks him back up again, shushing him as she tries to soothe him, her lips against his temple as she whispers words of comfort in English and French. 

“Why did Ollie cry?” Hazel asks, one hand in Aaron’s and the other in Jack’s as they walk back to the car, “It’s just Santa.” 

“You cried when you first met him too,” Jack says, his smile getting wide when Hazel furrows her brow.

“No, I didn’t.” 

“You did, princess,” Aaron says, smiling as he meets his wife’s eyes, the memory of their little girl, who had only been 6 months old at the time, and the way she’d burst into tears just like Oliver had.

“But I love Santa,” she says, her lower lip stuck out in a pout. 

“Now you do, sweet girl,” Emily replies, “But you were very little. Even littler than Ollie,” she turns to Aaron, sighing when she sees him dig through his pockets for his car keys, wishing more than anything they were driving home together, “See you at home?” 

He nods, “I’ll grab dinner on the way back.” 

“It’s okay, you’ve been at work all day,” she says, “I can-”

“You’ve got all the kids with you, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “It’s easier if I go.” 

She smiles and nods, stamping her lips against his, “Okay, see you at home.” 

___

She sneaks out of Oliver’s room, making sure she’s careful as she pulls the door closed behind her, sighing in relief for managing to get all the kids to sleep, something that was no mean feat on any day let alone Christmas Eve. 

She yawns as she walks down the hallway, seeking out her husband and the rare and precious alone time she wants with him. She walks downstairs and smiles as she comes to a stop outside of the home office when she hears a muttered curse through the door. She knocks and then steps inside, her smile only getting wider when she finds him sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of the princess castle they’d bought for Hazel. Most of it is still in pieces, with only the base built, and Aaron’s hair is all over the place from where he’d run his fingers through it in frustration. 

“How is going in here?” She asks, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement when he looks up at her, more frustration written across his face than she’d seen in a long time. 

“Did you know that this thing needs three different types of batteries?” He asks, shaking his head as he looks at the instructions again, “Why does anything need three different types of batteries?” 

She sits on the ground next to him, “Do you want any help?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head as he grabs the instructions from the floor in between them, “I can do it. You wrapped all the other gifts, I can build this.” 

She finds herself trying to suppress a smile again, her love for him and his love for their children thrumming under her skin. He was tired. Weary in a way that seemed bone deep, and he was insistent on building one of their daughter’s Christmas presents so she didn’t have to wait for him to do it tomorrow. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and she wraps her hand around the back of his neck, pressing her fingers into the muscles she knew ached the most.

“That’s because I enjoy wrapping presents, honey,” she says, smiling at him, stamping another kiss against his chest, “No one likes to build these things.” 

He hums and hands her the instructions, “You can see if you can make any sense of this if you’d like?”

She takes the piece of paper and immediately frowns at it, the instructions and the accompanying diagrams making no sense at all. She turns it over and tries to read them on the other side, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, honey, they don’t make sense in French or Italian either.” 

They end up working on it together, figuring it out mostly through trial and error as they slowly but surely build the castle they know will delight their little girl in the morning. When it’s eventually done, Aaron switches on all the lights and smiles in delight and relief when it works. 

“Thank fuck for that,” he says, sitting back to admire his work and blowing out a slow breath, “I was very close to telling Hazel that Santa was all out of princess castles.”

“No, you weren’t,” Emily chuckles and leans in to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his as she cups his cheek, “You’d have stayed up until the morning if you needed to. Because you’re the best dad in the whole world.” 

He hums and kisses her, “And you’re the best mom.”

She smiles so widely that her cheeks ache and she once again wonders how this was her life, how she’d got so lucky to have him here with her with their children all safely tucked in their beds upstairs. She thinks of the Christmases she’d spent alone, how she had ached for a life where she’d stay up all night to build a present for her kid just to see their smile in the morning. 

“Our kids are lucky to have us,” she quips and he smiles, leaning in to kiss her again. 

His watch beeps as he pulls, indicating that it was midnight, and he smiles at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks, “Merry Christmas sweetheart.” 

She pulls back just enough to speak, her nose knocking against his as she replies, “Merry Christmas, baby,” she kisses him again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says, “So much.” 

She kisses him, her hand tangled in his hair as she holds him in place before she rests her cheek against his chest, curling herself up against him as she sighs contentedly. She turns her head to look at the princess castle, her eyebrows furrowing as she finally takes in the size of it. 

“Aaron?” 

“Yes, Em?” 

“How the hell are we going to move the castle to the living room?” 

He tightens his hold on her for a second, and she feels more than hears his resigned sigh as it passes from his chest to hers. 

“Well shit.” 

[vickytaa]

𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌.𝐒.

summery: After a great game, y/n is not happy with her participation

___________________☆___________________

My team was happily celebrating winning the match, while I was thinking about what I needed to improve for the next one. I haven't been good enough, I made several mistakes that definitely won't happen in the next one.

I need to train more to improve, I must not drop any balls. Maybe watching the video of my match will help me see where I went wrong.

I played badly. I need to train more, maybe I'll sign up for another training session, surely another coach can tell me what I'm doing wrong. Or als-

"Hey," Matt's sweet voice interrupted my post-match thoughts. He walked over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I quickly looked up, meeting his worried look.

He knew that I took the sport very seriously, but he never supported me in going to train more hours and refused to take me to training sessions that were "Too much" according to him.

I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding. "Can we go home?" I asked, my eyes filling with tears. I didn't know why I felt like crying so badly, nor did I know why I felt like I had played so badly.

But it's true, I played badly.

Matt slowly nodded, not even asking why I hadn't celebrated with my teammates, or how I felt after the game, like he always does. But I think I know why he doesn't, it's because he already knows the answer.

I'm never satisfied with how I play, there are times when I come home crying, torturing myself all day about how I played badly while everyone told me I was the player of the match. But it wasn't enough, it never is.

That's why I always try to find ways to improve, watching my games and counting my mistakes in my notebook:

- 1 serving error, I got to 8/10 touches, I was blocked 3 times, I have to run faster, open up to attack faster, I need to train more.

We left quickly, people who passed me congratulated me for the great game we had, but nothing filled the emptiness I felt inside. Matt noticed it, he knew what was going on inside my mind. Well, maybe only a part of what goes on inside it.

When we got to the car, we got in but Matt wouldn't start the car. He knew this had to stop, what was happening to me was a very serious problem.

"Y/n" Matt said, his tone normal, covering the great concern behind it. I turned my head, just enough to look him in the eyes, and that's when I saw it. The concern, the fear.

The tears that had formed earlier were now rolling down my face. The silence filled the car with noise. Our gazes did not move away, as if they were communicating with each other.

Matt shook his head slightly, inviting me to sit on his lap. I had never given myself to him easily. Whenever I cried after a game I always found a way to cry alone, immersed in my own thoughts.

But this time it was different, there was nowhere to run, and there was no reason to. I slowly unbuckled the seat belt and curled up on his lap, my head resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

It was all very intimate, the moment, the closeness, the love. I had never felt strong enough to let myself be so vulnerable in front of someone, but I couldn't with Matt. He was my safe place, where I recharged my energy to carry on with my day to day life.

He hugged me tightly, as if he was trying to gather the broken glass. The tears kept falling without stopping. Even though there was not a single word, he understood me, I understood myself.

"You shouldn't torture yourself like this. Please, Y/n, it kills me to see you like this every day" Matt confessed. I always knew that he had a bitter taste in his mouth whenever I came home crying from a training session or a game, but hearing it from him?

Pain flooded my chest, knowing how the mental damage I was doing to myself was affecting those I loved the most.

This had to stop, it wasn't good for me and even less for those who care about me. I must stop beating myself up for mistakes that aren't that big of a deal.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice cracking. And I really did. My sobs were the only thing that could be heard at that moment, the sound of them ripping through Matt's soul. Seeing me this broken, this vulnerable, killed him.

He quickly gave me a small kiss on my forehead, and then hugged me even tighter, as if he didn't want me to ever leave. "It's okay, baby." He said, his words hanging in the air as I tried to hold them in and believe them.

It wasn't okay, not at all, but in that moment, I felt like everything was going to be okay. We were going to get through this together and we weren't going to let my frustration win.

"Thank you," I said, my voice low, almost like a sigh, but just enough for him to hear. "I love you," Matt said as he rested his chin on my head, trying to hold me as close as possible.

"I love you more," I said. My sobs slowly calmed down, the air became lighter and the voices in my head quieter.

𝐕 -

[whatwooshkai]

Lucky number 15!

"Look alive, Blades." Heatwave shakes the helicopter's shoulder roughly as he drops a cube in front of him.

Blades smacks him with a rotor, not even bothering to lift his head off the table.

Heatwave smacks his shoulder in retaliation, then slips into the seat next to him. Thankfully the slap fight stops there.

Chase fidgets with his hands, trying to suppress the happy trill of his doorwings. Cohort! Cohort is here! his coding sings.

Which is precisely why he needs to bring this up this morning. It's fairly rare that all four of them get breakfast together- most of Heatwave and Chase's classes are morning classes, and it's rare to see Blades out of bed before midday. But it seems the stars have aligned today, and everyone's in a good mood, so why is he so nervous?

"Have you started thinking about your classes for next semester?" Boulder asks, taking a sip of their cube.

"Oh, Primus, don't remind me," Heatwave bemoans, pressing the palm of his hand to his face. "I have too much to do already to think about that."

Blades gives a noncommittal groan.

"Actually, I wanted to discuss that with you all," Chase blurts, his cohort coding overriding any anxiety he had. "We should take the team classes."

Heatwave raises an eyebrow. "'Team classes'?"

Boulder claps their hands. "I love that idea," they say, optics shining. "The four of us? A team?"

"Yes, this is the year we would have to sign up for it," he continues, scratching at the peeling paint on his wrist. "And we would continue to learn as a team, we would graduate as such, and eventually work as one."

"Yeah, I can get on board with that," Heatwave says, shockingly agreeing without any arguing. "Can't stand my classmates. You guys are alright." He chuckles to himself. "I can at least stand to look at your ugly mugs for more than an hour."

Chase can't suppress the flapping of his doorwings at that. Cohort, cohort, cohort! his coding sings even louder, to the point where his finials start to flick in time to his wings. Cohort together! Cohort stay!

Blades doesn't raise his helm, but his pede gives Chase's a love tap. .:Chase, I love you:. crackles over their internal comms, and Chase has to suppress an embarrassingly happy noise. .:I'm in, I'm so in:.

"I will do all of our registering," Chase tells them, voice tight. He's smiling, it feels a little weird. He feels like he's floating. Cohort stay!! Cohort good, cohort safe, cohort stay!!! "For both the team itself and our classes. You won't have to worry about it."

"Well, you're not gonna hear any arguing from me," Heatwave tells him with a grin, knocking back the rest of his cube. "Alright, I gotta go to class. Thanks, Chase."

He flicks a finial as he walks by, but Chase is too excited to care.

He and the rest of his cohort (his cohort!!!) say their goodbyes and go their separate ways- except for Blades, who is still plastered to the table, cube untouched.

It's going to work this time, Chase tells himself as he heads to the registration office, pre-signed datapad held like precious metal in his hands. They're going to stay. They're cohort. My cohort.

His doorwings don't stop flapping for the rest of the day.

