#{ when things calm down which will hopefully be after Christmas and when I get moved into my new house }

[leondxs]

me listening to my silly power metal music

[igncrxntripley]

their secret weapon pt. 13

synopsis: the group comes face to face with the mastermind behind this evil plan, and y/n works with a friend to devise a plan.

a/n: crawling on my hands and knees to get this done BUT IT HAPPENED.

mentions: poly!judgment day, overall SFW, some cussing, some fighting, fem!reader, mentions of sadness, alludes to feelings of depression.

tags: @thesithdiaries @cassiesgreta​ @roseheartsworld @theworldofotps​ @babybatlover @ripleyswhore @auburnwrites @obl1vionblackhart​ @emogoblin-666​ @hereliespumpkin​ @embertargaryen​ @neptune-lover​ @bunnysmyname @i-have-issues-lol​ @ares-athena​ @thatonepansexual2000​ @witcherfromwallachia​ @infamousvampcx​ @christinabae​ 

3 weeks until wrestlemania; 3 weeks until this nightmare would hopefully be over for the judgment day, and they could be reunited with their fifth member. none of them would lie and say the time she'd been away had been easy for anybody in the group though, as y/n being ripped away from the loving grasp of her partners was for no other reason than to get into the heads of those who turned their back on edge.

the house was quieter without her. road trips to the next city and hotel rooms were no longer the same. dressing rooms didn't have the same energy without her. and the entire time it killed the group to know y/n was so close, yet so far away.

and what tormented all of them? kept finn up at night, made damian clench his fists and rhea squirm at the thought? that they had yet to confront edge and tell him exactly how they felt. the man who helped build up y/n as a superstar, was also the man who ripped her away from her lovers; one way or another, the judgment day was going to make sure he got a piece of their mind. it didn’t matter how it happened.

the judgment day was going to make edge’s life hell until wrestlemania.

finn found himself sitting in the group’s bedroom, looking through boxes of y/n’s memorabilia and random things in boxes. most of this stuff was things she just hadn’t gotten around to unboxing when they moved her into their home, but as finn took a closer look, he began to realize why she’d waited.

photo albums. all of which contained pictures of y/n with her chosen family. her first christmas with the copelands, where beth bought all of them matching pajamas and made their family take a picture in front of the christmas tree. the beginning of her career, where beth stood in a practice ring with y/n and coached her through different finishers and submission moves. those long nights backstage at different shows, where a young y/n was absolutely exhausted and adam would keep her comfortable against his side so she could get some rest.

old trophies and titles, random pieces of ring gear, old things from edge and beth’s careers that they’d given y/n…she wasn’t just forgetting to put these things up or take them out of boxes. y/n was scared to do so. she didn’t want to literally open up a box full of hurt and fear after all the pain they’d caused. she was literally and figuratively repressing those emotions.

as finn sorted through the box and tried his hardest not to let his emotions get the best of him, rhea walked into the bedroom and took inventory of the different things in front of her partner. she took a seat next to him, gently rubbing his back and feeling that tension rising inside of him. “she’ll be coming back to us soon, love.” the aussie spoke softly. “only a few more weeks. she’s in good hands.”

“johnny and candance may be good hands but they aren’t her home.” he mumbled. “the fact that they’re treating her like a child and doing this to her is ridiculous anyway.” finn spat, putting the photo album back into the box. “y/n’s an adult. and the one person she sees as her father, one of the most important people in her life, won’t let her come home? our bosses are backing him up? rhea, it’s…” he couldn’t even finish his thought. he shook his head and tried to calm down his boiling anger.

rhea nodded and held finn’s hand. “there’s not much we can do right now.” she said quietly. “we’re all upset. but she’ll be home soon.” she gently turned finn’s head towards her own, holding the irishman’s cheek. “you’re the one who’s going to show him why no one messes with us.”

*****

that moment rhea was speaking of? it came a lot faster than anyone in the judgment day could have emotionally prepared for. it was like the movies, where finn and edge turned the corner at the exact same time and stood face to face for the first time since their newest member was ripped away from the judgment day. finn swore he could feel the anger radiating through his body at the sight of edge; claws were itching at his spine, his stomach felt like it was on fire, and his fists were clenched tight by his side. he took your princess away from you, my prince. it's time to take back what's rightfully yours.

the corner of edge's lip curled into a snarl. in front of him was the man who seemingly corrupted his mentee, the one who took her away from him and beth as another way to get under the skin of the founder of the judgment day. in his mind, he never took y/n away from her newfound family. he was only trying to give her a break from them! he wanted her to take some time to think about her recent choices and possibly remember what exactly the foursome had done to not only her, but himself and beth over the last few months. edge didn't see anything wrong with what he did. the hall of famer was only doing right by the young woman he saw as a daughter.

finn tried taking a deep breath, but his mouth was moving before he could even think about what he was saying. "i'd walk away the other way before i do something i regret."

edge couldn't help but chuckle at finn's statement. the prince was already trying to act so tough? so intimidating? it didn't phase edge one bit. "wow, not even a hello? no how are you?" he playfully looked finn up and down, noting the second bandana in finn's pocket that most likely belonged to y/n. "why so hostile, finn?"

"you know why, don't play dumb with me." finn poked his finger into the rated r superstar's chest. "you know what you did to me, to y/n, to all of us! and you thought the best thing to do was take her away from us when you've ignored her for the last, what, six months? that's not very fatherly of you, adam. more cowardly than anything."

again, edge chuckled. his eyes were growing dark, and he dared himself to step even closer to finn. "i don't need you telling me what's very fatherly. as far as i'm concerned, she's better off without the four of you." he challenged, almost getting joy out of how angry finn was getting at him. "you let her get kicked into a table? she took a spear for you? you doubted her spot in the judgment day? y/n doesn't realize it yet, but the four of you have caused so much more harm than good." edge flashed that cocky smile at finn. "we can continue this conversation in the ring tonight. i'll see you soon."

watching edge walk away, practically reeking of revenge and pure anger, caused all of those feelings within finn to intensify. if he could have unleashed all of that anger backstage, he would have; but finn also knew one wrong move meant having to wait even longer to have y/n in the arms of her four partners again. he wasn't going to risk that, no matter how badly he wanted to wreak havoc.

finn could be patient. he'd wait the three weeks until wrestlemania to give edge a piece of his mind and see their princess again. those three weeks would be hell, but finn was also planning on throwing edge into the deepest pit of pain and agony once he got his hands on him.

only a little while longer, my prince.

*****

each day without her loves, without her family, was causing y/n to fall further into this spiral of sadness. nothing was the same anymore without dominik's laugh, rhea's hugs, damian's bodyguard-esque presence, or finn's kisses. the longer she went without her little family, the more y/n was spiraling into feelings she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever.

sure, she had JD. that was the closest thing y/n had to finn while being away from the judgment day. but it wasn't her finn. being at NXT without any of them by her side wasn't the same. y/n didn't even see the purpose anymore in coming to the PC to work. it was so much easier to hide in johnny and candace's guest room, the lights off and hidden under the covers with rhea's sweatshirt clutched in her hands. no matter how many times she wore damian's t-shirt or looked at goofy pictures with dom, nothing eased the aches in her body.

y/n had practically stopped answering her phone at that point. every text, every phone call, it was ignored and went without response day after day. it didn't matter who it was from, there was radio silence on her end. sometimes the gentle knocks from either candace or johnny on her temporary room even went unanswered. and while people were concerned, it felt like no one was going to do anything to fix it.

no one...except for one particular irishman.

when JD hadn't seen y/n at the PC, she stopped showing up to NXT, his texts and calls went unanswered, he knew he needed to check up on her. finn was trusting him to take care of y/n while she was away, and that meant doing whatever he needed to do for y/n to be even the slightest bit okay. what he didn't realize, even while walking up to the front door of johnny and candace's home, that she already was slipping even further into this deep hole. if JD would have waited any longer, there's no telling how much deeper princess would've fallen.

the hurried, repeated knocks at the front door pulled y/n from her cave of blankets and her partner's hoodies. there wasn't much that could do that as of recent, but she managed this time. she took her time going to the door and opening it, but the sight of JD brought tears to her eyes for a multitude of reasons. guilt, sadness, hurt, anxiety, even a little bit of hope. "you shouldn't be here-"

"y/n..." JD said softly, not even letting her finish her thoughts. his voice alone broke her even more, and before y/n could think twice JD had his arms around his friend in the tightest hug he could manage. he wasn't sure when the last time she got one of those hugs was, so he made note to do it now. to remind y/n she wasn't alone.

y/n wrapped her arms around JD and gripped onto him like her life depended on it. at this point, it basically did; this was the first time in weeks she had someone who wasn't her dad, hunter, or shawn around her. someone who was on her side and actually seemed as though they wanted the best for her. y/n's hands gripped onto JD as tight as she could and she finally let the tears loose down her cheeks. "i-i'm so sorry."

"don't be. you have no reason to be sorry." JD said softly, gently ushering y/n inside with his arms still around her. "come on, y/n. talk to me."

even though y/n wanted everything she was feeling to just pour out, she couldn't. the words were caught in her throat and everything she'd held in for the last month couldn't find its voice. the only thing she could manage were pathetic whines and whimpers, until finally some of those words were choked out. "i just want to go home."

JD's heart broke. he'd never understand why anyone thought taking her away from her family was the right answer. no one was paying attention and noticed that this wasn't helping the frustrations between the judgment day and edge, because they were too focused on themselves. everyone ignored the consequences of their actions.

maybe JD shouldn't have spoken up, but he could only find one answer to the sad statement that left y/n's lips. "who's stopping you?"

y/n's cries slowed down into sniffles and she slowly pulled back to look at JD. "they said i couldn't." the answer felt so simply, yet the solution was even easier. and it never once crossed her mind out of fear of the consequences.

"did they take your key? are they bothering to watch your every move?" JD asked softly, wiping the tears from y/n's cheeks. "you live there too, y/n. no one can stop you from going home. not to the place where you pay the bills with everyone else. the place you call home." JD gently rubbed her arms, managing to give her a smile. "go home, y/n."

again, the answer seemed so easy. the solution was self explanatory. but y/n didn't about it once, until JD mentioned it out of fear for how edge or her superiors would react. needless to say though, JD's words were enough for her to pack her bag and rush out to her parked car in the driveway - the jeep that hadn't moved in days since she stopped going to training sessions. even in the rare cold, florida rain, y/n was rushing home to her people with those same tears rushing down her cheeks.

while the drive wasn't long, it felt like an eternity until y/n was in the driveway of the home she shared with the four people she recognized as her family. she knew their travel schedules and saw everyone was home from their own vehicles being in the driveway and the dimly lit lights through the window, but even after parking and standing in the rain ready to start taking her life back, her legs didn't move.

y/n was terrified, worried someone would catch her and she'd have to face the consequences of going home before she was given permission. even though she didn't need permission, she stood in the rain for a solid five minutes debating if she should've even made the move. but eventually she did it; her tears mixed with the raindrops, and y/n made her way to the front porch before pulling out her phone. her shaky hands sent a quick text to rhea, the aussie being the first of her four partners to pop up in her messages, and waited for someone to hopefully give her the piece of mind she wanted so badly.

"let me in? please?"

[keroradio]

Part 2 is here, despite the ridiculousness I had to go through to post it; tumblr's maximum file size is 10MB, which is why the CD dramas have had to be split into 2 parts so they'd be small enough to fit. I had tried separating it in a more natural feeling spot, which left this part too long, then tried separating the helves right near the mid point, which made this half exactly 10MB, and the website still said it was too big.

Ultimately I fixed things by cutting a few seconds from a long pause, which brought it just under the limit.

Hopefully the next batch of audio dramas will be easier (^.^')

Also part 1 has gotten a lot of activity (-^.^-) I'm really glad, these audio dramas take a long time to translate, so it's wonderful to see that people are enjoying them

Thank you so much everyone! I hope you enjoy part 2

723: Watch out, stupid frog!

FYK: Sergeant! Wow, it really is red & slimy!

MMK: It really is, Fuyuki-kun

Moa: Uncle! That being isn't Santa Claus, it's a Satan Claws!

Keronians: What!~

G66: A Satan Claws?

K66: A Satan Claws is, uh...They're called the most brutal planet destroyers

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

K66: Gya~!

KYK: Please calm yourselves, you mustn't provoke him

723: Maybe he'll calm down if we say something that catches his interest

K66: U-understood, yes ma'am. I'll use my small talk here; What's your favourite Gunpla make?

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

K66: Iya~!

G66: Move aside! He's a fellow space ruffian, with my lethal technique of battle talk-

723: Do your best, Giororo!

G66: Oh....About the recent trend in booby traps-

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

K66 & G66: Agh~!

TMM: Leave this to my gourmet talk!

MMK: Tama-Chan~! Do your best!

TMM: About the really delicious cola with 350 times the usual calories and tons of extra sugar they've started selling-

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

TMM: That was no good

K66: Gero~!

966: Ku Ku, well, in that case how about this? Bootleg DVD, no cut, no trimming version "Natsumi Hinata: 24 hours closely following her secret day off"

723: Wait, just when was that-

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

(screaming)

966: Ku ku ku

723 & G66: Give me that DVD!

D66: So the radio listeners don't miss anything, here I will share a special funny story to cause a roar of laughter.

K66: Do-Dororo, you-

D66: No need to worry! It's fine. I don't want a Mr Santa like this

(Others cheer awkwardly)

D66: I don't want a Mr Santa like this, I want a Santa that lets us choose our present from amongst three

K66: Santa Choose... (San=3, taku=counter for options, rosu=offering, to be exact)

D66: Aaa....

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

K66: It was no good after all!~

TMM: If what we want to hear missed the mark of what we what we should say, what should we say to make him want to listen?

FYK: Will the Earth be destroyed?

MMK: I don't want that

UMMK: Even though I still haven't done this thing, or that thing!

K66: It can't be helped, if it's come to this, I'll try again

Moa: Uncle! Please do your best! You could say it's the second act?

G66: Is it alright, leaving it to him?

K66: Things like this also happen, when you find yourself trapped, all of the sudden you get it, it seems useful

N: Keroro, carries the fate of the Earth and puts everything one the line with a one hit knock out gag

K66: I don't want a Mr Santa like this, I want a Santa that searches far & wide in Minato

(Everyone reacts with confusion)

K66: Santa, what is that punch line?

SC: Butt-fire-cracker!

K66: Gero~!

FYK: That was no good Sergeant, nobody could understand the joke

K66: Harsh~!

N: Sergeant Keroro, at that moment when he was sent flying by an even more dated gag, a transmission from the space ship in the upper atmosphere was picked up by Kururu's communicator

966: We have a communication coming in from the Satan Claws mother ship

MMK: The Satan Claws have begun to take action?

KYK: No doubt

FYK: It's the end of the Earth?

723: Stupid frog, do something! You must have brought this!

K66: Well, even you say that-

966: Wait, I'm decoding the message Ku ku ku, analysis complete

Moa: I'll read it! It's nearly time to assemble, so you're not left behind, please return quickly to the space ship

K66: Gero? Time to assemble?

966: Apparently, they're not here to destroy Pekopon, it's looks like they came to do sightseeing on Pekopon. Ku ku ku ku ku

Moa: You could say, on vacation?

SC: Butt-fire-cracker~

(explosion, Keroro screams)

K66: then what's this "Butt-fire-cracker~" about?

966: I'll apply a translator to it

723: You should have used that from the start

966: Pochito

SC: Do you have a toilet?

Everyone: Ah....

K66: Really, he had us rattled

723: Because his voice is so loud

TMM: Ah, Mr. Satan Claws left the bathroom

SC: Butt-straw~

K66: Aaah~! Kururu, translator, translator!

966: Pochito

SC: My gratitude for letting me use your toilet

FYK: He's taking something out of his bag

TMM: It must be a present!

SC: Butt-drill~!

K66: Hiee! Hiee! Translate! Translate!

966: Pochito

SC: To show my gratitude for letting me use your toilet!

K66: How fortunate, yes sir

N: Thus, after Satan Claws conveyed his gratitude, he very politely left to return to the ship

K66: Our guest Mr Santa Claus was a really great guy, yes sir

723: That's Satan Claws

Moa: You could say, gathering of truths?

723: Let's hurry & open our thank you present

FYK: Could it be toys using amazing alien technology?

TMM: It could be amazing space sweets

MMK: Could it be tickets to something romantic?

UMMK: It's got me fired up!

K66: You'll jinx it

(unwrapping box)

K66: Th-this is!

723: What is it?

MMK: Is it romantic?

K66: It's a Tokyo tower ornament, yes sir

G66: He bought it on the trip

723: Moreover, there's an infinity calendar attached

Moa: You could say, a typical souvenir?

(bells ringing)

MMK: Oh my, could this be the sound of Christmas bells?

(static)

D66: Uh, this is Dororo, on top of the roof, good sir

K66: Oh! When did you?

D66: Can you hear me, good sir? This sound is the space ship's engine, good sir. It looks like a lot of Satan Claws are returning to the mother ship

Everyone: What?

723: Let's go see!

(Sounds of everyone leaving)

D66: No, if everyone doesn't come, I'll be stuck alone- No, wait, uh....

(Sounds of the ship taking off)

FYK: It really is! There are a lot of Satan Claws in the sky

723: Did thet many come to sight see on Earth?

