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josephquinnswhore · 1 day ago

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Christmas Eve - joel miller x female reader

summary: Christmas Eve with your husband.

word count: 2k

content warning: fluff..slight insinuations to sex, girl dad joel, heavily pregnant reader, anxiety surrounding pregnancy, birth etc. Pre established marriage, joel is in his early 30’s. no outbreak. I think that’s it?

a/n: it’s chrissy eve in Australia… 10:15pm as I’m posting this. Merry Christmas to all my moots / fans of Joel / Pedro / whoever reads this. Love you all x

Lights draped around the window frames and along the porch were strung up, emitting a golden glow along the cleared pathway to the front door. Tinsel is tightly wrapped around the wooden frame of the steps to your front house, complete with a beautiful wreath on your front door.

Through the curtains, you could make out Joel’s figure up on the step ladder, hanging more lights in the living room.

As you step foot into your home, the harsh wind follows you as you tap the snow off your boots on the doormat, a freezing breeze curls up your neck, making you shudder.

But as the front door closes behind you, all you feel is warmth. The ugly Christmas sweater you wore has poorly stitched reindeers, snowflakes and the ugliest shade of green you’d ever seen. Alas, You’re shocked to see Joel wearing his matching sweater as you step through the threshold of the living room.

Tinsel hangs along the hallways, the smell of the pine tree fills your lungs with warmth. Never did you think it could be possible to crave a smell—until now. The fresh scent of pine tree that Joel had cut down, he and Tommy had lugged it into your living room to use as a Christmas tree upon your insistence.

He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow at your messy hair and few intact snowflakes on your sweater. In hand, you’re clutching a sacred tin of powdered hot chocolate.

His ugly Christmas sweater is the same as yours, but red. His dark hair is littered with greys, feral curls untamed and his face framed with a pair of thick specs. The rainbow lights he’s hanging up with a hammer and nail reflect in them for a moment, before he removes them. His sweet, warm brown eyes meet your own.

“House looks good baby,” you call softly, admiring how beautiful the decorations looked with his determination, not allowing you to do anything more than decorate the tree, and wrap the gifts, since it was your favourite part about Christmas, excluding the gingerbread baking.

He climbs down the ladder, hooking his glasses through the neckline of his sweater, setting the hammer and nails onto the flat surface at the top of the step ladder.

“Without your vision this never would have come to life. Sarah’s going to love it.” He preens, stepping toward you. “How was it out there?” With an all recognisable voice of concern, you smile.

It was beginning to snow outside, and Joel was anxious the entire time you’d been gone.

“Chaotic, shopping on Christmas Eve isn’t for the weak. I had to practically fight an old lady to get this tin of hot chocolate you know?”

His soft laugh breaks the tension of his anxiety, just glad to have you back. His arms snake around you, resting on your hips. “Sounds like you needed your man to come with you hm? I’ve got no problems protecting my girl from the oldies.”

“I can handle them, plus.. I’m glad you stayed. Sarah’s going to be so happy when she sees all of this. Did you remember to do Santa’s footprints with flour?”

Tsk. “So much distrust baby, course I remembered, I ain’t the one with baby brain y’know?”.

You roll your eyes at him, shoving his chest lightly. “And who’s fault is that, hm?”

Joel chuckled as you rolled your eyes, knowing how much you secretly loved his teasing. He followed your gaze to the lights before smiling, proud of his work.

"I’ll take half the blame, honey," he said,

“If you don’t recall, I’ll recite the way you begged me to get you pregnant—“

With your cheeks warming you interrupt. “Alright.. alright. I remember.”

His thumb leaves your waist, curling into your cheek to caress you softly with adoration. "I’m glad you convinced me, baby. You look so beautiful, you’re glowing.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his praise. The warmth of the fire crackling inside of the living room begin to ease the ache in your joints, particularly your knees and ankles.

“I look and feel like a whale.” It had been hard on you, anyone could see, with your stomach so round and swollen, the Christmas sweater struggled to stretch over your stomach to cover it entirely.

Joel shook his head, slipping his warm hands underneath your sweater to caress your aching stomach in a soothing notion.

"No," he protested softly. "You look like my beautiful, pregnant wife who is about to bring a little bundle of joy into the world. Half of me, and half of you.”

With a soft hum, you find yourself smiling. The thought warmed your heart, a small bundle of love, made of you and him. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Joel Miller.”

"Hm?" Joel hums in return, planting a kiss on your cheek, his nose nudging your own. "That's good to know, I might have to use that to my advantage."

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe... it'll get me everything I want."

With a baited breath, you breathe out a shaky response. “And what is it that you want?”

"Hmm..." Joel pretended to ponder about it for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips again, fingers curling into the curved surface.

"Since you asked," he murmured, his voice low and enticing. "All I really want for Christmas is to spend it with you. But if you're looking for a more tangible gift, I guess I could think of a thing or two."

With a roll of your eyes, you snag a candy cane off of the tree beside you, and uncurl the plastic and stick the hooked peppermint lolly into your mouth, sucking the flavour off with a pop.

“Hot chocolate first.” You insist, kissing his cheek, leaving sticky residue on his warm skin. “I didn’t drive through a snowstorm and fight an old lady for nothing.”

You shake the tin of chocolate powder as if to remind him, garnering his attention.

Joel chuckled wipes the sticky candy cane residue off his cheek. “You got it mumma. Hot chocolate first, then I'll tell you what I really want for Christmas."

Joel gestured towards the couch by the fireplace with one hand and an expectant gaze.

"Go take a seat and relax. I'll make the hot chocolate, and then you can tell me about that beautiful baby of ours and how you’re feeling."

He swats your ass softly, amusement clear in his voice.

“Thanks baby. For everything. My feet are killing me.” Minutes later you graciously accept the warm mug of hot chocolate, the white mini marshmallows are soft and starting to melt.

"Anything for you baby.” You know he means it too.

He took a seat on the couch beside you, the leather sinking under his weight. "How's everything been today? Any contractions?"

You shake your head with a small mouthful of the gooey, warm, sweet drink. “No, nothing yet. I feel like she’s never going to come at this rate..”

A soft hum vibrates within your chest as he encourages you to shift towards him, and he props your feet up onto his lap to remove your shoes and socks, promptly massaging your swollen ankles.

“Do you think she’ll come before the new year?”

Joel continued massaging your ankles, looking down at your huge baby bump as you rubbed it tentatively, he can sense some anxiety coming from you as a first time expectant mother.

Sure, you’d practically raised Sarah since she was twelve months, but this was different. A newborn, the birth.. that was all new to you.

"Hard to tell, baby," he said with a thoughtful expression, not wanting to cause you any stress. "But judging by how big you are, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make her debut soon."

He looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours as he decided to pry further, coaxing the truth from you. "You feeling ready for the big day yet?"

“I’m terrified,” you admit in a gentle whisper between you, a sudden sense of vulnerability curates between the two of you. It makes it all the more real.

Joel's expression softened as you admitted your fears, his fingers pausing in massaging your ankles. Watching as you set your now empty mug down onto the coffee table, having satiated your sweet tooth.. for now.

"Hey, I get it," he reassures quietly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your foot in a comforting gesture this time, rather than a massage. "Giving birth is a big deal, baby. But you're gonna be incredible. You're strong, you're capable, and I'll be right there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

Joel smiled warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently as you slowly processed his words of encouragement, that no matter what happened through the birth, you’d soon have a family of four. “You’re right.. it’s all going to be okay.”

"You're damn right it's going to be okay," he said with conviction. "Because we've got each other, Sarah, and our precious little girl.. Sadie, right?”

He moved his hand from your feet, leaning closer to place his hands on your stomach, feeling his daughter actively kick at his affectionate touch. Seeing you nod in confirmation. “Yeah.. Sadie.”

"Just think, in a few days, you'll be holding our baby in your arms."

The thought is overwhelming, a small baby in your arms, Sarah, who had turned six earlier in the year. She was stoked to be a big sister, asking every day when the baby was coming. Constantly cradling your heavy stomach with her small hands, singing as she prompts the baby to kick.

The image of innocence, a young child that still believes in Santa, which will hopefully carry into the next few years of your lives.

The thought makes you smile, wrapping dozens of presents for everyone and sticking them under the tree for all of you, your family of four plus Tommy and Maria who annually joined you for Christmas celebrations.

Joel glances around the living room, taking in the sights of the lights and the decorations that adorned the house. The tree stood in a corner, covered in colorful, homemade decorations from Sarah, the topper at the top of the tree shaped like a snowflake coloured in with a half dozen colours being Joel's favorite of them all.

"You know," he said softly, his hand still resting on your tummy. "This is going to be our last Christmas as a a family of three..."

The thought makes your heart ache with guilt or perhaps anxiety, biting into your lower lip. “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?”

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. He was getting older now, creeping into his early thirties. To start over again, he felt a little out of practice.

"It's a lot to take in, baby, I know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We can do this together, Tommy and Maria will help.. we aren’t doin’ this alone. Sarah will adore our little girl. And I know you’re goin’ to be an incredible mother.”

Ever the romantic.

With a wry smile and your heart swelling inside of your chest, you offer him what he had indignantly prompted for earlier in the evening. “Want to try and get this baby out?”

Your hand trails through his hair with a suggestive smile. Joel raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm... Now that's a proposition I can get on board with, baby."

#Joel miller #young Joel miller #no outbreak #girl dad Joel miller #pregnant reader #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #Joel miller Christmas #Christmas fic #Joel miller fluff

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yierrem · 11 hours ago

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dating headcanons - zzzero men edition (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

ft. gn!reader x anton ivanov, ben bigger, lighter, von lycaon, wise ; no applicable warnings! my first request (i tried to finish it before christmas in my timezone, but still, merry christmas to the anon who requested this :DD) hehehhe i hope its good enough｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

anton ivanov

you cannot look me in the eye and tell me this man isn’t the type to yell “this is for you!” or “if i hit this you give me a kiss” and completely miss whatever target he’s supposed to hit. he hits it. sometimes. he still gets a kiss anyways.

[“dude” “we’re literally dating and you’ve placed your lips on mine do NOT call me dude.” “…babe”]

big on gift giving and words of affirmation in terms of love languages. he makes sure to put a lot of thought into whatever he gives to you to properly convey his appreciation and show just how much you mean to him.

"strong, sincere, and straightforward." he's definitely the type to encourage you to try new things especially when you're the type to get easily nervous. if you're scared of looking stupid, don't worry; he'll do it with you hand-in-hand so you can be stupid together. becomes your no. 1 hype man and would give you his honest opinions whenever you need ‘em.

you see or hear him talking to his jackhammer bro for the most mundane or random things and you've become used to it at this point. its honestly endearing (you're hopeless)

["bro do you think they'd still love me if i was a worm?" "vroom vroom vroom" “you think so?” “vroom” "yeah, you're right."]

ben bigger

scary bear privileges meaning no one wants to mess with you knowing that you're dating someone who cuts such an intimidating presence but you know better than them because ben would much rather use his paws to tap away at a calculator or spreadsheet than willingly get into fights.

on that note, he's most likely to be the best companion for grocery shopping; he'll know how to get all the good discounts and haggle for the best prices for sure.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 1. although he puts his fur care second, it's still soft and fuzzy to the touch and he likes that you appreciate the warmth it provides too.

since he struggles with some of his accounting responsibilities due to the size of his paws, sometimes you help him with sorting some of belobog industries' financial documents and eventually you end up finding the task quite relaxing after a while of doing it.

but, of course, he loves spending time with you outside of work. anything to take his mind off of the horrors of accounting. he'll mentally file away anything he learns about you when you're together for future purposes, may it be gift or date ideas.

he's the bear thiren between both of you, but in private he loves cuddling against you like you're some sort of plush toy. you don't mind. another win-win situation because you get to rest against him like a giant pillow as well.

lighter

he tries to be flirty with you and sometimes it works! but when you match his energy and it backfires on him he turns into a blushing mess who doesn’t know what to do with himself.

also the type to want to show off or act all suave. he has an image to keep as the undefeated champion! the red scarf! (he’s internally giggling and kicking his feet from one [1] cheek kiss you left in passing).

date nights with him sometimes consist of drives on his bike and stargazing at a nice little spot he found in blazewood. then halfway through, he’d get distracted from seeing the stars in your eyes and think that its a hundred times better than the real thing and fall in love all over again.

“gets as many challenges as love letters” but he makes sure that you and anyone who tries to make a move know that he only has eyes for you. could be in the form of having an arm around your waist or his jacket on you when you feel cold.

a physical touch and acts of service guy because. well. he did say he’d like to die for love one day. that’s a very romantic thing to say and do. also his heart still races whenever you hold his hand but he swears he’s getting used to it (he isn’t). probably melts when you gently run your fingers over his face or any of his scars

i honestly feel like he's one of those "me and my bae don't argue they just tell me to shut up and i do" types.

von lycaon

an ideal date for him would be a fancy dinner or picnic somewhere nice and discreet. complete with scented candles, your favorite flowers, and homecooked food (which probably tastes better than anything you've ever eaten at any restaurant). then at some point when both of you have finished eating and you're both in conversation, he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a kiss on your knuckles.

["darling, your face is...concerningly red. are you feeling alright?" "i'm fine. i think."]

you WILL be receiving that prince/princess treatment (threat). breakfast in bed when he isn’t busy, spontaneous massages offered when you mention ONCE that you feel tired, and all that jazz. you probably will never have to open another door yourself with him around and he ALWAYS offers his arm for you to take when you're walking together.

best cuddle partner to have during colder seasons no. 2. just prepare yourself for horrendous shedding as summer begins… but you don’t mind helping him brush through his fur (*´ω`*) its therapeutic and you’re one of the very few people he trusts with the task so its a win for both of you.

since he's a wolf thiren, he sometimes unwillingly attracts the attention of stray cats and dogs; he usually pays them no mind but it is somewhat of an inconvenience for him. however, the sight of you playing with them while quietly cooing eases some of his discomfort. seems like you aren't the only one suffering from cuteness aggression.

his guilty pleasure is squishing your cheeks in his hands. no i will not elaborate

wise

this is one of the random play managers we’re talking about, so. movie date nights are mandatory. both of you alternate when picking movies but sometimes you bicker over options like an old married couple just for the fun of it.

a lot more chill when it comes to PDA but he can be flirty when he wants to be. if he knows you have a weak spot for it, he uses it to his advantage to get what he wants. scheming little minx. /pos

words of affirmation and quality time guy, i think. since he's always so busy with managing the store and completing commissions alongside belle as proxies, he makes the most out of the time you guys can spend together alone. even if it's just laying in his bed or on the couch doing nothing together sometimes.

everyone and their mothers and grandmothers on sixth street will probably know that you’re dating or figure something out at some point even when both of you don’t really do much together in public/are trying to keep it on the low. never underestimate these aunties man

unfortunately for wise, he will become the target of teasing or nagging from belle when it comes to your relationship. once you get close enough she'll also share embarrassing stories from when they were younger or before you and wise started dating much to her brother’s chagrin.

secretly likes clinging and cuddling up to you like a koala. both of you are in bed? oh okay, don’t mind him, he’ll just scooch a bit and wrap his arms and legs around you, claiming that having you in his bed helps fix his insomnia (it does, to some degree). [“wise i can’t move.” “you don’t need to.”]

on the days you help out with tasks in random play, you could quite literally just be standing while doing something and then you’ll feel a pair of arms sneak around your waist from behind as he leans his head on one of your shoulders with a quiet, satisfied sigh.

#zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero x reader #zzz x reader #zzzero #zzz x you #anton ivanov #anton zzz #anton ivanov x reader #anton x reader #ben bigger #ben bigger x reader #lighter lorenz #lighter zzz #lighter x reader #von lycaon #lycaon x reader #zzz lycaon #zzz wise #wise x reader

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katsu2ji · 16 hours ago

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mha boys + their fav thing to do with you (or for you) during the holiday season

a/n: it's my favorite time of the year <3 merry christmas to those who celebrate!! posting this on christmas eve, i hope everyone has the best day <3 ily!

izuku: baking christmas cookies

izuku makes the BEST deserts. his mother taught him when he was young and although he was reluctant to learn at first ("mom, i’m sorry but learning how to make the perfect pie is not my biggest concern right now..."), it's now a skill he's come to appreciate—especially when you're involved. one of his favorite things to do with you, at any point in the year but especially during christmas, is baking cookies—or rather, he's do most of the baking while you're sitting on the countertop watching him do so. there's christmas jazz playing through the space as you both talk about your days, laughing and making a mess that neither of you are too worried about cleaning in the moment. he gives you the spoons to lick when he's finished with them, smiling when you nod your approval of the taste. while they're in the oven, you two dance in the low kitchen light; it's not graceful, by any means, but it's silly and stupid and makes you both feel as though you're the only ones in the world. this warm, love filled kitchen on a cold winter's night, just for the two of you.

katsuki: decorating with you

katsuki would never admit it, but he takes his christmas decorating very seriously. he insists that if you're going to decorate for the holidays, you might as well make it look nice. you ask him to take down the christmas decorations from storage and while he pretends to find the task annoying, he actually is looking forward to doing this with you. he loves seeing how excited you get when he plugs in the lights on the tree and watch as they light up the dark living room, or how much you love the small task of switching out the normal pillows on the couch for the winter themed ones. his favorite part about it all, however, is putting up the ornaments; together you've collected a few over the years, some more heartfelt while others are silly inside jokes between the two of you. he teases you when you put one in a spot he doesn't agree with ("why the fuck did you put it there, that's ugly." "katsuki, no it's not!" "yes the hell it is, move it over here.") and you know it's all lighthearted as you laugh at the faces he makes about your "questionable" placements. this is all such a temporary thing, he knows—the decorations will only be up for about a month and a half, if that. but it's special for him. a time where he can forget about the rest of the world; where he only has to focus on you and your terrible (but endearing) tree decorating skills.

shoto: christmas shopping

when you two go out shopping together, he takes note of anything that you point out and like. later, he comes back after a patrol shift; he tells you he's picking up dinner, and while that's not a total lie and he is going to bring home something, he also needed to make time to pick up your gifts. he has never felt as though he's very good with words, but gifts he can do. and he never stops at one, of course—he makes sure you have a lot. he fills the space under the tree with them, all addressed to you; just when you think there couldn't be any more, you come home to find another two of three presents has been added. he starts his gift shopping earlier in the year, getting things here and there when he can. by december 1st, he's gotten pretty much everything he's been looking for, and he asks fuyumi and his mom to help him wrap them nicely for you (wrapping gifts is unfortunately NOT his strong suit). he's even particular about the wrapping paper he uses, not caring that it's more expensive than others on the market or that it's going to be ripped; these are gifts for you, for christ's sake. he's going to make sure that everything is perfect—that you have the best christmas, every christmas.

eijiro: walking out in the snow

eijiro loves the snow, and he loves the holiday season even more. he loves how magical everything is this time of year, how carefree life feels. when the first snowfall comes one evening, he's making sure both your puffer jacket and his is zipped up all the way and that you're nice and toasty, before practically running outside. you two go for a walk through the city, admiring the way the snow blankets everything around you and makes the world seem softer, lighter. when a breeze comes by, he huddles impossibly closer to you, grabbing your hands and holding them in his coat pocket to warm you up. you two stop at the windows of decorated shops, watching the little toy trains and miniature christmas towns on display in the stores. he looks at your reflection in the window and grins, happy and content, even as the frigid air makes him feel as though he wants to sit in a furnace. he loves moments like these. it's a simple and mundane thing, taking a walk, but something about doing it with you, in an atmosphere that looks as though you've both stepped right into a christmas town in a fairytale, makes him wish for a white christmas every year.

hanta: watching christmas movies

before he met you, hanta had never made it a point to watch christmas movies, really. now, however, it's his favorite tradition. he looks forward to the evenings when the two of you change into your matching christmas-themed pajama pants, having bought them just for the occasion. you go into the kitchen to make hot chocolate while he scrolls through the movie selection, attempting to put on the corniest, dumbest, most cliche hallmark holiday movie he can find. the whole time you both are cuddled on the couch, leaning against each other as you watch the movie together, making fun of the bad acting, the overdone movie tropes, and every other menial detail. you laugh at all the jokes he makes, all the small things he notices and points out to you. the first movie ends, and before either of you can stop yourselves, you've both fallen asleep together on the couch halfway through the third. it's a quiet night, the only sounds being the quiet noise of the still-playing movie and the soft snores of the two of you. when he wakes up first, he doesn't make any effort to wake you immediately, instead opting to watch you sleep peacefully against him. "this is what the holidays are about" he thought, as cheesy as it sounds. he didn't need anything more; he wasn't sure it could be any better than this.

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chanelnumbermine · 2 days ago

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2024 f2 boys during christmas preparations | f2 grid picks x gn!reader

i’ve been feeling really tired during those last few days and thought that i could use some help. who better than my favourite drivers! lay back and enjoy this small christmas gift! happy holidays, cuties!! <3

pairings: ollie bearman x gn!reader, kimi antonelli x gn!reader, zane maloney x gn!reader, paul aron x gn!reader, pepe marti x gn!reader, luke browning x gn!reader, franco colapinto x gn!reader;

warning(s): cuteness overload!!

ollie bearman | prema —> haas f1

as we know, the boy is a menace in the kitchen

so he helps with the christmas tree!

shows off his strength by carrying the tree to your house

excited to see all the lights and ornaments, wants to make it really perfect since you're doing it together

teases you about your height so so much

will lift you just so you can put the star on top of the tree! so cute!

kimi antonelli | prema —> mercedes amg petronas

he's a little flustered with all of this

can't help with the food, the tree is already decorated, what is even left?!

the presents!!

kimi would be the ultimate perfectionist in terms of wrapping

and don't even try to convince him that he can use a gift bag

every single item will be neatly wrapped with a bow on top

"can i wrap you up next?"

zane maloney | rodin —> formula e

king of confusion

chances are the chritmas traditions in your countries are vastly different and it's normal to be puzzled

zane would blindly follow your lead and admire how you handle yourself with so many responsibilities

"woah, babe, exactly how many cakes have you baked? this is so good!"

cleans up after your cooking because he sees how exhausted you are

"you need to teach me how to make this so i can help you out better"

paul aron | hitech —> bwt alpine reserve driver

surprisingly useful!!

my man will try to show off his baking skills but will end up asking questions every two minutes to make sure he doesn’t mess anything up

and thank god he asked, because no paul, you can’t add protein powder to my christmas pudding!

very clingy and affectionate, something about holidays together makes his heart melt

brushing his fingers over yours and teasing because he knows you will get frustrated and can't act on your needs

grins when you pounce on his later

pepe marti | campos, red bull academy

type of overachiever boyfriend who will start planning everything november 1st

all the dishes, the decorations, dates... you can count on him to have everything ready

but he somehow forgot about one thing: gifts

emergency last minute shopping, filled with laughs and good food!

"baby this dress would look so pretty on you!" "pepe we already bought so much-" "who cares! let's buy you this dress and, omg, is this matching lingerie?"

very excited puppy!

luke browning | hitech —> f2

really happy to be of help with just about anything

the type of guy to yap about his family traditions, his mom's cooking

not to compare or shame you, he just really loves christmas and wants you to be a part of his world so much

"mom, how do you make these cookies? i want to make them for my darling this year"

overall, it is very sweet and caring during this time

bc he's already imagining your future together and how would your family home look during christmas omg

franco colapinto | mp —> williams racing

curious about anything and everything

"hey, hey, baby! how did you make this? it looks to pretty"

you're stuck with his for hours tbh

will try to help you and fail miserably, causing even more mess and more work

flour will end up on the floor and on your faces

absolutely shameless about it, looks at you with puppy dog eyes

"come on baby, you weren't paying attention to me and now i ruined it! it's not my fault"

will try to make it up with a kiss or two, or five

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vibelladonna · 19 hours ago

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𝒸𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈'𝓈 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁 𝜗𝜚 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝒾𝒸𝑒!

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

This Christmas special was inspired by Valentine's Special [2nd Love Interest] by @fantasia-kitt (the creator!)

For this Christmas, I decided to write this fanfic while running errands with family for the holidays, so please bear with me if there are any mistakes.

I was thinking about writing something for New Year’s Eve, like a party fic, but I feel like this Christmas special is enough for now while I take a short break and catch up on some upcoming projects (three of them with deep plotlines!). Also, this ties in with Tkatb’s 1st anniversary, which was yesterday, the 23rd! I’m super proud of how far this little game has come.

And yes, I saw the update on the plans and progress. It looks like I might start working on some of my other favorite fandoms since the game will be on hold until the major update! I’ll still be keeping an eye on the progress as a Soulmate on Patreon, and you can always ask for a fanfic if you’d like! I’ll be responding to the messages in my ask box soon!

Anyway, happy reading! Wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!

The crisp, cool December air wrapped around you like a familiar embrace, the kind that reminded you of winter's quiet power. You stepped out of the lecture hall, your final class a fading echo behind you.

The world, for a moment, felt as if it had been held in stasis: college was finally behind you, and relief surged through your veins like a slow, satisfying exhale.

You almost burst out laughing at the thought. Thank God that's fucking over. It totally drained you, and ate away at your insides until you felt there was nothing left but pure exhaustion. But then, as it all started to sink in, this weird emptiness crept up, like that quiet moment right before a storm hit.

The goodbyes, those last waves, and parting words were still stuck in your chest, kinda just out of reach, weighing on you like you were still tied to something that wasn’t done.

Then your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked down at the screen and spotted Brittney’s name.

— Brittney: REMINDER! Gift exchange on Christmas Eve, my place at 7! Don’t be late, or you’ll owe me extra cookies.

You scoffed and let out a soft chuckle. Brittney had this incredible thing for making demands with a level of authority that was, somehow, oddly charming. As much as you rolled your eyes at her, you couldn’t deny that her quirks always brought a smile to your face. Still, as your gaze flicked back to the message, a groan bubbled up in your chest. You scrolled back through her earlier messages to confirm what you already knew.

"Great," you muttered under your breath. Brittney had really gone all out this year, assigning everyone a specific person to shop for, and, of course, you ended up with Crowe.

You exhaled, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—he was one of your closest friends—but trying to find a gift for someone who had everything felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. You could almost hear his voice in your head, teasing, cutting through whatever you picked out: “Really? This is what you think of me?” Of course, he’d never say anything like that—but what if he didn’t like it? What if he hated whatever you got him? The thought twisted uncomfortably in your chest.

You shook your head and continued walking toward the bus stop, the weight of the decision hanging over you. Simple wouldn’t cut it, but anything too over the top would make him throw a sarcastic comment at it. You had to find something that hit that sweet spot—the kind of gift that felt thoughtful without making him retreat into one of his jokes.

As if your thoughts weren’t already tangled enough, your phone buzzed again. You hesitated, almost instinctively glancing down.

— Hyugo: Hey, what are you doing Christmas Eve? Sol and I are planning to check out the lights walk at the park. You should come!

A smile tugged at your lips. Typical Hyugo—direct, unfiltered, full of energy. His message was as breezy as his personality. And then there was Sol’s name, and that grin only deepened. The two of them together were a comedy show on legs—Sol’s quiet balance countering Hyugo’s endless whirlwind of ideas and antics.

You stood still, fingers hovering over the screen. Christmas Eve.

Oh no… For a moment, the thought of walking through the park with them, bathed in twinkling lights, was tempting. It would be the perfect kind of distraction, a night filled with laughter, just as you’d imagine. You pictured Hyugo pulling you and Sol into whatever wild antics he’d planned, Sol trying (and failing) to keep everything in check with his usual, resigned eye rolls.

But then, as your thumb hovered over the screen, your thoughts drifted back to Crowe.

Last week, in the group chat, Crowe had mentioned something cryptic about "making big plans" for the holiday. He’d shrugged it off when Brittney pressed for details, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he had something in mind that involved the whole group. You felt the weight of his words in your mind. Would it be weird to bail on him now?

You sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket as the bus stop loomed closer.

"Why is it never simple with these friend groups?" you muttered under your breath.

Now, you had two conflicting decisions on your hands: find the perfect gift for Crowe, and decide whether you were spending Christmas Eve with him and his friends or tagging along with Hyugo and Sol on their sparkling adventure.

Your mind raced with the uncertainty, and the thought of making the "right" choice felt more elusive than ever.

The mall was buzzing with the kind of chaotic energy only the holiday season could bring—families weaving in and out of stores, the sound of Christmas music drifting from every corner, and glittering displays of tinsel and fairy lights winking at you from every window.

You hadn’t stepped foot in a mall in ages—mostly sticking to the convenience of online shopping and the hunts of thrift stores—but here you were, begrudgingly dragging Brittney along in your quest for the perfect gift for Crowe.

“I still don’t get why you’re this stressed about it,” Brittney said, effortlessly balancing a caramel macchiato in one hand while gesturing with the other as she walked beside you. “It’s Jericho. He’ll probably be smiling no matter what you give him. Honestly, wrap up a rock, and he’ll love it anyway.”

You let out a long, drawn-out groan, clutching your coat tighter as you passed yet another store that screamed not Crowe enough. “That’s exactly why it’s stressful! If I give him something random, he’ll think I didn’t put any thought into it. And if it’s too thoughtful—well, you know how he gets.”

Brittney raised an eyebrow, her heels clicking against the tile floor like the beat of a very judgmental drum. “You’re overthinking it, as usual. But fine, we’ll find him something perfect.” She paused dramatically, then grinned like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “Right after we fix this.”

She motioned toward you like you were a mannequin in need of serious intervention.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, narrowing your eyes, already dreading whatever plan she was about to hatch.

“Oh, come on,” she said, practically yanking your arm as she steered you toward a clothing store. “You cannot show up to my place tomorrow night wearing your same old flare jeans-and-sweater combo in dull colors. It’s festive! It’s Christmas! You need to bring your A-game.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a small get-together,” you protested, resisting her tug.

“It is. Small but fabulous. Which is why I, as your friend, am going to make sure you don’t look like you just rolled out of bed.” She pulled a sequined dress from a nearby rack with the kind of flourish reserved for Broadway stars. “What do we think? Too much?”

You stared at the dress in horror. It was so sparkly it could probably be seen from space. You shot her a flat look. “If I wear that, Crowe will definitely never let me live it down.”

“Fine, fine,” Brittney said, laughing and tossing the dress back on the rack with the grace of a fashionista throwing a tantrum. “But you’ve got to admit, you’d turn heads.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as she tossed another, more reasonable outfit your way.

After what felt like an eternity—and after Brittney vetoed every “boring” outfit you tried to pick—finally, you emerged from the dressing room with a pretty outfit, you both agreed with.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Brittney said, clapping her hands in approval. “Chic, confident, and just a little bit mysterious. You’re welcome.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, tilting your head. “I guess it’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” she repeated, feigning offense. “Please, you look amazing. Crowe is going to have his jaw on the floor.”

You shot her a look, trying to hide the heat creeping up your neck. “Why are you bringing him into this?”

Brittney smirked knowingly. “Oh, please. Like you don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, but her grin was infectious, and you couldn’t suppress the smallest of smiles.

After leaving the clothing store—with Brittney carrying your new outfit like it was her triumph—you wandered into a cozy little shop filled with knick-knacks and handcrafted items. It had that eclectic, artsy vibe that immediately made you think of Crowe.

Brittney was busy examining a shelf of scented candles when she asked casually, “So, do you ever think about dating?” You froze, nearly dropping the ceramic figurine you were holding. “Excuse me? Where did that come from?”

“I mean, it’s the holidays,” she said, shrugging as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Romance is in the air. And you’ve been spending an awful lot of time with a certain pair of guys.”

Your stomach flipped. “Brittney...”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning against the shelf with a teasing grin. “It’s Jericho, isn’t it? Or wait—maybe that dude with the green streaks in his hair?” She paused, thinking, “What’s his name again…?” She asked. You rolled your eyes, “Sol.”

“Right, the quiet one that likes to draw…” She mentioned, “So? The prince or the artist?”

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

Sol, with his warm, easy-going nature, always made you feel like you could be yourself. But Crowe... Crowe had a way of drawing you in, his sharp wit and creativity sparking something you couldn’t quite name.

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Brittney’s expression softened, her teasing giving way to genuine curiosity. “Hey, no pressure. I just think... whoever you pick, they’re lucky to have you.”