[tagsecretsanta]

From @pareidoliaonthemove

From @pareidoliaonthemove to @littleoldrachel

The Art of a Gift

Fanfic for the TAG Secret Santa 2024

@pareidoliaonthemove

NOTES:

For TAG Secret Santa 2024

Prompts: 1 Nightmare Before Christmas | 2 “Well, SOMEONE just made the naughty list…” | 3 Feeling sad but everyone expects them to be happy because it’s Christmas!

Extra: Virg is my favourite but I’m happy with anything!

I hope this story fits the bill, and a wishing the recipient, and all the Thunderfam a very happy Christmas, filled with all the things you love the best!

Virgil Tracy approached the cluster of girls in the schoolyard nervously. While he knew the laws that governed the hierarchy of the school now allowed him to approach them, his gut instinct told him to keep away.

Boys who like art and piano do not associate with cheerleaders, and ‘in girls’.

But Candice Callen – cheerleader, ‘in girl’ and widely acknowledged as the prettiest girl in their year – had asked him on a date.

Virgil had been uncertain about accepting – things like that just don’t happen, not for real, but no matter the circumstances, boys like him don’t turn down girls like her – not if he wants to survive to graduate.

So Virgil had accepted, even if he spent the whole time waiting for her parents to chase him off their doorstep, or the football team to materialise and do god-knows-what to him (stories of past ‘pranks’ abounded throughout the school and had traumatised Virgil and all his friends before they even thought of casting eyes at girls).

But nothing bad had happened. Candice had introduced him to her parents as her boyfriend, and declared him as such to several other couples from her circle of friends that had been at the restaurant they had eaten at. At the end of the night, Candice had looked up at him shyly, and said she had enjoyed it, and would he like to go out again…?

Virgil, still in a state of shock and unsure about what exactly was going on, had stammered out an agreement, and somehow found himself going on a succession of dates with the prettiest, most popular girl in school.

That his father and grandmother were also doubtful about this new and unexpected relationship was also concerning. But Virgil couldn’t find a graceful way to extract himself from the situation while ensuring that he could walk the school grounds without being either shunned or beaten to a pulp, and time progressed until it was nearly Christmas and Virgil found himself attending a succession of Christmas parties that he would normally not have set foot on the same street as.

And when Virgil somehow found himself attending the Christmas party for his father’s company with Candace on his arm, wearing a dress that had his grandmother tutting with disapproval, his father frowning censoriously and asking pointed questions about Candice being cold, while his brothers eyes were out on stalks, and Virgil was afraid to touch her, lest he make contact with Something That He Should Not Touch.

It was much earlier than customary when Jeff summoned Kyrano to take ‘the kids’ home, to the poorly concealed delight of the five Tracy brothers and Kayo, and the pouting disappointment of Candice.

But Christmas was nearly upon them, and now Virgil was nervously approaching his girlfriend and her friends. He was spotted as he dithered a short distance away.

“Virgil!” Candice squealed, throwing her arms wide and running towards him. Virgil resolutely Did Not Look at the bouncing of her sweater front. She stopped a short distance from him, placed her hands on his shoulders, and leaned in, performing her customary European Double Cheek Kiss with two loud ‘muwah’s, her left foot raised behind her.

Virgil, at a loss what to do, had rested his hands just above her elbows, as she pulled away, he let his hands slide down her arms to catch her hands. “I, uh, I was wondering if, if it would be alright if I came around tonight to deliver your Christmas present?” he asked, feeling his face heat up as the cluster of girls behind Candice elbowed each other and tittered. “You know, with you heading out of state to visit family…”

“Oh, Virgil! A present? Oh, you shouldn’t have!” Candice cooed, and then she giggled coyly. “My parents will be home, so I hope it isn’t that kind of present…”

Virgil flushed beet red at the laughter from her cohort. “NO! No! Oh, no! Nothing like that!” Then Candice pouted and Virgil realised how his words could have been taken. “I mean, um, what, ah, that…”

Candice giggled again. “Silly. I was teasing. Of course you can come around tonight, you know my step-mom and dad like you and you’re always welcome!”

Virgil swallowed. That was true, Mrs Callen had been a friend of his moms, back then she had been in her first marriage, and had been a meek and nervy woman – Virgil had been too young to understand at the time; but with her second marriage she had flourished, and was by all accounts a ‘good match’ with Mr Callen, a well-respected accountant and volunteer firefighter in the town. Virgil had long been familiar with both adults, and they had been nothing but welcoming when he visited their house.

“Uh, okay. Would about five thirty be okay? Only I can’t stay long, because …”

Candice waved away his explanation. “Five thirty will be perfect, Virgil. And Toby has some dreary Rescue Scouts thing that I have to go to, and he’s got to be there for six-thirty.”

Virgil would also be at the ‘dreary’ Rescue Scouts ‘thing’: it was John’s last mid-year presentation, and he was being honoured as one of the thirty Scouts ever, world wide, to have accomplished all badges, and all three of the ‘Personal Improvement’ Challenges. John was particularly pleased to be receiving his recognition at the Mid-Year. It meant he had beaten Scott by six months.

Virgil nodded. “Okay. Um. I’ll see you at five thirty?”

Candice nodded, and pulling her hands free, turned, and hurried back to her friends, disappearing into their midst amid a tsunami of giggles.

Virgil backed away a few steps until he was sure they had lost interest in him, before scurrying back to where he belonged.

“All set, kiddo?” Grandma Tracy looked at Virgil slumped nervously his unaccustomed seat in the front of her car.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil glanced at the back seat, where the gift was carefully strapped into one of the rear seats. Scott sat on the other side of the car, and grinned encouragingly at him. His eldest brother was back from College having turned in his assignments early, and having withstood his father’s interrogation on the subject, was now along for the ride to ‘support’ Virgil.

Jeff had taken his other three sons to the hall early to help set up, and Scott and Grandma would join in after dropping Virgil at the Callens house, and would be back exactly forty-five minutes later to collect him.

Virgil stared out his widow at the house. He was sweating, and it had nothing to do with the heater Grandma had on full blast in the car.

“It’ll be fine, Virg. She’ll love it,” Scott said. “Do you want a hand carrying it to the door?”

“NO!” Virgil yelped, before shamefacedly turning to face his brother. “Sorry, no, I’ll be fine. I’m just…” he waved a hand. “I’ve not done this before, okay?”

Scott grinned his unrepentant amusement, and Grandma chuckled sympathetically. “Come on, kiddo. Out you get. Faint heart, and all that…”

Virgil flushed again and scrambled to escape the car. He still remembered her giving Scott advice – rather graphic advice – about how to french kiss, when Scott had embarrassedly admitted to a disastrous attempt at a kiss with an early girlfriend. He did not want to hear what she might come out with for this situation.

It was with his Grandmother’s fond laughter ringing in his ears that Virgil mounted the front stairs to the Callen’s house, carefully carrying the large gift wrapped package. He waited a moment to ensure the car had turned the corner on its way to the hall before he rang the doorbell.

It was a suspiciously short time before the door opened. Mrs Callen was there, “Virgil! Come in, we’ve been expecting you.”

As Virgil shuffled into the house with his package, Mrs Callen scanned the road outside. “Your ride already left, Virgil?”

He nodded. “Yes, Mrs Callen. Grandma and Scott have gone to help set up the hall. Dad and the others are already there.”

She smiled. “Toby and his Dad are there helping set up, too.” A glance towards the stairs. “Candice takes a bit of time to get read, and I needed time to get the dinner sorted. So we’ll catch them up. If you’re going to the hall too, we can give you a ride?”

Virgil smiled. “Thank you, Mrs Callen, but I’m under strict instructions. I think Dad is looking for a way to make sure Grandma’s not asked to help in the kitchen again,” he added, conspiratorially and she smiled.

“I don’t think there’s anybody new enough to make that mistake,” Mrs Callen reassured him, then paused taking in the gift wrapped parcel, Virgil was clutching.

“Why don’t you wait in the lounge, and I’ll hurry Candice along? I promise, I’ll keep out of your way!”

Virgil flushed, muttered his thanks and followed Mrs Callen to the door to the lounge room. As she hurried off, Virgil carefully propped the gift up against the low coffee table, and turned to stand beside it, facing the door.

Virgil was always nervous when he performed, or when people saw his art, but it seemed to him that this was the worst he’d ever been. He felt hot and cold by turns, there was no oxygen in the room, and it took him a second to realise that what he had thought was some weird metal band being played at high volume was actually his own heartbeat.

This is stupid, he told himself. It’s just a present. I’m just giving her a present. He ran through the breathing exercises his music teacher had taught him and gradually he restored control of his own body.

Candice appeared in the doorway. “Virgil! You made it!” she squealed, and he had yet another repeat of the shoulder-grip double European Cheek Kiss.

“Uh, yeah. Grandma dropped me off. She’s got to pick me up in a bit…” Candice gave him a blank look. “Oh, um, so,” he picked up the package and held it out to her. “This is for you,” he said, awkwardly. “Ah, Happy Christmas?”

Candice blinked at the gift and took it, her face a wide, toothy smile. “Oh, thank you!” she cooed. She tore off the paper, letting it fall to the floor around her feet. Virgil shuffled slightly to the side as she held the revealed canvas out at arms length, so he could see her expression. For a second there was the blank look, then she frowned at the canvas. Virgil’s heart sank.

He knew the painting – a portrait of Candice – wasn’t his very best work, but it was very, very far from his worst. He’d had the realisation that he’d be expected to give her a gift a bit too late, but overall, he was pleased with the result.

He shifted a little, and Candice seemed to realise that he was watching her. The wide, toothy smile that plastered itself to her face was unconvincing, as she exclaimed, “Oh, it’s amazing, Virgil! To think you painted a portrait of little old me!”

Virgil relaxed. Maybe she wasn’t used to receiving art? It had long ago become his go-to. Paintings, drawings, small sculptures and specially written piano music were received with great enthusiasm by his family and the friends he gifted them to.

Candice set the painting on the lounge and looked back at him expectantly. Virgil flushed, his nervousness returning as he realised he didn’t know what she was waiting for him to do. “Um, I’m glad you like it,” he hedged. “I don’t normally give people portraits, not of themselves, but I realised I didn’t know what your favourite type of landscape was, and a still life seemed too, uh, generic, you know? Just … not personal enough? Ah, I’ll get it framed, I just didn’t know what type of frame … Mr Mishra, has a shop just off Main, I always get him to frame my paintings. Um, it’ll have to be in the New Year, though, he’s gone to India to visit some cousins…”

Virgil ran out of things to say, while he was waiting for Candice to … stop looking at him like that.

The silence stretched for a moment, and the frown began to form on Candice’s face. “Is that it?” she asked.

“Is what it?”

“Is that it? Is that all you’re giving me? A painting? Where’s the rest of my present?”

Virgil stared at her. “The frame. You’ll need to choose that…”

He cringed under the thunderous frown. “Virgil,” Candice said, very slowly and deliberately. “I am not your mother. This is not Mothers Day in kindergarten. This is Christmas, and I am your girlfriend. And some tacky painting you made yourself isn’t going to cut it. I know you know what I want. And I know you brought it. There was only one, and it’s gone now. The day after I marked it out for you.” She glared. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, turning up with this painting, but I’m giving you one chance to get it right. You hear?”