MMK: They look just like the real Mr Santa, don't they?

KYK: Everone in town aren't noticing, are they?

G66: Because they activated the antibarrier

K66: Normal Pekoponians can't see them, yes sir

FYK: Could it be that the real Mr Santa also uses an antibarrier?

723: It could be

TMM: The spaceship's going home

KYK: Natsumi-san, look! Snow!

723: Ah! How pretty!

966: No, that's not snow, it's a residual product from the Satan Claus space ship

D66: It's really-

K66: A white Christmas, yes sir! Whatever it is, it's beautiful, yes sir

TMM: We avoided disaster and everything's OK

966: Ku~ ku ku ku ku

G66: Christams eve, huh? It's pretty nice

MMK: A Christmas with just the two of us, eventually, certainly....

K66: Well, we should head back to the studio, yes sir

Moa: You could say, shirking your duties?

723: Mutsumi-san from the studio?

623: What- On- On that note, did you enjoy tonight's "Mutsumi, my radio Christmas special? It was interrupted partway through by a slightly weird broadcast, but, well, wishing everyone a fantastic Christmas Eve

N: On Christmas morning, there was a Tokyo souvenir by the pillows that nobody else knew was from a Satan Claws who came to use the toilet one night

D66: Uh....I thought I was going to be the focus of the CD this time...

N: Huh? Is that so?

------------------------------

1-I believe the specific term refers to an offering from a Buddhist ceremony that takes place shortly after the winter solstice

[ptergwen]

jingle your bells

w/c: 1.7k

warnings: mentions of drinking and a suggestive joke

summary: peter gets drunk at tony’s christmas party and confesses a thing or two

a/n: today’s the day yayyy merry christmas guys i hope you’ve gotten and gave some good stuff!! i hope you’re all staying safe too <3 this was requested as a headcanon but i put a twist on it because why not

━━━ ➳❥

your dad loves parties. hosting them, attending them, crashing them. he’s actually known for it.

this year, he’s throwing a little party for christmas. everyone at the compound is coming, but there’s someone you care about more than the rest. peter. he’s one of your favorite people and closest friends.

your crush, too.

these things can be a bit overwhelming, so the two of you always stick together. you’ll sometimes sneak upstairs to your room and binge movies with pajamas and all kinds of junk food. it’s your own party in a way. you two enjoy the time you don’t spend at the real ones more than anything.

thor and bruce are currently doing their own rendition of all i want for christmas. your dad made the mistake of setting up karaoke. you laugh along, natasha dragging them in every way possible. steve snaps to the beat. wanda is covering her face in second hand embarrassment. vision offers tips that he searched every possible database for.

sam and bucky took peter somewhere a while ago. that can never be good. he’ll probably come back covered in whipped cream or something stupid. those two never leave peter alone. it’s kind of sweet when you think about it.

“thank you! thank you very much, children,” thor grins as everyone applauds the performance. bruce takes a bow. “we’ll be here all night.” you shake your head at the two of them. they’re too funny. natasha shares a look with you. “boo, get off the stage!” bucky calls as he enters the room. sam and peter follow behind him.

peter is smiling like an idiot, not that his smile isn’t adorable. it just seems a bit off. you really have to find out what they did to him.

“uh, this is my stage,” thor scoffs and grabs the microphone off the stand. grimacing, bruce puts a hand on his shoulder. “let’s calm down, buddy.” “no, i think we should do another one. santa baby.” he points to natasha. “hit play for us, thanks.” she sighs and puts the song on through the speakers. you can’t win with thor.

you watch sam whisper something to peter, then bucky cackles. tony and pepper make their way in and sit down next to you on the couch.

“what’s going on in here?” pepper asks you, nudging your arm. you’re more concerned with what’s going on with peter. “a sing off. it was karaoke, but bucky riled thor up.” your dad clicks his tongue. “that absolute madman.”

“he’s not the only madman tonight,” your mom comments, widening her eyes at the sight in front of her. you furrow your eyebrows and follow her gaze. your mouth drops open.

peter is dancing around in front of them. he’s trying to hip bump bruce, who keeps inching closer to thor. sam and bucky are doubled over from the other side of the room. they ruined your poor peter.

thor chuckles and pats peter on the back. he happily accepts it very much like a puppy would. he’s wearing a headband with jingle bells on it and there’s a weird stain on his shirt.

“little spider has been drinking,” thor announces, peter’s cheeks glowing red. that makes sense. you immediately glare at sam and bucky. they raise their hands in defense. they’re still on the hook.

“god, i can smell him from here,” natasha agrees and waves her hand in the air. “they‘d be able to smell him from sokovia,” wanda mutters. “parker? are you shit-faced right now?” your dad speaks up, a look between concern and anger on his face. his giggling gives him away.

“it’s christmas. you’re drunk out of your mind on christmas. i can’t have that.” tony points upstairs, signaling for him to go. you’re pretty sure peter didn’t process a word of that. pepper rubs up and down tony’s arm with a frown. “oh, tony. don’t be a grinch.” he sighs and watches peter try to climb into steve’s lap.

“he needs to sleep this off, pep. kid hasn’t had a drop of alcohol before tonight.” it’s true. he’s big on not drinking until he’s old enough. you have to wonder what changed. “i’ll bring him to his room, dad. he shouldn’t go alone,” you offer, already getting to your feet. “thanks, y/n/n. look at you, making good choices.”

you walk up to steve and give him an apologetic smile. relief washes over his face. “he’s all yours,” he laughs out. “all yours,” peter repeats in a giggle. “mhm. let’s go, peter.” you take him by his arm and pull him away from steve.

he’s easy to drag along because of the state he’s in. he nuzzles his face into the side of your neck, your arm around his waist.

“you smell so good, y/n. sooo nice,” peter almost sings, sniffing you for good measure. “you don’t,” you deadpan. the two of you pass by sam and bucky on your way out. “you’re actually messed up for this,” you tell them under your breath, bucky gasping. “hey, miss stark. it was his idea!” sam yells out to you. you’re not in the mood to hear it.

peter cuddles into your side while you lead him up the stairs. his breath is hot on you and wreaks of expensive liquor from your dad’s cabinet. you never imagined you’d see him like this.

he’s still clinging onto you, so you open his door by pressing your back to it. “come on, pete. you have to lay down,” you tell him as nicely as you can. he stops walking in the middle of the room. “wait. lemme show you something.” he wiggles his eyebrows and shakes his head around. it makes the jingle bells on his head... jingle.

“did you like it?” peter asks and leans his head down to do it again. stifling a laugh, you grab his shoulders. “yeah, peter. i liked it. you can stop jingling your bells now.” “you should... should jingle my bells,” he slurs, smirking at you. you quickly take your hands off of him. “oh my god, you’re so drunk.”

he’s doing all the things you wish he would when he’s sober.

“are you mad at me?” peter pouts his lip out. “don’t be mad at me, y/n.” you press your own lips together and take a seat on his bed. he plops down next to you, pushing his head against your shoulder. “no, but i am mad at sam and bucky. i can’t believe they’d do this.” his face twists up in confusion. “and on christmas.”

“do what?” he wonders and settles his head on you. “let you drink?” you ask like it should be obvious. it should be. “no, no, no. they were helping me.” peter puffs some air out of his cheeks. that gives him the idea to blow into your ear. you flinch and push at his shoulder.

“peter, they gave you alcohol. it’s clearly not good for you.” “no, y/n.” he closes his eyes and lays his head on your shoulder again. “i got my own. they-“ he’s interrupted by a hiccup. you can’t help but laugh, pulling him closer. “‘scuse me. they helped me with something else.”

drunk peter is kind of cute. super cute, to be real.

“what was it?” you decide to entertain him, figuring he’ll say something ridiculous. “asking you out,” peter answers way too casually. you almost don’t believe him. then again, he’s pretty self aware at the moment. it’s probably because his powers give him a higher tolerance.

peter feels your heart speeding up next to him. he presses his head to it so he can hear. “you- are you serious?” you stammer, willing him to look up at you. “uh huh. i like you a lot.” a lazy smile takes over his face. “a lot a lot.” “peter...” he’s still going.

“i asked them for advice. it sucked. we were in the kitchen and i remembered your dad’s...” he pauses to think of the word. “stash. i thought drinking would make me loose.” he moves his body around for a visual.

you’re still shocked sam and bucky let him go through with it. it does sound like them, though. you’re more shocked peter likes you back and just admitted it.

sober peter would never admit any of that.

“you don’t have to change anything for me, pete. i like you, too.” you grin down at him. peter returns it and puckers his lips at you. “cool. does that mean i can get a kiss?” letting out a breath, you help him sit up again. he whines about it for all of ten seconds before yawning.

this isn’t exactly how you saw this moment going. peter is too shy to ever really initiate anything, and you never knew if he felt the same. you’re always trying to figure out each other’s boundaries. he has to debate with himself about little things like giving you his jacket or facetiming you at night.

he never wants to overstep. you never want to scare him off. having him drunkenly snuggle with you breaks all those boundaries. at least something finally does. the kiss will have to wait until whatever he drank leaves his system, which hopefully won’t be long. his powers are a possibility once again.

“it’s nap time for you,” you tell peter like he’s a kid. he protests like one, too. “but i’m not tired.” “yeah you are. you just yawned.” he opens his mouth to speak. you talk first. “lay down.” he’s caught off guard this time when you push at his chest. it makes him fall back on the pillows.

you giggle and take the jingle bells off his head. they can’t be comfortable. peter makes grabby hands for you. “come lay with me, baby,” he mumbles into the pillow his face is squished in. your heart flutters hearing him call you that. his arms do look inviting. they’re all ready to hold you.

too bad he’s on time out.

“i can’t. i’m supposed to be back downstairs already.” you unenthusiastically get up from the bed. peter groans, rolling onto his side. “i want christmas cuddles.” “you’ll get some after your nap,” you promise and poke his shoulder. “and a kiss.” he closes his eyes the literal second you say that.

you like this boy way too much.

[after-witch]

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

**

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

**

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit. 

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend? 

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave.  You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

**

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off. 

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right? 

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

**

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.  

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful.  He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

[christinebloodwrittings]

Briefly Instant (Part eight)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: Life is complicated, always moving and working in ways we can’t comprehend. Between the bubbles and the heartache, an unfortunate encounter left a half-broken heart and a strong connection which separated this soulmates for a long time. Two sides of the story, two hearts that longed for each other painfully. One brief instant was enough to know.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, toxic traits.

Previous Chapter ___ Next Chapter ___ Masterlist

TH Taglist: @lucky-foxface @lokisprettygirl22 @criticaltrinket @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss

“I assume you found out, otherwise you would have greeted me differently” his lack of guilt made you sick, “Depends on what you think I found out about” keeping your tone normal and like nothing was going on drove Oscar to clear his throat to keep talking.

“Manuel told you about my new position, I got promoted and I'm going to work in the Australian division” he was proud, like he couldn’t tell the weight of his betrayal, “Congratulations! Although I wish I had known this from you, in person at least” the truth in your voice at all times, what was going on? He thought you were going to at least be angry at him, or sad.

He swallowed hard before he spoke again, “I was going to tell you when you got back”, you let out a small laugh, "I was going to arrive at an empty apartment that I'm no longer welcome to apparently, how do you think that was going to end?" with your fist straight to his face and pretty Charlie with a shaven head, probably.

"I already packed all your things, Elena came to pick them up, you can fix it with her" Elena, you thought he was having sex with her, but in the end she ended being his cousin’s wife, she was nice, "I understand".

"I'm sorry, I think it's for the best" yeah, the best for you.

“Merry Christmas Oscar, could you pass the phone to Charlie? I would like a word with her” your voice sounded happy and relieved, it crawled down his spine savagely. You heard him say that you wanted to talk with her, apparently they were together even when he called you to give you the news. How nasty.

“Hello? Look if you’re mad too bad, he told me-” you cut her awfully high pitched voice in a heartbeat, “Believe me, I can imagine how many loads of things he might’ve told you, but listen carefully love, if he did this to me, don’t doubt he will do the same with you after he gets what he wants from your poor naïve head…keep your eyes and ears open to his movements, and don’t allow him to use you” you spoke seriously, using your business tone.

Charlie was speechless, she handed Oscar his phone back and took off. You heard with a smile how he begged her to come back, but it was useless, she had left him in the spot, ‘clever girl’ you thought.

“What the fuck did you say to her?!” you had to take the phone away from your ear for a second, his shouting aggravated the quality of the audio in the process.

“Merry Christmas to you too” you remained calm while he allowed the anger to eat him alive.

“Y/n I swear you’ll regret it, what did you say to Charlie?!” did he loved her? You didn’t cared, you were once the other woman, you weren’t going to allow another to fall for his bullshit.

“I think we're done here. I wish you love and happiness, I trust we won’t cross paths in the future” or else you both would try to do something unspeakable to the other’s lives.

“Oh now you’re d-” you hung up at the sound of the sliding window opening, that, but also he was ruining your holiday mood.

“Everything alright?” you turn to see Tom standing in front of you, the lights from inside shone against him, he looked like an angel. “Oscar and I…It’s over” he handed you one of the glasses of champagne he was holding, “You missed the toast, let’s make one of our own shall we?” he charmingly said.

“I toast to us, to a fortunate encounter, and hopefully, beautiful friendship” he held his glass and winked at you, the blush creeped in your cheeks and towards your ears. “I toast to this, an instant I wish could last forever” he smiled at your words, taking in your hand in his as you clinked your glasses together.

“Merry Christmas Y/n” your eyes climbed up from his neck, to his lips until you were staring to his blue eyes. “Merry Christmas Tom” his finger was fidgeting with one of your knuckles, as to atone the burning urge to kiss you, his name in your lips was like a beautiful melody.

Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, you both drank a short sip of your glasses.

You dreamt about him that night. It was as if you were on a burning building, your old apartment it seemed, because of the pictures of you with a blurry faced man. Everything was falling apart, the ceiling was about to crack and crush you, but then a wave broke its way through the walls putting out the fire and the debris away on its way to you.

You were sitting on a calm ocean, just above the surface. The water shaped itself into him, with his crystalline hands he cured your black burnt hands, and kissed away your tears. He was warm and delicate.

That was the first time you had slept through the night until your alarm woke you up, every single other one you had to dismiss it because you were already awake.

You heard a knock on your door, immediately you jumped off the bed and fixed your hair a little, hoping Tom would be on the other side of the door, “Wakey, wakey” but it was just Viv. “We’re going to open the gifts, come on” she cheerily walked pass you.

‘Shit!’, you only had prepared a gift for Emma, you had nothing for Nao or Viv, much less for Tom.

You put on a sweater, grabbed your gift and went down the stairs to join everyone at the living room. While doing so you had the perfect backside view of Tom wearing sleeping shorts and a t-shirt. His hips were slightly swaying from side to side to some tune he was humming.

He looked so perfect.

But Oscar was still in your head, you didn't want to think of anything remotely or even slightly similar to a relationship with anyone, much less someone as dangerous as Tom.

“Good mornin’” you muttered sleepily, passing by him to get a cup, “Good morning my sweet, here, allow me” he took a cup from the high cabinet and handed it to you, “It’s not that I’m small, I’m just…vertically challenged, okay?” he saw your struggle, and he had the audacity to smirk and look at you funny while he helped you.

“You know, you are the cutest when you pout” he winked “What can I get you, coffee, tea, or maybe some hot cocoa?” he baby-talked you with a wide Cheshire cat smile, “Coffee please” you stuck your tongue out at him after receiving the cup, then turned to the kitchen isle to put a couple of spoonful of sugar in the coffee.

“Sugar instead of stevia, huh?” his arms were on both of your sides, his chin lightly pressed on your left shoulder, “I like it sweet sweet, not chemically sweet” his face was so close to yours, you had to refrain from looking his way, otherwise you would accidentally kiss him. And who knows if you would be able to stop yourself after.

He hummed in response, his voice was so deep in the mornings, it was like a growl. “The weather is going to be amazing today, how about we go down to the beach?” ‘Just the two of us’ he thought to himself, almost felt tempted to say it sing song, just to make you laugh.

“I don’t know, I kinda feel a little off, but I’ll join you as soon as I feel better” it could be Oscar, it was only natural that you felt off after that, or maybe it was him? His anxiety was always crazy around you.

“Is there something I can do?” He nudged your head with his in a playful way, taking in the smell of your hair, citric and lovely.

“Don’t worry, it’s just probably the alcohol from last night” you caressed his fluffy curls with your hand, not making him feel better about your situation, but he couldn’t help but melt against your touch.

“Okay, don’t be afraid to let me know” he took your hand and kissed over your knuckles before paying attention to the pan he set aside from the fire.

You shook off the burning blush you had before entering the living room, “Okay! It’s gift time!” Vivian gathered every package on the coffee table, clapping excitedly. “Hey, did something happened with Oscar? Tom said you were upset” Tom had told Emma he didn’t know further details, which was an obvious lie, but he did it for you to be the one to tell her about your breakup.

“He was cheating on me, for a while, he also sold the apartment and he’s moving to Australia”

“WANKER! He left you alone, homeless and hurt? I going to kill that sick arsehole!” her accent somehow got thicker, this lead that at some point you had no idea what she was saying. “Basically, he left my stuff at Elena’s, I think the worst of this situation is that I’ll have to go apartment hunting, ugh! It’s such a drag!” she hugged you and reassured you, “Don’t worry, you’re far better off without him anyways, your perfect man is somewhere, I can feel it”.