As you walked through the mall, still thinking about her words, you stumbled upon something that made you stop in your tracks.

It was a gorgeous, handcrafted music box, intricately carved with a winter scene. You’d seen it before on display, months ago, and fallen in love with it. But the price tag had always kept it just out of reach. You’d told yourself it wasn’t practical—your money had to go toward rent, groceries, and textbooks, not something so frivolous.

Yet here it was, glimmering in the soft light as if waiting for you.

“What’s that?” Brittney asked, peeking over your shoulder.

You swallowed hard. “It’s... something I’ve wanted for a while. But it’s too expensive.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at you, then back at the music box. “Maybe it’s time to treat yourself for once. It’s Christmas, after all.”

You shook your head, stepping away reluctantly. “I can’t. I need to stick to my budget.”

Brittney frowned but didn’t push. Instead, she linked her arm with yours and said, “All right, let’s go. We’ve still got to find gifts.”

By the time you left the mall, you were exhausted but triumphant. You’d found the perfect gifts—Brittney had, of course, insisted on adding a bow to each package.

With the gifts secured, you headed home, your thoughts kept drifting back to the music box—and to the question, you couldn’t quite answer. Crowe or Sol?

Standing in front of your mirror, you smoothed the soft fabric of the outfit Brittney had picked out for you—a cozy yet stylish off-shoulder sweater black sweater dress paired with maroon tights, and a matching bow that sits on your nightstand.

It fit perfectly, hitting all the curves, and you had to admit, Brittney had an annoyingly good eye. When she handed you the bag earlier, she had waved away your protests with a grin.

“Think of it as a gift,” she’d said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I had no clue what to get you anyway, so this counts. You’re welcome.”

You laughed at the memory as you reached for the maroon bow. It was a small, thoughtful gesture from her, but it carried more weight than she probably realized. Brittney always had a way of showing her care through actions, even if she hid it behind sarcasm.

Your gaze shifted to your phone on the dresser, the screen still lit up with Hyugo’s text. You tapped your nails on the dresser, reading the message again and again. The idea of strolling under the glowing canopy of Christmas lights was tempting. Hyugo’s steady, dependable presence had always been a source of comfort, and Sol...

Your chest tightened slightly at the thought of Sol. He wasn’t the loudest or the most expressive, but he had a quiet way of showing he cared. Whether it was walking on the side of the road closest to traffic or remembering your favorite snacks when you studied late, Sol went out of his way to protect you in the subtlest ways.

But then there was Crowe.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, sighing softly as you adjusted the collar of your sweater dress. Crowe was the opposite of Sol in many ways—charismatic, quick-witted, and always so present. He had a way of being there when you needed him most, whether it was cracking a joke to pull you out of a bad mood or reminding you to take care of yourself when you pushed too hard. Crowe didn’t just care about you; he saw you.

Your brush stilled in your hand as your thoughts tangled. Sol, with his quiet strength and unspoken devotion, versus Crowe, whose vibrant energy and unwavering support had become a constant in your life. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt torn like this, but tonight, with everything hanging in the air, the question loomed larger than ever.

You placed the brush down and reached for your phone. Your thumb hovered over the screen, Hyugo’s text still unanswered.

The truth was, both options held their kind of magic. You could picture yourself with Sol and Hyugo, laughing as Sol attempted to grab a runaway balloon from a vendor at the Christmas lights. But you could also imagine spending the night with Crowe and the rest of the group, his familiar presence anchoring you as the chaos of the party swirled around you, perhaps playing games and catching up.

Would Crowe be disappointed if you didn’t go?

You bit your lip, closing your eyes for a moment as you let out a long breath. There wasn’t a perfect answer, and no amount of overthinking would make the choice any easier. Finally, you set the phone down with a soft thud and looked back at your reflection.

“Just go with your gut,” you murmured to yourself.

As you adjusted your clothes in the minor one last time, you headed to your living room. You put on your leather boots, then grabbed your coat, and you made your way toward the door. No matter what decision you made tonight, you knew one thing for certain: the holidays weren’t about the lights, the gifts, or even the plans—they were about the people who mattered most to you.

And whether that person was Crowe or Sol... maybe the night would help you figure that out.

If you picked Crowe!

You stood in front of your front door, staring at your phone screen as your thumb hovered over the keyboard. Hyugo’s invitation sat open on your messaging app, the words staring back at you like a challenge.

Spending Christmas Eve with him and Sol sounded wonderful. The idea of walking under glowing lights, sharing laughter and stories, and basking in the quiet warmth of their presence was so tempting. You could already picture Sol’s quiet, steady energy and Hyugo’s easygoing humor, balancing each other out like always.

But then there was Brittney’s party. She had been planning it for weeks, texting in all caps about the details and how “NO ONE was allowed to skip out unless they wanted to face my WRATH.” And Crowe… well, Crowe had been unusually involved in the group chat about the exchange. You could sense his subtle excitement, even though he’d never admit it outright.

Your heartfelt caught between two equally important choices. One evening with Hyugo and Sol would mean stepping away from the rest of your friends, missing out on the little traditions that had brought you all closer. And yet, declining Hyugo’s invitation felt like a lost chance to make a special memory with him and Sol.

Biting your lip, you finally typed out a reply, your fingers moving hesitantly:

— You: I’d love to, but my friends already planned something. Maybe next time?

You stared at the message for another moment before pressing send, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest.

It wasn’t long before your phone buzzed with Hyugo’s response:

— Hyugo: Got it. Have fun!

You smiled softly at the screen, some of the tension in your chest easing. Hyugo was always so understanding—steady and reliable, no matter the situation. But before you could set your phone down, it buzzed again.

The name flashing on the screen made your stomach flip.

Sol.

You hesitated for a beat before answering. “Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light despite the sudden tightness in your throat.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice calm but noticeably quieter than usual. “I just wanted to check... So, you’re not coming tonight?”

Your chest tightened further at the faint thread of disappointment in his tone. “I’m really sorry, Sol,” you said, sighing softly. “I already have plans with others friends. I don’t want to bail on them.”

There was a pause, long enough for your heart to sink. When Sol spoke again, his words were careful, and understanding, but there was no hiding the sadness that laced his tone. “It’s okay. I get it. Maybe we can hang out another time.”

The lump in your throat grew heavier. “We definitely will,” you promised quickly, wishing you could say something to lighten the weight you could feel in his words.

In the background, you heard Hyugo’s voice. “Is that them? Gimme the phone.”

There was a rustling sound before Hyugo’s familiar warmth came through the line. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said with an easy chuckle. “We’ll survive without you. But next time, no excuses, okay?”

The lightheartedness in his tone made your shoulders relax slightly. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, relieved by his usual charm. “Thanks, Hyugo. Have fun tonight, okay?”

“You too!” he teased before adding, “And try not to let your friends drag you into too much chaos. See you soon.”

The line clicked, leaving you standing in the quiet entryway of your apartment. You lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment longer as an ache settled in your chest. Sol’s voice lingered in your mind, soft and careful, and you couldn’t help but wish things could have been different.

But tonight, you reminded yourself, was about being with the others, about keeping the traditions you’d built with them alive. With a deep breath, you slipped your phone into your pocket and grabbed your coat, stepping into the night air with a mixture of anticipation and bittersweet longing swirling in your heart.

The evening of the party arrived, and as you approached Brittney’s house, the warmth and energy of the gathering spilled out onto the deck porch. Golden light glowed from the windows, the cheerful hum of music and laughter drifting into the chilly December air. You paused for a moment at the door, pulling your coat tighter around yourself as you gathered your thoughts.

With a steadying breath, you knocked. A moment later, the door swung open, and there was Brittney, her face lighting up with her signature, effervescent grin.

“Finally! I thought you’d never get here,” she said, already reaching to help you with your coat.

“Sorry, I was—”

“Fashionably late,” she interrupted, her eyes scanning your outfit. A satisfied hum escaped her lips as she appraised you. “Now this is what I’m talking about. You’re stunning.”

You laughed softly, slipping out of your coat to reveal the gorgeous outfit Brittney had insisted on picking for you—a soft black off the shoulder dressed, paired with maroon tights with an matching bow that made you feel both elegant and confident. She handed you a pair of house shoes, the ones you knew she kept around for occasions like this.

“I feel like I’m overdressed,” you said lightly, but Brittney shook her head, waving a dismissive hand.

“Overdressed? Please. It’s Christmas. You’re perfect.”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the cheerful din behind her.

“Hey, you made it.”

Your gaze shifted, and there stood Crowe. For a moment, you simply stared, taking him in. He wore an azure button-up shirt, paired with a black vest that complemented his rich brown skin, the deep hue drawing out the warm tones of his deep blue eyes. A sapphire brooch glinted at the center of a meticulously tied black bow around his collar, and his long hair was pulled into a low ponytail, tied back with a matching azure ribbon.

In his hands, he held a small bouquet of blue irises.

Your breath caught, and as he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander over his outfit . “Wow,” you murmured. “You look... princely.”

Crowe raised an eyebrow, his usual smirk faltering as a flicker of warmth crossed his expression. “And you look...” He paused, his gaze lingering on you before softening. “Really beautiful.”

“Only tonight?” you teased, raising an eyebrow and tilting your head.

His eyes widened, and he stumbled over his words, flustered in a way you didn’t see often. “No, I mean—you look beautiful every day, but tonight you just—” He stopped, rubbing the back of his neck as a sheepish laugh escaped him.

You both burst into laughter, the tension easing in an instant. Brittney rolled her eyes dramatically, patting Crowe’s shoulder as she passed. “Well, my work here is done,” she said, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Don’t mess this up, princeling.”

As Brittney disappeared back to the living room, leaving you and Crowe in the hallway. He turned his attention back to you, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” he said simply.

You took the flowers carefully, the soft petals brushing your fingertips. Your eyes widened slightly as you studied the blooms. “Blue irises,” you said, your voice thoughtful. “They’re beautiful.”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “I thought you’d like them. They’re supposed to mean hope and trust—or something like that.”

“And wisdom,” you added, looking up at him with a smile. “The iris has been associated with wisdom and truth because of the Greek goddess Iris, who was a messenger for Zeus and Hera. And nobility, too—it’s been connected to royalty throughout history.”

Crowe’s brow lifted, clearly impressed. “Well, aren’t you just a walking encyclopedia?”

You grinned. “Maybe. But you picked well. Thank you.”

The warmth in his gaze deepened, and for a moment, it felt like the noise of the party faded away.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly.

Soon the room was buzzing with anticipation as the gift exchange began. Brittney, playing hostess to perfection, had everyone seated in a loose circle, with the mountain of brightly wrapped presents taking center stage. You were perched on the edge of a couch, trying to calm the slight flutter in your chest as the turn order worked its way closer to Crowe.

When his name was finally called, he shot to his feet with his usual flair, bowing dramatically as the room cheered. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, waving his hand like a performer accepting applause. “But this isn’t about me—it’s about you all witnessing the unveiling of my superior gift-giving skills.”

Brittney rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, princeling.”

Crowe smirked at her before his gaze flicked to you. A mischievous glint lit his deep blue eyes as he strode toward you, a carefully curated basket in his hands. He stopped in front of you, his grin softening into something a little more sincere.

“This one’s for you,” he said, holding the basket out with a slight flourish.

You blinked, surprised as you took the basket from him. “For me?”

He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. “Well, yeah. You’re hard to shop for, so don’t judge me too harshly, okay?”

You set the basket on your lap and began pulling back the tissue paper, and your eyes widened as you took in the contents. Inside were all your favorite things—snacks you couldn’t resist, small trinkets in your favorite color, and even a notebook that perfectly matched your aesthetic.

“Crowe...” you murmured, already feeling a warmth spreading in your chest. But as you moved the tissue paper aside further, your gaze landed on something at the center that made your breath hitch—a beautifully crafted music box.

“You...” You looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

Crowe shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of nervousness. “I wasn’t sure what to get you,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re always saying you have everything you need, and every time I offer to get you something, you turn me down like I’m trying to buy your soul or something.”

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and you couldn’t help but smile. “So, I figured I’d just... cover all my bases. You know, a little bit of everything. And, uh... I remembered how much you like little tunes and stuff, so...” He motioned awkwardly to the music box, looking anywhere but directly at you.

Your chest tightened as a wave of emotion swept over you. The thoughtfulness behind the gift—the way he’d paid attention to all the little details about you—left you speechless. Without thinking, you stood up, leaned toward him, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, Crowe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Crowe froze, his eyes wide as the room erupted into a chorus of whistles and teasing laughter. His hand flew to his cheek, and the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of red.

“Well, well, well,” Brittney said loudly, holding up her phone and snapping a picture. “Looks like Crowe’s the real winner tonight.”

Crowe groaned, glaring playfully at her. “Don’t you have a party to host or something?”

Brittney smirked. “This is hosting. Carry on, lovebirds.”

The teasing didn’t stop there. Someone shouted, “How about a speech, Crowe?!” and someone else chimed in with, “Yeah, tell us how it feels to win Christmas!”

Crowe sighed dramatically, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed how much he appreciated the attention. “It feels like... a conspiracy,” he quipped, shooting you a quick, fond glance.

As the laughter died down and the gift exchange continued, you found yourself clutching the basket tightly. You caught Crowe looking at you a few times, and each time, he offered a soft, almost shy smile.

As the night wore on, the room buzzed with laughter and excitement. You sat quietly, watching the group banter back and forth, their camaraderie filling the space with a warmth that rivaled the glow of the twinkling fairy lights strung across the walls. Brittney flitted from group to group, her laughter ringing out as she teased someone about their gift-wrapping skills. Crowe’s voice cut through the chatter every so often, his witty remarks earning groans and snickers alike.

You smiled at their antics, but the warmth in your chest was tinged with a bittersweet ache. The ease with which they all interacted—the history they shared—sometimes made you feel like an outsider, no matter how much they cared for you. You still felt new. You blinked quickly, willing away the sting in your eyes, but the knot in your throat tightened, looking down at your hands.

A quiet voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey.”

You looked up to find Crowe standing beside you, his brow furrowed, concern softening his usually playful expression. He crouched slightly to meet your gaze, his hand brushing lightly against your arm.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low so only you could hear.

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile as you wiped at your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice wavered. “I just need some fresh air.”

He didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he held out a hand, helping you up. “Come on,” he said softly, guiding you toward the door.

Outside, the crisp night air greeted you, sharp and refreshing against your skin. The muffled sounds of music and laughter from inside felt distant now, replaced by the soft rustling of trees and the faint twinkle of stars overhead.

You leaned against the railing of the porch, closing your eyes for a moment as you took a deep breath. When you opened them again, Crowe was watching you, his expression unreadable.

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. Crowe noticed immediately, his brow knitting in concern. Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue handkerchief.

He stepped closer, his movements gentle as he raised the handkerchief to your cheek, wiping the tear away. His touch was warm and deliberate, his fingertips barely grazing your skin.

The tenderness of the gesture caught you off guard, and when he realized how close he was, his hand faltered. “Sorry, I—”

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as a small, shaky breath escaped you. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he pulled back, his lips curving into a small, lopsided smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly.

The two of you stood there in comfortable silence for a while, the cool night air brushing against your faces. Eventually, Crowe leaned against the railing beside you, his arm brushing yours as he tilted his head back to look at the sky.

“Do you know much about constellations?” he asked, his tone lighter now.

You glanced at him, grateful for the change in mood. “A little. Why?”

He pointed upward, his hand tracing the shape of a cluster of stars. “That one right there—that’s Cassiopeia. The queen who bragged about how beautiful she was and got herself in trouble with the gods.”

You laughed softly. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Crowe gasped in mock offense, pressing a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know, I am humble to a fault.”

“Sure, princeling,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

He grinned, his gaze drifting back to the stars. “Anyway, you’re more like Andromeda. You know, the princess who was chained to a rock but ended up becoming a constellation. Quiet strength, endless beauty... and the kind of person you can’t help but notice.”

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his eyes were already on you, warm and sincere.

“I...” You hesitated, your emotions threatening to spill over again. But instead of speaking, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small box.

“I almost forgot,” you said, your voice steadying. “This is for you.”

Crowe blinked, surprised, as he took the box from your hands. When he opened it, his expression softened even further. Inside were two matching necklaces, one in gold and one in silver, with interlocking stars at the center.