Virgil nodded, his knees feeling week.

“Good. I’m going to tell everyone that my present, my real present, had a problem with it, and it’s taking some time to get it fixed. You can give it to me once I’m back at school from my trip. At lunch the first day. In front of everyone. So make it good. Make sure everyone knows how valuable I am. Understand?”

Virgil nodded.

“Good. Now go. And. Fix. This. Up.”

Virgil went.

He was halfway to the hall before he realised what he was doing. He paused, shivering in the street as the wind cut him straight to the bone, as he considered his options. If he called for a ride, he would be both reprimanded for walking alone and so far in the cold, and interrogated for the reason for his quick departure from the Callens.

Virgil had to go to the Rescue Scouts presentation. Virgil didn’t want to go to the Rescue Scouts presentation. He wanted to go home. He needed to think. And he needed quiet to do so. Candice’s words had shaken him to his core. Tacky. Childlike. What if everyone though that? What if Dad, Grandma and his brothers thought he was tacky and childish and cheap giving them gifts he had made, rather than spending his money on them, like they did for him?

He started walking, only to stop after a few dozen steps. What if Mom hadn’t liked his gifts?

The cold that chilled him now had nothing to do with the wind.

Eventually Virgil managed to get his feet moving, Jeff’s long-held mantra kickstarting his thought processes. When problems dogpile on you, start working on the most immediate one. First up, Virgil needed to get to the Rescue Scouts Presentation, and come up with an excuse for not calling for a ride, or waiting for the appointed pickup time.

He still didn’t have a suitable explanation by the time he slipped into the Hall, and almost straight into his grandmother.

“Virgil! I was just heading out to pick you up!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here so soon?”

“I, um…”

He was saved by Grandma glancing over his shoulder. “Oh, Mrs Callen is here. I hope you thanked her, young man.”

“Yes, Grandma.” It wasn’t lying, Virgil told himself. He had thanked Mrs Callen, just not for what Grandma thought he had. He quickly sought to change the subject. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Grandma smiled at him, “You’re a good boy, Virgil. Yes, they still need help setting out chairs up the back.”

Virgil nodded, and fled to the back of the hall, on the far side from his father and brothers and started dutifully lining up chairs for the audience.

Caught up with trying to figure out which of the next of his problems, Virgil lost track of his familys whereabouts, and bumped into his father. “Virgil, you’re here early,” Jeff said, surprised. “How did it go, son?”

Virgil froze, he had no story ready and no desire to tell his father exactly how badly he had messed up.

Mr Callen came to his rescue. “Jeff, honestly, what a question! Would you have told your father the particulars of a meet-up with your girlfriend at his age?”

Jeff chuckled. “I guess not, at that.” He smiled at Virgil. “I’m sure she loved her present, son. I just like seeing you get the appreciation you deserve.”

Virgil’s heart sank at the words. What did his father mean by that? Did he really think Virgil deserved praise? Or was that a way of saying that Virgil deserved the scorn and disdain Candice had just shown him? He forced a smile. “Thanks, Dad,” and fled with another chair.

Virgil was living in a nightmare.

It was less than a week to Christmas, and every waking moment was taken up by trying to figure out how to fix the problems he suddenly fond himself faced with.

He had nearly two hundred dollars in his hidden wallet. One hundred and ninety three dollars and eighty cents, to be exactly.

One hundred and ninety three dollars and eighty cents. One week to Christmas. Four brothers, and two adults. And a girlfriend who had apparently told him what he was expected to buy. Her comment about how ‘valuable’ the gift was to show her to be suggested that he was supposed to give her an expensive present.

Virgil threw himself into all the chores and after-school jobs he could, trying to scrape every last cent he could to firm up his personal finances, while he tried to figure out what to do. Should he use all his money to buy a present for Candice and try to save his hide at school? Should he commit social suicide and try to buy acceptable gifts for his family? Virgil couldn’t decide what to do.

And all the while he went to school, and tried to focus on his lessons; continued his usual after-school lessons and activities; and fulfilled his Christmas-related obligations – playing piano for carol concerts for the hospital, and two of his Grandmother’s fundraising extravaganzas. All the while he tried to hide the true extent of his misery and confusion.

He knew he wasn’t managing it: reprimands for daydreaming in class, followed by concerned questions about his health from teaches; teasing comments from his brothers about ‘moping because he was missing his girlfriend’; and frequently being felt for fever and having his throat and glands checked by his father and grandmother, who were concerned that he was coming down with a seasonal malady. Virgil desperately tried to deflect all this unwanted attention, it was a distraction he didn’t need. There were concerned looks, but everyone backed off, not wanting to provoke a quarrel this close to the time of peace and goodwill.

But time ticked steadily away, and Virgil was very aware of the looming deadline that grew nearer and more ominous.

It was two days before Christmas, and Jeff Tracy was worried. Virgil had been quiet, withdrawn and anxious for nearly a week and for the life of him, Jeff couldn’t figure out why. If he had to make a guess, he would say that the exchanging of Christmas gift with the Callen girl hadn’t gone well, but Virgil had denied it when asked. Although it hadn’t escaped either Jeff or Sally’s notice that there didn’t appear to have been a reciprocal gift.

Both Jeff and his mother had been surprised when Virgil had announced that he had a date with the girl – she wasn’t in his usual circle of friends, and didn’t appear to have anything in common with Virgil; but now that surprise was becoming a vague concern.

Sighing, Jeff pushed his concerns aside. Failed romances were practically a right of adolescence, and at least Virgil wasn’t indulging in the drama that had accompanied some of Scott’s early forays into the world of romance.

He turned his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing: wrapping Christmas gifts. His main gifts had already been wrapped and slid safely under the Christmas tree, protected from Gordon and Alan’s inquisitive fingers by the barrier of the booby-trapped old playpen. But, it had almost become tradition for Jeff to make last-minute purchases – that little something that always seemed perfect when he saw them – that could be wrapped and used to sate the boys exuberance Christmas morning before everyone was ready to face the day.

He pulled the small bag towards him, and pulled out the box it contained. He had been surprised to find a jewellers catalogue open on the kitchen table, a scribbled circle highlighting a diamond and titanium tennis bracelet. The only person who could have done it was his mother, and it was unlike her to show a particular interest in jewellery, but he had a vague memory of her speaking of her grandmother and a bracelet the woman had always worn. It had gone to a cousin, as Jeff recalled, claimed by her uncle as his right as the oldest son to bestow it upon his daughters. Maybe the bracelet reminded her of her grandmothers? The two thousand dollar price tag was expensive, but he could afford it now, and it was Christmas.

He had only managed to cut down the wrapping paper and find where the tape and ribbon had disappeared to when there was a knock on the door. Desperately flipping his comforter over the mess on his bed, Jeff called out, “Who’s there?”

“Jeff, you’ve got a phone call. Simon Callen. He says it’s very urgent he speaks to you – privately.”

His heart sinking, Jeff went to the door and, carefully blocking his mother’s view of the bed, slid outside, firmly closing the door behind him. His mother was twisting her hands anxiously in the corridor. Jeff understood her anxiety. Simon Callen, the father of Virgil’s girlfriend, making an urgent and private phone call from his holiday; what had Virgil been up to?

“I’ve transferred the call to your study, and I’ll keep the boys away from the main phone,” Sally told him.

“Thanks, Mom,” he caught and squeezed her hand. “I’ll find out what all this is about, and I’ll let you know.”

Hurrying to his study, Jeff again secured the door behind him, and slid into his chair, as he accepted the waiting call. The video screen flared to live and he was surprised to see a devastated looking Simon Callen. All sorts of scenarios filled his mind. “Simon, what…?”

“Jeff, I’m sorry to bother you, but I thought this needed to be dealt with immediately.”

Jeff’s heart sank. Oh, god, what?

“Do you know what Virgil’s gift to Candice was?”

Jeff blinked. That was not what he expected from Simon’s greeting. “Um, a painting. I think it was a portrait of Candice?”

Simon bit his lip. “So he hadn’t brought anything else, some jewellery?”

A niggling thought began to worry at Jeff’s mind. “Not that I know of. Virgil always gifts things he’s made – paintings, sculpture or music he’s written.”

Simon nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “Jeff, Mary and I overheard Candice talking to a cousin today, she was saying how Virgil was going to ‘fix up’ his screw up with the present he’d given her, that he’d tried to ‘cheap out’ on her by trying get out of giving her some bracelet she’d indicated to him she wanted, and she knew he’d brought.”

Everything suddenly clicked into place. Jeff swallowed. “I can promise you that Virgil didn’t buy the bracelet. He probably didn’t even know he was supposed to buy it. I found a catalogue with a bracelet indicated. I thought it was my mother highlighting something she liked. I brought the bracelet.” Jeff smiled thinly. “Virgil wouldn’t have been able to afford it, at any rate.”

Simon sagged with relief. “I’ve told Candice that she’s not going to be seeing any boys, and especially not Virgil. From what we’ve gotten out of my niece, Candice has been pulling this kind of racket for a while. She set her sights on Virgil because she’s decided that you’re rich, and he’ll pay to be seen with her.” His lips tightened. “I’ll be contacting the school, to ensure that they know to keep an eye on her, and try to get some information about other boys she might have been … pursuing.”

Jeff nodded. It would be humiliating for Simon and Mary. They were good people, and certainly wouldn’t have raised Candice to be like that. “I’m sorry, Simon. I appreciate how hard this must be for you. I’ll talk to Virgil, in the meantime. I’ll do everything I can to help you through this, Simon. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if any of my boys had done something similar.”

Simon smiled sadly. “You’re a good friend, Jeff. I just wish…”

Jeff nodded. “I you and me both.” He offered a smile of his own. “I know it’s going to be awkward for you, but I hope you have a good Christmas.”

Simon sighed. “It’ll be hard, but we’ll try, Jeff. The same to you and your family. And I’ll be in touch.”

As the videophone went dead in front of him, Jeff sighed. Oh god. Now wonder Virgil had been moping. His thoughts went to the catalogue and bracelet in his room. Two thousand dollars. How did the girl think Virgil would be able to afford that?

Jeff had a moment of doubt. He hadn’t doubted until now that his mother had highlighted the bracelet. Could he be wrong about the girl?

Jeff left his office, slid into his room and gathered up the catalogue and jewellers box. Bundling them into a jumper he pulled off the chair Lucy had always insisted she needed in the bedroom, and Jeff had never had the heart to remove permanently, Jeff went in search of his mother.

“Jeff, what did he have to say?” He indicated the kitchen and shut the door after her before turning to face her.

Jeff pulled out the catalogue. “Mom, did you mark this out?” he handed her the paper, cover folded back to show the advertisement for the bracelet.

She took the catalogue, glanced at the page and shook her head. “No, wh-” her eyes went wide in shock. “She didn’t?”

“Apparently she did,” Jeff said grimly. “Simon and Mary overheard her bragging about it to a cousin.”

Her eyes turned to the door. “That poor boy. No wonder he’s been so quiet.”

Jeff nodded. “I’m going to have to talk to him. Can you keep the others away from my study? I know it has the best soundproofing, but you know what they’re like.”

Sally nodded. “You take care of Virgil. I’ll sort out the rest of them, Jeff.”

A grin. “Don’t be too harsh on them, Mom.”