“I’m so sorry girls, I only knew of you guys coming when we got here, I only have a gift for Emma” both girls said that it was fine, that you shouldn't worry, however you couldn't help it. As soon as you got back to London you were going to compensate them, you told them, but again your effort was rejected.

"Oh you shouldn't have, thank you very much!" Nao received a book from Viv and a set of nail polishes from Emma, apparently it was an inside joke between them, something you wanted to ask the meaning of, but they immediately told you that you wouldn't understand.

Vivian received a jewelry box from Nao and a keychain with a tracker, apparently she always loses her keys, so she would have a way to find them easily, another inside joke you had no idea about.

When your turn came, you gave Emma your gift, "A menu? What the hell is that?" Nao looked disdainfully at the paper your friend was holding, "It's from the cafeteria where we had our first coffee, from when we met, remember?" Emma laughed nervously, "You make my gift look pathetic" she said, handing you the last wrapper on the table, a long one, "A silicone spatula" Tom had come in to say that breakfast was ready, he was lucky to hear you explain your gift, only to be utterly disappointed in his sister afterwards.

"As I saw that yours was about to break, I wanted to buy you something useful" she tried to fix the situation, but it was impossible. The object still had the sticker with the price, but that wasn’t the problem, it was just a spatula. If the idea had been yours, you would have bought one with drawings or something that would make it fun, not just an orange one that you can easily find in the supermarket.

“You’re so thoughtful, thank you Em” You hid your pain with a smile, you didn't care what she gave you, but you wanted something with meaning. You two had been doing it like this for six years, and this time she decided to go cold? It was because of Nao and Viv, Emma had always changed her personality around other people, it was something you hated about people in general, but even more so if that someone belonged to your close circle, like her.

“Breakfast is getting cold” Tom broke the moment, “Let’s hurry then, thank you Tom” Viv walked out first, then Nao and Emma, but you stayed behind, “Thank you, for not telling Emma about Oscar” he smiled and patted your back, “It was your right to tell her” when none of the girls were looking, you stood on your tiptoes and pecked his cheek.

“Much appreciated” you shily said and walked out of the room quickly, leaving him red blushing and frozen in place. Your lips were so soft.

When it was about four in the afternoon, when the sun doesn't do so much damage, Tom got ready to go out, however, since breakfast he had seen you in low spirits, so he decided to go see how you were before going down to the bay

"Y/n, it's me, can I come in?" He knocked on your door, "Yeah, uh, shit, wait a minute!" he heard you walk rapidly around your room, then the door opened. The swimsuit you were wearing was more revealing than the last one, which is why he had a hard time trying not to look too much.

“You just caught me trying this out” ‘So moments ago you were’ he was a mess inside, “You look very lovely” you had thought that it looked badly on you, but his words made you see yourself differently, feel differently. You would someday admit out loud that he made you feel beautiful.

“Are going down to the beach?” he asked, keeping himself near to the door, he felt if he stepped further inside he would be intruding, “Oh yeah, but, could you be a dear and help me out?” you handed him the sunscreen bottle, “I need some in my back, if you don’t mind” turning your back on you, you tied your hair up, hiding how nervous you were of the thought of his hands on your body.

"Of course".

[jungshookz]

omg it’s me again i just thought of sth and only you can make it so good;; EMT seokjiN and this prompt i saw sth like “will you stop flirting with me? you just got seriously injured and I’m the emt trying to tend to your wounds, i don’t give a fuck that i look cute when i’m concerned, you’re lucky you’re not dead you dipshit”

➺ pairing; emt!seokjin x reader 

➺ genre; sfw!! namjoon is clumsy!! y/n is particularly cheeky that even i was like :0!! and handsome seokjin is simply handsome!! 

➺ wordcount; 4.9k

➺ what to expect; “i’m just checking out your pupils, darling. trust me. you’ll know when i’m about to kiss you.” 

➺ note; i thought i’d kick off the christmas with cee event with a jin drabble seeing as it was recently his birthday!! also i hope this drabble pumps you UP for the other drabbles that’ll be posted this month <3 happy deceember!! 

                                       »»————-　❄　————-««

“i just don’t think this is a super good idea, you know?” namjoon mutters sheepishly, looking down at you while you busy yourself with tightening his laces, “i mean, i can barely walk three steps without tripping over a normal floor, so i don’t know if me on ice is going to be any better-”

“oh, will you please give it a break? i’ve got you!” you get up off the ground before dusting your knees off, “besides, you were the one who said you wanted to try ice-skating - and it’s not like the ice skating rink is as steep as a mountain or anything. it’s all nice and flat! see?” you gesture towards the zamboni currently making its rounds on the ice, “and we came here just in time for a nice, clean layer of ice for us to skate on. there’s nothing that could go wrong!”

“nothing that could go wrong?!” namjoon gawks, hoisting his foot up so he can rest his ankle across his knee, “look at this thing, y/n! what kind of a shoe is this?” he taps his fingernail against the metal blade before quickly retracting his hand and shuddering, “these things are literal weapons- why can’t i just skate without the skates?”

“because that... wouldn’t be ice-skating anymore? that’d just be... ice-walking. and your sneakers won’t do you any good on the ice, anyway,” you shake your head before shrugging, “the blades are supposed to help you, like- they get a… solid grip on the ice and it helps you move around better, you know? something like that.”

namjoon scoffs and leans back on the bench, “please explain to me how a thin metal blade is supposed to get a solid grip on ice-”

“look, the offer to get you one of those little kiddie things for you to hold onto still stands.” you point over to the front counter, “they have one that looks like a penguin! it’s adorable! i mean, i think it’s a little shorter than your knees so you might have to crouch down a little if i get one for you-”

“wha-” namjoon immediately frowns before crossing his arms, “y/n, i am a grown man. i don’t need to hold onto a penguin-”

“okay, suit yourself!” you chirp, sticking your hand out for him, “c’mon, you manly man. i wanna get on the ice! i’ve been waiting all week for this-”

namjoon grumbles curses under his breath as he pushes himself up off the bench

penguin

he doesn’t need a penguin!

how dare you!!!!!

you can’t help but giggle as you watch him waddle towards you, being very careful not to fall over and twist an ankle

admittedly, bringing namjoon to an ice skating rink probably wasn’t the best idea

one time he sprained his ankle after tripping over literally nothing and he had to use a crutch for like two weeks

he’s verY susceptible to injuries 

when he first brought up the idea of going to an ice-skating rink you were going to turn him down and suggest something safer and more namjoon friendly...

but it’s december!

and december is literally the time to go ice-skating!

and there’s always a hot chocolate truck that’s parked right by the rink so hopefully you’ll be able to soothe namjoon’s bruised bum (you’re betting that namjoon’s bum will be all sorts of bruised after ten minutes on the ice) with extra whipped cream and marshmallows

hopefully he won’t be as grumpy as he is now when he’s sipping on a big ol mug of rich, creamy hot chocolate

“we’re going to have so much fun! the last time i went skating, i-” as soon as you slide onto the ice, namjoon suddenly yanks you backwards

you turn to look at him only to see him gripping onto the railing for dear life

he’s not even on the ice yet!

big ol’ wimp

“what’s the matter? cold feet?” you joke, namjoon giving you an unimpressed frown, “what?? you have to admit that was a good joke-”

“that was an awful joke-”

“namjoon…” you purse your lips and place your free hand on your hip, “you know that you have to be on the ice in order to ice skate, right?” you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, “i’m not going to let you fall. i promise! but in the rare case that you do fall, feel free to fall on top of me to cushion your blow. i’ll gladly break a couple of ribs just to keep you from hitting the ground!”

“what happens if you skate circles around me and end up cutting a circle into the ice and then i fall in??”

oh god

here we go

“that’s not going to happen, namjoon.” you shake your head, “because we’re not in a cartoon.”

“what happens if i accidentally fall backwards and end up stabbing myself in the eye with the blade?”

“that’s not going to happen, namjoon- first of all, the tip of the blade is rounded off, so you won’t be stabbing anything at all, and second of all, we both know you’re not nearly flexible enough for your body to be able to bend in half like that-

“what happens if i fall to the ground and someone skates over my fingers and slices them off?!”

“that’s not going to-” you pause for a split second, “well, that could happen, so maybe just don’t fall and remember to keep your hands off the ice-”

“okay, well- i don’t want to do this anymore!!!” namjoon lets go of your hand and you resist the urge to fall to the ground and let out a primal screech of rage, “if there’s even a chance that i’m going to lose the tip of one finger today, there’s no way in hell i’m getting onto the ice-”

“you’re not going to lose any fingers-”

“how can you be so sure?!”

you immediately shut up before reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose

you love namjoon with all your heart but sometimes he’s just.., a little much

he’s not very big on risk-taking

he’s always been very content just staying within his comfort zone which is fine! 

you never pressure him into doing anything if he very clearly is uncomfortable with it

with that being said, it’s just that whenever you even try to nudge him like a centimetre out of his safety bubble, he flips out on you just like how he’s flipping out right now

like that one time you made him try a vanilla bean frappucino (arguably the plainest most basic frappucino flavour on the starbucks menu) instead of his usual iced americano and after he took a sip he accused you of trying to make him get diabetes

it’s not like you’re purposely trying to torment him by forcing him to ice skate

you just wanted to come here and have a good time with your friend!

“namjoon, you seriously need to calm down-”

“i am calm! i am so calm! in fact, i’ve never been MORE CALM-!”

it doesn’t take long for you and namjoon to start bickering with each other, the both of you too wrapped up in yelling at each other to notice the weird glances you’re getting from everyone

“all i’m trying to say is that the only reason why we’re here in the first place is because you said that you wanted to try-”

“yeah, and now i change my mind! what, are you saying i’m not allowed to change my mind?”

“i never- i never said you weren’t allowed to change your mind, i just want you to try to understand that it can be a little frustrating for me to set everything up for you only for you to chicken out at the end-”

“chicken out?! how dare you?! i am not chickening- i’m backing out for the safety of my eyeballs and my hands-”

“i said i would hold your hand the whole time!”

“that’s not secure enough! you holding my hand on slippery ice as a form of safety is equivalent to me getting on a rollercoaster using flimsy shoelaces to tie me to the seat-”

“that’s why i said i would get you the penguin so that you have two handles to hold onto-”

“i don’t want the friggin’ penguin!” namjoon snaps, stepping aside when a little kid nudges past him only to immediately glide onto the ice

the two of you pause to watch him and you gawk when he starts zipping back and forth like a maniac

that could be you right now

you, too, could be having a blast on the ice right now if it weren’t for your manbaby friend over here

you gesture to the random child currently twirling around on the ice before scoffing, “namjoon! look at him! if that literal toddler can do that on the ice, you can at least step forward to stand on the ice-”

“that is not a child, that is just a very tiny professional ice skater-”

you press your lips together in frustration as namjoon continues to list off reasons why the two of you should just go for hot chocolate and then go straight home

and for a second you think about giving up and just giving him what he wants but...

no

no way!

you are noT letting him talk himself out of this one this time

you wanna go ice skating today and you’re going to figure out a way to make both you and namjoon happy

okay

so he doesn’t want to hold your hand

he doesn’t want the penguin

what other options do you have??

you twiddle with the end of your scarf before pausing and looking down at it

…

lightbulb

                                        »»————-　❄　————-««

“alrighty… how does that feel?” you tighten the knot before giving namjoon’s stomach a pat, “nice and secure?”

yep

that’s right

you ended up tying your scarf around namjoon’s waist like some kind of a leash

you’re really hoping people won’t think this is one of those pet-play situations where namjoon is your human puppy and you’re his BDSM dominatrix

you’re not shaminG the kink or anything!!!

you’re just not into the whole arf arf roll over thing

it probably didn’t help that you wore a leather trench coat today

the weather’s finally cooled down enough for you to wear it so obviouSLY you had to wear your super cool leather trench coat but now you feel like you should take it off just in case it makes you look like you’re... into barking

namjoon hooks a finger into the scarf and gives it a little tug, “…i suppose… this is better than nothing…”

“great!” you sigh in relief, “so… i’m gonna take it nice and slow, okay? we’ll start off with some basic gliding and then we’ll go from there.”

unfortunately the ice is a little rougher now because it took like twenty minutes for namjoon to practice just standing on the ice without toppling over

you’re just glad that he’s now willing to actually give skating a try instead of giving up and going home

this is progress!!

you wonder if you’ll ever be able to convince him to go skydiving with you one day

...baby steps

“so, gliding is kind of like… it’s kind of like marching, i guess?” you hum, “it’ll help you transition into skating. you’re gonna march two steps forward and then let yourself just glide forward…” you wrap the end of the scarf around your fist to really make sure that it won’t slip from your fingers (because you’re 100% sure that namjoon will have a meltdown if you let go of it) as you continue to skate backwards slowly, watching namjoon’s feet like a hawk

you’re surprised he hasn’t fallen yet what with his wobbly knees

“am i… am i doing it??” namjoon asks dumbly and you can’t help but grin when he starts to pick up the movement

thank god he’s a fast learner

“hey, look at you go!” you laugh lightly, giving him a thumbs up, “you’re doing it! i mean, we’re going pretty slowly... but you’re doing it!”

namjoon reaches forward to grab onto the scarf when he wobbles a little and you immediately stop so that he can rebalance himself

(you don’t know how you’re going to catch him if he falls because he’s definitely going to end up crushing you and breaking all the bones in your body)

the two of you spend the next twenty minutes or so slowly making your way around the rink

for the most part, namjoon does just fine

there was one point where a little kid knocked into him from behind and he nearly fell over buT luckily he grabbed onto the railing before anything happened

he looked like he was fully ready to chase after the kid to strangle him but that’s beside the point

you let out an impatient little sigh as people continue to whiz past you

boo

you wanna do some whizzing too!

“are you…” you trail off, looking back over at namjoon, “okay to move on to stroking?”

namjoon’s brows furrow as he lets go of the scarf after regaining his balance, “stroking?”

“mhm!” you nod, turning to glance over your shoulder for a second to make sure there’s no one behind you, subtly skating backwards a tiny bit quicker, “it’s literally just, like, a longer version of gliding. you just extend the same motion for a longer period of time, that’s all.”

“oh... like... like this?” namjoon pushes off a little harder and you nod enthusiastically at the smooth movement

“yeah, there you go!” you laugh when namjoon picks it up with no problem, “look at you! you’re a natural... you might even be better than that tiny professional ice skater from earlier- make sure to lean forward a little…”

namjoon grins excitedly as he continues to glide left and right all while you (unbeknownst to him) gradually pick up your pace while pulling him towards you

hey!

he’s doing it!

this wasn’t as hard as he thought it’d be

he’s doing it!!!!!

and he’s going waY quicker than he originally was, which is probably a good sign, right?

“can i take the lead?” namjoon stands up a little straighter and puffs his chest out, “i wanna lead you now!”

you slow down a little and look down at the scarf that you’re still clutching onto for dear life, “you wanna take th- okay, well, do you want me to untie you?”

“oh no, i think you should still hold onto it just in case, but i wanna lead the way!” namjoon bounces up and down excitedly and clasps his hands together, “please, y/n? you’ve seen how fast i can go now!”

right

he can go super fasT on his own and it’s not because you’ve been pulling him along like a little wagon

you know what

it’s fine

you’re not worried about namjoon leading the way mainly because you know he’s just going to go around and around in slow circles

you could probably get away with closing your eyes while he pulls you around  

you snort before nodding and sliding to the side so that he can skate past you, “alright, hotshot. you take the lead. now it’s really going to look like this is a leash- woAH-” your eyes widen in surprise when namjoon suddenly surges forward, his legs going left and right and left and right at a consistent pace-

oh god

okay

you speed yourself up as well to try to keep up with him, keeping your grip tight around your poor stretched out scarf

“namjoon-!” you laugh uneasily, “take it easy, you speed demon-”

“we should go ice skating all the time!” namjoon cheers, raising both his hands up in the air as he continues gliding like a maniac, “isn’t this fun?!”

“oh shit, sorry, excuse me-” you try your best noT to collide with people as you skate past them, “namjoon, i know you think this is fun but i really think you should slow down a little- oh, frick-” you curse to yourself when you notice that your scarf is caught in the clasp of your bracelet

shit!

this scarf was expensive!!!!

there’s no way you’re going to accidentally yanK out the threads and ruin it

“c’mon, stupid thing...” you look up for a brief second to make sure that namjoon’s still going straight and that he’s not about to round a corner or anything before looking back down to try to unhook the thread

you could try tugging on it but you’re worried that it’s going to mess up your scarf and you are noT willing to take that chance

“i’m turning here!”

“uh-huh, yeah...” your tongue pokes out in concentration as you use your nail to try to pluck it out and...

ah!

success!

there we go

no destroyed scarves today!

“what did you just sa-!” your eyes widen in surprise when suddenly the scarf disappears from your fist and you look up to see that the-

SMAK!

                                       »»————-　❄　————-««

...