“They fit together,” you explained, taking the gold one and clipping it around his neck. “Yours is gold and mine’s silver. I thought...” You hesitated again, suddenly shy. “I thought it’d be a nice reminder.”

Crowe’s fingers brushed the charm, his gaze flicking between the necklace and you. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice low. “Thank you.”

The two of you stood close, the distance between you barely enough to breathe, yet it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Your hands brushed as you admired the matching necklaces, an unspoken connection flickering between the two of you. Crowe’s lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he suddenly laughed, his eyes catching something in the distance.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, your head tilting curiously, the soft flicker of the holiday lights casting a warm glow on your face.

He pointed upward, his eyes mischievous. “You didn’t notice?”

Following his gaze, your eyes landed on a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly above you, its green leaves almost glowing under the lights. The realization hit you, and heat surged to your cheeks, a soft flush spreading across your skin. You looked back at him, your heart suddenly racing, and found him raising his hands in mock surrender, his lips curling into that knowing smile of his.

“You don’t have to,” he said, his tone playful but edged with something deeper, like he was daring you to take the plunge. “It’s just a belief, you know—.”

But you didn’t let him finish. Without a second thought, you stepped closer, closing the gap between you until you were mere inches apart. Your fingers gently cupped his cheek, and as his breath hitched, you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was electric. Crowe froze for the briefest of seconds, as if surprised by your sudden boldness, but then he melted into it, his hands settling onto your waist, his touch firm yet careful. The world around you seemed to vanish, the only thing that existed was the sensation of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. It was soft, tender, but there was an intensity to it—like a fire that had been smoldering, just waiting for the right moment to ignite.

His lips moved against yours, slow at first, savoring the closeness. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the way his chest pressed gently against yours. You pulled him in closer, your hands tangling in the fabric of his jacket, as though afraid that if you let go, the moment would slip away. His body was pressed against yours now, his chest flush against yours, his strong arms securing you in place, as if to make sure you didn’t fall.

When you finally pulled back, the air between you seemed charged, crackling with unspoken words. His eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them, deeply in love and warm with something that made your heart race. He smiled, a slow, genuine curve of his lips, his voice low and tender when he finally spoke.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” he whispered, his words almost lost in the space between your lips. His hand remained at the small of your back, holding you close, his fingers warm against your skin.

Before you could even process the weight of his words, a loud voice broke through the fragile moment.

“Got it!” Brittney crowed from the window, waving her phone triumphantly as if she had just captured a moment of great importance.

You groaned, your face immediately hiding in your hands, embarrassed, but Crowe just laughed, the sound warm and carefree, his arm effortlessly wrapping around your shoulders.

“Let them watch,” he said with a grin, pulling you closer, his breath tickling your ear. “I don’t care.”

And for the first time that night, as his arm pulled you tighter against him, you didn’t care either.

If you picked Sol!

You stood motionless, phone resting in your hand, as you stared at the glowing screen.

— You: I’d love to come. When should I meet you?

Hyugo’s response came almost immediately.

— Hyugo: 6:30 at the park entrance. Can’t wait!

A small smile tugged at your lips, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You knew tonight would be special; Hyugo and Sol had a way of making even the simplest outings unforgettable. But as your gaze drifted to Crowe’s name in your contacts, the smile faded.

Crowe.

He deserved to know you wouldn’t be there. You owed him that much.

Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating as a pang of guilt settled in your chest. This wasn’t an easy decision, but you couldn’t be everywhere at once. Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the button and lifted the phone to your ear.

The line rang twice before Crowe answered, his familiar voice as warm and teasing as ever. “Hey, what’s up? Please don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me for tonight.”

A soft laugh escaped you, but the guilt in your tone was unmistakable. “Not exactly chickening out, but... I can’t make it. I have other plans.”

The silence that followed stretched long enough to make your chest tighten. You checked the screen to make sure the call hadn’t dropped, but then Crowe’s voice returned, quieter now.

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s okay. I mean, we’ll miss you, but it’s not Christmas without options, right?”

His attempt at lightness only deepened the ache in your heart. You could hear the subtle disappointment beneath his words, even if he was trying to hide it.

“I’m sorry, Crowe,” you said softly. “I really hope you have a great time. Merry Christmas.”

He chuckled lightly, though the usual energy in his laugh wasn’t there. “Yeah, you too. Take care, okay?”

When the call ended, you stared at the blank screen for a moment, the weight of your choice pressing on you. Crowe’s voice lingered in your mind, and for a fleeting second, you almost reconsidered. But tonight was about something different—something you couldn’t quite name yet.

Later that evening, you arrived at the park entrance, the crisp night air nipping at your cheeks as the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts filled the air. Strings of twinkling lights turned the trees into glowing sculptures, and the cheerful hum of holiday music mingled with the sound of children laughing and families chatting.

Your breath puffed in the cold air as you scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot Hyugo leaning against a lamppost, his tall frame relaxed and his hands tucked casually into his coat pockets. He gave you a small wave, but it wasn’t Hyugo who drew your attention.

A few steps away stood Sol.

He was dressed impeccably, his white button-up shirt and green suit jacket tailored perfectly to his lean frame. The deep green of the jacket brought out the striking shade of his eyes, and his neatly styled ponytail only emphasized the sharp lines of his face. His bangs framed his expression, highlighting the glint of the piercings lining his ears.

But it was the bouquet in his hands that truly caught your attention. A cluster of green roses, delicate and vibrant against the cold winter backdrop.

Your heart skipped a beat as you walked toward him, your eyes widening. “Green roses,” you said softly, taking the bouquet from his hands with care. “They’re about life and growth. Hope, too.”

Sol blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before his expression softened. A faint blush crept up his neck as he scratched the back of his head. “Yeah... I thought you’d like them.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Without thinking, you leaned forward and hugged him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Sol froze, his body going stiff as his blush deepened to an almost crimson hue. He stammered incoherently for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.

“Well, this is already adorable,” Hyugo said, his calm voice laced with amusement as he walked up. “Thanks for officially making me the third wheel tonight.”

You laughed, clutching the roses to your chest as you turned to Hyugo. “Don’t be so dramatic. Here, I have something for you.”

Reaching into the small gift bag in your hand, you pulled out a silver katana necklace. Hyugo’s brows lifted as he took it, his fingers brushing the delicate chain.

“Wow,” he said, holding it up to catch the light. “This is... really nice. Thanks!”

“Only the best for you,” you teased, grinning as he slipped it on. The chain glinted under the lights, and he adjusted it with a satisfied nod.

“Looks good on me, doesn’t it?” he said, striking a mock-serious pose.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “It does. But let’s not let it go to your head, okay?”

As the three of you began walking into the park, the weight of the earlier phone call began to ease. The twinkling lights, the crisp air, and the warmth of your friends’ presence all blended into a moment you wouldn’t forget.

The world around you transformed into a glowing wonderland of twinkling lights. Strings of bulbs wound through the trees like cascading stars, and lanterns in festive shapes lined the paths. The air was filled with the sounds of cheerful laughter, holiday music, and the occasional jingling bell from a passing sleigh ride.

Hyugo walked ahead, his easy stride and relaxed demeanor making him seem like he belonged in this magical setting. Occasionally, he pointed out displays, his commentary a mix of genuine appreciation and sarcastic humor.

“See that?” he said, gesturing to a particularly gaudy reindeer display. “That’s exactly what my family’s yard looks like. Overachieving neighbors are a real thing.”

You laughed, falling into step with Sol, who had remained quieter than usual. He walked beside you, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets now that the bouquet was safely cradled in your arms. His reddish-orange eyes flitted between the lights and you, his expression thoughtful.

“You okay back there, Sol?” Hyugo called over his shoulder, smirking. “You’re way too quiet. I’m starting to think the roses did all the talking for you.”

Sol’s cheeks flushed again, but he managed a small smile. “I’m fine. Just... enjoying the view.” Hyugo snorted. “Yeah, sure you are.”

You glanced up at Sol, catching the way his gaze lingered on you before darting away. Your heart skipped slightly, and you decided to give him a reprieve from Hyugo’s teasing. “The lights are beautiful,” you said softly, gesturing toward the canopy of stars above the path.

Sol nodded, his voice equally quiet. “Yeah, they are.”

The three of you continued along the winding path, pausing occasionally to take in the more elaborate displays—a massive tree covered in golden lights, an archway adorned with glittering ornaments, and a whimsical snowman family that had children running circles around it.

Hyugo excused himself after spotting a nearby food stall. “I’m getting hot cocoa. Anyone want some?”

You shook your head, and Sol muttered a soft, “No, thanks.”

“Suit yourselves. I’ll be back in a bit,” Hyugo said with a casual wave, leaving you and Sol alone under the shimmering lights.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was charged with something unspoken. Sol glanced at you, his hands fidgeting slightly in his pockets.

“You look really nice tonight,” he said suddenly, his voice shy but earnest.

You turned to him, surprised. “Thank you. You do, too.”

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he wasn’t sure how far to let it go. “I mean it,” he added, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. “You always look nice, but tonight... I don’t know. You’re so pretty.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” you said again, your voice softer this time.

The lights overhead cast a soft glow on both of you, the world feeling smaller and quieter. Your thoughts began to wander, and a faint ache tugged at your chest.

You’d spent so many Christmases surrounded by family, their familiar warmth and chaos filling every corner of your childhood home. This year was different. You’d made a life for yourself in the city and built relationships and traditions with your friends, but the distance from your family suddenly felt heavier than ever.

Sol noticed the shift in your expression immediately. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head slightly, stepping closer. “Hey,” he said gently. “You okay?”

You blinked quickly, realizing tears had started to well in your eyes. “Yeah,” you said, wiping at them with a quick smile. “I’m fine. Just... thinking about home.”

His concern deepened, and for a moment, he hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say anything. Finally, he reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay to miss them,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide it.”

The warmth in his voice unraveled something inside you, and you nodded, swallowing hard. “Thank you, Sol,” you murmured.

A small smile returned to his face, and he pulled his hand back, letting the moment settle. After a few moments, you reached into your bag, a spark of excitement cutting through the heaviness in your chest. “Actually, I have something for you,” you said, pulling out a small box.

Sol blinked in surprise, watching as you handed it to him. “What’s this?”

“Open it,” you said with a grin.

He carefully lifted the lid to reveal a miniature horse keychain, painted green and black to match his colors. Sol’s eyes widened, and a small, genuine smile spread across his face.

“For me?” he asked, his voice almost disbelieving.

You nodded. “And this one’s for me,” you added, pulling out a matching keychain—a small cat painted in your favorite colors. “Now we’ve got matching keychains. To think of each other, you know.”

Sol stared at the tiny horse in his hands, his fingers brushing the smooth surface. “I love it,” he said finally, his voice quiet but full of emotion. “Thank you.”

Before you could respond, Sol reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped box. “I, uh... have something for you too,” he said, handing it over.

You unwrapped it carefully, and your breath caught as the lid lifted to reveal the music box you’d been dreaming about for months.

Tears sprang to your eyes again, but this time they were filled with pure joy. You couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. “Sol… how did you…?”

He stood there, his hands twitching nervously at his sides, the usual confidence he carried nowhere to be found. He took a tentative step closer, and the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. “I remembered you talking about it once,” he said, his voice faltering, tinged with uncertainty. “I just thought you should have it.”

His words, the meaning behind them, hit you all at once. He was so thoughtful, so careful. But it was his panicked expression that really caught you off guard. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure whether to comfort you or retreat, his green eyes wide with worry, silently questioning if he had done too much. “I—was this too much? I just thought you’d—”

You couldn’t bear to see him like that, unsure and vulnerable, so you stepped forward, closing the distance between you. Slowly, you rose up onto your toes, your hands resting gently on his broad shoulders, grounding yourself in his presence.

Before he could finish his thought, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, letting your emotions guide you. His breath hitched, and for a long moment, everything seemed to pause. The twinkling lights that decorated the trees, the distant laughter of other parkgoers, even the crisp winter air—all of it faded away, leaving only the heat of his skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat that somehow synced with yours.

Sol froze at first, his lips still under yours, as if his mind hadn’t caught up with what was happening. But slowly, you felt him relax into the kiss. His hands, unsure at first, settled lightly on your arms, and then, as if he was grounding himself in the moment, they tightened just slightly, pulling you in closer.

His touch was gentle, but you could feel the depth of his feelings in the way his fingers brushed against your skin—like he was afraid to let go, as if the moment might slip away if he did.

When you finally pulled back, the air around you felt charged, alive with the emotion you both had been holding back. Sol stood there, his wide eyes locked on you, his cheeks flushed so deeply that even the tips of his ears had turned a deep shade of red. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“I… uh…” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, as if words had momentarily escaped him.

A soft laugh escaped you, breaking the intensity of the moment. You wiped away the lingering tears from your cheeks, trying to steady yourself. “Thank you, Sol,” you said, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions swirling in your chest. “For everything. For the music box, for being here… for being you.”

Sol’s lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to respond, but instead, all he managed was a shy, lopsided smile. The kind that made your heart flutter, as if his very soul was laid bare in that simple gesture.

You smiled back, your cheeks still flushed with warmth despite the winter chill, and there was something about the way his gaze lingered on you that made everything feel right, in a way you never expected.

“And for the record,” you added softly, your tone more serious now, “I care about you. So much.”

Sol’s smile deepened, and his eyes seemed to glow with a mixture of disbelief and quiet happiness. His voice, when it came, was so soft, so full of emotion, it felt like a secret meant just for you. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he murmured, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch warm and tender. “You’re the best muse I’ll ever have.”

His words hung in the air between you, and it felt like time itself had slowed down, each second stretching into eternity as you stood there, lost in the quiet connection you shared. The world, the winter, the chaos of everything else—it all melted away in that one moment, leaving only the feeling of his hands, his heart, and the soft glow of your shared affection.

Before either of you could say more, Hyugo’s voice cut through the tender moment, laced with amusement.

“Well, I feel like I should leave you two lovebirds alone, but... I also don’t want to walk home alone, so…”

The interruption made you laugh, the sound light and genuine as the heaviness in your chest fully lifted. Sol’s blush only deepened, and he looked down, scratching the back of his neck in his usual awkward fashion.

Your hand found his instinctively, your fingers lacing together as you turned to face Hyugo. “You’re hopeless,” you called teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hyugo said with a mock sigh. “Glad you’ve finally figured that out.”

As the three of you continued along the path, Sol’s grip on your hand remained firm, his thumb brushing lightly against yours as though to reassure himself this wasn’t a dream. The lights above reflected in his eyes, making them shine like rubies against the backdrop of the winter evening.

After a few moments of quiet, Sol glanced at you, his gaze steady but laced with a familiar shyness. “Thanks for being here,” he said, his voice low but full of meaning.

You looked up at him, warmth blooming in your chest. “Of course. Where else would I be?”

He hesitated for just a second, and then, with a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he added, “…And I’m glad I didn’t have to shed any blood to win you over.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him in mock disbelief before bursting into laughter. “What a charmer,” you said, shaking your head.

Sol chuckled softly, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly. “What can I say? I aim to impress you alone.”

The teasing gave way to a comfortable silence as the two of you continued walking, your hands still intertwined. The world around you felt warmer, and brighter, like the holiday lights above had found a way to settle into your chest and glow from the inside out.

For the first time that night, you felt completely at peace, the bittersweet ache of the season replaced by something sweeter: the quiet, steadfast warmth of someone who cared for you deeply.

You two reached Hyugo, who was waiting by another set of light displays with two steaming cups of cocoa in hand.

You couldn’t help but think that this chilly winter night had turned into something magical.

The soft hum of your phone was the only sound in the stillness of your room, the faint light casting long shadows across the walls as you lay there, scrolling through the pictures from the night of Christmas Eve. Each image flickered before your eyes like a fragment of time—memories that felt both distant and vivid, frozen in the glow of your screen.

The liveliness of Crowe and his friends, the way their energy seemed to fill the room and make the night brighter. Or the warmth of the park, the laughter of Hyugo and Sol, their voices mingling with the cold December air.

You felt an unexpected peace settle deep in your chest, a quiet kind of comfort.