She snorted, and pushed him gently towards the door, tucking the catalogue into his grip. Jeff took the hint and went to the lounge, where the boys were all playing a board game, Virgil only giving it half his concentration.

“Sorry to interrupt, boys, but I need to talk to Virgil.” The five of them looked up, Virgil’s expression stricken, as the others were surprised.

Jeff held out an arm to his son, and Virgil reluctantly stood up and shuffled towards his father. Jeff swept his arm around his sons shoulders and started guiding him towards the study. Behind him, Jeff could hear Gordon snickering, “Well, SOMEONE just made the naughty list…” before John and Scott shushed him, and his Mom pounced, chivvying the boys to some chore she suddenly desperately needed completed.

Jeff directed Virgil to a chair in his study as he shut the door behind them, and dragged his office chair around to face his dejected son. “I’ve just had a call from Simon Callen,” he began cautiously.

All the colour drained from Virgil’s face. “Wh...what did he want?” he asked, his voice unusually high.

Jeff pulled out the catalogue and handed it to Virgil. “Have you seen this?” he asked. Virgil took the catalogue frowned and shook his head. Then something caught his attention, and he – almost impossibly – paled even further, his lips moving inaudibly. Jeff lipread his sons words ‘Two thousand’.

“I thought your grandmother had highlighted the bracelet,” he said. Pulling out the box and offering it, open, to his son.

In shock, Virgil accepted it, and considered the bracelet. “It’s pretty, but it’s not really Grandma’s style,” he finally managed. “She’d probably prefer a hinged circle type. Um, kind of like a tighter fitting gypsy bracelet?”

Jeff considered, and took the box back, examining the bracelet again. “You’re probably right on that,” he conceded. “I thought it maybe reminded her of a bracelet her grandmother had had, that went to a cousin.”

Virgil gave a silent ‘oh’ in response. They remained silent as Jeff closed the box, and again re-wrapped it and the catalogue in the jumper which he sat on the desk. Jeff sighed. “Did she ask you for other presents?” Jeff asked gently.

Virgil shook his head. “No.” He paused. “I didn’t know she had ‘asked’ for the bracelet until I gave her her gift.”

Jeff nodded. “How did that go, Virgil? Honestly, this time.”

He was alarmed when Virgil’s eyes immediately filled with tears. It took a moment before Virgil managed to say, “At first she made out like she liked it. But then she was … waiting. Like she expected something more, you know?” Jeff nodded. “Then she said … she called the painting tacky, and said that it was childish giving a painting I’d painted.” Virgil stopped, taking several deep breaths before he continued. “She said she knew I’d brought when she’d wanted, and I had one chance to ‘fix it’. I had to give her her ‘real present’ at school in front of everyone. And they had to know how ‘valuable’ she is.”

Virgil bit his lip, for a long moment, then looked up at his father, his eyes threatening to overfill with tears. “Dad,” he whispered, “am I childish and cheap giving people presents that I made?”

Jeff swallowed the lump in his throat, and ignored the burning in his own eyes. “No, Virgil,” he managed, ignoring how his own voice caught, in his throat. “We all, that is your brothers, Grandmother and myself, all know how much time and effort you put into your gifts. It’s the thought you put into what you make, considering what people like, and how best create it.” Jeff smiled wryly, “Between you and me, it can be something of a relief to know that I’m guaranteed one present that isn’t more pairs of socks or underwear, you know?”

Virgil stared at him, and suddenly, uncharacteristically, threw himself at his father, wrapping his arms around him and burrowing his face into his chest. Jeff quickly felt the shuddering breaths and developing damp patch on his shirt front, and his heart broke a little more. Gently rocking his son as though he were several years younger than his actual age, he began stroking the back of his head, quietly waiting out Virgil’s emotions.

It was a long while, but finally Virgil’s breathing settled and sniffing embarrassedly, he pulled back. Jeff let him go a little way, but kept his hold. He examined Virgil’s face carefully, before offering his handkerchief. “Feel better?” he asked as Virgil scrubbed at his face.

Virgil nodded. “I’d been all twisted up, I didn’t know what to do.” He pulled back again, searching for his seat, and Jeff let him go. “I didn’t know what Candice thought I’d brought, and I just felt sick thinking that everyone might think the same as she did…” His breath hitched again. “I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Jeff looked at him in askance. “Candice is one of the ‘it girls’, and everyone says she’s the prettiest girl at school. You don’t say ‘no’ to her. Not if you want to survive at school.”

Jeff’s eyebrows rose. “So you dating her…”

Virgil shrugged. “She asked me. Maybe one of the footballers, or someone like that might get to turn her down, but me?” Virgil shook his head. “It’d have been like declaring war on the popular kids, Dad.” Virgil looked down, embarrassed. “And, I think, I liked that she asked me.” He coloured. “But I didn’t really like her, you know?” Jeff nodded. “We had nothing in common, but she kept asking me out again, and telling people I was her boyfriend, and I kinda … never had a chance to say otherwise.”

Jeff nodded again. “Well, you won’t have to tell her ‘no’,” he offered. “Her parents are banning her from seeing any boys, and they’re going to explain to the school what’s happened. I think they’re planning on following up with other boys she’s done the same thing to. Make her pay them back for the, uh, ‘gifts’ she’s asked for.”

Virgil offered a tight smile. “That might be a long list.” Then his shoulder’s sagged. “I’ve been an idiot, falling for this, haven’t I?” he asked despondently.

Jeff reached over to lift his face up with gentle pressure under his chin. “No, Virgil,” he said, firmly and maintaining eye contact. “You’ve been young. You’ve been inexperienced. You’ve been trusting. And you’re not the only one. There’s no shame in what you’ve done. Understand me?” He waited for an affirmative response. “And the next time you come across a woman like her, you’ll be older and wise for this experience.”

Virgil stared at his father. “You really think there will be more like her?”

Jeff sighed. “Yes, son. I’m afraid there will be. The business is starting to move ahead, and we’re … better off than most in town.” He shrugged. “Somewhere like New York, nobody would notice us.” He smiled. “Well, you’ll have to watch out when art galleries and music studios start to recognise your talent. But the rest of us?” Jeff shrugged again.

Virgil managed a smile. “Until the business gets even better again.”

Jeff chuckled. “I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, son, but I think you’re being a bit fanciful there. I might manage big in Topeka, maybe even Wichita, but even I don’t think an ex-astronaut will have the nous to pull it off world wide.”

“I guess we’ll see, then,” Virgil said.

“I guess we will,” Jeff agreed. “And speaking of seeing, will I be seeing another round of socks and underwear Christmas morning?”

Virgil grinned, a bit of his customary mischief back in his face. “I guess we’ll see,” he repeated.

Jeff chuckled. “I guess we will at that,” he agreed. “Now, get going. Go save your brothers from your Grandma, and have some fun.”

Virgil shot to his feet, “Yes, sir,” he offered a poorly executed salute before scurrying the door.

Jeff heard his feet thundering down the corridor. “Gordon, you had better not have messed with my pieces!” He chuckled at the shouted admonition from his mother for Virgil to walk, competing with Gordon’s protections of innocence and Scott’s assurance he had prevented all attempts to cheat.

Picking up the sweater, Jeff headed back to his bedroom. He had some gifts to wrap, and he had to decide what to do with the bracelet. Virgil was right, it wasn’t really his mother’s style.

Jeff smiled, daydreaming a little. If Virgil was correct, he would have to get used to making such high-stakes decisions...

[letsyapthenightaway]

Matt Rempe x PlusSize!reader

This might be random and not my best, but it's about a dream I had last night.

You had liked him for a couple of months now; sharing mutual friends allowed you to talk and interact with him. All of them knew about your feelings towards him; you thought it was silly. Of course you had to fall for him! Star hockey player, everyone knew their type. Whenever you said something like that, your friends would basically jump you, insisting that you were in your head and that Matt wasn't like that. They also insisted that he definitely liked you back and that you just didn't see the signs.

Those signs you just read as him being a sweetheart and nice. He probably reserves a seat for all his friends, remembers all his friend's favorite foods and orders them for them, and totally watches all shows recommended to him just to be able to have a conversation. Then there were the signs that your friends noticed him glancing over at you, leaning in closer whenever you talk, his "in love eyes and smile." Of course, you implied they read too much into it. Something in you couldn't help but have hope though.

Today you all had a fun little activity with his hockey team. You couldn't help but glance over at him as you helped people with any questions or doubts. He looked especially happy today; maybe it was because his family was in? You shake your head and just go back to working until your friends are surrounding you, giggling like school girls. Matts here~ one said as she nudged you, You should go talk to him! They try to encourage you, and of course, you refuse; suddenly, you are getting pushed into him. He catches you by the waist and smiles down at you, pulling you into him. Before he can say something, you are saying sorry and rushing off.

After a while, you are being called over for a group picture. You rush over to your friends but stop for a moment. You catch Matt glancing over at you; maybe you should go next to him for the picture? You wouldn't look too tall in your heels next to him. You decide against it, not even sitting next to your friends as you wait for the picture. Suddenly you remember you probably don't have lipstick on anymore, so you rush over to your purse to grab it, and then you're being rushed over again. Heels in hand, you run over and sit back in your seat as you put on the lipstick. Everyone in the room is giggling, and you feel someone behind you. You look over at your friends with a questioning face. Look behind you! Just kiss her already! You are confused as you look to your side and see Matt.

Just then he grabs your face and pulls you into a kiss; you are shocked and try to pull away. He lets you in for a second with a bright smile and pulls you in again for another. As all your friends squeal and take pictures. You go to hold his face, forgetting your heels are still in your hands, pull away once again, and softly push your hand away. Careful, he laughs as he takes in your blushing face and runs his thumb on your cheek.

[rootedinrevisions]

Home for the Holidays

SUMMARY: After years of feeling like an outsider, you finally decide to embrace the Christmas holiday - something you’ve never celebrated - with a little help from your friend, Bucky Barnes. As the two of you decorate a tree, share stories, and create new traditions, the bond between you deepens. Bucky starts to reveal parts of himself that you’ve kept hidden for years. As Christmas Eve draws near, your friendship blossoms into something more, and for the first time, you feel like you’re truly home - right where you belong, with him. James "Bucky" Barnes x Witch Reader.

A/N: I wanted to include a quick note to say that this is only my third or fourth attempt at writing something with Bucky Barnes, so I’ll be the first to admit it might be a little rough around the edges. I’m still finding my footing with his character, but I hope I’ve done him justice. Chronologically, this story takes place sometime after Avengers: Endgame but before the events of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It’s a little slice-of-life moment that focuses on the softer side of Bucky—a side I firmly believe exists beneath all his trauma and guilt. In my opinion, he’s a sweet, protective angel who deserves all the love and happiness in the world (and yes, I will die on this hill). This story was so much fun to write, and I hope it gave you some warm, fuzzy feelings too. I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. Thanks for reading, and happy holidays! ❤️

WARNINGS: Mentions of past trauma (Bucky's past as well as some mentions of the reader's past)

WORD COUNT: 9.9k

TAGS: @missmarveledsblog @lonelysoul50 @missbmc94 @multifandomgirl12

This is what I had listed as my tag list for Bucky Barnes. If you would like to be added to the Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

Snow drifted lazily past the frosted windows of the Avengers compound, blanketing the world outside in a soft, silvery glow. The quiet hum of holiday music filtered through the common area, a gentle reminder of the season. Twinkling lights adorned a massive Christmas tree near the far wall, its ornaments carefully curated by the team. The air smelled faintly of pine and cinnamon, a testament to Wanda's insistence that the compound should feel festive, even if not everyone shared her enthusiasm.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, watching the scene from a distance. Laughter echoed from somewhere down the hall—probably Steve and Sam bickering over how to properly hang a string of lights. You didn’t need to look to know they were failing miserably.