...

my head hurts

...

my ass hurts too

...

you peel an eye open slowly before closing it again

holy moly

your head is spinning and your ears are ringing and you’re pretty sure your eyes are permanently crossed because you can’t seem to get your vision to focus

is it possible to feel like you want to throw up and pass out at the same time?

you squeeze your eyes shut before shaking your head a little in a poor attempt to shakE the pain away

jesus

what happened??

the last thing you remember is going full speed on the ice and then everything went black

you push yourself up onto your elbows before looking around

you… are in a van that smells like bleach for some reason

why are you in a van??

oh god

were you kidnapped???

were you chloroformed and kidnapped???

you jump when one of the doors suddenly swings open and you immediately pull your legs up and away so that your kidnapper can’t reach over and drag you out by the legs

“hey, you! how are you feeling?”

“i- um-” you sit up all the way before turning and leaning back against the metal bench screwed into the side of the van, “i think i’m oka- a..a...aaaaaayyyy....?” you trail off dumbly, finding yourself being unable to shut your TRAP 

okay

hello

you blink owlishly at the very handsome kidnapper before tilting your head to the side a little

the corners of his mouth twitch in a smile and he mimics your movements, tilting his head as well

maybe… you weren’t kidnapped

you just died and went to heaven, that’s all!

this is heaven

heaven is the back of an impeccably clean van and you are currently staring at a real-life angel

“sorry you woke up all alone, by the way- i just had to ask your friend a couple of questions as to what happened... i also had to comfort him a little because i’m pretty sure he thinks he killed you-”

“i’m sorry, am i not dead? is this not, like, the bus to heaven or something?” you ask, looking around at your surroundings

there’s a lot of medical-related tools and gadgets in here considering the fact that this is heaven

apparently heaven has heart defibrillators which doesn’t make much sense

“hey, hey- relax!” you jump when you feel him wrap his fingers around your ankle to get your attention, “you’re not dead. this isn’t the bus to heaven. you’re just in the back of an ambulance. you got into a little collision with the plexiglass barriers.”

aH

okay

that makes more sense

“oh, thank god.” you breathe out, “because if i did die, then body slamming into plexiglass would’ve been a humiliating way to go.”  

“mm, i totally agree. i would’ve been embarrassed having to drag your dead body away from the plexiglass.” mr probably-not-here-to-kidnap-you laughs lightly and opens the door a little wider for himself, “i just wanna patch you up. will you let me do that?”

you feel your mouth go dry when he takes his jacket off

hello broad shoulders

“you can do anything you want to me.” you blurt out, watching in awe as he steps into the ambulance to join you

you’re pretty sure the fact that you might have a mild concussion has something to do with it but your filter has just completely disappeared because jesus christ you want this man to ram into you harder than you rammed into the wall

you just don’t get it

how can one man be so... attractive?

the soft, perfectly tousled hair is right!

the pillowy, cherry-coloured lips are right!

the twinkling brown eyes are right!

the low, soothing voice is right!

the broad shoulders and equally as broad chest... veRY right

everything is just so RIGHT

you swallow thickly when he sits down across from you and crosses his legs, his knees practically pressed right up against yours

you’re certainly not complaining about being so close to him but you’re definitely going to cramp up like this and you always make really weird faces when you get pins and needles shooting up your legs

you move your legs so that your ankles are on either side of his thighs before scooting your bum a little closer towards him

heh >:-) 

“can you tell me what your name is?” he asks, pulling a first-aid kit out from under the bench

“y/n y/l/n.” you answer almost instantaneously, keeping your eyes glued on his face as he rummages through the box

“mhm… very good…”

“what’s your name?” you watch as he rips open a little gauze pad

god

even his fingers are pretty

“seokjin.” seokjin smiles sweetly, your heart skipping a beat when he reaches up to brush some hair away from your forehead, “i’m just going to clean your cut up a little bit. stay still for me, yeah?”

you nod obediently and find yourself leaning forward a little bit even though you know you probably don’t need to

“what’s your last name?” you ask, seokjin looking down at you for a brief second before focusing back on the cut on your forehead

“kim. why?”

“just wanted to know what my future surname is going to be, that’s all.”

seokjin snorts before raising a brow, “quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

“it’s not every day that i get to talk to a very handsome ambulance man.”

seokjin chuckles, smoothing his fingers over the pad to make sure that it’s secure before pulling away, “mm, that’s fair. can you tell me what day it is?”

“saturday. which i think is the perfect day out of all of the days to go out on a date, because if we get super drunk and have crazy sex tonight, we can wake up late tomorrow and go out for brunch-!”

seokjin suddenly pinches your lips in between his fingers before frowning in concern, “your bottom lip is a little busted.”

“pheel vfree to kiss it bhetter.” you murmur, seokjin pulling away to rummage through his little kit again, “you look really cute when you’re concerned, by the way.”

“is that so?” seokjin hums, pulling a q-tip out and a tube of what looks to be some kind of a gel, “you can’t go around kissing strangers, you know.”

“you’re an exception.” you grin, dodging the q-tip when seokjin tries to dab some gel on your lip, “i was serious about the date, though. what do you think?”

“i think-” seokjin tries again only for you to turn your head the other way, “i think that you need to stop flirting with me so that i can do my job-”

“i’m letting you do your job!” you argue, “i’m just asking you an innocent question, that’s all-”

“if you were letting me do my job, you would be all patched up by now-” seokjin laughs lightly, shaking his head and leaning backwards when you move your head again, “okay, how about this? i will happily go out with you if you just stay still and let me clean up your lip.”

you perk up immediately, “for real?”

“for real.” he nods, holding the q-tip up, “are you willing to cooperate now?”

“mhm.” you hum contently, leaning forward and immediately pursing your lips, “please fix my lips so they’ll be nice and healed by the time we go out on our date.”

“why? are you planning to do a lot of kissing on our date?” seokjin teases, applying the gel before using the other end to dab off the excess

“that’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

seokjin presses his lips together to hold back a smirk

you are... awfully cheeky, aren’t you?

he’s verY into that

and bonus points because you’re very attractive and definitely his type

“okay, lemme just do one last thing here.” seokjin reaches into his shirt pocket for a little flashlight before reaching over and pinching your chin in between his fingers gently and bringing your face closer to his 

“you’re not even going to wait until after our first date to kiss me?” you murmur, your eyes widening slightly, “and i thought i was coming on strong.”

“i’m just checking out your pupils, darling.” seokjin hums, “trust me. you’ll know when i’m about to kiss you.”

you shift in your spot a little as you feel youR cheeks starting to heat up now

oh,.,. how the tables have turned.,,.

seokjin’s just glad that he finally figured out how to get you to stay still so that he can get along with his procedures smoothly

“hi, pretty girl…” seokjin coos, raising your eyelid gently so that he can get a good look at your pupils, “mhm, that’s right… just keep your eyes on me…”

gladly

you’d keep your eyes on seokjin for the rest of your liFE if you could  

“is this finally the part where you kiss me?”

“nice try, cheeky.”

                                      »»————-　❄　————-««

“so y/n’s going to be okay?” namjoon chews on his thumbnail anxiously and you reach over to pat his knee reassuringly

the poor thing is going to chew his entire hand off if he doesn’t stop soon

he joined you on the ambulance ten minutes ago but for eight whole minutes was just profusely apologizing to you (“i’ll never put on another pair of skates for as long as i’ll live!” “namjoon, it’s fine-” “for as long aS I LIVE-”)

seokjin nods as he packs up his kit and slides it back underneath the bench, “y/n’s going to be just fine. you can relax!”

“namjoon - you’re acting like you ran me over with a monster truck. i’m fine!”

“how many fingers am i holding up?” namjoon holds up three fingers and you blink at him before raising a brow

“obviously five.”

namjoon’s eyes widen in panic and he turns back to look at seokjin, “y-you said she was fine!”

“three! three fingers, you’re holding up three fingers-” you giggle, reaching forward to push namjoon’s hand back down, “seriously, joon... i’m fine! i swear.”

“alright, all you have to do is keep her company during the ride.” seokjin clears his throat, “i want to do a couple of scans at the hospital just in case!”

“aw, but i don’t want namjoon to keep me company-” you whine quietly, leaning against namjoon’s shoulder as you look up at jin, “why can’t you keep me company instead?”

“someone has to drive the ambulance.” seokjin teases, reaching down to pinch the apple of your cheek gently, “i’m all yours at the hospital.”

“namjoon can drive.” you push your bottom lip out in a pout before batting your lashes at him, “don’t you wanna hang out with me?”

“if namjoon’s driving skills are as good as his skating skills, i think i’m going to have to pass.” jin laughs lightly, sliding back into his jacket “we can hang out once we get to the hospital.”

namjoon narrows his eyes suspiciously as he glances back and forth between the two of you

...

..,.,...the energy in here...,.,..

.,,.,.,,the vibes,.,..,  

someone definitely wants to fuck someone

seokjin sighs to himself as he hops into the driver’s seat before slamming the door shut

he pulls his phone out to check the time before smiling to himself because :-) your number is on his phone :-)

he wasn’t expecting to get a cute girl’s number today but he welcomes this surprise with open arms! 

“y/n y/l/n...” he murmurs under his breath, reaching up to adjust the mirror

hm

your name does seem like it’d fit with his surname

his ears prickle when he hears your muffled voice through the thin partition and he leans back a little so he can do some sneaky eavesdropping

“i am planning... to have so much sex with that man. but in like a romantic way, you know? because i’m classy like that.”

seokjin snorts to himself before shoving the key into the ignition

(for the record: he feels the exact same way as you do).

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist 

🎁what would you like from ceenta this year? 🎁

[ohmyjinsus]

today was a fairytale

choi soobin x gender neutral! reader

first date fluffy winter nonsense || 2.5k

I’ve decided to stan txt and I really want to hold soobin’s hand…. that’s it 🤡 it's august why am I writing about a christmas date someone shoot me

summary: after 2 years of crushing on soobin he finally asks you out on a date, where you go skating and cling onto him because you’re absolutely terrified

“I don’t think this is right.” These skates feel way too loose. You were sure you told the girl at the rental booth the right size. Maybe you misspoke.

“Let me see,” Soobin says, looking over at you. It took him no time at all to tie his own laces. Clearly you don’t know what you’re doing.

He kneels in front of you, moving your leg so your foot rests on his thigh. You watch as he undoes your laces.

“What is this y/n?” He’s smirking. You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They’ve been on and off since he picked you up earlier, but now that you’re here with him, they feel stronger.

“I told you, I haven’t been skating since I was a kid.”

“You’re supposed to tie the laces around your ankles too,” he tells you, looking up into your eyes. “Just so you know for next time.” He takes your other foot, fixing your laces there as well.

“Who says there’s gonna be a next time?”

“You’ll be a pro by the time I’m done with you, don’t worry.” He stands up, holding out his hand. You take it, getting up slowly. “There you go.”

He turns towards the rink, so you try to take a step next to him. You’re not used to being in skates at all, so you immediately lose your balance. Thankfully Soobin is prepared for this, and catches you quickly.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, trying to ignore the fact that you’re practically in his arms.

“Take little steps.” You nod as he lets go of you.

Holding your hands out in front of you to keep your balance, you do as he says. Soobin’s a little bit ahead of you, trying not to laugh at your snail’s pace.

“Help me,” you say, “don’t just stand there.” He immediately returns to your side and takes your hand. Once you feel his fingers interlaced with yours, you feel a bit more calm. “Okay, let’s go.”

With Soobin next to you, it doesn’t take long to get to the rink. Walking up the steps is a bit difficult but he goes up first, then turns around to help you up. Once you’re on the ice, the panic rises in you again.

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can.” He takes both your hands this time, pulling you gently. As your feet start to glide, you get scared. “I’ve got you, y/n.”

When you glance at Soobin, you smile. When he first suggested you go skating, you told him it terrified you. You were afraid he would make fun of you for being scared about something as simple as this, but he promised to take care of you. He also said if you got on the ice and decided it wasn’t for you, you could stop right away and he’d take you to do something else, no questions asked. That meant the world to you.

“You good?” He asks. You nod, so he lets go of one of your hands, moving so he’s directly next to you instead. You try to take a tiny step forward. “You have to glide, y/n, you can’t just walk on the ice.”

That makes you laugh. You try to muster up some courage and move forward a little bit. Right away, you start to lose your balance. Your grip on Soobin’s hand tightens and you reach over to grab his arm with your other hand.

“I’m gonna fall, oh my god.”

“Do you want to turn around?” He asks quietly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hand, “I believe you, I’m sure I can do this.”

He smiles at that, pulling you with him. You keep your deathly grip on his arm as the two of you move forward. As you glide along, he guides you on when and where to move your feet. By the time you make one lap around the rink, you feel a bit more confident. You don’t let go of him though.

You go around twice more, talking about what else you’re going to do after this. Soobin brought you to a Christmas festival. The ice rink is just a tiny part of it. There are carnival rides on the other side, which Soobin says he’ll take you on. He also promises to buy you a hot drink as a reward for facing your fear of skating.

After a little while, you point out a bench in the middle of the rink, asking if you can sit down for a second. He leads the two of you over, helping you sit down before taking a seat next to you.

“Are you tired?” He asks. You shake your head.

“I’m having fun.”

“Me too.” You realize he hasn’t let go of your hand, not that you mind.

You can see the lake from where you’re sitting, which you point out to him. All the Christmas lights make it look even prettier. Soobin also points to the ferris wheel and the tube ride, which he demands you go on. You tell him yes of course. You want to spend as much time as possible with him, although you would never admit that.

“Should we keep going?” You ask him, once you’ve caught your breath.

“Sure.” You let him stand up first, quickly checking the time on your phone. While you’re looking away, Soobin somehow loses his balance. When you look back, he’s on the ice.

“Oh my god,” you reach out your hand, which he takes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he’s laughing, so you can’t help but laugh too.

“You literally fell for me,” you say as he gets up.

“I did.” He’s blushing. You avoid his eyes as he helps you stand. You can feel those butterflies coming back now. “I thought you would be the one to fall though.”

“I fell for you ages ago,” you say, playing along. You’re telling the truth.

When you met Soobin in first year, you immediately thought he was cute. All your friends agreed that he was your type. Over the next two years, you bonded over group projects and study sessions. You quickly became friends, spending your lunch breaks together and walking home side by side. It was during one of your study dates in the library that Soobin asked you out on a real date.

You didn’t believe him at first, but he told you he’d been crushing on you for a while and wanted to spend some time with you outside of school. The two of you had hung out together before, but only ever with other friends, seeing movies or hanging out at someone's house. You were shocked when he suggested it, but said yes right away. You’re extremely glad you did.

You do a few more laps around the rink, talking about anything and everything. After you get the hang of it, Soobin drops your hand.

“What was that for?” You ask, slowly moving alongside him.

“You should try skating on your own.”

“No.” You grab his hand again. “I refuse.”

“You just want to hold my hand, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you admit. Hopefully he won’t notice you blushing.

“Good,” he interlaces his fingers with yours. “The feeling is mutual.”

After about 5 more minutes, you suggest the two of you take a break. Soobin agrees, and the two of you make your way off the rink. Once you’re sitting again, you pull off your skates and put your shoes back on. You drop your skates off at the rental booth and head towards the rides.

You’re walking along, telling Soobin about your first time on a ferris wheel, when he casually takes your hand. It catches you off guard, making you pause for a second. He just smiles, telling you to finish your story. You do, trying not to focus on how close he is to you.

As you make your way across the festival, you can’t help but notice all the couples around you. Walking with Soobin’s hand in yours, you figure the two of you must fit in. It feels natural, being with him like this. You know it’s only your first date, but you hope there’s many more after this.

When the tube ride is in sight, you pull Soobin that way first. Dragging your tubes up the stairs is horrible. He notices how much you’re struggling and offers to take yours as well. You agree, handing it to him. Once he’s got both of them under his arms, he starts to struggle too. You tell him to give yours back, but he reassures you he can do it. You can’t help but laugh, watching him trying to be strong and tough for you.

When you’re at the top, you take lanes right next to each other. As you sit there, waiting to be pushed down, you look out at the festival, mesmerized by all the pretty lights.

“If I win this race, you buy me hot chocolate,” you say to Soobin, looking over at him. He meets your eyes and laughs.

“And if I win, you buy me hot chocolate?” You shake your head.

“You’re buying either way.”

“I literally brought you here.” You’re about to argue back, but then it’s time to go.

He gets to the end first, of course.

“I win,” he says the second you get to the bottom, next to him. You roll your eyes, pretending to be hurt. “I hope you brought your credit card.”

The two of you grab your tubes, pulling them back to the stack at the side. You don’t let him take yours this time.

“Can I interest you in a hug instead?” You ask, as the two of you leave the ride, walking back to the other carnival rides.

“That works too.” He stops walking, so you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms immediately go around your waist. The first thing you notice is how good he smells, but then you realize that’s creepy and push the thought out of your mind.

“Are you going to let go or-” Soobin whispers after a few seconds. You wrap your arms around him tighter.

“I’m cold.” He laughs, pulling you closer. After a few more moments, you pull away. As you let you go, Soobin keeps his arms around you. When you make eye contact with him, you start to feel anxious again. He’s not looking away.

You realize how easy it would be to just stand on your tip toes and give him a quick kiss. You wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

“Ferris wheel?” You say awkwardly, trying to break the moment. If you stay there any longer, you’ll lose your mind. You’ve thought about kissing Soobin too much over the past few years. The thought of it actually happening is too much to process right now.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your hand, pulling you in that direction. Thankfully there aren’t too many people around, so the line isn’t long.