College may have been over, for now, but something else had started to take root—connections that would stretch far beyond the walls of classrooms and lectures. Friendships that felt solid, steady, like something that might stand the test of time.

Just as you set the phone aside, your eyes began to flutter shut, your body sinking into the softness of the bed, drifting completely off to sleep.

Afterward, the soft sound at the window—a quiet rustle of fabric, the faintest click of the latch being undone. Then, a shadow moved across the room, sleek and fluid, dressed entirely in black. The figure moved with practiced ease, slipping silently through your window as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Sol.

His silhouette was barely visible against the darkness, but you could feel the presence of his mischievous grin even before he stepped into the soft pool of light in your room. He was quick, and efficient as if he had done this a hundred times before, and yet there was something undeniably thoughtful in the way he moved—careful not to disturb anything, as if he didn’t want to interrupt the calm of the night.

He stood there for a moment, just watching your sleeping figure, his eyes heart-shaped, glinting with quiet amusement. You could feel something warm in his gaze. Then, he crossed the room, slow enough not to startle you, and crouched down at the edge of your bed. His black clothing blended into the shadows, the outline of his lean figure and the small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

You were deep in sleep, the world around you a blur of comforting darkness. And yet, in that dreamlike space, you could feel his presence, like a whisper threading through the silence.

"You made it through the year," his voice murmured, a soft, velvety tone that carried a weight of something unspoken—something meaningful. His words were like a gentle caress, and though you could barely register them in your dream state, they stirred something inside you, something warm, something that made you feel understood.

A movement—delicate, almost reverent—pulled you from the haze of sleep. His hand, steady and sure, reached out to you, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch was feather-light, as though he was afraid to disturb the fragile peace of the moment. You could feel the warmth of his fingertips lingering on your skin, a soft, lingering touch that made you feel protected, and cared for, even in your slumber.

"Wishing you the best in the new year," he whispered, his voice barely audible but thick with intent.

You didn’t stir, caught in the embrace of sleep, but somehow, his words echoed through your mind like a distant lullaby. His hand dropped, and then there was a shift, the movement of him leaning forward, his presence closer now, filling the space between you.

His lips brushed against your cheek, the kiss so gentle it felt like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. It was brief, fleeting, but tender—an unspoken promise, woven into the light touch, something that lingered on your skin even after he pulled away. His warmth stayed with you for a heartbeat, then another, the feeling of him still hanging in the air like a quiet echo.

For a moment, everything was still. His expression remained unreadable, as it often did, but there was something else there—something deeper, more sincere than you were used to seeing. He didn’t need to say more; his presence was enough.

"Happy New Year~” he said, his voice soft but carrying a quiet smile, one that tugged at the corners of his lips as though he knew something you didn’t. And then, as swiftly as he had come, he was gone—leaving behind only the lingering warmth of his touch and the faintest trace of his words, woven into the fabric of your dreams. Still, a smile tugged at your lips as you thought about the promise of the new year—of fresh starts and endless possibilities.

Whatever moments the future held, you knew they'd be all the more meaningful depending on who you chose to share them with.

· ─────── ⋆⋅ 🝣 ⋅⋆ ─────── ·

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back crowe #the kid at the back sol #tkatb #tkatb crowe #crowe ichabod #crowe x reader #tkatb sol #solivan brugmansia #jericho crowe ichabod #jericho ichabod #the kid at the back jericho #sol brugmansia #sol x reader #the kid at the back vn

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twstfanblog · 3 days ago

Note

Has Yuu told the boys about Krampus?

The story is actually pretty fucked up, he was an evil butcher that killed, chopped up, and salted 3 children hanging out by his shop. St. Nicholas found out and performed actually fucking necromancy to bring the kids back to life, and then God cursed the butcher to follow St. Nick around every December 5 as a punisher and the demon of Christmas :D

Anyways I think Kalim and Riddle would have the best reactions but what do you think?

In my Christmas fic last year, I had wanted to add in a little thing on Krampus and Santa, but it didn't end up fitting.

Honestly Leona is the first who came to mind about wanting to know about Krampus. I do know Yuu'd talk about Santa to the kids because like 'Yeah if you're really good all year round, a man will bring you a really great gift.'

But Leona takes great pleasure in looking Cheka in the eyes and telling him he's going to call Krampus to take him away in his sack if he keeps yelling in his ears. (He then has to deal with a terrified Cheka clinging to him later that night).

Riddle would like the idea at first but then hearing the whole tale, I think he'd be distressed like. Wait, the actual children DIE? They're taken away forever? To that hell place??? The children are eaten???? He's got a few concerns at the very least. He feels more comfortable with Santa's 'naughty children get coal' than Krampus's 'naughty children are beaten with sticks and eaten in Hell'.

Kalim is DISTRESSED. No! His little siblings are in danger enough with kidnapping attempts! Now he's gotta worry about a magic man taking them!? He will fight Krampus to the death honestly. Gathers up all his little siblings and has them sleep in his room. Stays away all night to guard them with Jamil's help. (Jamil calling Yuu and asking why she hates him enough to tell Kalim about a demon that's entire MO is EATTING AND KIDNAPPING CHILDREN????).

Yuu 100 tells her children about Krampus before they even KNOW about Santa. All of her children are naughty lil brats 😅

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #valencia rambles #yuu oc #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #kalim al asim

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shdysders · 16 hours ago

Text

not this christmas

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: the christmas dinner takes an unexpected turn when tara’s guilt threatens to shatter the holiday spirit.

word count: 8.5k

author’s note: merry christmas🎄🎄my christmas gift to you guys!

You loved Christmas. Not in the fleeting, half-hearted way most people did—the kind of love that flickered on and off like string lights. No, your love for Christmas burned steady, warm, and untouchable, like a candle in the dark.

It wasn't just the holiday or the traditions. It was the feeling. A quiet, persistent kind of joy that settled in your chest and never quite left, no matter the time of year.

It started when you were young, those early years when Christmas meant more than just a tree and gifts.

It was family crowded around a table, faces soft under the glow of twinkling lights. It was the sound of slippers on hardwood floors as you raced to the window to see the first snow of the season.

It was the smell of cinnamon, the stickiness of frosting on your fingers, the way the house felt alive in a way it never did the rest of the year.

Christmas, to you, wasn't just a date on the calendar. It was home.

And Tara? She knew all of this. She couldn't not know, because you told her. All the time. From the moment you started dating, she'd been swept up in your Christmas stories, your excitement spilling over long before December.

You told her about how you'd start making paper snowflakes in October just because you couldn't wait. How you and your mom used to sit on the floor, wrapping presents together, and how she'd always let you tie the ribbons because you were so particular about getting them just right.

You told her how you hated when Christmas ended, too. How you'd always leave the tree up a little too long, until the needles turned brittle and brown.

How you'd sit with your hot chocolate on quiet January nights, staring at the lights until they went blurry, trying to hold onto that feeling for as long as you could. And Tara would listen, always with that small, indulgent smile, as if she couldn't quite believe someone could love something so much.

When December finally came around, your joy was impossible to ignore. You played Christmas music in the car, humming along even when Tara rolled her eyes. You dragged her to stores that were too crowded, grinning at every over-the-top display.

You'd laugh when she teased you for buying ornaments you didn't need, holding them up like treasures you'd just found.

It wasn't just a holiday to you; it was a piece of you. Tara could see it in the way your hands lingered over decorations, the way your eyes softened when you spoke about it.

She'd never admit it out loud, but it was one of the things she loved most about you—that unshakable, unrelenting hope that came alive every Christmas.

And because of this, Tara couldn't help but feel it too—that excitement that radiated off you like warmth from a fire.

She didn't understand it at first, the way you lived for Christmas, the way your face lit up at the smallest details: a wreath on a neighbor's door, a candy cane tucked behind the counter at a coffee shop. For as long as she could remember, Christmas had been just another day—maybe slightly shinier than the others, but never anything more.

Her parents tried when she was little, putting up a tree that always leaned just a little to the left and filling stockings with chocolates and oranges. But it had always felt hollow, something they did because they were supposed to.

And then Sam left, and Christmas became quieter. The tree sat bare for years, boxes of lights left untouched in the attic.

Tara remembered standing by the window one Christmas Eve, watching the neighbor's house glow with lights and laughter, and wondering what the point of it all was.

She carried that feeling with her into high school—the dull, familiar sense that Christmas was a party she'd never really been invited to.

She didn't get the fuss over matching pajamas or ornaments that people treated like treasures. She didn't understand why classmates got so excited when December rolled around, or why people looked forward to it all year.

Until you.

Tara didn't see it coming, the way you changed things without even trying. The first time you dragged her to a Christmas market, she'd grumbled the whole way there, but you just smiled, pulling her through the crowds like you couldn't wait to show her something amazing.

And by the time you handed her a cup of hot cider, your cheeks pink from the cold, she realized she was... smiling too.

But she still didn't totally get it—the way you'd hang decorations before the turkey from Thanksgiving was even cold, or how you'd hum Christmas songs under your breath like you couldn't help yourself. But she felt it.

Watching you string lights across the living room, your face half-hidden behind tinsel, made her chest feel warm in a way she couldn't explain. Watching you light up at the smallest things—picking out a tree, baking cookies that inevitably burned on the edges—made her see Christmas through you.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

But this Christmas, Tara couldn't feel it. She wanted to— God, she wanted to.

She wanted to feel it—for you, if nothing else.

She wanted to wake up and see you hanging lights with that same joyful gleam in your eyes, and for it to stir something in her, the way it always did.

But all she felt was heavy, like there was something sitting deep in her chest, pressing against her lungs every time she tried to take a full breath.

She knew why, of course. That's what made it worse.

But you didn't know. You couldn't see it—not when you were so happy. You carried that same endless excitement with you, the same joy that had always made Christmas feel real to her.

She'd watched you the last month as you transformed the apartment into what you called your little Christmas haven.

She watched you move through the days like you were walking on clouds—picking the perfect ornaments, humming Christmas songs in the kitchen, wrapping gifts with little handmade bows because store-bought ones were boring.

Last weekend, you'd dragged her out to pick the tree, circling the lot three times to find the "perfect one" while she shoved her hands deep into her coat pockets, trying to ward off the cold.

She then watched you beam every time you passed the decorated tree in the corner of the living room, just because it was there. You'd even set up a playlist of Christmas music that played softly through the apartment, as though silence itself would've been a disservice to the season.

And you were happy. God, were you happy. Tara could see it in the way you lit up at the smallest things—a mug shaped like a snowman, a new set of ornaments you absolutely didn't need but bought anyway. It was contagious, usually. Watching you like that always made Tara feel like a kid again, like she was seeing Christmas for the first time.

But not this year.

This year, watching you only made the weight in her chest heavier. You were so you—so bright, so full of excitement, your voice carrying down the hall as you planned the dinner, scribbled notes about seating arrangements, and rattled off ideas for matching napkins and plates.

And Tara had tried. She really had.

She tried to smile as you turned to her, that usual brightness lighting up your face, your voice lilting with questions about tinsel and centerpieces. She tried to laugh when you dragged her by the arm to test-run Christmas cookie recipes, shoving half-burned gingerbread into her mouth with a grin that made her hate herself for not feeling the same.

Because this was supposed to be your year. Your Christmas.

It was your turn, with her, to host the group's Christmas dinner—a tradition you'd all kept for years.

You'd been talking about it since Thanksgiving, probably before. You'd scribbled notes on loose sheets of paper, your handwriting growing messier with every new idea.

You talked about the menu, the decorations, the playlists, even which stockings would suit who. And every time you said it was going to be "perfect," Tara felt like something inside her cracked just a little deeper.

She used to love this part too—when the group was together. It was loud, chaotic, warm in a way that reminded her of what Christmas could be. She used to look forward to it almost as much as you did. But not this year.

This year, she didn't even want to be there. She found herself wishing for a cold, a fever, anything that might give her an out. But when the morning came and she woke up perfectly fine, she knew there was no escaping it.

So she followed you, watching from the edges as you carried the excitement for both of you. You didn't notice the way she lingered by the door when she thought you weren't looking, or how her smile never quite reached her eyes.

You didn't notice how she winced when you wrapped your arms around her waist, whispering, "It's going to be the best one yet."

Because how could you? You were too swept up in the magic you'd spent the last month creating.

And Tara—Tara was trying so hard to let herself feel it too. She was trying to push it all down, to bury it under the wreaths and the twinkling lights, to pretend.

For you.

So for the first time, Tara was nervous about the dinner.

It didn't make sense. These were the people she loved most—the ones she trusted enough to let her guard down around, the ones who knew her better than anyone. Being herself had never been a problem with them, not here, not in this apartment where the walls held more laughter than secrets. But tonight, something was different.

Tonight, she was scared.

She was scared that someone would notice. That someone would look at her too closely and see the cracks she was desperately trying to smooth over. She knew you would've been the first to pick up on it if you weren't so wrapped up in Christmas—so bright, so blissfully unaware of the weight pressing against her ribs.

And if someone did notice, what would she say? Tara knew the answer she should give.

It wasn't hard to spin a lie on the spot—she could shrug and chalk it up to stress, or the overwhelming preparations, or a bad night's sleep.

But she knew, deep down, that none of those words would come out. If someone asked the wrong question, if someone looked at her the wrong way, she wouldn't be able to say anything at all.

Because she couldn't tell the truth. Not on Christmas. Not on your day.

The thought lingered like a whisper in the back of her mind as she paced the kitchen, straightening place settings that were already perfectly fine. You were too busy fussing over the food to notice her unease, chattering happily about everyone's arrival time as if it couldn't come soon enough. And maybe for you, it couldn't. You were so alive, so glowing with excitement, that it almost made her feel worse.

When the doorbell rang, Tara jumped.

"They're here!" you said, practically vibrating as you wiped your hands on a dish towel and darted for the door. "Go pour the drinks, —I'll get them!"

Tara took a slow, steadying breath as she moved to the counter. She reached for the bottle of wine and tried to focus on pouring, on the red liquid as it pooled into each glass. Her hands were steady, but her throat felt tight.

The sound of voices filled the entryway, the kind of cheerful noise that had always made Christmas feel real. There were hugs, laughs, the unmistakable sound of Sam's voice saying something sarcastic to Danny, and Mindy's familiar cackle that followed. Tara forced herself to take another breath before turning around.

The kitchen doorway filled with people— your people, her people. Sam came in first, her eyes immediately softening when she looked at Tara. "Merry Christmas," she said, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. It was brief but firm, grounding in a way that made Tara's stomach twist.

Sam pulled back and smiled, handing over a small gift bag with a quick, "For later."

Behind her, Danny appeared with a bright grin, holding up a tin of homemade cookies. "Housewarming gift—holiday edition," he said, nodding toward the stockings you'd hung by the fireplace.

"Come in, come in!" you chirped, ushering them further into the room as Tara silently handed Sam and Danny each a glass of wine.

Mindy and Anika followed, bringing with them an energy that could only be described as contagious. Anika wrapped you in a hug, swaying you both side to side as she mumbled about how good everything already smelled. Mindy, of course, wasted no time teasing Tara about her choice of clothes.

"Festive, Carpenter," she quipped, elbowing Tara lightly before handing over a perfectly wrapped present with a wink. "Don't open it yet—it's gonna blow your mind."

Tara managed a chuckle, faint but believable enough.

And then Chad stepped through the door.

He was grinning, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, his arms full of gifts stacked in a precarious tower. "Don't ask me who these are for—I didn't label them," he said, his voice light and warm. He set the presents down on the coffee table and, without missing a beat, pulled you into a one-armed hug. "Merry Christmas."

Tara swallowed, the back of her throat suddenly dry as she caught herself staring. She forced her gaze away quickly, staring instead at the glasses of wine still left on the counter.

You didn't notice. You were too busy, too happy to notice the way Tara's shoulders tensed, the way her jaw tightened as Chad's voice filled the room.

"God, it looks amazing in here," Anika said, plopping down on the couch and glancing around. "You two really outdid yourselves."

"That's all her," Tara replied automatically, her voice soft as her eyes flickered toward you. You were still beaming, lighting up the whole room just by existing in it.

Everyone else was smiling too—grinning, laughing, already reaching for drinks and gifts as they settled into the warm space you'd worked so hard to create. The apartment felt alive, buzzing with the kind of comfort that could only come from the people who knew you best.