Four years. That’s how long you’d been part of the Avengers. And yet, this time of year always felt... complicated. Christmas wasn’t something you’d ever celebrated growing up. Your coven had been insular, focused on rituals and traditions far removed from anything as commercial or joyous as this. The holidays had always felt foreign, like peering into someone else’s life from the outside.

But this year was different.

You weren’t entirely sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the line, the cold, isolating walls you’d built around yourself had started to thaw. Maybe it was because of the team—their relentless attempts to include you in every mission, every celebration.

Or maybe it was because of him.

Your gaze shifted toward the armchair by the fireplace. Bucky Barnes sat there, his metal hand resting idly on the armrest as he stared into the flames. The warm glow of the fire danced across his features, softening the lines etched into his face. You wondered what he was thinking. Bucky rarely volunteered that kind of information, but over the years, he’d let pieces of himself slip through the cracks. You cherished every one of them.

The two of you had a quiet understanding, an unspoken bond forged in shared silences and late-night conversations. He didn’t ask questions you weren’t ready to answer, and you offered the same courtesy in return. But something about this year—this season—made you want to try.

You stepped into the room, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet. “You look like you’re a million miles away,” you said softly, breaking the stillness.

Bucky glanced up, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just thinking.”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

He shrugged, gesturing toward the tree with his vibranium hand. “Trying to remember if I ever actually decorated one of these. It’s been... a long time.”

You took a seat on the couch across from him, tucking your legs beneath you. “Maybe it’s time to start again.”

His eyes flickered to yours, holding your gaze for a moment before he looked away, as if considering the idea. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Maybe it is.”

Bucky’s eyes lingered on the tree for a moment longer before he shifted his attention back to you. “What about you?” he asked, his voice low but steady. “Ever done all this before?”

You tilted your head, studying the tree’s glittering ornaments. They reflected the firelight, casting shimmering patterns across the walls. “Not really,” you admitted. “The coven didn’t exactly prioritize Christmas. Too commercial, too... human, I guess.” A wry smile tugged at your lips. “The closest thing we had was a winter solstice ceremony, but it wasn’t exactly festive. Mostly chanting and lighting candles.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his expression somewhere between curiosity and amusement. “No tree? No presents? Not even the tiniest bit of tinsel?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Nope. Honestly, I’ve spent the last few Christmases in my room, trying to stay out of the way while the rest of you celebrated.”

His brow furrowed at that, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Why?”

The question caught you off guard, though you supposed it shouldn’t have. Bucky had a knack for asking the things no one else dared to. You hesitated, tracing a finger along the seam of the couch. “I don’t know. Maybe I just felt like I didn’t belong. Watching everyone else—it was like looking at something I could never be a part of.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, broken only by the crackle of the fire. When Bucky finally spoke, his voice was quiet but resolute. “That’s not true, you know. You do belong.”

You glanced up, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes—something earnest, almost vulnerable—that made your chest tighten.

“Well,” he continued, leaning forward slightly, “maybe this year’s the one to change that. Your first real Christmas.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He gestured toward the tree again. “We’ll do it right. You and me. Decorations, presents, the works. If you’ve never celebrated Christmas before, we’re gonna make sure this one’s special.”

The idea warmed you in a way you hadn’t expected, though you tried to hide the flutter of hope rising in your chest. “Bucky, you don’t have to do that—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind. “We both could use something good this time of year, don’t you think?”

You studied him for a moment, the firelight painting golden highlights in his dark hair. There was no hesitation in his expression, no trace of doubt. He was serious.

A small smile crept onto your lips. “Alright,” you said softly. “But only if you let me help.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Deal.”

For the first time in years, the thought of Christmas didn’t fill you with a sense of loneliness. Instead, it felt like the beginning of something new—something warm and unexpected. And as the snow continued to fall outside, you couldn’t help but feel like this might be the Christmas you’d been waiting for all along.

You and Bucky stand up and make your way over to the tree. Sam glances up and smiles when he sees the two of you approaching.

“Ah, you two finally decided to join the fun, huh? Don’t worry, we saved the best job for you two - tinsel duty.”

You blinked. “Tinsel duty?”

“Yup.” He pointed to a box overflowing with shimmering strands of silver and gold. “Just toss it around. Try not to overthink it.”

You glanced at Bucky, who gave you an almost imperceptible shrug before grabbing a handful of tinsel. “Alright. But if this ends up looking like a glitter bomb exploded, it’s on you.”

Sam grinned. “That’s the spirit, Barnes!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you and Bucky began draping the tinsel over the tree, your initial hesitation melting away as the room filled with laughter and banter. Wanda teased Clint about his meticulous star placement. At some point Bruce wandered in with a tray of cookies, offering them to everyone.

It was... nice. Warm, even. For the first time, you felt like you weren’t just watching from the sidelines—you were part of it.

As you looped another strand of tinsel over a branch, Bucky leaned in slightly. “Not so bad, huh?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “Not bad at all.”

After an hour or so, the tree was finished, a sparkling masterpiece of lights, ornaments, and, yes, tinsel. The team stood back to admire their handiwork, and for a moment, you caught yourself thinking that maybe, just maybe, this Christmas thing wasn’t so bad after all.

As the others started to disperse, heading to the kitchen or settling onto the couches, you turned to Bucky. “You know,” you began, your voice quiet but thoughtful, “this was fun. But I think... I’d like to have a tree of my own. Just something small, for my quarters.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Your first Christmas tree, huh?”

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s silly—”

“It’s not silly,” he interrupted, his tone sincere. “It’s your Christmas. And if you want a tree, we’ll get you a tree.”

You looked at him, surprised. “We?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I’ll help you pick one out. Tomorrow, if you want. We can make a day of it.”

Your smile widened, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something close to excitement bubbling up inside you. “I’d like that,” you said softly.

Bucky’s grin grew, and he gave you a small nod. “It’s a plan, then.”

As the evening wound down and the team slowly trickled out of the common room, you couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted—something subtle but significant. And as you and Bucky left the room together, the promise of tomorrow lingered in the air, warm and full of possibility.

****

The following day dawned crisp and cold, the snow falling in delicate flurries outside the windows of the compound. You tightened your scarf around your neck as you waited by the door, watching the snow coat the parking lot in a pristine white blanket. When Bucky finally appeared, he was bundled in his usual dark jacket.

“Ready?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“As I’ll ever be,” you replied, grinning.

The drive into town was quiet but comfortable, the radio playing soft holiday music as you watched the snowy landscape blur past. Occasionally, Bucky would glance over at you, his gloved hands steady on the steering wheel. There was something peaceful about the moment—a stillness that felt like the calm before something new.

When you arrived at the small Christmas shop nestled in the corner of town, you stepped inside and were immediately enveloped by the scent of pine and cinnamon. The shop was charming, its shelves crowded with twinkling lights, ornaments of every shape and size, and garlands that sparkled like freshly fallen snow.

Bucky stepped up beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the room. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Where do we start?”

You hesitated, scanning the rows of ornaments and decorations. “I don’t even know,” you admitted with a small laugh. “There’s... a lot.”

“Pick whatever catches your eye,” Bucky said, giving you an encouraging nudge. “It’s your tree, after all.”

You smiled at him, warmth blooming in your chest at his easy acceptance. Slowly, you made your way through the shop, stopping every so often to admire something—a tiny reindeer with jingling bells, a delicate snowflake made of glass, a cheerful Santa with rosy cheeks.

Bucky followed close behind, offering the occasional comment or nod of approval. When you paused to inspect a set of miniature ornaments shaped like stars, his voice softened.

“That one’s nice,” he said, reaching for a small wooden sled nearby. “This reminds me of... something from when I was a kid. My ma used to have one like it on our tree.”

You looked at him, the nostalgia in his tone tugging at your heart. “You should get it,” you said gently.

He hesitated, turning the sled over in his hand as if weighing the decision. Finally, he nodded, slipping it into the basket you were holding. “Maybe I will.”

A few minutes later, as you reached for a small silver ornament shaped like a bird, Bucky’s hand brushed against yours. You both froze for a moment, your fingers tangled over the delicate decoration. Then, almost simultaneously, you broke into laughter.

“Guess I’m not the only one who likes shiny things,” you teased, handing the ornament to him.

Bucky smirked, taking it from you but placing it back on the shelf. “Nah, you can have it. It suits you better.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that lingered on your face.

By the time you left the shop, your basket was filled with an assortment of ornaments and decorations, each one a little piece of your first Christmas. Bucky carried the bags to the car, brushing the snow off the windshield before climbing into the driver’s seat.

As he started the car and the heater roared to life, you turned to him, your breath misting in the cold air. “Thanks for this,” you said softly. “For... helping me figure all this out.”

Bucky glanced at you, his blue eyes warm beneath the shadow of his beanie. “Anytime,” he said. “Everyone deserves a good Christmas.”

The car hummed softly as Bucky steered it back toward the compound, the snow outside swirling in lazy spirals under the gray December sky. You rested your hands on the shopping bags at your feet, the ornaments inside clinking gently with each bump in the road.

“Hey, Bucky?” you asked after a moment of quiet, your voice tentative.

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the road.

“What was Christmas like... you know, for you? Back then.”

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel shifted slightly, his jaw tightening for a moment as if considering the question carefully. He exhaled through his nose, his breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “A lot of it’s... blurry. Like looking through a frosted window, you know?”

You nodded, watching him closely. He seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant as if reaching for a memory that hovered just out of reach.

“But,” he continued after a pause, his tone softening, “I do remember one Christmas. I must’ve been... seven or eight. It had snowed like crazy the night before, and my ma was in the kitchen making these cookies—pfeffernüsse, she called them. Little spiced cookies covered in powdered sugar. The whole house smelled like cinnamon and cloves.”

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth tilting upward as the memory came into focus. “My sister and I were running around, trying to peek at the presents under the tree. My ma kept shooing us out of the living room, telling us to let the tree ‘rest’ before Christmas morning.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Like the tree needed a nap or something.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image. “That sounds... really nice,” you said quietly.

“It was,” he agreed, his voice tinged with wistfulness. “That was the year my dad made us this little wooden sled. It wasn’t anything fancy, just some planks nailed together, but... man, we thought it was the greatest thing in the world. Spent the whole day outside, taking turns sliding down the hill behind our house.”

You watched him as he spoke, his expression unguarded in a way you didn’t see often. It was like the snow outside, rare and fleeting but beautiful in its clarity.

“Do you still have the sled?” you asked gently.

Bucky shook his head, his smile fading slightly. “No. Most of that stuff’s long gone. Especially since I was…away for so long. But... I don’t know. Sometimes I think about that Christmas and it feels... warm. Like a piece of home, even if it’s just a memory now.”