You get into your seats, facing each other. As the ferris wheel starts to move, Soobin takes your hands in his.

“Are you still cold?” You shake your head.

“I’m much better now.”

“Good,” he says, squeezing your hands, “I still need to get you that drink before we leave.”

“We have to leave?” You say it without even thinking. It makes Soobin laugh.

“It’s almost 9:30 y/n, your parents will kill me if I don’t get you home at a reasonable time.” You roll your eyes at that.

“Promise you’ll take me on another date soon.”

“I will.” You’re surprised at how quickly he responds. “I really like you, y/n.”

“I really like you too, Soobin.” He smiles at that, which makes you smile too. You don’t know how you managed to land someone as adorable as him, but you know better than to question it.

“You do?” He asks, teasing you. You might be imagining it, but it seems like he’s leaning towards you.

“I do,” you reply, instinctively leaning forward as well. You pray he makes the first move, because you’re too nervous to do it yourself.

He holds your gaze for a few seconds. That’s when you realize he’s as nervous as you are.

“Soobin-”

“What are you thinking?” He cuts you off.

“Kiss me already,” you reply right away.

“If you say so,” he laughs. A second later, his lips are on yours. You close your eyes, trying to remember everything about this moment. You can’t believe how perfect your day has been, and now you’re having your first kiss at the top of a ferris wheel. It’s like a fairytale.

When he moves away, you pull him back for one more kiss. You can feel him smiling against your lips, which makes your heart flutter.

When you lean back, you suddenly realize the ride is ending soon. Your eyes must go wide because Soobin asks if you’re okay. He seems extremely concerned.

“Should I not have done that?” You shake your head, as the ferris wheel starts to slow down.

“You definitely should have,” you reassure him. “We just have to get off soon.”

Soobin looks confused for a second, glancing around. When he sees the rest of the carnival rides in the distance, he seems to realize. He must be as flustered by the kiss as you are.

The ride comes to a complete stop and the operator opens the door for you. With Soobin’s hand in yours, you step out, saying a quick thanks as you do.

“Should I take you home now?” He asks, as you head in the general direction of the entrance.

“I suppose,” you sigh, linking your arm in his. “I wish I could stay with you a little longer.”

“Me too,” he responds. “But I don’t want your parents to hate me.”

“That’s a good point.”

“I’m going to be around for a while, so I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.” That makes you stop in your tracks. Soobin stops too. “What?”

“You’re going to be around for a while?” You ask quietly. He avoids your eyes.

“I mean, I’d like to be,” his voice sounds hesitant. “If you want.”

“Of course I do,” you tell him. “I adore you.”

Soobin bends down to give you another kiss. You feel a lot more at ease this time.

“I adore you too.” You grin at that. “So when are we going skating again?”

[juyeoniemyhoney]

Die In Your Arms

As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

or

If you could just die in Juyeon's arms, you wouldn't mind.

-pairing: lee juyeon x reader

-genre: idol!juyeon, established relationship, fluff, like SO much fluff

-warnings: oc is having a life crisis and is indecisive af, some mentions of anxiety,

-word count: 1865 words

-A/N: hey guys! this my first ever fanfic for the boyz so i hope you like it! i got into them christmas last year and fell absolutely in love with juyeon. recently, i've been in my feels but juyeon and the boyz have really been keeping me happy so i decided to write this! i will continue to write for bts and start writing for all the other groups i stan so please look out for that!

--------

You know, when you say the world hates you, you really mean it hates you.

The worst part is that it hates you in the most painful way possible, by inflicting you with indecisiveness, with a deep-rooted anxiousness abut everything, with the incessant habit of losing interest in everything you take up within months. And it is not like you can blame the world for the problems you have, since it always looks mostly self-inflicted. So what do you do? You cry, of course. Because if no one will take pity on you, you sure as hell will.

And that is how Juyeon finds you sobbing on his couch over a goddamn piece of paper.

When Juyeon finds that the light in his kitchenette has been turned on, he is not surprised. When he sees your figure lying on the couch, back faced to him, he is not surprised either. When you turn to look at him when he calls your name and he sees the tears spilling from your eyes, however, is when a gasp leaves his lips and he drops everything to rush to your side.

"Y/N," he coos, dropping to his knees so that his face is level with yours, hand immediately coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping at the tears that slip from your pretty eyes.

Through the blur of your tears, you see the way he looks at you, eyes soft and gentle, almost like he can feel the pain you are going through, like he hurts when you do. The hand he has on your cheek is grounding and comforting and warm, and you feel yourself calm down a little. Because Juyeon is here and he is with you and as long as he is here, everything is going to be okay.

"What's wrong, baby," he coos again, both hands now cupping your face, swiping at your cheeks and tucking away wisps of hair that fall into your face. You begin to sit up and Juyeon's hands follow your face with you, chasing after you like if his hands left your cheeks for even a second, the dam would break again and you would burst back into sobs.

"Juyeon," you almost whine, and you hate how your voice sounds, high pitched and annoying and so unlike how it usually is. Juyeon is surprised at how you are whining too but it sparks a protectiveness inside of him and he can't help but smile because you are just the cutest person on earth.

You open up your arms when you sit up properly, gesturing for Juyeon to hug you. He does not.

Instead, he grabs the blanket that has been draped across the back of the couch and swathes you with it, wraps you up all warm and tight until you can barely move. Then, he sits on the couch and carries you so that you sit on his lap and he cradles you like you are a baby, rocking you back and forth and every time you get close to his face, he places a kiss on your cheek or your lips or your forehead and sends you the prettiest, biggest grin that has his eyes smiling and his lips stretching in the prettiest way possible.

"What are you doing," you say with a small laugh, and you suddenly realised that you've stopped crying.

"I'm making you feel better, my big baby," Juyeon replies, eyes glinting with mischief, smile gentle and words soft despite his teasing. And you feel your heart leap in your chest and your lips fall into a admiring pout. You have the best boyfriend in the world and it is not just because he is sweet and comforting and gentle. It's because he's Juyeon. And you have to thank the heavens and every single star that has brought you together because Lord knows that you'd be a mess if it weren't for this tall, sweet boy with the prettiest smile and the kindest eyes.

"Did you read some sad fanfic about me again," he teases, grinning down at you. And for some reason, you are brought back to reality. It is as if you'd miraculously forgotten that your boyfriend has a full time job. As an idol. You forget that he's just come home from a gruelling practice that has left him exhausted and sticky with sweat. And he probably does not want to deal with this; to deal with you when he's just been ground to the bone and all he wants to do is shower and lie in his bed and rest before he has to wake up hours later and do it all over again. He does not, he should not have to deal with you. And yet he does.

"No," you laugh, pausing to consider your words. "Juyeon, why don't you go take a shower first, hmm?" you suggest, wiggling your hand out of the blanket to rake it through his mussed hair, trailing your fingers down to tuck the longer strands behind his ear, then to his jaw, and finally to his chin to pull him down for a peck, to which he indulges you in.

"Why? Do I smell?" he asks a little self-consciously, face dropping into a worried frown. And you laugh because Juyeon may be holding you like you are a newborn baby, but sometimes he is so gullible and innocent you wonder if he is the true child.

"No," you reply. In all honesty, he still smells of his lavender and aloe body wash and his vanilla scented shampoo remains redolent in his otherwise sweaty hair. Juyeon looks at you then, with a questioning look, silently urging you for an explanation.

"I just— Aren't you tired? You can deal with me later," you say, already beginning to lift yourself from his arms. But Juyeon does not allow you so, frowning sternly at you and locking you in his arms.

"No, that can wait. You're sad and I need to know why otherwise I can't help you. I know you don't like depending on people. But depend on me.".

You open your mouth to protest but nothing comes out. You want to say, "I can depend on you later, Juyeon! You come first!" but you know that it will end up to nothing. Juyeon is uncannily stubborn when it comes to things like these. He always puts you first and it frustrates you to no end when you want to do the same for him but he just won't let you.

"I just don't know if I want to become a writer, or a doctor, or a nurse," you tell him instead, sitting up in his lap so that his arm supporting your back does not get tired. But it's so uncomfortable so you shift and shift and shift until you find yourself sitting on the couch, legs thrown over Juyeon's thighs, arms around his waist and head leaning on his shoulder, the blanket now covering both of you.

To be frank, you don't even know if Juyeon can help you with this problem you are facing right now. Juyeon has always known he wanted to become an idol. It has been his dream for years and years and he has never experienced the dilemma you face right now so you're not even sure he can sympathise with you. Sure, he can comfort you and he can give you advice but in the end you'll still have to make the decision yourself and that fact terrifies you down to your very bones.

"Okay, well," Juyeon starts out. You can tell he's unsure about how to go about this. It is evident in the way he picks and chooses his words carefully, scared he'll say something wrong, or something to offend you. And though he is scared, you suppose you aren't, fully trusting in the three more years of wisdom Juyeon has on you.

"Well, I suppose you have to see which one makes your heart flutter the most," he continues, tilting his head so that it rests on top of yours. "You have to figure out which one you'd rather do for the rest of your life."

The one thing that makes my heart flutter most is you, you think. But you quickly dispel those thoughts from your brain with a scolding. Juyeon is trying his best to help you, you should not be thinking these things.

"Well, I suppose writing makes my heart flutter the most," you say with a smile, just the thought of being able to put your imagination into words sparking a sense of motivation within you. But the spark quickly dies out with your smile when you realise and voice out, "But I can totally see myself being a doctor for the rest of my life."

Juyeon hums in thought before saying, "Well, don't you want to help people? Why don't you try for nursing?"

You give it a thought, a long thought that stretches out the silence between the two of you, full of thought and deliberation. In the silence, Juyeon gently moves his arm to your waist, gingerly patting a rhythm into the skin there, waiting patiently as you navigate your maze of thoughts.

"Okay," you finally say after minutes of deliberation. In your silence, Juyeon had unconsciously fallen asleep and your sudden agreement to his suggestion wakes him from his slumber with a jolt.

"You'll try nursing?" he asks, a grin already colouring his voice. You pull away from his shoulder so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-closed and you can tell he is still trying to keep awake. The grin he wears is tired but genuine and you start to feel your heart rap at your ribcage. He looks like an overtired kitten and you can't help but coo as your hands move to cup his cheeks.

"Yeah, I will. I'll still be doing biology, which I love. But I won't be quite as busy as I would be if I was a doctor. So I'd hopefully still have time to write," you explain and his grin widens.

"Okay, Bubs. I'm proud of you," he tells you as he nuzzles into your palms, fizzling something sweet in your chest at the sight. "And even if you hate every second of it, I'll be here with you, okay? And you can always change your decision," he continues.

"Just because I decided I really wanted to become an idol early in my life doesn't mean you have to decide so quickly too. Everyone's different; you're different. So don't worry too much, okay?"

Your chest warms and your heart soars and you feel like you can breathe again, like you were drowning in the ocean and the waves have finally spat you back onto dry land. You crash back into Juyeon's arms, burying your face into his neck as gratitude spills from you in words and the tightness with which you are holding him.

That's right. As long as you have Juyeon everything will be fine. Because anything that the world throws your way, you can depend on him to guide you and love you and comfort you until nothing hurts anymore, until everything makes sense, until you can face a new day. And it is without a doubt that you'll do exactly the same for him.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 21

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“Hi,” she greets him as he walks in the door, “I have something for you.”

She’s perched in the armchair, a smile that’s coy and playful curling the corners of her mouth. He gives her a curious smirk as he slips off his shoes and overcoat.

“Okay, like a gift?” he asks, crossing the room to plant a kiss on her lips, stealing another to enjoy the warm feeling of her mouth against his, which is chilled from the wintery air outside.

She shakes her head as he goes into the bedroom, changing into sweats and a T-shirt.

“You’re going to have to find it,” she calls from the other room, and he smiles to himself.

This is his favorite version of her; playful and flirtatious, quick to smile and laugh. He loves all aspects of her personality, but the rarity of this one makes it feel special. She almost never acts this way in front of anyone else, even her family; it feels like it’s just for him. He moves to stand at the threshold of the living room, leaning against the wall.

“Are you going to give me a hint?” he asks, and she considers the question with a thinking man pose.

“Well, I will tell you that right now you are very, very, cold,” she finally says.

His eyebrows lift in understanding and he walks back into the bedroom.

“Colder!” she calls, and he moves to the kitchen.

“Still cold.”

He walks to her desk.

“Mmm, slightly warmer.”

Next he steps close to the fireplace.

“A little warmer.”

He turns to look at her and narrows his eyes. He takes a step towards her.

“Oh, warmer.”

He stands directly in front of her chair.

“Getting hot,” she says with a playful lilt to her voice.

He drops to his knees between her legs.

“Very, very hot.”

He slips his fingers into the waistband of her pants.

“On fire,” She says with a smile.

He moves to pull her pants down and the tips of his fingers meet with something foreign near the top of her thigh. He quirks his head quizzically, fitting his whole hand into her pant leg and pulling out two long strips of cardstock. Airline tickets.

“How do you feel about a California Christmas?” she asks hopefully, and he looks at the tickets to see that the destination is San Diego, December 22nd.

He knew that she and her mother had been talking about flying out to see Bill for the holiday, but he’d assumed that he’d be left at home.

“What about Priscilla?” he asks, both touched that she wants to include him in her family’s celebration and nervous about meeting her older brother, who he understands will hate him by default.

“We can ask the Gunmen to look after her,” she offers. “Unless you don’t want to come with me?”

He can tell by her tone that it’s not meant to be a way for him to opt out, but a test of his willingness to go. She clearly wants him to.

“Of course I want to go with you,” he replies, moving close and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I will admit to being a little worried about meeting your brother, and in his home, on his turf.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry too much about Bill. Missy and Charlie are going, and Mom of course, and they love you. I know Tara will too. So even if he does pull the big brother card and give you a hard time, we have strength in numbers.”

“Is Byers going?” he asks hopefully, and she shakes her head. “Missy only just barely told Mom about him. It’s too soon for them.”

“But not for us?” he asks with the smile he reserves for the times when she alludes to the seriousness of their commitment.

She shakes her head slowly. “Not for us,” she says.

———

“Oh my god, I’m going to lose my mind, Mulder.”

She’s pacing around the apartment, putting things into different piles and open suitcases, her level of stress palpable in the air.

“Honey, stop for a second,” he says, grabbing her by the shoulders and dipping his head to meet her eye. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs, waiting as she does so. “We don’t need to leave for the airport for another twelve hours,” he says, keeping his own tone calm and level to counter hers, “we have plenty of time to pack.”

“It’s not just the packing, Mulder, this entire week was a nightmare. Everything I was hoping to accomplish before this trip was waylaid in one way or another; I missed my doctor’s appointment because of an emergency autopsy and forgot to reschedule it before they closed on Friday, Trudy was out sick half the week so I had to absorb her workload, the dry cleaners lost the dress I was going to bring for Christmas Eve mass, Priscilla is out of food AND litter, and I can’t find my earplugs for the plane,” she rattles off.

He pulls her into a hug, feeling her relax a bit with the contact.

“I will go pick up cat food, litter and earplugs,” he says, pulling away to look at her again, “and I’ll remind you to call the doctor tomorrow and reschedule. Wear that blue dress with the little flowers on it to mass, it looks beautiful on you. And try to breathe,” he finishes, giving her a sympathetic smile.

She forces a small smile onto her mouth and takes another deep breath. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

He pours her a big glass of wine before bundling himself up against the cold and venturing out into the December night.

———

She glances at Mulder intermittently, watching for signs of overwhelm. She knows that coming from a small, dysfunctional family means that he’s not accustomed to the type of gathering they are currently entrenched in; the entire Scully clan plus Tara’s parents and brother, and several members of their church. He seems to be faring okay, sipping a beer while talking sports with Charlie and a few others.

As nervous as he’d been about meeting Bill, he was well prepared. Scully directed him to speak highly of the Chargers while eviscerating the Patriots, and to go easy on the PDA. While they aren’t exactly best friends, Bill doesn’t seem to actively dislike him, and they are calling that a win.

She’d fully expected them to be set up in separate rooms given Bill’s traditional family values, but the number of people who needed to be housed made that impractical. They ended up relegated to the guest room and a single twin bed, though the enormous stack of pillows and blankets arranged on it suggest that one of them is expected to make a bed on the floor. They don’t do that, of course, instead sleeping nested together like spoons, Mulder continuously making half-hearted attempts at getting frisky while she laughs and slaps his hand away.

They are dressed for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, Scully in her flowered blue dress and Mulder in one of his typical weekday suits. They sit in the pew between Mom and Charlie, hands clasped chastely on the bench between them, suppressing giggles as he leans over to warn her that he is at risk of bursting into flame. He traces patterns on her palm with his index finger and she realizes at some point that they are letters. She concentrates, trying to understand his message, expecting it to be ‘I love you’ or something similarly sweet. When she puts together that he is spelling out ‘sex tonight?’ she looks over at him with wide eyes and then purses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing, doing her best to glare at him.

They file sleepily through the door at nearly 2am, quietly going off into their respective bedrooms and pull-out couches, hoping to get some rest before Christmas festivities in the morning. Scully quickly brushes her teeth and washes her face before darting to the bedroom, wriggling under the covers and pressing her back against Mulder, her cold toes brushing against his shins.