But for Tara, it was like standing in a room with a ticking clock.

She couldn't hear it, not really, but she felt it—the minutes passing, the invisible weight of what she knew hanging just behind her ribs.

And when she glanced at Chad again, she couldn't stop herself from swallowing hard, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand.

Tara forced herself to take a steadying breath.

Everyone was here now. The apartment felt alive, filled with the kind of warmth that you'd worked so hard to create.

And Tara felt like a stranger in her own home.

Because dinner was usually Tara's favorite part with the group. It was loud and messy and full of laughter—voices overlapping as everyone spoke at once, hands reaching across the table for dishes, wine glasses clinking together between shared jokes.

For years, it had been a comfort. The one night where she felt like she could let go of everything and just be.

Tonight, that feeling was gone.

You sat beside her at the table, glowing with happiness in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She couldn't stop looking at you—your hair curling softly around your shoulders, catching the warm lights strung across the apartment like halos. The bow in your hair, simple and sweet, suited you so perfectly that it felt like a deliberate cruelty.

You looked beautiful. More beautiful than she could handle.

You were the center of everything tonight. The way you floated through conversations, slipping seamlessly between topics as if you'd spent years mastering each one.

You fit so well with everyone—laughing at Chad's attempts to explain some sport, leaning in to debate horror movies with Mindy, teasing Sam about how she always turned into the "mom" of the group when leftovers were involved. Everyone gravitated to you. They always did, but tonight it felt brighter, more you.

And the food—your food—was another thing everyone praised, just as Tara knew they would. Compliments passed around the table like ornaments on a tree, each one landing on you with ease. You brushed off their praise with your usual modesty, always trying to deflect or share the credit.

"Tara helped too," you'd insisted more than once, your voice so genuine that Tara felt like she'd choke on her own breath.

She hadn't. She hadn't even been in the kitchen when you'd been chopping vegetables or perfecting the sauce.

But you didn't say that. You never would. It wasn't in you to make someone feel small, least of all her.

"Barely," Mindy had teased. "What'd you do, set the oven timer?"

You had laughed at that, and Tara had smiled faintly, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. She just focused on pushing food around.

Her plate sat mostly untouched, pushed around to make it seem like she was eating.

She could barely stomach the thought of food, especially with Chad sitting directly across from her. His voice rose every now and then, folding into the hum of conversation like a thread Tara couldn't unravel. She refused to look at him.

Whenever his gaze turned toward her—and she knew it did—Tara felt the air catch in her throat, her hands gripping the edge of the table until her knuckles turned white. She'd look anywhere else—the centerpiece you'd carefully arranged, the half-empty wine bottle Mindy was reaching for, or you.

Always you.

You were so happy, so completely in it. Your laughter rose above the others, light and unburdened, and it made you look even more beautiful than you already did. How could you look like that? How could you sit beside her, so perfectly content, when she felt like she was crumbling?

And worse yet, how could you still look at her the way you did? With that same soft affection you'd had since the first time you told her you loved Christmas.

Tara could feel it in every glance you sent her way—the moments where you reached over to touch her arm or leaned close to whisper something that would've made her laugh any other year.

It was unbearable.

Every bit of you—the happiness, the beauty, the love—made the guilt sink deeper into her chest. And Tara could feel it building, rising like a wave she couldn't hold back.

The hum of conversation around the table swelled as you launched into another story—this one about your childhood Christmases, complete with every little detail.

Tara could hear you talking to Anika and Mindy, your voice animated as you described decorating cookies or setting up stockings. You'd always been so good at making people listen, at drawing them in with that warmth that never seemed to dim.

Sam and Danny were listening too, nodding along with smiles as you explained how you cooked the chicken tonight, what seasoning you'd used, and how you hoped it turned out just right.

But Tara couldn't listen.

She stared down at her plate, her fork slipping between her fingers as if she couldn't remember how to hold it. The food was cold by now, untouched, but that wasn't what had her stomach twisting in knots. She could barely hear you over the roar in her ears.

And then she heard him.

It wasn't a word—not really. Just a sound. A low throat-clear, subtle enough that it wouldn't interrupt you but sharp enough to catch Tara's attention. She looked up, and there he was. Chad.

He didn't speak, but he didn't have to.

Across the table, Chad tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable save for the pointed look in his eyes. Then he mouthed it. Two words, clear as day.

"Tell her."

Tara froze. Her chest tightened, every muscle locking into place as panic struck like ice water in her veins.

No.

Her hands were trembling now, hidden beneath the table as she squeezed them into fists. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck despite the warmth of the room, and she forced herself to look away. To pretend she hadn't seen him. To pretend she didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

She couldn't tell you.

Not now. Not here. Not on Christmas. Not your Christmas.

Tara's eyes darted back to her plate, focusing on the scrape of her fork against the porcelain, but she could still feel Chad's gaze on her like a weight she couldn't shake. He wasn't letting this go.

Slowly, she glanced up again, only to find him staring at her with that same unflinching look. He didn't say a word, but his mouth moved again, sharp and deliberate.

"I'll tell her."

Her heart stopped.

Tara felt the panic rise in her chest like she was drowning, her breath coming quicker as she stared at Chad in disbelief. She couldn't look away now, couldn't pretend she hadn't seen what he just said.

"If you don't, I will."

The room felt too hot all of a sudden. Her sweater clung to her skin like it was suffocating her, and her throat felt dry, like no amount of air could fill her lungs.

Chad's face didn't change. His expression stayed firm—resolute—like he wasn't bluffing. And maybe he wasn't.

Tara swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the table again. The panic clawed at her ribs, pulling tighter with every second.

She couldn't tell you.

Not tonight. Not like this.

But even as she sat there, heart racing and pulse thrumming in her ears, she knew she was running out of time.

Tara's chest tightened, her breaths shallow as she sat there, staring blankly at the half-empty plate in front of her. The sound of laughter and clinking silverware filled the room, so bright and cheerful that it felt like a cruel contrast to the way her insides were unraveling. Chad's eyes flickered over to her again—he wasn't glaring exactly, but the weight of his attention pressed down on her like a physical force.

She tried not to look at him. She tried to focus on anything else. Your voice, soft and full of life as you spoke to Sam about something, anything; the smell of pine wafting in from the tree in the corner; the way the candlelight danced against the silverware.

But none of it helped.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her panic creeping higher and higher until tears stung at the back of her eyes. No. Not here. Not now. She bit her lip, hard, and reached for the wine glass in front of her with a trembling hand, downing half of it in one go.

The bitter liquid didn't calm her down, but it was enough of a distraction to keep the tears from falling. She wiped her hands on her jeans beneath the table, trying to shake the sweat building on her palms, trying to steady herself.

Nobody noticed. Thank god, nobody noticed.

Her thoughts were a blur—frantic, relentless. She couldn't tell you. It would ruin everything. Everything. This Christmas, your Christmas.

You were so happy, so radiant, and the thought of being the one to take that away made her sick.

But Chad wasn't backing off. His expression stayed firm, expectant. Tara glanced at him again, her panic spiking, and he just raised his eyebrows slightly. A warning.

I'll tell her.

She squeezed her fists tighter beneath the table, nails biting into her skin.

Tara couldn't imagine it—him saying it, not her. The words coming out of someone else's mouth felt so much worse. No. If it had to happen—if this was inevitable—then it had to be her.

Her stomach twisted, her throat dry as sandpaper. Slowly, carefully, she gave Chad the smallest nod. Barely there, barely visible. But he saw it.

He eased back into his chair, satisfied.

Tara's relief lasted all of two seconds before the guilt came crashing back in waves. She tried to breathe through it, tried to pull herself together as the room carried on like nothing had happened. Like everything was fine.

She forced herself to smile when Mindy cracked a joke about Anika's questionable taste in Christmas movies, and she even laughed—just enough to blend in.

But her chest still ached, her pulse still raced. The heat under her sweater was unbearable.

Then you reached for her hand.

Tara flinched, pulling her hand away before she could stop herself.

The silence, however brief, felt deafening.

She looked up to see you staring at her, surprised, confused—hurt. That look, your look, hit her harder than she could've imagined. She wanted to take your hand again, to squeeze it, to say it was nothing.

But she didn't.

Her palms were sweaty. If you felt that, you might've asked questions. And god, she didn't want questions.

You didn't ask though. You never did, and she loved you for that. You always let things go, always trusted her.

So you forced a smile, as though trying to brush off what had just happened, and asked the table, "Is everyone finished?"

Immediately, the group moved to help. Sam stacked plates, Mindy and Anika grabbed serving dishes, and Chad—thankfully—busied himself with clearing the empty glasses.

Even Danny, who usually sat back and relaxed after a meal, grabbed a dish and followed along.

Tara, on the other hand, stayed in her chair longer than she should have, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Her heart was pounding, a mess of anxiety that she couldn't untangle no matter how hard she tried. She hated how obvious it felt to her, like everyone could see her faltering, though no one seemed to notice.

You glanced at her briefly, offering a soft smile before disappearing into the kitchen with a stack of plates. That was all the signal Tara needed to push herself up, her movements stiff and mechanical. Her chair scraped against the floor, but no one paid her any mind.

She walked slowly to the living room, each step heavy with guilt. She told herself she needed a moment—just a second to collect herself. That's why she wasn't helping. That's why she wasn't in there with you, laughing and chatting like nothing was wrong.

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree pulled her in like a magnet, her feet moving on autopilot as she sank onto the couch. It was supposed to be comforting, this space you'd worked so hard to make warm and festive. You'd spent days decorating together, stringing lights, hanging ornaments, and laughing over the tangled mess of garland. But now it felt suffocating.

The sounds from the kitchen grew fainter, the clatter of plates giving way to quieter voices as everyone began to finish up. Tara's gaze flicked to the hallway, half-hoping Chad would stay gone forever.

He'd excused himself, mumbling something about needing the restroom, but she knew better. He was giving her time, though not nearly enough.

When everyone finally came into the living room, it was you who appeared last, a glass of water in hand.

Tara froze as you crossed the room, your eyes locking onto hers.

"Here," you said softly, holding the glass out to her.

Tara blinked, guilt tightening in her chest as she realized why.

"You're pale," you said, your voice full of concern. "And you're sweaty. Are you feeling okay? We can wait with the gifts if you're not feeling well—"

The words made everything inside her snap.

She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't sit there, pretending, lying, carrying this weight while you were being you. Sweet, kind, so selfless it made her chest ache.

Tara's voice came out before she could stop it. ”Y/N, I need to talk to you."

It sounded too harsh, too serious, like she was about to break up with you in front of everyone.

Your brows furrowed slightly as you looked at her, hesitant, confused.

"In private," Tara added quickly, her tone softer this time. "Please?"

The room went silent. Everyone stared, the kind of silence that made it seem like something bad was happening—like the worst was about to come.

Tara's throat tightened when you finally nodded. "Yeah... sure."

She reached for your hand without thinking, her fingers wrapping around yours as she pulled you toward the hallway, needing to get away from the others, needing to escape their stares.

Her chest heaved as she pushed open a door to your shared bedroom, closing it firmly behind you. The sound of the latch clicking shut echoed louder than it should've, making her flinch.

She turned to you, her heart racing so fast she thought it might give out. And then, finally, she looked up to meet your eyes, and everything inside her shattered.

You looked worried—so worried—and Tara could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. Your brows knitted together, your lips parted as though you wanted to say more but didn't know how.

"What's wrong?" you asked softly, your voice trembling, just like your hands, which you were nervously wringing together.

Tara's chest ached, the tears already brimming in her eyes. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to will them away, but they refused to be stopped. The way you cared about her—always so much—was unbearable now.

You took a shaky breath, glancing back at the door. "We can send them home if you're not feeling well," you continued. "I know they'd understand."

Your voice was so steady, so kind, even though Tara could see the cracks forming in your composure. The way you were trying to hide your nervousness, trying to take care of her despite it all, made her want to scream.

"And if you're not feeling up for dessert, it's okay," you added quickly, your words spilling out like a stream you couldn't control. "Although I was really hoping they'd get to try the pumpkin pie I made. I mean, it's the first time I tried your mom's recipe, remember? You said it's foolproof, but I'm not so sure. I really hope you like it, too—"

"Stop."

Tara's voice came out sharp, cutting through your rambling like a knife. She couldn't take it anymore—the kindness, the softness, the you of it all. It was too much, and it was breaking her.

Your mouth snapped shut, your face falling as you stared at her, wide-eyed and scared.

Tara exhaled shakily, looking anywhere but at you. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, fingers curling and uncurling into fists as she struggled to speak. "Do you remember... when you were at your parents last month?"

You blinked, nodding slowly. Of course, you remembered. You'd gone alone because Tara hadn't been feeling well, and the last thing either of you wanted was for her to risk getting your parents sick. It had been her idea, really—she'd insisted you go, promising she'd be fine at home for a few days.

"Chad came over," Tara started, her voice barely above a whisper. She was shaking now, her entire body tense as if holding herself together was the only thing keeping her upright. "He... he offered to fix the faucet."

The words came out disjointed, her throat tightening with every syllable.

Your brows furrowed, your lips parting to say something, but you didn't. You could tell she wasn't finished.

Tara gulped hard, her head bowing under the weight of it all. She still couldn't meet your eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, her voice trembling as she forced out the words.

"I—" She stopped, her voice breaking. Her breathing quickened, and she gripped the edge of the counter behind her, her nails digging into the wood.

But she couldn't bring herself to say it.

Tara's breaths grew shallow, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to force the words out. But instead of explaining, instead of saying what needed to be said, the apology fell from her lips first—broken and desperate.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, her voice cracking. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I swear."

The tears finally spilled over, streaming down her face in uneven trails. She wasn't just crying; she was unraveling, her sobs barely muffled as she tried to keep her composure, though it was a futile effort.

"I promise you," she gasped, her voice trembling with each syllable. "I swear."

You stood frozen, your hands clenching into fists at your sides as the weight of her words settled over you. You didn't speak, but the way your face fell—eyes wide and glassy, your lips trembling—it said enough. You looked so sad. So heartbreakingly sad.

Tara knew it without even looking at you. She could feel it in the silence that hung between you, in the way your presence seemed to shrink into yourself as if bracing for the worst.

But you didn't ask.

You didn't press her for details, didn't demand an explanation, because you understood. Somehow, without her saying it, you already knew. And that hurt more than anything. Tara didn't want you to understand. She didn't want you to piece it together before she had the strength to admit it, to give you the truth you deserved.

"I..." Her voice faltered, her body trembling as the words clawed their way up her throat. She sobbed again, the sound raw and guttural, before forcing herself to speak. "We kissed."

Your breath hitched, and Tara finally looked up, her tear-filled eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before shame dragged her gaze back to the floor.

"I kissed him," she whispered, barely audible now. The confession hung in the air, heavy and suffocating, as if the world itself had stopped to listen.

Tara couldn't bring herself to tell you everything. She couldn't say the word— made out. She just couldn't. But she couldn't stop either, couldn't leave you with only half of the truth. You deserved more, even if it broke both of you.

Her voice trembled as she stammered out, "We... we took off our clothes. Not all of them, but almost." Her chest heaved as she forced the words out, each one slicing through the air like a blade. "I stopped it before it went further. I swear to you, I stopped it."

But the look on your face—devastated, hollow—made her panic. Her mind spiraled, and suddenly, the floodgates opened.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean any of it!" she cried, her words tumbling over each other in a frantic mess. "I was—God, I was just so stupid, and I was thinking about you the whole time. I swear, I was thinking about you!"

Tara's sobs grew louder, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she tried to make sense of it all. But she couldn't. Not for you, not even for herself.

"I love you," she choked out, her voice breaking. "I love you so much, and I missed you. That's why I—I thought—"

She stopped herself, her breath catching on a strangled sob. She pressed her palms to her face, trying to wipe away the tears that wouldn't stop. "I don't even know why I did it. I don't. I just... I wanted you. I needed you, and you weren't there, and I—"

Her words fell apart, dissolving into incoherent fragments as she clung to whatever thread of reason she could find. But there was none. There was only you, standing there, staring at her like you'd been shattered into pieces, and Tara hated herself more than she thought possible.