The car fell quiet again, the soft strains of a holiday song playing faintly on the radio. You looked down at your hands, fiddling with the edge of your scarf.

“I think it’s nice that you remember that,” you said after a moment. “Even if it’s just a piece of it. It’s... kind of comforting, you know?”

Bucky glanced at you again, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is.”

As the compound came into view, you felt a warmth settle in your chest, like the glow of a fire on a cold night. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t just be about creating new memories—it would also be about finding pieces of home, even in the unlikeliest of places.

Your quarters were bathed in the soft amber glow of the small lamps you’d lit earlier, the snow outside casting a faint blue tint through the frosted windows. The scent of pine filled the room as Bucky helped you set up the tree you’d picked out earlier. It stood proudly in the corner, a little uneven at the top, but perfect in its imperfections.

“Alright, let’s see if we can make this thing shine,” Bucky said, crouching by the box of lights. He began untangling the strands with practiced patience, while you dug into the bag of ornaments you’d chosen earlier.

You laughed softly as you pulled out the first ornament, a sparkly snowflake. “How is it possible that these lights tangle themselves when no one’s even using them?”

“It’s one of life’s great mysteries,” Bucky replied, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Right up there with why Steve always insisted on going to battle without a helmet.”

You laughed, handing him the snowflake. “Here, start with this. We’ll figure out the lights after.”

Together, you worked to string the lights around the tree, pausing every now and then to adjust a strand or laugh when one of the bulbs flickered out. By the time the lights were glowing softly against the green branches, you felt a quiet contentment settle over you.

“Not bad,” Bucky said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. He reached for one of the ornaments, the small wooden sled he’d picked out earlier. As he held it in his hand, his expression softened, a hint of nostalgia flickering across his face.

“Do you remember something?” you asked gently, watching him closely.

Bucky nodded, turning the ornament over in his hand. “Yeah... I was just thinking about when I was younger decorating the tree with my mom and my sister. My mom had this old box of ornaments she’d pull out every year. Some of them were cracked, some missing hooks, but she insisted on using every single one. My sister and I would try to sneak the broken ones back into the box, but she always caught us.”

He smiled faintly, his eyes distant. “She’d put on this old record of Bing Crosby, and we’d all sing along while we decorated. I wasn’t much of a singer, but my mom didn’t care. She said Christmas wasn’t about being perfect—it was about being together.”

You felt a lump form in your throat at the warmth in his voice, the way the memory seemed to wrap around him like a blanket. “That sounds... really nice,” you said softly, placing a hand on his arm.

Bucky glanced at you, his smile fading slightly. “What about you? Did you ever...?”

You shook your head, lowering your gaze to the ornament in your hand. “No. My life was... different. I never really felt like I belonged anywhere, not with my coven, not with anyone. Holidays were just another day to remind me of that.” You hesitated, then looked back up at him. “But... being here, with the Avengers, with you... I don’t know. For the first time, I feel like I’m part of something. Like I have a family. Like I finally have somewhere I belong.”

The words hung in the air between you, soft and vulnerable. Bucky’s gaze lingered on yours, something unspoken flickering in his blue eyes.

Before either of you could say more, you turned to grab another ornament, your foot catching on the edge of the tree skirt. You stumbled forward, a startled gasp escaping your lips—but before you could fall, Bucky’s arms shot out, catching you effortlessly.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice low as he steadied you.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, his strong, steady presence grounding you. For a moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed to shrink, the glow of the Christmas lights casting a soft halo around you both. His hands rested gently on your waist, his touch warm even through the fabric of your sweater.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t let go right away, his gaze searching yours as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. The air between you felt charged, every breath a little too loud in the quiet room.

But then, just as quickly, he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides. “You okay?” he asked, his voice steady but softer than usual.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, brushing your hands down your sweater as if to smooth away the moment. “Guess I’m not very graceful when it comes to decorating.”

Bucky chuckled, but the sound was softer than usual, almost hesitant. “Good thing you’ve got me to keep you on your feet.”

You smiled, picking up the ornament you’d dropped and hanging it carefully on the tree. As you worked side by side, the moment lingered in your mind, the warmth of his hands on your waist and the way he’d looked at you etched into your thoughts.

****

The days slipped into weeks, the festive atmosphere of the compound becoming more pronounced as Christmas drew closer. You found yourself caught in the whirlwind of preparations alongside the team, but your thoughts often drifted back to that night with Bucky.

You’d replayed those moments over and over again—his quiet laugh as you picked out ornaments together, the way his hands had steadied you when you almost fell, the warmth in his eyes when he’d talked about his family. It was silly, really, how those memories clung to you, but you couldn’t help it. For the first time in a long time, someone had made you feel seen.

But then... nothing.

Bucky had been called away on a mission not long after that night. You’d overheard someone mention something about Siberia, and though you weren’t sure of the details, you knew it must have been important. The days without him had stretched on, each one marked by his absence. You told yourself it was no big deal. He was an Avenger, after all. Missions came first, and it wasn’t like you had any claim to him.

Still, you couldn’t shake the way your chest felt heavier when you passed by his empty quarters or the way you caught yourself glancing at the door to the common room, half-expecting to see him walk through it.

With a sigh, you dropped onto the couch in your room, tucking your feet beneath you as you stared at the softly glowing tree in the corner. The lights twinkled, casting a warm, comforting glow across the room, but tonight they only seemed to remind you of how quiet things had become.

Your fingers toyed with the edge of a blanket as you tried to push the thoughts away. He’d be back soon, you told yourself. And when he was, things would go back to the way they were—comfortable, easy. That’s all it was. Just... comfort.

****

The compound was quieter than usual, the emptiness pressing against you as you moved around the kitchen. Christmas Eve wasn’t supposed to feel this... lonely. You glanced at the clock above the stove. Another hour had ticked by, and there was still no word from the team. They were supposed to be back days ago.

You sighed, brushing your hands down the front of your apron as you tried to push the ache in your chest aside. The menu you’d planned—a simple, homey meal—sat scribbled on a piece of paper beside you. Roast pork loin, roasted vegetables, and sugar cookies. It wasn’t extravagant, but it felt like something you could offer as a small gift to the others.

Even if no one else was around to enjoy it, cooking gave you something to focus on. You’d spent the morning shopping for the ingredients, carefully selecting the best cut of meat and the freshest vegetables. Now, as you peeled carrots and diced potatoes, the steady rhythm of your knife against the cutting board was almost soothing.

Almost.

You paused, your hand lingering on the edge of the counter as your gaze drifted to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree in the common room, visible through the doorway. It had been weeks since you’d decorated your own tree with Bucky, and you’d replayed that night so many times in your mind. You’d held onto the hope that he’d be back in time to celebrate with you, but as the hours slipped away, it was starting to feel like this Christmas might pass quietly, like all the others before it.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t hear the faint creak of the kitchen door opening. The sound drew your attention, and you glanced up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw who was standing there.

Bucky.

He lingered in the doorway, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, his dark hair slightly damp from the snow melting on it. His blue eyes softened when they met yours, and for a moment, the tension in your chest eased.

“You’re back,” you said, your voice softer than you’d intended.

“Yeah,” he replied, stepping further into the kitchen and setting his bag down. “Mission took longer than expected.”

You nodded, gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as a wave of relief washed over you. “I didn’t think anyone would be back in time for Christmas.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he took in the sight of the half-prepped meal spread out on the counter. “Looks like you’ve been keeping busy.”

You glanced at the cutting board, suddenly self-conscious. “I just... thought it’d be nice to make something for everyone. If they came back.”

He tilted his head, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he moved closer. “Need a hand?”

“You’ve just got back,” you said, shaking your head. “You should rest—”

“I’d rather be here,” he interrupted gently. His voice was steady, but there was something in his tone, something unspoken, that made your chest tighten.

For a moment, you simply stared at him, caught in the quiet intensity of his gaze. Then you nodded, stepping aside to make room for him at the counter. “Alright. But don’t blame me if you end up peeling all the potatoes.”

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm as he shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. “Deal.”

As you handed Bucky a few potatoes and pointed him toward the sink, the two of you slipped into a quiet rhythm. Cooking felt easier with someone there to share the work, and you couldn’t help but notice how naturally he fell into step beside you. He peeled the potatoes with steady, practiced movements, while you worked on seasoning the pork loin and tossing the vegetables with olive oil and spices.

It wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned for your first Christmas dinner, but the ease between you and Bucky made it feel... right.

“You’re pretty good at this,” you said, glancing at him as he rinsed off the peeled potatoes.

He smirked faintly. “Peeling potatoes isn’t exactly rocket science.”

“No, I mean all of this,” you gestured toward the counter, where bowls and ingredients were strewn about in organized chaos. “You’re a lot more... domestic than I expected.”

Bucky chuckled, his gaze softening as he dried his hands on a towel. “Grew up helping my ma in the kitchen. She made sure I knew how to cook a decent meal.”

The image of a young Bucky helping his mother in a warm, bustling kitchen tugged at your heart. You smiled, trying to picture it. “Well, consider me impressed. I was expecting more of a... ‘break things and punch stuff’ skillset from you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m still pretty good at that, too.”

You laughed softly and handed him a cutting board. “Alright, tough guy. Chop those into chunks while I get the roast ready.”

He followed your instructions without hesitation, his knife slicing through the potatoes with precision. You couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, the way his hands moved deftly, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration. There was something grounding about his presence, something steady and reassuring that made the kitchen feel warmer.

As you worked together, the sound of soft Christmas music from the compound’s speaker system filled the room, mingling with the rhythmic chop of the knife and the clatter of pans. The smell of seasoned pork and fresh herbs began to fill the air, cozy and inviting.

The door to the kitchen creaked open, and Wanda poked her head in, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. “That smells amazing,” she said, stepping fully inside.

“Dinner’s not ready yet,” you said with a laugh, glancing at her over your shoulder.

“I wasn’t rushing you,” Wanda replied with a grin. Her gaze flicked between you and Bucky, her eyebrows raising slightly, though she didn’t say anything else. “Let me know if you need any help. Otherwise, I’ll just sit here and enjoy the smell.”

She wandered off toward the common room, leaving you and Bucky to exchange a quick glance and a quiet laugh.

Not long after, Clint wandered in, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Whatever’s cooking in here, I want in on it.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes good-naturedly.

He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, gave you both an approving nod, and left just as quickly as he’d arrived.

“Is this what Christmas is supposed to feel like?” you asked aloud, half to yourself, as you slid the roast into the oven.

Bucky, who had just finished chopping the last potato, glanced at you. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, wiping your hands on a towel. “The smells, the warmth, the people coming and going... it’s nice. Feels... cozy.”

Bucky smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned his attention back to the cutting board. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It does.”

As the minutes slipped by, the kitchen grew warmer, the scents of roasted meat and caramelizing vegetables filling the air. You and Bucky worked seamlessly together, trading jokes and small smiles as you moved around the small space. It was easy—easier than you’d ever imagined—and for a moment, you let yourself believe that this could be what home felt like.

The dining area was simple but welcoming, with the table set for six. You’d managed to find a festive red tablecloth in one of the compound’s storage rooms, and Wanda had added a few candles and some greenery she’d somehow conjured up at the last minute. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it felt warm and inviting.