“Hm, you’re cold,” he says softly, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

“Thanks for going to mass,” she whispers back, “it meant a lot to my mom to have all of us there.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” he answers, his breath hot on her neck, “it’s nice to feel like a part of a real family.”

She threads her fingers through his where they rest on her belly, squeezing his hand. She tries to go to sleep, but his chest rising and falling against her back and the heat of his groin tucked against her backside are distracting. She wiggles a little bit against him.

“Hmmm,” he responds, thrusting his hips against her gently.

She swore that she was not going to have sex at her brother’s house. She knows that they can go without for the week they are here. But as she feels him grow hard against her ass, the throbbing between her legs suggests otherwise. No doubt it’s exacerbated by the forbidden nature of the situation; the door doesn’t have a lock and the house is quiet and still, though packed with enough ears that the risk of being heard is high. When his lips press against the back of her neck, she knows she’s done for.

She reaches behind herself to slip her hand into his pajama pants, stroking him firmly as he breathes hard into her ear, suppressing the groan that she knows would normally result from her touch. He pushes his pants down to his knees with one hand, then hurriedly brings hers down as well. She emits a small gasp when he slips inside her, simultaneously pushing his hand under her pajama top to squeeze her breast.

“Jesus fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers harshly in her ear, and she wants to make a joke about not taking the lord’s name in vain on his birthday but when he starts pumping in and out deliciously slowly, the thought slips from her mind.

If he moves too quickly the bed squeaks, so he keeps a languid pace as he pinches her nipples and kisses her neck, then slides his hand down to play with her clit in the tight space between her legs, which are still pinned together by the pajama pants around her knees. It feels incredible, and yet the necessary slowness and need to stay quiet make her wonder if she will be able to come. As if intuiting this, Mulder withdraws momentarily, sitting up and freeing her top leg from her pants, then lies back down and hitches her ankle behind his knee; her favorite position. He pulls the blanket back over them for warmth and modesty, though if anyone were to walk in now they’d have no chance of plausible deniability. With more room to move, he resumes his slow strokes and pairs them with hard and fast circles around her clit, murmuring little affirmations into her ear so softly she can barely hear them, much less anyone else. The vibration of his voice, the slip of his cock, the rough brush of his fingers, all come together in crescendo as she stiffens in his arms, turning to muffle her cries against his mouth as she comes. Now able to focus on his own release, he continues to pump slowly, pressing his face into her neck and letting out a low growl as she feels him throbbing inside her.

He slips quietly out of the bed, retrieving one of his dirty T shirts and swiping it between her legs before he pulls her pajama pants back into place. They get comfortable again, the sexual tension that had prevented them from relaxing before now dissipated.

He kisses her cheek softly, murmuring “Merry Christmas, Scully,” into her ear just before she drifts off to sleep.

In the morning, they sit around the lit tree, drinking coffee and eating pastries as they shake off sleep.

“Is your house haunted, Bill?” Charlie asks, and Bill gives him a doubtful look. “I swear I heard some weird noises, like creaking and whispering, I felt like I was in a horror movie,” Charlie defends.

Scully hides her face behind her coffee cup, glancing over to see Missy giving her a pointed look.

“I’m sure it was just the Christmas spirit,” Maggie says jovially. “Who wants to open presents?!”

[secretlittlerandezvous]

Explanations - Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Y/n is an actress and the press likes to share rumors about her. One day Matthew sees pictures of her, and some other guy and he decides that making her jealous is the best way to deal with things.

Note: Requested by my love and written with love for my @star-gazing-game 💘

Words: 2150

Nothing was going right. Ever since Matthew woke up in the morning troubles seemed to follow him everywhere. He spilled hot coffee all over himself, burned his hand while preparing his breakfast, forgot his hockey gear on the way to the ice rink and when he returned home for it, he got stuck in traffic. Y/n was coming home after a few weeks of living in New York and he was strangely nervous about it though he had no reason to worry. Things were great between them; he was crazy for her and it seemed like she was crazy for him as well. But he felt like he needed to do something special to welcome her home but didn’t know what. She didn’t even like surprises.

When he returned home, this time hopefully for good he decided it’d be for his best to just sit down and watch tv and do nothing. He wasn’t the type to sit around and be lazy but from time to time he needed a break and he certainly deserved some rest after the morning’s events.

“Actress Y/n L/n was spotted out and about in New York and it sparked some exciting news,” Matthew immediately turned up the volume of the tv when he heard his girlfriend’s name and with excitement watched the news. “Y/n was spotted with her co-worker and they seemed to be pretty close. The actress hinted a relationship a few weeks ago and ever since then, the fans wanted to know who the lucky and mysterious guy was. Well, they look pretty good together what do you think guys?”

Matthew stared at the screen in shock, the color drained from his face, he had trouble breathing and he felt heartbreaking pain as he scanned the pictures carefully. There she was, Y/n, his girlfriend and her co-worker happily walking around the streets of New York, hand in hand and smiling widely at each other. In one picture it seemed like he leaned down to kiss her cheek but to protect himself Matthew decided the guy probably just whispered something into her ear. Matthew was doing his best to stay calm and not to panic, surely there was an explanation to this situation, and he wanted to believe they were just close friends and nothing more. But the harder he tried the more doubts and questions came to his mind and after a while he found himself questioning every moment from their meeting to this crushing moment.

Y/n and Matthew met almost four months ago during a Christmas event in Calgary, a common friend introduced them, and they hit it off right away. It wasn’t love at first sight, but they found each other familiar as if they met before. They shared common interests and the same opinions on dozens of different things, he made her feel safe and calm which was new for her because whenever she was seeing someone she became a nervous wreck and she could never relax and she made Matthew laugh like no other girl before. Matthew asked Y/n to be his girlfriend just two weeks after they met, and she jumped around his neck and kissed him hundreds of times before she said yes. Quite nervously she then asked Matthew if they could keep their relationship private for a while. Y/n wanted the media to focus on her new movies and not on her love life and she was worried that once the media would found out about it they would do their absolute best to dig up some dirt on both of them. Matthew understood her reasons and he agreed. Y/n was relieved he was so understanding, and Matthew was glad because he himself wanted to keep it lowkey to avoid unnecessary drama.

But now he saw things in a completely different light. What if he was just a distraction, a replacement, and someone to have fun with when she was in Canada and her real boyfriend was waiting for her in the states? What if she wanted to keep their relationship a secret so she could have fun with anyone without being caught? He wanted to call her and confront her, send her the pictures, and ask for an explanation and at the same time, he wanted to pretend she didn’t exist and forget about her.

That evening Matthew decided to have a good time. If she could hang out with other men, he certainly could do the same. It was Friday, they had no game and the boys gladly accepted his invitation to go to a club. He had various reasons to go there. The main one was to make Y/n jealous. He knew there was a high chance of pictures and videos of him having fun with other girls would appear across social media. Another reason was to drown his sorrows in alcohol and another one was to have at least a little bit of fun that day. The music was sensual and loud, the club was crowded to the absolute maximum and as soon as the girls found out he was a hockey player they were all over him. Exactly what he needed.

Especially one girl caught his eyes. A girl with golden skin that glowed in the neon lights, her brown curly hair framed her face nicely and her eyes were full of lust and she shamelessly flirted with him and hinted a few times she was available if he was interested. With each sip of his drink, he got closer to her until she was pressed against his body completely and they danced like one person. He liked it and to his horror, he enjoyed every move, every touch, and every smile she gave him. She was tempting him, and he had a hard time resisting her. And maybe because she noticed something was holding him back or maybe she was just tired of waiting she grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled him down closer to her, and eagerly kissed him. He didn’t kiss her back at first, but she didn’t stop, and he soon wrapped his hands around her neck and kissed her back.

“Finally,” she murmured against his mouth with a satisfied smile and continued kissing him until he pulled away and took a few steps back. “What?”

“Sorry. I’m sorry this was a mistake.” He hoped she would forgive him because he didn’t like it when someone was angry at him, but it was too late. She was already angry and mostly disappointed she wasn’t going home with him.

Matthew said goodbye to the boys, called a taxi, and wanted to get home as fast as possible. He couldn’t wait to go to bed and forget about the whole day. The next day Y/n would arrive, she would explain the pictures to him, and they would continue in their relationship as if nothing happened.

The following morning Y/n arrived in Calgary, called, and texted Matthew a million times but he wasn’t responding. The plan was to go to his apartment immediately but after she learned about his last night’s affair, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see him. The curiosity however won, and she decided to go to his place and demand a reasonable explanation for his actions. Her whole body hurt, her hands were shaking, and she had a hard time holding the tears back. Y/n was on the plane, on her way to Calgary when she opened Snapchat and saw stories from one of his teammates. At first, she laughed at Matt’s silly dance moves, but the smile quickly disappeared when she saw the video of Matthew and some girl dancing body on body. Y/n was willing to forgive him for the dancing, but it was the heated kiss she couldn’t ignore. The kiss that broke her heart.

“Y/n?” Matthew was surprised when he opened the door and found her standing there. Sad and tired. He himself just woke up, his head hurt badly and the regrets of last night were taking over him slowly but surely. “Oh my - I’m sorry I completely forgot. Come in.”

She didn’t even look at him and with doubts entered his apartment. The welcome was cold. Y/n imagined there would be music playing, a breakfast waiting for her, and most importantly she couldn’t wait to see his open arms and hug him. “Care to explain this?” She said loudly with all seriousness and showed Matthew the video of him and the girl.

Matthew’s face got even paler, he felt sicker than before and he couldn’t believe he did it last night. But then he remembered the reason he did it and decided to fight back because he wasn’t going to let her yell at him when she wasn’t innocent. “I’ll explain it but first you should explain this me this?” He said and reached for his phone and showed her the pictures that haunted him. “Maybe this is the real reason you wanted to keep our relationship a secret?”

“Oh god,” Y/n laughed. “Seriously? And you believe this? We did a movie together for God’s sake! These pictures are from a scene, the last scene we shot. The paparazzi sold them to the media as hot news, as if they caught us in real life which is utter bullshit!”

“Really?” He asked but it was more from the relief that she most likely wasn’t cheating on him.

“Yes, yes really!” She yelled. “I can’t believe you believed it! And that you thought I would do this to you! And you didn’t even have the guts to ask me about it.”

“Y/n, baby I’m sorry alright? I am. I panicked, I was jealous, and I acted like a complete asshole.” He admitted. “I wanted to make you jealous, but I never meant to take it this far I swear. I pulled away from her because I quickly realized it was a mistake and I rushed home.”

She was angry and hurt but too tired and very happy to be finally with him that she couldn’t help but forgave him almost right away. Y/n knew him, she knew he acted foolishly whenever something bothered him, and she could tell he truly regretted it.

“Alright,” she nodded and then rested her head on his chest, wrapped her hands tightly around him, and looked at him with love and no anger. Y/n wasn’t going to lose him, especially not because of some rumors and the press or because of some random girl in a club.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered once again and kissed her forehead. His hand found hers and they intertwined their fingers and squeezed them tightly.

He kissed her once more this time on her lips, just a gentle and loving kiss before he pulled her into his lap so she sat on him and he pressed his head against her shoulder, hiding in the corner of her neck and shoulder and pressing gently kissed on her soft skin. Y/n let out a deep breath and released all emotions at once and she finally relaxed and threw all her problems away. His heart was beating faster, and she felt butterflies in her stomach and they both felt relieved to be finally in each other’s arms. Y/n could never hold a grudge against someone for too long, but she knew Matthew didn’t deserve such quick forgiveness. But what was he supposed to do? She was too happy to be with him and she understood his feelings but he still should’ve asked her instead of chasing girls at a club to make her jealous. Matthew sensed the confusion and he was ready to do whatever it would take to deserve the forgiveness.

“What can I do baby?” He whispered.

Y/n shook her head in response because she didn’t have enough strength to talk. Matthew stroked her hair and held her close to him worried she would leave him.

“I promise I didn’t want to take it this far,” he started explaining. “I wanted to have some fun, but this was not supposed to happen.”

“I know,” she whispered and smiled at him.

“You’re the most precious person I know, and I hate that I did this to you,” he said with a hope she would melt under his words. “And I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

His hand then cupped her face, stroked the soft skin of her cheek making her look him in the eyes so she would know he was being honest and in the next moment he leaned closer and kissed her. Y/n truly melted under his words and mostly under his touch and she decided that all the love she felt for him was stronger than her hurt ego and she could always deal with it later. But that day she allowed herself to be happy and to enjoy being back with her loving boyfriend.

[elliestormfound]

Witcher Secret Santa

Dear @linx1457

this is your secret Santa! I wish you merry christmas and hope you enjoy your gift!

@thewitchersecretsanta

Geralt/Jaskier modern au, roommates, mutual pining, 1854 words

CW: none, just fluff and pinging with a happy end

read on ao3

--------- “I told you not to go in my room and I told you not to touch my stuff,” Geralt said, looking at his new roommate.

Geralt worked as a tour guide for the local national park. During the colder months less tourists visited and his wage hardly covered his rent. His brother Lambert had suggested he take on a roommate and posted an ad for him in the local newspaper. 

But most of the people that had answered the ad had been weird or downright creepy and he had lost all hope till a musician called. Jaskier - that was his name - was new in town and wanted to gain a foothold in the big city. He needed to stay somewhere cheap for a couple of months till he could afford his own apartment. 

Geralt had invited him over and even though he had not been sure if someone so outgoing would clash with his more reserved nature, he had somehow been convinced that it would work out.

But now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Who even has real steel swords?” Jaskier asked, “I thought they were cheap imitations from the ren faire…” They were standing in Geralt’s room where his two heavy swords had crashed down from where they were supposed to hang on the wall.

“They are from an actual blacksmith,” Geralt said through gritted teeth, and more quietly, “from the ren faire.”

Jaskier laughed, “so I was right!”

“That is not the point!” Geralt growled and bent down to pick them up.

---------

It had been the 18th ad he had called for a room and when the man with the gravelly voice answered, Jaskier had been instantly smitten. And when the man with the deep voice turned out to be illegally handsome and accepted him as a roommate the musician was in heaven.

And at the same time he knew that it was a bad idea to pine after someone you lived with. He had experience with that. Bad experience.

So he tried his best to keep his yearning under control. But on some days it was particularly hard. Like today with the swords. 

Jaskier knew he shouldn’t go into Geralt’s room, but he had lost the charger of his phone. So he snuck in when Geralt was at work. His eyes had been caught by the reflection on the blades of the swords on Geralt’s wall. 

When he had first saw them after he moved in he had been a bit concerned - who the fuck had swords??? But Geralt had told him that he used to work as a stunt choreographer for sword fighting.

Jaskier had walked over and brushed along the blade with his index finger. And the fucking swords had fallen to the ground with a loud crash. In the exact moment Geralt had returned from work.

After Geralt chided him, Jaskier grabbed one of the swords to occupy his shaking hands and the adonis that was his roommate had the audacity to stand very close behind him and take his hand in the most tender way and fucking breathe on his neck. 

He knew that he couldn’t have stopped himself from kissing the bastard and pushing him on the bed if he had stayed a moment longer, so he made some shady excuse and practically ran into his room to play some music to calm down. 

----------

Over the last few weeks Geralt got used to living with Jaskier. He would never admit it out loud but it was actually very nice that someone was there when he came home from work. He especially loved the days when Jaskier cooked. Opening the door to their apartment and being greeted by the delicious smell of lasagna was something he could get used to.

“I’m home,” he called down the hallway and suppressed a smile when Jaskier answered, “then get in the kitchen, darling, dinner is almost ready.”

After he had put away his jacket and boots he walked over and stopped in the doorframe to take in the kitchen. Jaskier was a great cook - his food always tasted fucking amazing. But the utter chaos he left in his wake was honestly impressive. Dirty pots and pans were stacked in the sink, little red spots of (hopefully) tomato sauce decorated the tiles behind the stove and at least five different packages of spices stood open on the counter. 

Geralt sighed quietly but knew that the lasagna would be worth the clean up later.

---------

Jaskier’s mother had told him that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. So he occasionally cooked for Geralt. 

Of course he didn’t cook FOR Geralt. He cooked for himself and made too much so Geralt could eat with him. At least that is what he told his roommate. Today it was lasagna. 

He smiled when he heard the key turn in the lock and Geralt calling out that he was home. He yelled, “then get in the kitchen, darling.” It had been funny to watch Geralt’s reactions to his frequent use of pet names. Jaskier had reassured him that he did that with every one of his friends, but to be honest, at least to himself - darling was reserved only for Geralt. 

“How was your day?” he asked, as his roommate stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Jaskier had just put the parmesan on the lasagna and made sure to angle his ass in the perfect line of sight for Geralt as he bent forward to put the lasagna in the oven. 

He smirked as he stood back up and turned around to find Geralt blushing. He cleared his throat before he said, “good, not many tourists in the park today. I gave a tour to a family and cleaned some garbage that campers had left behind.”

Jaskier smiled and said, “and then you come home to this?” He turned around and looked at the mess he had created.

“At least I get dinner here,” Geralt replied and walked over to the cupboard to get out plates. He set the table and sat down to watch Jaskier pour two glasses of red wine. 