Your tears fell silently, slowly trailing down the same cheeks that had been glowing with joy just minutes ago. The image of your beautiful smile, so full of life, was still burned into Tara's mind, and it only made her feel worse. She had ruined it. She had ruined you. This day, this moment, this love—you didn't deserve any of it.

But you, ever the optimist, ever the one to make sense of the chaos, tried to piece it together. You wanted to believe in her, believe in something that might make this feel less. Less devastating, less cruel, less like a dagger in the heart.

"But... you had been drinking, right?" you asked softly, your voice trembling with fragile hope. It broke her.

She knew what you were doing, the way you always tried to see the good, even when there wasn't any. You wanted this to be a mistake she didn't mean, something fogged by alcohol, something you could fix.

But it wasn't. And Tara hated herself even more for it.

Her breath hitched, and she shook her head. "No," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes widened, the hope you were desperately clinging to flickering out. The weight of her answer settled between you like a leaden fog.

"I wasn't," Tara continued, the sobs breaking her words apart. "I wasn't drinking. I—" Her voice caught, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep from falling apart completely. "It was me. I did it."

The silence between you was deafening, heavy with heartbreak. Tara looked at you through her tears, watching as yours fell freely. And in that moment, she realized she had never hated herself more than she did right now.

Tara took a shaky step toward you, her arms instinctively reaching out as though she could somehow hold you together, as though a hug could erase the pain she had caused. But before she could close the distance, you stepped back.

The motion wasn't sharp or angry. It wasn't a flinch or a shove—it was softer, almost hesitant. But it was enough. Enough to make Tara freeze in place, her arms still awkwardly outstretched, the rejection clear.

You didn't look at her. You didn't yell or scream or ask why. You just stood there, sniffling softly as the tears kept falling, your hands trembling as you tried to wipe them away.

Tara felt her chest tighten, the air in the room growing heavier by the second. She wanted to cry harder, scream, beg, something. But all she could do was stare at you, her heart shattering all over again with every tear that slipped down your cheeks.

I..." Her voice broke, hoarse and raw. "Can I... Can I hug you?" she stammered, her voice thick with desperation. "Please?"

You finally looked at her, your eyes red and glassy, your lips pressed tightly together as though holding back more sobs. For a moment, Tara thought you'd say no. She wouldn't have blamed you. But instead, you gave the faintest of nods, and it was like she could breathe again—just for a moment.

Tara closed the space between you carefully, almost afraid you might change your mind. When her arms wrapped around you, she held you tightly, burying her face into your shoulder as the sobs overtook her.

She didn't say anything else—she couldn't. All she could think about was how this was probably the last time you'd let her hold you like this. The last time she'd get to feel your warmth, to have you this close, to even pretend things might still be okay.

Her tears soaked into your shirt, her arms tightening around you as if she could will you to stay.

You stepped away, almost too quickly, leaving Tara's arms empty and cold. She wanted to hold you longer, just a few seconds more, but you were already pulling back, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks.

Tara stood frozen, watching as you looked at her with those red-rimmed eyes, your face still so heartbreakingly beautiful even in your sadness.

You sniffled softly, trying to gather yourself, your voice quiet but steady when you finally spoke. "Well... it's Christmas," you said, your words slow and deliberate, like you were forcing them out. "Can we... talk about this after they've left?"

Tara opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She just nodded, the weight of her guilt pressing heavier on her chest.

You didn't wait for her to say anything. You turned away, your footsteps soft but purposeful as you left the room. The door clicked behind you, leaving Tara alone with the suffocating silence.

Her legs felt weak, like they might give out beneath her, but she didn't move. She couldn't. All she could do was stand there, staring at the empty space you'd just occupied, wishing she could rewind it all and take everything back.

___

When Tara finally walked back into the living room, her cheeks were streaked with remnants of tears she hadn't managed to wipe away. Her eyes were red, her shoulders tense, and the faint tremble in her hands betrayed her nerves.

Everyone noticed. It was impossible not to. The room felt heavier, the atmosphere laced with unspoken questions.

Sam's brow furrowed, her lips parting slightly as if she might say something, but she didn't. Danny glanced between you and Tara, his expression unreadable.

Mindy shifted uncomfortably before exchanging a glance with Anika, who pressed her lips into a thin line, clearly sensing the tension. Chad, however, was the one who couldn't stop looking at Tara. Too much, too directly.

Mindy, ever the one to break awkward silences, let out a loud clap of her hands. "Alright, enough with the gloom and doom faces! It's Christmas, people. Let's get to the gifts before I start crying too."

Anika nudged her playfully. "Mindy, you never cry."

"I could start," Mindy retorted, grinning. "But come on, let's get to it!"

Grateful for the distraction, everyone shuffled into their spots, the pile of neatly wrapped presents in the center of the room looking far too perfect to disturb. You sat down carefully, your face composed, though your eyes gave away a tired sadness. Tara sat beside you, though she kept a bit of distance, her hands nervously clasped in her lap.

The gift-giving began, and soon the room was alive with chatter and laughter.

For Sam, you'd found a vintage edition of a book she'd mentioned loving as a teenager—a rare copy that she'd been searching for but could never find. Her face softened as she held it, running her fingers over the worn cover, and she smiled at you in that quiet, deeply appreciative way Sam had. "This is... perfect," she said softly.

Danny unwrapped his gift to find a sleek, high-quality leather toolkit for his motorcycle. His grin was wide and genuine as he held it up, nodding approvingly. "You really pay attention, don't you?"

Mindy and Anika opened theirs together—customized horror movie memorabilia. For Mindy, it was a signed script from Scream, her favorite film, complete with a note from the director. Her jaw dropped, and for a moment, she was speechless. "How the hell did you get this?" she finally asked, her voice cracking with excitement.

For Anika, it was a framed and personalized piece of art—illustrations of her and Mindy as characters from Anika's favorite horror-comedy show. Her face lit up, and she hugged the frame tightly, laughing at the details you'd included. "This is amazing! I love it!"

And Chad—Chad opened his to find tickets to a once-in-a-lifetime basketball game, featuring his favorite team and their biggest rivals. Along with the tickets, you'd included a signed jersey from his favorite player. He let out an exaggerated gasp, holding the jersey up for everyone to see. "Are you kidding me? This is insane!"

But even as Chad celebrated his gift, his gaze flickered over to Tara, lingering. It was quick, but Tara caught it. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers twisting in her lap. She wanted to snap at him, to tell him to stop looking at her, but of course, she didn't.

And then there was Tara. She sat stiffly as the others admired their gifts, her stomach twisting tighter with every smile and laugh.

She couldn't bring herself to open hers yet, not when everything else felt so heavy. So instead, she stayed quiet, avoiding everyone's eyes as they moved on to the next round of gifts.

The warmth and joy in the room should have been infectious, but for Tara, it only made the guilt sitting heavy on her chest all the harder to bear.

She hesitated as she reached for the small, perfectly wrapped box with her name on it. Her hands trembled as she worked to peel back the edges of the paper, her fingers struggling against the tape.

The air felt too thick, her breathing uneven, and she could feel your gaze on her the entire time—sad, heavy, like you were already preparing yourself to walk away.

She wasn't sure she wanted to open it. She wasn't sure she deserved to.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the wrapping fell away, leaving a velvet box in her palm. Her stomach turned as she opened it, her heart sinking further the moment her eyes landed on the delicate golden promise ring inside.

It was beautiful. Too beautiful. A simple band of gold, perfectly crafted, with a small, glittering stone nestled at its center.

Tara's breath hitched. Her mouth opened, like she was about to say something—anything—but the words wouldn't come. Her throat felt tight, her chest heavy with everything she wanted to tell you, everything she couldn't.

You were still watching her, your face unreadable except for the sadness in your eyes. You spoke first, your voice soft, almost too quiet for her to hear over the others' chatter.

"It's a promise. To love and to always be there for each other," you explained. Your voice cracked just slightly, and it killed her.

Across the room, Mindy's sharp eyes caught the moment, and of course, she couldn't resist. "Oh, damn, Y/N, a promise ring?" She grinned, nudging Anika with her elbow. "The next step is her proposing. Better get ready, Tara."

The group laughed, and Tara forced herself to smile, but it was weak. Almost unnoticeable.

She wanted to laugh with them, to tease Mindy back like she normally would. She wanted to throw her arms around you, bury her face in your neck, kiss you over and over, and thank you endlessly for such a thoughtful, beautiful gift.

But she couldn't. Not now.

Instead, she swallowed hard, blinked away the tears threatening to spill, and finally managed, "Thank you. This is... it's so, so beautiful." Her voice wavered, but she pushed through.

Her fingers traced the band of the ring, but she didn't put it on. She couldn't—not yet. The weight of what she'd done made her feel like it would burn her skin.

Everyone else had gone back to unwrapping their gifts, their attention shifting back to the laughter and excitement of the moment. But you... you didn't look away from her. You sat there, quiet and distant, trying to distract yourself with everyone else's reactions, but Tara saw through it.

She could see the sadness you were trying to hide, the way your hands fidgeted slightly in your lap.

Normally, she would've leaped into your arms, kissed your whole face, and whispered promises to wear the ring forever. But this wasn't normal. And even though no one else seemed to notice, Tara felt the growing distance between you like a chasm she couldn't cross.

Her chest ached, her eyes stung, and for a moment, she considered hugging you anyway. Apologizing all over again. Begging.

But she didn't. Instead, she stayed where she was, silent and still, watching you slip further and further away from her.

Tara's gaze stayed locked on you, even though you refused to meet her eyes now. She could see the effort you were putting into smiling, laughing at Chad's stupid joke about the pie, passing gifts to everyone else like you weren't falling apart inside.

But Tara could see through it—the way your hands trembled as you folded the wrapping paper neatly beside you, the way your smile never quite reached your eyes.

And she hated herself for it.

She should've been the one making you smile. She should've been the one leaning into your shoulder and whispering a sarcastic comment to make you laugh.

That's what you deserved—lightness, warmth, joy. Instead, she was the reason your eyes were clouded over with tears you wouldn't let fall. She was the reason the air felt heavier, why Christmas—your Christmas—wasn't perfect anymore.

Her fingers grazed the ring on her hand, and the weight of it burned into her chest. She didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve you. Not your thoughtfulness, not your unwavering love, not the way you'd tried so hard to make this day special for everyone.

She didn't deserve the way you cared about her so much it hurt.

And yet, she couldn't stop wishing things could go back to normal. Wishing you'd look at her again like you had that morning when you stood in front of the tree in your perfect dress, laughing as you made her rearrange the ornaments because they didn't feel balanced. She wished you'd smile at her again the way you had just hours ago, your eyes so bright and hopeful, so full of love.

But she'd destroyed that.

You caught her staring again, and this time, her heart stopped. For a brief second, your eyes locked, and she saw the flash of hurt before you quickly looked away. She couldn't take it. She wanted to reach out, to touch your hand, to say something—anything—that could make this better. But what could she say?

What could she possibly do to fix this?

The voices of your friends hummed around her, laughter and conversation weaving through the room as they moved on from the moment. They were distracted, too busy opening gifts and teasing each other to notice how quiet the two of you had gotten. But Tara noticed. She noticed everything about you.

And it was killing her.

Her hand tightened around the edge of her seat, the promise ring on her finger catching the light. A promise she couldn't keep. A promise she didn't deserve. And all she could do was sit there, paralyzed by the crushing weight of what she'd done, watching as you turned away from her completely, slipping just a little further out of her reach.

She wanted to cry, to beg, to do something. But instead, she just sat there, her chest aching, her world crumbling, her mind repeating the same desperate thought over and over.

Please. Please. Please.

Don't let this be the last Christmas we spend together.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter #christmas #merry chrysler #merry christmas

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sillymommy6969 · 9 hours ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝕰YES ON THEM

Manon Bannerman x fem!reader

summary: a compilation of bannern/n moments eyekons have turned into a video, katseye’s two visuals as a power couple? who can keep their eyes off them?

warnings: none, just fluffy moments

HYBE PLEASE NEVER PR TRAIN MANON (KATZ CRACK)

*Loud technical difficulty transition* On Manon and Daniela’s Weverse livestream in their bedroom, Daniela was doing dance moves in the background of the video while Manon read the comments and chatted with fans in the front

Manon was the worst at PR training. The woman had lips looser than an unbuckled belt. She was much more tame when they were surrounded by crew members, but when it’s just her and her phone on Weverse, you can expect a lot of slips.

Especially when she’s paired alone with Daniela.

“‘Where are the others?’” Manon read aloud, looking back at Daniela, who was finally settling to sit behind her roommate. “What, you sick of us already?”

Daniela swatted her arm at the tone she used, as if a silent warning as to be careful what people could take out of context. She toyed with her hood, listing what the girls were occupied with. “Well, Sophia’s on a zoom call downstairs with her family. I think Yoonchae went to bed… Lara and Megan went out to get something at the convenience store and Y/N is probably online shopping or something in her room.”

“Yeah, she better be getting me my Christmas gift.”

“Didn’t she already give you like three ‘pre-game’ gifts?” Daniela turned to the camera, “Oh my God, Y/N does this thing where she gets Manon a million things for the week leading up to Christmas. She only does it for Manon and I always feel like choking her out ‘cuz she’s spoiling her rotten.”

Manon rolled her eyes, “They’re gonna know we’re—!”

Daniela widened her eyes, shooting Manon a knowing glare before the older pursed her lips together. The both of them went silent for a moment, scared to look at the influx of questions and comments they were getting for the sudden cutoff, curious to know what the end of Manon’s sentence was.

user01 WE WHAT MANON WE WHAT

user02 Manon almost exposed their relationship

user03 is this what getting edged feels like

user04 WE BEEN KNEW GIRL COME ON OUT

user05 Y/N knows how to spoil her girl

“Anyway,” Daniela said, ignoring the nosh comments. “Yeah, we have the weekend off, so everybody’s just chilling, y’know.”

Manon, with a cheeky smile on her face, tried retieing her hair in attempts to distract the fans from what she had just nearly revealed. But for the next couple minutes, despite Daniela’s efforts to pull everybody’s attention away from that topic, the audience always seemed to circle back to it.

“No, I have to say my favourite hoodie has to be the black Ferrari one.” Manon argued, staring at a suspicious Daniela. “It used to be the one you just said but it’s not anymore.”

“You’re just making stuff up, I swear. You still wear the other one so much more than the Ferrari one.” Daniela scoffed, “You wore the blue one like five times this week, like you literally wore it to dinner yesterday.”

user06 the blue hoodie Y/N just posted on insta in??

user07 They wear each other’s clothes I’m dead

user08 Dani have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet???

Daniela squinted to read the comment when she saw her name was mentioned, “‘Dani, have you seen Y/N’s new bracelet?’ No, I can’t say I have. What is it?”

“Oh, is it this one?” Manon flashed her wrist to the camera, where a couple cuffs and bracelets hung. Her other hand picked out a thin silver chain with a “K” strung at the end of it. “This is the one Megan got us for Katseye’s first birthday.”

She flaunted her hand, fingers waving around as she showed off her accessories.

user09 Y/N’s new necklace looks nice Manon!

user10 oh yeah that would look really good around her neck

Daniela skimmed the comments, suddenly bursting into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Manon, her arm still up, in the middle of her accessory tour, leant back. Surprised by the Latina’s sudden change in attitude, she glanced between the camera and her roommate as if she was an insane person.

“Oh my God, they’re saying your hands would make a really good necklace for Y/N.” Daniela explained, still laughing.

Manon’s eyes widened, heat immediately flushing to her cheeks. She thanked all the Gods her smooth skin tone hid any hint of fluster, or she would have been beer red at the comment. She placed a hand over her eyes, her lips quirking into a small smile as she groaned.

“That’s good, that’s a good one. I like that.” Daniela sighed.

Next door, you could hear the two of them screaming and squabbling on live. You opened a new tab, sick of scrolling through the same catalogues on different websites. You were feeling lazy, didn’t really feel like getting up to join the two nextdoor, so you pulled up Weverse, clicking onto Manon’s live. Right off the bat, you were met with the Ghanaian woman showing off her bracelets and such, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the comments that followed.

Sometimes, this was your favourite part about having fans.

When Daniela’s laugh on the live had synced with the one next door, you couldn’t help but also giggle at Manon’s reaction when she was told what eyekons thought of her tour.

It was enough of a motivator to go nextdoor; to tease her.