Everyone filed in slowly, drawn by the smell of the meal you and Bucky had prepared. Sam was the first to sit down, followed by Clint, who made a show of sniffing the air and declaring, “This is going to be the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had that didn’t involve takeout.”

Bruce arrived next, carrying a bottle of wine he’d found in the compound’s pantry. “Figured this could help wash down the meal,” he said with a small smile, setting it on the table.

“Classy touch, Doc,” Sam said, giving Bruce a thumbs-up.

Wanda floated in last, her eyes lighting up as she saw the spread on the table. “This looks amazing,” she said, taking her seat beside Clint.

You stood at the head of the table, looking around at the assembled group. Bucky lingered near your side, his presence steady and reassuring as always. He caught your eye and gave you a small nod, as if to say, You did good.

“Alright, dig in before it gets cold,” you said, gesturing to the food.

There was a brief scramble as everyone reached for plates and serving spoons. Conversation soon flowed effortlessly around the table, voices overlapping in that warm, chaotic way that only happened when people felt comfortable.

“This pork is incredible,” Sam said, pointing his fork at you. “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

You shook your head, laughing. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

“Well, you’ve set the bar pretty high,” Clint added, slicing into his roasted vegetables. “Next year, we’re expecting a full five-course meal.”

Bucky chuckled softly beside you, his own plate half-finished already. “Ease up, Barton. You’re lucky she didn’t make you a peanut butter sandwich.”

You nudged Bucky with your elbow, grinning. “I could’ve done that, you know. Would’ve saved a lot of time.”

The table erupted into laughter, and for a moment, you let yourself soak it all in. The warmth, the banter, the feeling of being part of something.

As the conversation drifted to other topics, your eyes found Bucky’s across the table. He was leaning back slightly, his fork idly pushing a roasted carrot around his plate as he listened to Bruce explain some scientific experiment. When he felt your gaze, he glanced over and offered you a small, almost shy smile.

You smiled back, your heart doing a little flip.

“So,” Wanda said suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts, “what’s everyone’s favorite Christmas tradition?”

The question sparked a flurry of answers. Sam talked about how his mom used to make beignets every Christmas morning. Clint shared a story about a Christmas Eve prank war with Natasha that had involved a strategically placed mistletoe and a very grumpy Steve. Even Bruce opened up, reminiscing about reading “The Night Before Christmas” to his nieces and nephews when he could make it home.

When it was Bucky’s turn, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to you before he spoke. “We used to decorate the tree together,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “My mom, my sister, and me. She’d make hot chocolate, and we’d argue over who got to put the star on top.”

The table fell silent for a moment, the weight of his words settling in.

“That sounds nice,” Wanda said softly, breaking the quiet.

Bucky nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “It was.”

The conversation picked up again, but you found yourself watching Bucky out of the corner of your eye. There was a softness to him tonight, a vulnerability that he didn’t often show. It made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

As the meal wound down, Clint leaned back in his chair with a satisfied groan. “Alright, I’m calling it. Best Christmas dinner ever.”

“Agreed,” Sam said, raising his glass of wine. “To the chef—and her assistant.”

“Assistant?” Bucky scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “I did half the work.”

“Sure you did, buddy,” Sam teased, smirking.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, alright. Thanks for the help, Bucky. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

His gaze met yours, and for a moment, the noise around the table faded. “Anytime,” he said softly.

As the others began to clear their plates and drift off, you couldn’t help but feel like this was exactly what you’d been missing. A family, a place where you belonged—and maybe, just maybe, something more.

The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft clinking of dishes and the steady rush of water from the sink. You stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, as you rinsed off the last of the dinner plates. Bucky was beside you, dish towel in hand, drying each plate you handed him with quiet efficiency.

“You really don’t have to help,” you said, glancing at him. “You’ve been on a mission for weeks. Go put your feet up, or something.”

Bucky smirked, taking the plate you passed him and wiping it dry. “Nice try, but I’m not leaving you to clean all this up alone.”

“I mean it, Bucky,” you said, though your tone lacked any real conviction. “You’ve done enough.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replied, his voice calm and steady.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Stubborn as ever.”

He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and warm. “Takes one to know one.”

For a while, the two of you worked in companionable silence. You washed, he dried, and every now and then, your hands brushed as he took something from you. Each touch was fleeting, but it sent little sparks through you nonetheless.

After a few minutes, Bucky broke the silence. “You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I haven’t really done this...celebrated Christmas, I mean, in decades.”

You looked over at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on the plate he was drying. “After everything I lost—my family, my friends—it just felt...too painful. Like I didn’t deserve it anymore. Or like celebrating would make it harder to forget what I’d lost.”

Your chest ached at his words, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He shrugged, but his expression was pensive. “It is what it is. But tonight...” He trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. “Tonight didn’t feel so bad. You’ve got this way of making things feel...lighter.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his voice. “I—thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “And thank you for helping me. This whole holiday thing is new to me, and...I don’t know. I feel like tonight was the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a small smile, one that reached his eyes. “I’m glad,” he said simply.

The moment stretched between you, the air charged with something unspoken. You glanced down, focusing on the water in the sink to keep yourself grounded.

After a moment, you handed him the last dish. “Well,” you said, clearing your throat, “that’s the last of it. We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” he said, drying the plate and setting it on the counter. “We do.”

You turned off the water and wiped your hands on a towel, feeling strangely reluctant for the moment to end. “Thanks again, Bucky,” you said, meeting his gaze. “For everything.”

He nodded, his expression soft. “Anytime.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The kitchen was quiet, the warmth from the evening lingering in the air. It felt like there was something just out of reach, something waiting to be said or done. But neither of you took that step.

“Goodnight,” you said finally, your voice soft.

“Goodnight,” Bucky replied, his voice low and steady.

As you turned to leave the kitchen, you felt his gaze follow you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same pull you did.

You paused just as you reached the doorway, your hand still resting on the frame. A thought struck you, sudden and vivid, and you turned back toward Bucky, your heart skipping a beat.

“Bucky,” you called softly, your voice carrying across the quiet kitchen.

He turned immediately, his blue eyes meeting yours with an almost questioning look. “Yeah?”

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling nervous. “I, um... I got you something. For Christmas.”

His brows lifted slightly, surprise flashing across his face. “You got me a present?”

You nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the towel in your hands. “It’s nothing big, just...something I thought you might like. Do you—do you have a minute to come to my room?”

For a moment, Bucky just stared at you, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a small smile broke across his face, warm and genuine. “Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Of course.”

Relief flooded through you, and you smiled back, gesturing for him to follow. Together, the two of you left the kitchen and walked through the quiet hallways of the compound. The soft hum of the lights overhead was the only sound, and the air between you felt charged with anticipation.

When you reached your quarters, you opened the door and stepped inside, glancing back to make sure Bucky was following. He lingered just inside the doorway, his gaze sweeping over your room. The Christmas tree you’d decorated together stood in the corner, its soft, colorful lights casting a warm glow across the space.

“You did good setting the rest of the stuff up. It looks good,” he said, his voice low and approving.

“Thanks,” you replied, your nerves returning as you moved toward the small dresser where you’d stashed the gift. You pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box and turned back to face him, holding it out with both hands.

Bucky’s eyes flicked from the box to your face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his expression. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, his voice soft.

“I wanted to,” you said simply, stepping closer. “Go on, open it.”

He hesitated for just a moment before taking the box from your hands. His fingers brushed yours briefly, and the small touch sent a shiver up your spine. Carefully, he unwrapped the paper, revealing a small, vintage-style pocketknife with a dark wooden handle. The owner of the shop said it was from the 1940s but you weren’t sure if that was true or not.

He turned it over in his hand, his thumb running over the smooth surface of the wood. “This is...” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “This is really nice.”

You shifted on your feet, suddenly self-conscious. “I thought it might remind you of...well, of home. Of a time before all the chaos. I figured it might be something you’d actually use, too.”

Bucky’s gaze lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, the weight of his gratitude was almost overwhelming. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This...this means a lot.”

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. “I’m glad you like it.”

He looked down at the knife again, turning it over one more time before tucking it into his pocket. Then, he stepped closer, his blue eyes fixed on yours. “You know,” he said, his voice low and earnest, “this might be the first Christmas in a long time that’s actually felt...real. Like it means something.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m glad,” you said softly. “You deserve that, Bucky.”

For a moment, it felt like time stood still. He was so close now, close enough that you could see the faintest trace of stubble on his jaw, the way his lashes cast soft shadows under his eyes. The air between you was heavy with something unspoken, something fragile and electric all at once.

But then, with a small, almost shy smile, Bucky stepped back, breaking the spell. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, patting the pocket where he’d tucked the knife. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt.

Bucky lingered, his eyes still locked on yours. Just as he seemed ready to turn and leave, he paused, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. “Wait,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head in curiosity, watching as he pulled out a small, carefully wrapped package. Your breath caught when he held it out to you.

“I, uh... I got you something too,” he said, a hint of nervousness in his tone.

“You did?” you asked, your heart skipping a beat as you reached for the package.

Bucky nodded, his gaze flickering down to the gift in your hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you, but...it felt right. I saw it a while back, and it reminded me of something my mom used to wear.”

Carefully, you unwrapped the package, your fingers trembling slightly. Inside was a delicate vintage bracelet, its silver chain adorned with a single charm—a tiny engraved locket that opened to reveal enough space for two small pictures.

Your breath hitched as you turned it over in your hands. The craftsmanship was intricate, timeless, and utterly beautiful.

“Bucky,” you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. “This is...it’s stunning.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint flush creeping up his cheeks. “It’s nothing fancy. Just thought it might be something you’d like. Something that...you could carry with you, you know? To remind you that you’re never alone.”

Your throat tightened, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. “I love it,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, Bucky. This means so much to me.”

You looked up at him, your fingers still clutching the bracelet. The room felt charged with a warmth that wasn’t coming from the soft glow of the Christmas lights. It was him—his presence, his quiet strength, his unspoken care that seemed to radiate and fill every corner of the space.

“Bucky...” you began, hesitating as the words bubbled up inside you. “I—there’s something I need to say.”

His eyes softened, his full attention on you now. “What is it?”

You swallowed hard, summoning the courage you’d been holding back for so long. “I care about you,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. You’ve done so much for me, and being around you...it feels like I’ve finally found where I belong. I’ve never had that before, not until you.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his lips parting as if he hadn’t expected your confession. But then, slowly, a smile touched his face—a real one, not the guarded half-smiles he often wore.

“I’ve cared about you for a long time,” he said quietly, his voice deep and steady. “But I wanted to give you time. To find your place here, to heal, to figure out what you wanted. I didn’t want to push you before you were ready.”

Tears welled in your eyes, your heart aching with a kind of happiness you’d never experienced before. “I am ready,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Bucky took a small step closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your cheek. The touch was soft, tentative, as if he was afraid you might pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your eyes searching his.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice so quiet it was almost a breath.

You nodded, your answer coming without hesitation. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was gentle yet filled with unspoken longing.

You responded instantly, your hands finding their way to his chest as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the quiet hum of the Christmas lights.

When the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I don’t want to rush you,” he murmured. “But I want you to know how much you mean to me. How much you’ve always meant to me.”

“You’re not rushing me,” you assured him, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart. “This feels...right. It feels like home.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. Without another word, he leaned down and kissed you again, deeper this time, as if to seal the promise between you.