Jaskier’s cheeks were flushed from the cooking and his brown hair was tousled. On the apron he was wearing ‘KISS THE COOK’ stood in bold letters. Geralt had to shake his head because his roommate looked very kissable right now. 

---------

“Fuck,” Geralt said as he hit the TV. There was only a static noise and a corresponding image that was not unlike the view of the snowstorm outside. No matter to which channel he switched, the results were the same. 

“What are you ranting about, darling?” Jaskier asked as he walked into their living room. He was wearing one of Geralt’s hoodies and his own ridiculous pyjama bottoms. At least he had told Geralt they were pyjama bottoms, but they actually were illegally tight fitting booty shorts that had “flower twink” written on the ass.

“There will be no movie night today,” Geralt said, hitting the offending electrical device for one more time, “the fucking snowstorm has cut off the tv.”

Jaskier moaned sadly and pouted expertly. It was not only pursed lips. It was a full body pout with furrowed brows, round puppy eyes first looking down and then slowly up through his lashes, shoulders hunched forward, arms hanging limply down by his sides and one foot drawing circles with his toes in the soft carpet. 

Geralt believed that his roommate secretly practised this and he had to admit in the privacy of his own mind that it worked every damn time on him. But sadly this time he couldn’t do anything about it. 

But then Jaskier’s face lit up with a smile and he said, “Geralt, I have an idea -” Geralt groaned quietly because Jaskier’s ‘ideas’ rarely ended well, but his roommate ignored his nonverbal protests, “- do you remember when I went to the flea market the other day? I bought an old VHS recorder and a video cassette.”

“Why the fuck did you buy that?” Geralt asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Be thankful, Geralt, it will save movie night!” Jaskier called as he turned on his heel in search of the old recorder.

-----

It did not save movie night. The video recorder did in fact work, which wasn’t short of a miracle for that old thing, but the video cassette Jaskier had bought with it was not a movie. 

“How could I have known that ‘fireplace romance’ is not a movie?” Jaskier said, eyeing the case.

“You could have read the description,” Geralt grumbled as he looked at the tv screen that showed a fireplace with a delightfully burning fire and nothing more. For four hours. 

Jaskier sat down on the couch that was facing the tv and patted the space next to him.

“Come on, it’s better than nothing!”

Before putting the tape in the recorder they had set up everything for movie night: popcorn, hot chocolates with the tiny marshmallows swimming in them and a bowl of gummy bears. 

-----------

They had sat like this for a while, talking about work and Jaskier’s next gig in a coffee shop around the corner. Somehow, without Geralt noticing him moving, Jaskier had come closer to him and was now pressed to his side. It felt good.

Jaskier took a sip of his hot chocolate and turned to his roommate.

“Geralt, what do you think about…” but he stopped as he saw Geralt smirking and looking at his lips.

“What?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Geralt cocked his head and said quietly in his deep voice, “you have something on your lip.”

Jaskier frowned and asked, “where?”

Geralt gestured for his own lip and Jaskier tried to imitate him, but he missed the spot of chocolate. 

“Can you help me?” he asked, leaning a bit closer to him.

Geralt’s mouth was suddenly dry and he swallowed. Jaskier’s face was so close to his now that he could see all the tiny freckles that had faded during winter, but were still visible up close. He blinked and finally reached over. 

Gently he placed his palm on Jaskier’s hot cheek and felt him leaning slightly into the touch. Slowly he stroked his thumb over Jaskier’s lower lip to remove the chocolate that clung to it.

He could feel Jaskier breathing in deeper right before he opened his mouth just a bit and Geralt could feel his warm breath on his thumb. 

A heartbeat later Geralt threw all restraint and explanations why he shouldn’t do it overboard, and said in a hoarse whisper, “I really...i really want to kiss you right now.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened before a soft smile played over his lips.

Jaskier leaned forward to close the gap between them and kissed him. In that moment Geralt couldn’t remember why he had been convinced that kissing Jaskier was a bad idea because it was the best thing he had ever felt.

The kiss started slow and soft, almost chaste but when Geralt wanted to lean back he felt Jaskier’s hand in his hair, pulling him back into the kiss.

[wellbafineline]

a very styles christmas

a/n Im aware this is the most cheesy title that i could’ve picked for this fic but pls forgive me this is the only thing i could think of 

I don’t really have much to say about this one but I want to wish a happy holidays and a merry christmas to everyone who celebrates - hope you enjoy this fiancé  harry one shot 

word count: 2.4k - ish

It felt as if you and Harry had only just gotten home when you started to pull the luggage out of the hallway cupboard again, you're not exactly excited to start packing for another trip, you always complained to Harry when you were trudging around your shared room that it was the worst part of any trip, to which he always chuckles and calls you dramatic but your point still stands in your eyes. 

You placed the two suitcases neatly next to each other at the foot of your and Harry’s shared bed, deciding to wait for him to get home before tackling that challenge of what to pack for the two weeks that you both were spending up north in Cheshire at his mums for Christmas. 

Just as you sat on the bed, reaching to check your phone Harry trudged back into your shared room still wrapped up in his coat and hat having just been loading the car in the cold London winter with the various gifts for family you needed to bring with you, the last of what needed to be loaded into the car staring back at you from the foot of the bed. 

‘No gonna pack themselves are they?’ Harry sighed, shrugging off his coat and throwing it on the chair that you so fondly had named the ‘chaos chair’ which usually housed a pile of washing that neither of you ever really put away just taking items of clothing till it reappeared after the next laundry cycle.

‘Wish they would, hate this bit, never know what to pack to take to your mums.’ Harry had now started to move around the room picking up some jumpers and sweatpants to put into his case. 

‘’M only bringing comfy stuff, if this weather keeps up doubt we’ll make it much further than the pub round the corner from mums’ He nodded towards your bedroom window where in true English Christmas weather the rain was bucketing down and wasn't looking like it was giving up any time soon. 

‘Now come on,’ he twists the t-shirt he was holding trying to swat at your bum where you were now standing by the window ‘want to make a move soon, hopefully get there before mum and Gem have broken into the Christmas wine supply, so we need to get a move on.’ 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　 

It was about an hour and a half in your three hour drive from London to cheshire. You and Harry had just finished loading up his range rover with all of the presents and luggage that you two would need for two weeks up north in time that you could get the worst parts of the drive over with without there being too much of a traffic jam. 

‘Love,’ Harry shakes your shoulder lightly as he pulls the car to a halt into the car park, ‘dozed off on me there been out for about the last half an hour’

‘Mmm, no, was jus’ resting my eyes promise, want me to run in get some bits’ nodding your head towards the service station in front of you. You and Harry had driven up to his mums more times than you could count in the three years that you’d been together, always taking the same route, Harry insisting that it was the quickest but you joked that it was the only way that he could take where he wouldn’t get lost on the winding country roads. But either way you had become quite fond of the small service station that was just outside of Birmingham on the M6.

‘Yeah, can just get us a coffee please.’ He asks leaning over to put a kiss on your cheek before you grabbed your bag and made your way out of the car, pulling your coat tight around you, the weather having not gotten much better since the two of you left London earlier in the day. 

Although the service was pretty quiet with only two or three people lined up at the Costa Coffee and a woman browsing the WHSmith in the corner, you knew that it was Harry’s time off, so you always volunteered to go for the two of you. Not that he didn't love meeting people but driving up to his mums for christmas seemed like something he prefers to keep private, especially with you news, the two of you didnt want it plastered across social media before you had the chance to tell those closest to you.

Having gotten everything you think you’ll need for the remainder of your drive, just waiting for the barista to call your name to collect the coffee that you feel as though you desperately need now, even if you insist you weren’t asleep, as you wait you twist the new ring on your left hand, a habit that you picked up relatively quickly after getting the piece of jewellery.

It hadn’t been a flashy proposal, no room full of a thousand candles, no plane flying over head asking the big question, it was just you and Harry in your home, if he was being honest it wasn't even planned, Harry saw you making tea for the both of you after returning from a day of interviews and couldn’t describe anything that he was feeling except he felt calm and he knew he wanted to feel like that, with you, forever. And so the ring that had been burning a hole in his handbag now resided on your ring finger and had for the past week unbeknownst to any of his family members. You had caved and face-timed your mum that night but Harry had insisted on surprising his mum with her future daughter-in-law for Christmas, telling you ‘you’ll be the best present she could've asked for this year. You’ll well beat the spa weekend Gem’s got her.’

Your name being called pulled you from your reminiscent day dream as you collected your two coffees and made your way back to Harry waiting in the car.

‘Mum said Gem hasn’t even left yet so we’ve got loads of time, think we’ll be the first ones there.’ He tells you as you pass him his coffee and get settled back into the car for the rest of the drive. 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　 

Harry was right, you were the first ones there, a stark change from previous years where you two were pulling into Anne’s driveway when the only lights on the street were the occasional decorative light and Anne's living room where she was waiting up for you two. But this year you were the only car in the drive as Harry pulled off the main road to pull into the space next to his mum’s car. 

As soon as she heard your car, Anne was swinging the front door open to welcome you, no doubt she’d been up all day preparing for you and the others to arrive, her favourite time of year being when she gets all her babies under the same roof again. 

 Harry parked the car, and you were quick to jump out going to help unload the ridiculous amount of stuff that you’d brought with you for the two weeks you were staying up north. You took the two suitcases wobbling slightly as you hauled them into the entry way as Anne helped Harry with the bags of presents.

 As they made their way toward you into the house Anne drops her bag of presents at the door pulling you into a tight hug. 

‘You two can’t stay away for so long next time, even if you have to drag my son up here by his hair.’ she told you pulling away from the tight embrace. 

‘Right you two go get settled upstairs, all the rooms are set up, and I'll sort these out by the tree’ She says motioning to the bags of presents that had been abandoned on the floor during your reunion embrace.  

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　 

Anne had moved since Harry was a child, but she had made sure that both her kids still had their own rooms no matter how old they were or how long they’d been out of the house. Harrys being in the corner of the second floor of the house, looking out into the garden which in typical english fashion was sort of frozen over from rain and frost and sort of coated in snow. The walls of Harry’s room were a dark navy blue with the bed pushed to the window where Harry had already laid himself across.

‘Get up lazy bones.’ You teased throwing a sweatshirt from the case open in front of you at him. 

‘M up ‘m up, promise.’ he groaned sitting up on the bed looking at you now. ‘Have we decided how we’re gonna tell her yet.’ He asks referencing the rock on your left hand. 

‘Thought that was your thing to plan, haven't done your homework Styles’ you teased ‘Guess i thought i’d take my chances, Styles.’ He threw back at you ‘’sides she's gonna flip anyway we tell her, been on me for months to do it.’

‘I’m not a Styles yet, not for another few months anyway.’ 

‘Good as one now, unless you're planning on running away at the altar on me? Are ya?’

‘Course not.’ You assure him. ‘Now come here, need to help unpack.’

‘No, you c’mere don't need to pack, need to lay down, at least till Gem gets here an’ then we can tell ‘em together’ His hands grabbing for you to join him on the bed where he's now positioned himself closest to the wall, perfect for you to slide in.

You cave, making your way over to him on the bed, placing his arm over your waist and keeping hold of his hand. Harry sighs into your hair from where his chin now rests on you head, you know you shouldn’t really be napping but when you start to hear Harry’s quiet snores you start to close your eyes too. 

•··°　• ·*　　·　·　★　.　✦　　　*　*　　.　 

You’re both awoken to the sound of who you presume is Gemma pulling into the driveway and talking to Anne in the entryway as you and Harry had hours before. Harry is the first to move, prompting you to sit up too, both of you taking a moment to rub your eyes but eventually silently moving to go downstairs to greet the rest of the family. 

Gemma and Anne were both sat at the kitchen table having a cup of tea when you and Harry joined them. 

‘There you are! Both of you were dead to the world when I went up before to check how the unpacking was going’ Anne laughed as Harry gave his sister a hug and went to sit next to Anne and you sat next to Gemma. Anne getting up to get you both a drink, knowing that Harry wouldn’t drink his but getting him one anyway, too while you caught up with Gemma. 

So far no one had noticed the ring on your finger, when Anne returns to the table with your two mugs and a plate of Christmas themed biscuits, you place your elbow on the table and lean your head onto your left hand, now this catches Anne’s attention almost shouting ‘Is this what I think it is’ as she grabs your hand to have a closer look. 

You and Harry don't really have the words so just nod while both grinning and Anne and Gemma, still both squealing over the ring and repeating congratulations as you hold your hand out to show them both a closer look at the ring. 

You sat back in your seat as Gemma turned to Harry finally pressing him for details of how he popped the question as you know he’ll talk about it for hours if given the chance, so you let him repeat the story this time just smiling and occasionally adding your perspective to it.

[badfvith]

burning to the ground | draco malfoy

Request: love your draco work 😍so requesting something where you’re a Weasley and dating draco set in the half blood prince where the borrow sets on fire. where draco apparates to the burrow to tell you to get out because he knows Bellatrix is coming but your family don’t know that you’re dating. just imagining family angst but a really scared and afraid draco 💖💞 A/N: okay so i freaking LOVED this request. i seriously think this might be one of my favorite pieces i’ve written. the end makes me 🥺 (all of yall out there like me who have seen the movies 80 million times will hopefully understand) i hope you like this!!! 💓 warnings: a bit angsty but i promise it’s also fluffy too dw word count: 1786

Christmas. The most wonderful time of the year. Or so they say.

This Christmas was hosted at your house, “the burrow” as everyone called it. You didn’t have much being 1/8 Weasley children, but what you did have was an overwhelming sense of family and love. Your mom decided it was only fitting to invite Remus and Tonks, and of course Harry (who was basically another one of your brothers at this point) as he had been staying with all of you for the year.

This Christmas was different than all the others. Conversations were less about trying to guess what gifts everyone got each other and more about what they thought the Death Eaters’ next moves were. It was obvious that everyone was on edge.

You all walked your guests out at the end of the night. You were leading the pack, and stopped on the porch to hug Remus and Tonks goodbye.

“It was delicious Molly, really.” You heard Tonks say and turned around to see her hugging your mom. Your focus then turned from that sweet moment to a very distressed looking Remus staring out at the landscape ahead. You had to admit, the front of your house looked a bit intimidating in the darkness and the slow breeze swaying the weeds near the water, but nothing too horrifying that it would cause this sort of reaction from Remus.

“What is it sweetheart?” You heard Tonks say softly, putting a hand on his arm. He shook his head briefly but didn’t respond.

You took a few steps forward to get a better look at what Remus might’ve been eyeing, the floor boards creaking underneath your feet. You heard some shuffling around behind you and saw that Harry and Ron had now made their way outside as well, standing closely behind you.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Remus said, finally breaking the tense silence. “We should go.”

“Thank you again for everything.” Tonks said waving to us. I gave her a smile and the two of them took each other’s hands and started to walk away.

“Alright. Let’s all go inside then.” Your mom said hurriedly.

You heard everyone moving behind you, but you stood still where you were.

“(y/n)! Let’s go!” Ron yelled.

You turned around and waved him off. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Whatever.” He replied.

After a few more minutes of staring out into the darkness, you convinced yourself that both you and Remus were crazy and that there was nothing there. You took one last good look before turning around to go back inside.

“(y/n)!” You froze. Nope. There is no way this is happening. All night long everyone has been freaked out over Death Eaters and the second you turn around an unknown voice calls your name? You took a deep breath, in which you prepared yourself for death. Why didn’t you go inside when Ron called you?

You slowly turned around, expecting to see Voldemort himself pointing his wand at you. Instead you were met with the all too familiar platinum blonde hair, all black suit, and worried expression of your boyfriend Draco.

You felt a rollercoaster of emotions swim through your brain and your body. A choked half laugh half cry left your throat as you stared at him, wide eyed.

“(y/n)...” He said quietly, for the second time that night.

“Draco.” You replied, before slowly walking towards him and practically falling into his embrace.

This year had been tough for Draco and for your relationship. The beginning of year was...an undertaking to say the least, with Draco keeping you completely in the dark about his father, his family, and his commitments to the Dark Lord. However finally one day he broke down and told you everything which ended in an entire night of cuddles, tears, “i’m so sorrys” and “it’s not your faults.” You have never loved anyone like you loved Draco, and you knew he felt the same. You both hadn’t meant to hide your relationship for this long, but this year everything had gotten so complicated. You decided it was best to keep it a secret from both of your families, obviously knowing the rather difficult history between them. So now that your secret boyfriend who was tasked with killing the most powerful wizard in the world, who would probably be killed by your father if his father didn’t reach him first, had randomly showed up on your lawn on Christmas night, you knew something must be wrong.

“I love you.” You said quickly as you pulled away to look up at him. “But why in the world are you here?”

“You have to get out of here. Now.” Was all he said. There were tears pricking his eyes so you reached up to cup his face, softly stroking his cheek with your thumb.

“What? Why?” You pressed.

“It’s not safe here anymore. I can’t lose you, I can’t–” He said before breaking into a cry.

“Shhh baby.” You said, letting his head fall against your shoulder. “One step at a time okay? Just tell me what’s happening.” Your voice was soft but you were feeling anything but calm right now. There were a million things running through your brain, number one being the fact that you were in plain sight with an entire family of hardcore anti-Malfoys sitting about 10 feet away.