“—Anyway! Can we please talk about anything else.”

A knock sounded through the room, both their heads turned to the door, watching Y/N’s head pop through the doorway. Daniela pounced to her feet, jogging over to jump into the older’s arms as Y/N carried her back in front of the camera.

Manon rolled her eyes, her tongue sticking against her inner cheek as she stared at the two goofing around in the back.

user11 Oh someone’s jealous…

used12 if looks could kill they’d be dead by now

“Dani’s so light, I can probably squat heavier than you.” Y/N teased, her arms still wrapped around the Latina’s waist as Daniela clung onto her with her legs. “Anyways, you guys were being so loud, I wanted to see what was up.”

Y/N finally sets Daniela down, who found her spot behind Manon again.

Y/N slung an arm over Manon, poking her head between the roommates. “Heard you have a new necklace for me, Meret. You feeling like letting me try it out?”

user13 the way i’d just moan in response

user14 NOBODY TALK TO ME

user15 Manon I’ll take Y/N if you don’t want her

user16 SHE CALLS HER MERET???

The Ghanaian woman didn’t turn to greet the younger member, instead, with her lips pursed in envy, she deliberately made sure her efforts to ignore Y/N were evident.

Y/N smiled, biting her lip. “Manon, are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?” Manon huffed, her eyes still trained on the phone. “I’m just tryna talk to eyekons.”

Daniela hissed, making an “Oh, shit” expression and backing away so the other member could slide into where she sat. She eyed the phone from over Y/N’s shoulder, as if telling them she was unaware of what was about to unfold as well.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at the eldest’s sulking.

She slid an arm under Manon’s legs, the other securely held over her back. Kneeling, Y/N sprung to her feet, lifting Manon from the ground. The Ghanaian woman let out a bloodcurdling shriek, hands clutching onto Y/N’s hoodie for dear life.

“Did you feel left out, Manon? I was just joking around.”

Daniela watched in terror at the younger member flung Manon around the room in her arms. She slid forward to mouth “help me” into the camera, scared Manon’s feet might hit her head by accident.

“Oh my God, you ass—you bully, put me down.”

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to being interviewed as promotion for the release of Touch, Y/N seemed to be the interviewer’s main foci.

“—Yes, thank you. My next question is for Y/N, uh, so we heard you like a tall, dark and handsome type.” The interviewer read off his card, a mic held up to his lips. The question immediately raised some red flags for the group, Sophia and Manon—as the eldest and the leader—shared a knowing look. They were ready for whatever the man had to throw at them. “You’ve posted a couple of instagram photos and been seen out with a certain singer that’s been on Euphoria, is this a new potential partner, or what’s going on there?”

Y/N was slightly taken aback by how blunt the question came out. Usually management did a good job keeping questions about their personal lives out of interviews when they approve them for the video, but this one must’ve snuck past them.

The woman raised her mic, flashing the cameras her signature smile. The other members could only sit and admire how well her composure was, despite being asked such an intrusive query. She chuckled, eyeing Manon, who didn’t bother hiding what she was feeling. Her eyebrows were furrowed and she looked to be ready to pounce out of her chair whenever. Y/N gave her a subtle nod, as if telling her to stand down.

“Well, he and I met through mutual friends in the industry and we all get together to hang out on my day offs.” Y/N explained, “We’re just good buddies, nothing more.”

The interviewer chuckled, naive to the searing glares he was receiving from all the girls.

“Shame, a lot of people think you’d look like a power couple, the both of you being very talented singers and all,” he scanned his card, the only one laughing in the room full of dozens of people. “Is there anybody special in your life then? Or is this a chance for me to shoot my shot.”

Oh, six pairs of eyes glared daggers at him.

[ Love that they all stand up for their girl ]

None of them were smiling anymore, not even out of courtesy. Daniela and Lara in the front had their arms crossed, their legs spread as they sneered at the man. Megan and Yoonchae were the better ones at concealing just how aghast they were at the unprofessionalism, their expressions stoic, but the aura around them growing cold. Sophia sat upright, ready to jump in when the man stopped talking, but Manon—Manon was sitting beside Y/N, and it took one look at the woman’s uncomfortable expression for her to want to break the man’s neck.

“—Actually, we’re all really focused on our journey as Katseye right now, so we don’t really have time for other kinds of commitment just yet. Even then, we try and keep our personal and professional lives separated because a healthy work-life balance is very important.” Manon answered passively, her smile immediately fading when she finished talking.

But by the way the man gulped and stopped chuckling, it was obvious he finally noticed the elephant in the room.

“I understand how people are very intrigued by that aspect of our lives though, it can be hard to know where to draw the line sometimes.” Y/N added in a smoother tone, hoping to soften the blow of loathing this man was hit with. “But, respectfully, we love talking about and sharing our experience with making music more than we do discussing our lives.”

The interviewer nodded, “Of course. We can move on.”

Throughout the rest of the interview, Manon had a hand on the younger member’s thighs. Their fingers laced together as they answered the rest of the questions. Later, Y/N would tease the Ghanaian woman with edits people have made of the moment Manon stood up for her.

A screenshot of a very popular one of those edits would be the wallpaper for the girls’ group chat the next few weeks,

*Loud technical difficulty transition* In Y/N’s Weverse live with Megan for a dance session, the older between the two was obviously distracted by constant chimes coming from her phone. Fans get a nice surprise all on live.

Megan and Y/N swayed their hips to the beat, thrusting in and pulling away as the song played. The comments would flood with praises for their undeniably talented skills, and by the end of their choreography, they were both panting and sweating.

user01 omg omg omg omg my dinner menu

user02 The difference in outfits is taking me out

user03 BOOM SHAKALAKA YES GAWD

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, dapping Megan up before the two of them approached Megan’s phone. It was resting on a chair against the wall, so it would stream everything they did.

In a sports bra and baggy jeans, Y/N had her hair down. She was sporting thick glasses, ones fans pointed out Daniela liked wearing in the series of tiktok’s they filmed last month. Megan on the other hand, had a more Adam Sandler type fit going on. The two of them devoured their individual styles.

[ Oh my god, it’s all over the screen ]

“That’s the choreo Megan and I have done so far.”

Y/N’s phone buzzed. She reached into her pocket, pulling it out to see a text from Manon asking if she was in her room.

Megan’s infectious cackle interrupted before she could reply.

“Someone said we’re not pregnant but we always deliver,” she managed to read out in between gasping for air amidst her fit of amusement. “Oh my God, that’s so iconic.”

Opening her mouth to retaliate, another buzz sounds.

Y/N pulled her phone back out from her pocket, seeing another text from Manon, urging for an answer. She chuckled, shaking her head at the woman’s impatience.

Megan skimmed the comments, before turning back.

“Somebody said, ‘Only one thing could have Y/N smiling at her phone like that’.” The Chinese dancer read out, “Another person added, ‘Manon’s probably missing her boo thang’.”

Y/N shook her head, deciding keeping up appearances with their fans was more important than replying right away.

“It was just our manager, guys. A reminder for what we need to do tomorrow.” Y/N lied, “Anyway, if anybody was wondering, we are working really hard for MAMA. Especially Meggers here.” She grabbed the redhead, yanking her close to knock their heads together. “She’s carrying the dancing with Dani right now.”

peanutbutterlover02 Bad girl

peanutbutterlover02 Y/N’s ignoring my texts :(

peanutbutterlover02 Guysss stop hogging Y/N

Y/N and Megan both silenced at the sudden pop of a verified user commenting, but after reading the handle, both of them shared a moment of faux annoyance.

“Manon, get out of our comment section!” Megan yelled, “Go do something, man!”

The meme reference squeezed a laugh from Y/N, who shook her head. But, still, it’s Katseye. Of course she couldn’t resist joining in on the teasing herself. Her voice dropped low, “News flash, Dwayne’s forehead isn’t real. It’s a prosthetic.”

Both of them giggle at their own joke.

user04 Oop- Manon’s coming to collect fr

user05 can’t even defend them anymore

user06 so we were right Y/N was giggling cuz of manon

user07 BAD GIRL IS CRAZY

“Sorry, Meret, we’re just about to wrap this session up and I’ll text you back immediately after, okay?”

Manon could only suck it up, leaving a couple more disappointed comments on their livestream as Megan and Y/N show eyekons another part of choreography.

peanutbutterlover02 I’m so boreddddddd

peanutbutterlover02 I’m still waiting >:(

peanutbutterlover02 Guys I need my best friend back

[ BEST FRIEND—sure ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* A KATSEYE HOLIDAY STORY | KATSEYE; Secret Santa Portion

Y/N’s wrapping a gift set, a Fenty beauty make-up kit she specially assembled for Manon. She knew the woman had been complaining about her makeup supply running low, so what better chance than to get her what she needed?

“I know, I know, I went a little over budget,” Y/N chuckled, taping the edges of the wrapping paper together. “But Manon’s been really needing new stuff, and I wanted it.”

[ Ofc Y/N would go above and beyond for Manon ]

“Also, let me tell you guys a secret.” Y/N walked offscreen, coming back with a tiny box.

She motioned for the camera to zoom into the box, before popping it open. Inside, there was a gold necklace, a crown charm at the end of it. Y/N tucked it back into the box, holding a finger up to her lips.

“I got Manon an extra gift, but that’s for after work.”

[ That’s so cute I need me a Y/N ]

“Anyway, I’m glad I got Manon. I think either Daniela or Yoonchae might be my secret santa, ‘cuz I’m sure Megan got Lara and Lara got Sophia.” Y/N shrugged, standing in her cream coloured silky pj set. “Guess we’re about to find out.”

Sat around a table on a very festive set, Y/N was instructed to slot in between Megan and Manon.

One by one, the girls presented their gifts to their designated person. When Yoonchae presented Daniela her gift, a neatly wrapped book, it was the Latina’s turn to pull out her gift bag.

“And my secret santa is…” Drumrolls against the table followed, “Y/N!”

Cheers erupted amongst the girls as Daniela slid the bag across the table to Y/N.

“Hope you like it, babe.”

The wrapping paper was still being pulled off as Y/N let out a surprised gasp. Underneath the vibrant wrapping was a vinyl—Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac. Y/N’s eyes lit up instantly. It was one of their favorite albums, something she had been looking for on vinyl forever.

“No way…! Dani, how’d you find this?” Y/N exclaimed, holding it up to the group, her voice practically sparkling.

Dan smiled proudly, her hands still resting on her own wrapped gift. “Well, I know you’re all about that rock life,” she said with a wink, knowing how much this record meant to Y/N. “I had my ways. As long as you’re happy, it was worth it.”

As everyone cheered and clapped, Manon side-eyed the gift.

She had noticed the way Y/N's eyes practically glowed when Daniela handed her the vinyl. It wasn’t just about the gift itself—it was the way Y/N was so genuinely excited. She loved seeing her happy, but Manon herself would have been happier if she had been the reason for such a smile. The way Y/N laughed and praised Daniela, even going as to get out of her chair to tackle the Latina in a hug. The little things that made Manon feel... well, a little left out. She quickly shifted her attention to the other girls, pretending to focus on the conversation, but her mind lingered on the discomfort.

Y/N notices Manon's mood; she smirked.

“Okay, so, it’s my turn.” Y/N turned, grabbing her bag from the floor. The bag had been topped with a cute silver ribbon, the gift itself wrapped with the same paper as the others’ gifts. “And, there’s two people left who hasn’t gotten their secret santa gift yet, so, drumroll, please!”

The table once again rocked as they drummed their hands.

“I have… my favourite drama queen, Manon.”

The Ghanaian woman widened her eyes, hands taking in the present Y/N shimmied over to her. The younger slung her arm over Manon’s shoulders, rubbing it as she watched her open and unwrap the present. A loud yelp rung through the studio, startling the others before Manon fully unwrapped it.

Her face softened when she saw what was inside: a Fenty beauty set—lip glosses, a highlighter, and a few items she had been eyeing for weeks but hadn’t splurged on herself.

“Okay, now I know for a fact this is out of budget.” Lara crossed her arms, her eyebrow raised in question.

“Bro, can we do secret santa without Y/N next year?” Sophia chimed, earning a couple teasing agreements. “You’re making all of us look bad now, N/N.”

“Y/N...” Manon whispered, her heart fluttering. “You really did this for me? This was probably so expensive.”

Y/N waved a hand dismissively. “Best way to spend my money. The holidays are all about love, right? This is how I show you guys I love you.” She pulled Megan and Manon into her arms, squeezing them both as the others joined in for a big hug. “I got you all things you want, don’t worry.”

Manon’s smile returned, brighter than before. She leaned in to hug Y/N individually after, her voice quiet but sincere. “You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did.”

Their hug lasted a little long, even their editing team seemed to tease them a bit with the excessive exaggeration of how long it was with a time ticking effect over the other girls’ reactions.

The rest of the group watched, their smiles growing as they witnessed the little moment between the two. It was clear, despite the playful teasing and occasional misunderstandings, that Y/N and Manon were closer than anyone could imagine.

Manon held the box up to her chest, beaming.

“Okay, so, Manon, you’re doing yours—!”

[ Y/N really loves spoiling her bandmates, especially Manon… ]

*Loud technical difficulty transition* Cut to Lara and Yoonchae’s live. The two were sat on the floor of their hotel room, singing and joking around as Sophia occasionally shushed them to be a bit quieter.

“No, Yoonchae, if we were in the Hunger Games, the order we’d go from dying to surviving would be Manon, Sophia, Me, You, Megan, Dani and then Y/N. I feel like Dani’s like so wild and freaky she’d be able to survive better than you.” Lara argued, earning a loud whine of protest from Sophia across the room. “And Megan would be the type to like survive off the stupidest reason, like she’ll accidentally kill someone.”

Yoonchae pouted, “No, no! It’s you, Dani, me, then Y/N.”

“Yoonchae, I swear to God, I’m telling you.” Lara held a hand up, “It’s me, you, Megan, Dani and then Y/N.”

The youngest huffed, unwilling to argue.

user01 Lara any advice on how to flirt w a girl

Yoonchae pointed at the phone. Lara leant forward to read the comment she was pointing out, her lips curving into a smile immediately. “Oh, wow. That’s a question you should ask Y/N. Or Manon… Only ‘cuz the two of them are such flirty people.”

Lara looked offscreen, a guilty smile on her face as she glanced at Sophia for help.

[ Nice save Lara, definitely super slick ]

“Yes, Manon is very…” Yoonchae does a winky face into the camera, “And Y/N gets flirted with a lot when we go to dinner.”

Lara hummed, drawing attention away from what she almost exposed. “Yes. Y/N has a very fluid appearance, she gets a lot of guys and girls coming up to her in public.”

Sophia, voice faint, chimed, “Yeah, it’s a real problem.”

“So, I feel like that’s a good question to ask Y/N. She has the most aura, most unspoken rizz among all of us.”

user02 does manon get jealous when Y/N’s hit on?

[ Took me a while to find this comment! ]

Lara laughed aloud at a comment, momentarily confusing Yoonchae before the younger caught the statement as well. They shared a knowing look, and when their laughter died down, they just remained silent and moved on.

user03 Who’s the most jealous/possessive as a gf?

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for somebody to ask this.” Lara rubbed her hands together, “Yoonchae and I actually talked about this at some point. Okay, it goes, from least to most, Yoonchae, Y/N, Megan, Sophia, Me, Dani and then Manon.”

user04 match made in heaven

user05 They’re so jealous x comforting duo my heart

“Because Yoonchae, Y/N and Megan are much more relaxed and I feel like Sophia’s jealous, but she can hide it well. Me, Dani and Manon are definitely more fighters, because ain’t nobody coming near my bae if we dating.” Lara squared up to the camera, eyeing it up and down. “Manon is just lowkey a psycho, so she was at the top of the list.”

Yoonchae nodded, “I’m scared of Manon when she’s angry.”

“I’ve seen Manon mad over something, guys. It’s not pretty and I do not recommend.” Sophia yelled.

[ Since Y/N gets flirted with a lot and Sophia’s seen Manon angry… it’s so obvious ya’ll ]

#katseye x reader #katseye #manon bannerman x reader #manon bannerman #daniela avanzini #daniela avanzini x reader #lara raj #lara raj x reader #megan skiendiel #megan skiendiel x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia laforteza #yoonchae

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