****

The room had grown quiet, save for the soft hum of the Christmas lights strung around your quarters and the faint whistle of the wind outside. You were curled up on the couch with Bucky, your head resting against his chest as his arm stayed wrapped protectively around your shoulders. The warmth of his body and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing had lulled you into a hazy calm.

Bucky’s hand absently traced slow, soothing circles on your arm as his gaze drifted to the window, where snowflakes swirled in the darkness. He glanced down at you, noticing the way your breathing had slowed and how your hand, resting against his chest, had slackened.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, his voice low and tender. “You falling asleep on me?”

You stirred slightly but didn’t lift your head. “Mm...maybe,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

Bucky chuckled quietly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” he said, shifting slightly to sit up.

But the moment he moved, your arms tightened around him instinctively, and you pressed closer, your cheek nuzzling against the fabric of his sweater. “Don’t go,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Bucky froze, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He leaned back against the couch, his hand brushing your hair gently. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised softly. “I just don’t want you to wake up with a stiff neck from sleeping on the couch.”

You finally tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes heavy-lidded but filled with a quiet plea. “Stay,” you whispered, your voice more certain now. “Just for tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”

Bucky’s throat tightened, the vulnerability in your voice cutting straight through him. He searched your face, his brow furrowing slightly as if trying to gauge if this was truly what you wanted. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, your fingers clutching the front of his sweater. “Please,” you said, your voice so soft it was almost a breath.

Bucky exhaled slowly, his resolve crumbling. “Alright,” he said finally, his tone filled with quiet understanding.

Carefully, he shifted you in his arms, standing and carrying you effortlessly toward your bed. You clung to him, your arms looped around his neck as he gently laid you down. The warmth of the blankets enveloped you, but you refused to let go, your fingers still clutching his sleeve.

Bucky hesitated, his weight balanced on the edge of the bed as he looked down at you. “You really want me to stay?” he asked again, his voice softer now.

“Yes,” you said without hesitation, your eyes meeting his. “I feel safe when you’re here.”

The honesty in your words made something inside him shift. Slowly, he slid onto the bed beside you, careful not to crowd your space as he leaned back against the pillows. You immediately nestled into his side, your head resting against his shoulder as your hand came to rest on his chest.

Bucky let out a quiet sigh, his arm wrapping around you once more. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the faint crackle of the heater and the distant howl of the wind outside.

As your breathing evened out, Bucky tilted his head down to look at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, his voice filled with a warmth that matched the glow of the lights around the room.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, both of you fell asleep with a sense of peace you hadn’t known you were missing.

****

The soft glow of morning light filtered through the curtains, blending with the warm twinkle of the Christmas tree lights still glowing from the night before. The compound was quiet, the usual hum of activity stilled by the early hour and the calm of Christmas morning.

You stirred first, the warmth of Bucky’s body next to you a grounding presence. His arm was still draped around your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. For a moment, you stayed still, savoring the peace of the moment—the steady beat of his heart, the faint scent of cedar and something uniquely him, the weight of his arm holding you close.

You shifted slightly, your movements stirring him. Bucky let out a soft, contented groan before his blue eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. His gaze found yours, and a small, sleepy smile curved his lips.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

“Morning,” you replied softly, your own smile spreading as you propped yourself up slightly to look at him.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the quiet intimacy of the morning wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Eventually, you broke the stillness, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Coffee?” you offered, your voice gentle.

Bucky nodded, his smile growing. “Coffee sounds good.”

You slid out of bed, your bare feet padding softly across the floor as you went to the small kitchenette in your quarters. Bucky followed a moment later, tugging his sweater back into place as he moved to help. You waved him off with a playful smile, insisting, “You just woke up. Sit. Relax.”

He smirked but obeyed, settling himself on the couch as he watched you move. The rich aroma of brewing coffee soon filled the room, mingling with the scent of pine from the Christmas tree. You brought over two mugs, handing one to him before curling up next to him on the couch.

The tree’s lights cast a soft glow around the room, their colors reflecting faintly in the steaming surface of your drinks. You pulled your legs up beneath you, leaning against Bucky’s side as you cradled your mug in your hands.

“This is nice,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet and thoughtful. “I didn’t really know what to expect for my first Christmas, but... this? This is perfect.”

Bucky glanced down at you, his expression softening. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice filled with a kind of tentative hope.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Last night... and now... this is the best first Christmas I could’ve imagined.”

His arm tightened around you, pulling you just a bit closer. “Good,” he said, his voice steady and warm. “Because I meant what I said last night. There’ll be more. As many Christmases as you want.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you turned slightly, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Bucky’s free hand came up to brush softly against your hair. “For what?”

“For everything,” you said, your voice quiet but full of emotion. “For being here. For making this feel like home.”

Bucky didn’t reply right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your arm.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a low murmur. “You’ve given me more than you know,” he said. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever feel this again. This kind of peace.”

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other, the words unspoken but understood.

The moment lingered, soft and quiet, as the snow continued to fall outside, blanketing the world in a serene stillness. It was a Christmas morning you’d never forget—the first of many, just as Bucky had promised.

The hum of activity and cheerful chatter echoed down the halls as you and Bucky eventually made your way to the common room, hand in hand. The soft buzz of excitement in the air was unmistakable—it was Christmas morning, and despite the team’s various histories and struggles, they had all come together to celebrate like a makeshift family.

As the two of you stepped into the common room, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, hot cocoa, and cinnamon pastries hit you instantly. Wanda and Clint were seated on the couch near the towering Christmas tree, their attention briefly shifting from the pile of wrapped gifts underneath it to you and Bucky. Sam stood near the fireplace, gesturing animatedly as Bruce tried to hang a strand of garland that kept slipping off.

It didn’t take long for them to notice.

“Well, well,” Sam said, turning to face you with a sly grin as his eyes zeroed in on your intertwined hands. “What’s this? I step away for one mission, and suddenly you two are attached at the hip? Called it!”

Wanda turned to look at you both, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “I did sense something was different when I walked in earlier,” she added playfully. “But I didn’t want to pry.”

Clint, perched on the arm of the couch, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “About time, Barnes. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, his free hand rising to rub at the back of his neck, but the faint pink that dusted his cheeks gave him away. “You’ve been back for all of five minutes, and you’re already running your mouth,” he quipped, shooting a halfhearted glare at Sam.

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” Sam teased, folding his arms and leaning casually against the fireplace. “I mean, look at you! The guy who used to sit in the corner and brood now looks downright cheerful.”

Despite the teasing, the warmth in the room was palpable. No one was being cruel or overbearing—it was clear they were genuinely happy for you both.

You squeezed Bucky’s hand, shooting him a small, reassuring smile before addressing the team. “Alright, alright,” you said, your voice light but firm. “Get it out of your systems now. We’ve got presents to open, and I’ll be damned if I let Sam’s running commentary delay the fun.”

Sam threw his hands up in mock surrender, grinning. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I won’t circle back to this later.”

The morning unfolded with laughter and lighthearted banter. The group gathered around the tree, taking turns opening gifts and sharing stories. Wanda surprised you with a beautiful scarf she had hand-knit, and Clint gifted you a set of books he had noticed you admiring during a rare team outing. Sam gave Bucky a “World’s Okayest Teammate” mug, which earned a hearty laugh from everyone except Bucky, who muttered something about breaking it “accidentally.”

As the festivities carried on, you found yourself glancing at Bucky every so often, catching his gaze as he looked back at you. Each time, a small, private smile passed between you, a silent acknowledgment of the new chapter you’d both begun.

At one point, Bruce approached you with a warm smile, his voice quiet amidst the lively chatter. “You seem happy,” he said simply.

You nodded, your eyes drifting toward Bucky, who was laughing at something Clint had said. “I am,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with certainty. “More than I’ve been in a long time.”

Bruce gave you a knowing nod before stepping back into the group, leaving you with a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years.

As the morning turned into afternoon, the team began to scatter, some retreating to their rooms, others lingering in the common room to enjoy the warmth of the fire and the quiet buzz of the holiday. You and Bucky stayed together, finding a comfortable spot on the couch near the tree.

Bucky reached over to take your hand, his thumb brushing gently against your knuckles. “You alright?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

You turned to him, your heart swelling as you took in the warmth and tenderness in his gaze. “Yeah,” you said, your voice steady. “I’m more than alright. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Bucky’s lips curved into a soft smile, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “Good,” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken promises.

The two of you sat there for a while longer, surrounded by the quiet hum of the compound and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. It was a moment you’d cherish forever—a memory of warmth, love, and belonging that marked the start of something truly beautiful.

[the-tmnt-ficfinder]

Christmas kindness letter

To Remedyturtles AKA Remrose,

I’ve read a good chunk of your fics. Probably just about all of them. And what constantly amazes me is your way to just… draw me INTO the story and leave me literally unable to put it down. What’s especially funny about that is how you write a lot of Leo-centric things, and my favourite turtle is Donnie. Leo is my second favourite, though. But I didn’t think I’d ever be so captivated by the stories you tell about him, especially with how heavy with the angst they get.

The first longer fic of yours I read was Stare Directly at the Sun. Which I read in pretty much one sitting. I don’t even know why I clicked on it— considering, as I said, Donnie is my favorite, and I actually do not care for human AUs. Somehow, this one drew me in and locked me there. I loved it. 

And Firefight? That took over my LIFE. I powered through it, literally spent HOURS just sitting on the couch reading it (and even reading it outside on a nice day). I joined while it was incomplete, and read what was there in only a few days. Then, I read every subsequent chapter as soon as I could. It was a legit highlight of my day, something I looked forward to, and I was hooked so bad like you wouldn’t believe. It was sad to see it end, but what a beautiful journey it WAS. I love love loved it, especially how long you took to focus on the healing of Leo and Donnie… they went through hell, indeed, and managed to come out the other side stronger. Even Leo, who scared the SHIT out of me for so long. But I’ll cut myself off, here. I could go on FOREVER about Firefight, you have no idea. I’ve been meaning to read this one again, actually. I need to.

The last fic I want to highlight, of yours, is actually one I don’t see talked about much: Take One For the Team. That one. That one. It was haunting. It was sickening./pos It was gripping. I could. not. put. it down. It was horrific to watch Leo go through that, to watch him deteriorate, and even though you didn’t detail his… extracurricular, I felt violated along with him, simply because of how he reacted to it, and how you wrote him processing (or failing to process) it. Slash pos. Seriously. This one. THIS ONE. I guess it isn’t talked about much because it’s a very sensitive topic, but if people can read it, they should. Holy shit, incredible.

I’m not sure what makes your writing so captivating. Maybe it’s how you write the characters. Maybe it’s your style. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s something else. I don’t know. But it’s easy to get lost in, and so easy to get attached, to CARE, and to feel along with these characters. Reading your stories is like sitting in the passenger’s seat of a friend’s car on a long road trip. You experience everything together, and, to me, it feels pretty damn special. 

Anyways. I’ve prattled on enough. If you’ve got more gems planned, I’ll be happy to read them (in the meanwhile, I have on my list to read Little Kid With a Big Death Wish because I HAVE NOT READ THAT YET I have TOO MANY FICS TO READ/lh it’s on the list tho).

Have a very Merry Christmas!! :D

@remedyturtles

Christmas Kindness Event Post