After a few more seconds he lifted his head back up to look at you. “You have to get out of here. She’s coming. I heard their whole plan I know that they’re comi-”

“What in the bloody hell is HE doing here?!” You heard. Your jaw dropped open and you jumped away from Draco. You turned around to see Ron and Harry in the doorway with their wands pointed at him.

“I don’t know but I don’t think he’s here to say Merry Christmas.” Harry spat. He started fast walking towards the two of you.

“STOP!” You screamed, before you fully thought it through.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?” You closed your eyes as your dad’s voice boomed through your ears.

“Shit.” You whispered.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry fired at Draco. You didn’t even notice Draco pull out a wand; your head was spinning with how to handle this situation. Draco’s wand went flying out of his hand and he quickly ran to grab it.

“Stupefy!” Your dad yelled, causing Draco to groan as he was thrown farther backwards. You were frozen to the spot, not having any idea what to do. Your dad ran towards Draco, towering over him on the ground.

“Mr. Weasley I-” Draco started.

“What did you say to her?!” Your dad yelled again. “What do you want?” Draco tried to sit up but Ron came over and fired another spell at him.

“STOP IT!” You cried.

“Go inside (y/n)! You shouldn’t be here.” Your dad said, turning back to you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stand here and watch your family torture your boyfriend. All of the people you love most in the world were fighting right in front of your eyes and it was tearing you apart.

“I’ll ask you one more time Malfoy. What...are...you doing...here.”

“DAD!” You exclaimed and finally got the courage to march over there.

“I told you to go inside (y/n!)” He shot back.

“No!” You choked out. “I LOVE HIM.”

The four of them snapped their heads in your direction, and Ron’s wand fell to the ground out of his limp hand.

“WHAT?” Harry asked firmly.

A tear fell down your cheek as you ran over to Draco. You helped him off the ground before you replied to anybody.

“Look...I know this is... this is the worst time and it’s not how I wanted this to happen. This is my boyfriend.” You said, a dry laugh following your statement at the utter ridiculousness and horrid timing of the situation. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation before you all came out here like maniacs but I promise this is the last person in the world who is going to try and hurt me. Or any of us.” You pleaded.

“Have you gone mad?!” Ron yelled.

“Well this is a turn of events I wasn’t expecting.” You snapped your head to see Fred and George on the porch smirking and pretending to eat popcorn.

“Is it so hard to believe this? Crazier things have happened in our lives!” You exclaimed, exasperated. This entire night felt like it had taken at least 5 years off of your life.

Your dad nodded at you slowly. “We’ll deal with this later. But for now, I would still love to know what was so important to tell you that he needed to disrupt our Christmas.”

Draco swallowed hard. He looked over at you and you nodded, signaling that it was okay. “I...I came here to try and protect her. A-and all of you. The death eaters are all at my house. I heard them say they were coming here tonight.”

“Merlin’s beard.” Your dad said quietly.

“Draco...what?” Shocked was an understatement.

Before anyone could get any more questions in, a swirling black mist no one could mistake for one of the Death Eaters themselves came hurling out of the sky and landed in front of you.

“EVERYBODY GET OUT OF HERE NOW!” Harry screamed.

The high pitched laugh of Bellatrix Lestrange rang through the air. Harry immediately ran after her through the bushes as more came down from the sky. You recognized Fenrir Greyback, the unofficial Death Eater but very official aggressive werewolf, and a few others.

“SHIT.” You said as everyone around you started fighting. You grabbed your wand out of your pocket but before you could fire a spell felt Draco envelop you in a hug.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen...but don’t forget that I love you.” He said, his tears falling onto your face due to your close proximities.

“I love you too. I’m so sorry.” You said, and gripped onto him like your life depended on it.

Being a Weasley was complicated. Actually, no it wasn’t. You couldn’t dream of a more loving, caring, or hilarious family to be a part of. Obviously you had your petty sibling fights and teasing, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Being a Weasley was complicated when the love of your life was a Malfoy. And as the screams of your family, black clouds, and fire engulfing your property occurred around you, you couldn’t help but miss the times when being a Weasley was easy. When you all sat in the living room in your matching pajamas, hearing your mom’s voice telling the stories of Babbity Rabbity, or The Three Brothers traveling at midnight.

tags:

@tinylumpiaa​ @kashishwrites​ @lateautumn @ask-sirius-queer-black @inkhearthes

[hockeyboysiguess]

three french horns -> three goal horns | n. mackinnon

a/n: and like clockwork, here is fic number three in my 12 days of christmas series! i wrote this one a while ago and i hurt myself re-reading it to proof it, so i hope you all like it! rest of the christmas series linked here.

word count:  4,037

warnings: alcohol, drinking 

“Hey, Nate?” you called out from the living room when you heard the back door open, signaling his reappearance in the house after letting the dogs outside. 

“Yeah, baby?” he asked as he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking the last bit of the early Denver snow off. 

You asked the question you’d been asking him since two weeks after his birthday, the same question you’d been asking a variation of for the three months before his birthday. “Nate, what do you want for Christmas?” 

The sound that left Nate’s mouth was barely human, a groan coming from deep within, from the place that never knew what he wanted for any major gift giving holiday of any kind. You tried to be original, get sentimental things, but it was hard to buy for someone who could literally buy anything they ever wanted. Nate didn’t have big, expensive wishes, so if he wanted something, he often just bought it on the spot and you were none-the-wiser until it showed up at his house. This penchant, this bad habit, carried throughout the holiday season; it was a perpetual state of being for Nathan MacKinnon. This meant that items Nate ordered for himself were as likely to show up December 24th as any other day of the year, which was eternally infuriating as a person in his life trying to buy him gifts on the semi-regular basis. 

“I don’t know,” he answered you, like he did every other time. “I’ll like it because it’s from you.” 

That response was sweet the first, second, and half-sweet the third time he’d used it on you. Now, that response was worn out like an old pair of jeans, with holes in the thighs and the knees hanging together by a thread, absolutely unusable at this point in time really. Yet Nate continued to say it, like that string of seven words didn’t light a fire in your stomach completely unlike the kind crackling under the stockings on the mantle right now. 

“Nate,” you groaned, all too similarly to how he had when you asked your question. Spend enough time with a person and you pick up their habits. You and Nate were a completely unoriginal example of that. “You know I hate when you say that.” 

Nate rolled his eyes and shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know. A hat trick? But you can’t get me that, I’ve got to get that for me.” 

The infamous illusive hat trick. While it wasn’t those dreaded seven words, you were pretty sure you had heard about this hat trick that was alluding him every other day at this point. In all fairness to Nate, the amount of times he had scored twice in the first two periods of a game this season and been held off the scoreboard in the second was absurd. Commentators were joking about it, his teammates were chirping him over not one, not two, but three missed empty netters that would’ve sealed it, even though Nate liked to say those didn’t really count as hat tricks. Greater than all of that, Nate was starting to incredibly frustrated with himself and his performances. You knew Nate was a competitive guy before you even went on your first date with him, but his competitiveness ran deep and honestly you weren’t sure your relationship would work if you were even an ounce more competitive than you were. Nate had to win, he had to achieve his goals. This goal was quite simply just three goals, but it continued to be just out of reach this season and coming up on the holiday season, pushing the halfway mark, Nate was starting to think it might not happen this year. 

“You’ll get one, Nate,” you sighed. “You’re so close and you’re too good not to get whatever you put your mind to.” 

“I got a good feeling about the game tomorrow,” he replied, sliding up next to you on the couch to throw a Christmas sweater-covered arm around your shoulders. “My good luck charm is going to be there, right?” 

Nate wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but he said he always scored more whenever you came. Statistically, a complete lie, but it made you feel special all the same. He kissed your temple softly as he relaxed into the couch cushions next to you. 

“So, what are we watching? Classic or trashy Christmas?” 

That question itself somehow encapsulated every single reason you loved Nathan MacKinnon, despite his pension for buying his own Christmas presents, his overly competitive nature, and the difficulty that came with trying to buy him a present. Nate didn’t love Christmas movies; he wasn’t a hater like some people you’d dated before, but you adored them, both classic and trashy alike. Nate jumped on board with whatever you liked, no questions asked. He always said you didn’t sign up to date all of his teammates that walked through the door scrounging for homemade food or the long hours alone, the least he could do was be as supportive of the things you liked as you were about hockey for him. Nate’s support came in casual, steady waves of constantly and consistently showing up, no matter how tired he was, no matter how long the day before had been. He might fall asleep twenty minutes into the movie, but Nate was here and active and present for as long as he could stay awake. He’d cross deserts and move mountains for an hour with you, and some days that’s what it took, but Nate showed up and jumped on board, which made him the easiest person in the world to love in spite of everything else. It made him the only person you wanted to spend this Christmas and every other one in the future with.

The next day, with his last name on your back and a Santa hat on your head, you found yourself in a position that felt all too familiar this season. You were watching the ice with eager eyes among the other wives and girlfriends. Your breath caught in your throat halfway through the first when you saw two seconds after him that there was nothing between Nate and the net but open ice and a goaltender. You slowly stood up, leaning forward as if those all important inches would help you see the ice better. You didn’t miss the puck sailing over the blocker’s side of the goaltender, or the eruption of cheers from everyone around you as the goal horn rang out, hopefully the first of three for Nate this evening. Mel hugged you, as if you had anything to do with Nate scoring. You adjusted your hat, pulling at the fluffy white edge until it sat a little less haphazardly on your head as you cheered. 

“Two more, right?” Mel waggled her eyebrows at you and you rolled your eyes. 

“For my sake, I hope so,” you laughed. 

Going into Christmas break without this elusive hat trick meant the next four days would be spent with Nate’s mind half at the rink, trying to scheme and plan and game his way into a hat trick, as if the part he was missing was anything other than luck. Maybe he didn’t need regular luck though, maybe just a little bit of Christmas would do the trick tonight. Your third beer in, a vain attempt to calm your nerves with alcohol, and five minutes into the second, on the power play, you watched as Nate easily sailed in his second goal of the game from the high slot, causing the ever familiar cheers and the ringing of the Avalanche goal horn to sound out across the arena. 

Two down, and hopefully one to go. 

“Hatty watch,” one of the other girls sang out from behind you, giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

You let out a loud, long breath, causing a wave of laughter to ripple across the other women around you. Mel teased you about it; they all did. Nate’s quest was well known among the group, something they were equally supportive and teasing about. 

“He’ll get one,” Mel assured you with a comforting pat to your leg. “He’s too good not to.”

You really thought he had it. You watched as Mikko and Nate peeled off from the defenders caught on an odd change, leading to a two-on-one with a lone opposing forward doing his best, but poor, impersonation of a defensemen. Mikko passed the puck to Nate, which Nate passed back easily and set himself up for the perfect slap shot on the return. The quick passing had sent the other team’s player sprawling over the ice. It was just Nate and the goaltender, who was frantically shifting his eyes from Mikko to Nate, tilting back and forth on the ice. Mikko’s pass was perfect, right on the middle of Nate’s tape and Nate was ready for the pass. It was tracking high glove side, exactly where Nate wanted it to go, right into the back of the net. The goalie was facing Mikko, two key seconds behind the actual action. Except out of nowhere, the Grinch stole Christmas and Nate’s hat trick when the goalie’s glove suddenly appeared in the path the puck was taking and wrapped around the puck, just on the wrong side of the goal line for Nate. 

The referee blew the whistle and signaled no goal. Nate’s hands dropped down, stick hanging low. His head tilted up toward the ceiling of the arena and you could practically hear the groan rise from deep in his chest. It was absolute robbery at its finest and the entire arena knew luck wasn’t on Nate’s side that night. You slumped down into your seat, preparing yourself for yet another two goal game and a frustrated Nate waiting for you in the tunnel when it was over. There were another twenty minutes left in the game, but if the first half of the season had taught you anything, third periods weren’t where Nate racked up anything other than wins and assists, both of which he loved, but he just wanted a third goal, just once. Mikko and Gabe each having one already this season, all six goals involving Nate as either the primary or secondary assist, didn’t help either. 

“I think you need to pray or something,” Mel told you with a laugh. “Pray to anything and anyone out there at this point.”

You cleared your throat and looked up at the ceiling of the Pepsi arena, “Santa, I know this isn’t how you take requests,” Mel and the girls around you were already laughing, “but please, pretty freaking please, can we just get some Christmas miracle magic vibes in here? It’s all he wants for Christmas. Please and thank you and I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” 

“Are you supposed to say amen if you pray to Santa?” someone behind you asked. 

“Look I’m not opposed to it,” you sighed. “It just didn’t feel like the right ending when I was asking for a Christmas miracle.”

The girls all laughed and you just stared up at the ceiling. Maybe Santa might grant your unorthodox request delivered via an even more unorthodox method. Maybe you should’ve written him a letter and dropped it into one of those charity red mailboxes at Macy’s. Maybe Nate just wouldn’t be getting the one thing he wanted for Christmas and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. You knew he was joking when he asked for a hat trick for Christmas, but joking or not, it was the only thing he even sort of mentioned wanting. If sending out a Christmas wish audibly in the middle of the Pepsi arena was what it took, you were more than happy to do it. 

You grabbed your fourth and fifth beer together during the intermission, knowing full and well that you didn’t want to miss a second of one of Nate’s shifts in case something good happened. If after all of this time, all of this waiting, all of Nate’s back and forth debating, if you missed his hat trick goal because you were grabbing another beer, you would have to guess that higher powers didn’t exist and the hockey gods loved laughing at you and maybe Christmas wasn’t that magical after all. 

The third period was half over when you finished your fourth beer. Your right leg had been bouncing on the concrete since the period started. Nate was getting some good looks, and added another assist to his point tally for the night, but you and everyone knew what he actually wanted tonight. A slashing call with eight minutes to go put the Avalanche back on the power play, and you knew Nate was going to fight to play every bit of those two minutes he could get, which meant you were about to be in for a mentally exhausting two minutes. Mel offered her hand to you, already knowing you would need her to ground you through this. 

The first shot on the power play from Mikko ended up in the opposing goaltender’s glove. Nate lined up for the next face-off and you swore you didn’t breathe as soon as the puck left the referee's hand. Nate swept it back easily to a waiting Gabe. You gripped Mel’s hand hard, grateful you both did this for each other often enough that she didn’t mind. Nate slid up through the low slot and you saw the stars aligning as Gabe sent the puck perfectly in Nate’s direction. Nate was already ready for it when it came, the puck on his stick for less than a second. Your eyes went wide and you felt like you were about to break Mel’s hand as the goaltender shrugged his shoulder up to block Nate’s shot, but he came up short and the puck hit the back of the net. 

You were screaming as you jumped to your feet, arms wrapping tightly around Mel as someone else hugged you from behind, again like you’d done anything other than practically give yourself a heart attack watching it. Nate was surrounded by his teammates on the ice, earning a swift pat on the top of the head from Gabe. A glance up at the Jumbotron showed you the wide, bright smile on his face, filling with relief and absolute joy. Mel grabbed your hat by the pom pom and chucked it down towards the ice, making you laugh and a smile that rivaled Nate’s come across your face.

“Finally,” you breathed out a sigh of relief as the arena calmed itself, calming you with it. 

You plopped back down into your seat, hatless with half a beer and your pride in Nate left to coast you through the next ten minutes. You knew Nate was going to be in a good mood, and you just wanted to get through the next ten minutes of the game to get to him and congratulate him yourself. The score was heavy in favor of the Avs and they weren’t in any danger of losing this game, so you got to drink your beer and let out a long breath you’d been holding since Nate first came home after back to back two goal games in October without a hat trick in sight. 

You were practically bouncing on your heels as you waited in the tunnel for him, fingers fussing with the frayed edge of your denim jacket to get out some of your anxious energy. The second he rounded the corner, a wide, gorgeous smile on his face, you ran toward him. Nate wasn’t the type for large public displays of affection, but satisfaction from your incredibly competitive boyfriend was a hell of an influencer and he opened his arms wide for you. You jumped into him and he stumbled a second before catching you easily, one hand guiding your legs around his waist, the other supporting the back of your thighs. 

“Congratulations,” you mumbled in his ear as he laughed at your openly shared excitement for him. 

“Thanks, baby,” he told you, the smile he was wearing evident in his voice.

“Proud of you always,” you reminded him as you untucked your head from his neck. 

You said it after every single game, win or lose, five points or no points, goal or no goal, you told Nate you were proud of him after every single game. The stats sheet didn’t matter to you. You loved him and you saw the grueling work he put in every single day, every single second he was on the ice. You were proud of him no matter what, and it was one of the thousands of reasons he had come to love you for. Your support, your pride in him and the work he put in never wavered. It was steadfast, something hard to come by in a life as crazy as he lived. You were his rock, his home, and he felt it like the gradual, comforting warmth from sitting by the fire on Christmas Eve, when the world seemed a little more good than it actually was, when you told him you were proud of him. 

Nate smiled as he pressed a soft, quick kiss to your lips before gently guiding your feet back to the ground. He pulled you in tighter, collapsing you into him as he let out a long breath that had been holding his tension for months, caught in the hollows of his chest, finally working its way out into the open air. It had been haunting him, like a ghastly Halloween hangover that dared to last until Christmas. Thankfully, it was December now and Nate felt lighter and freer than he had in months. 

“You got what you wanted for Christmas,” you mumbled into his chest, causing his chest to vibrate with laughter. 

“Guess I sort of did, yeah.” He kissed the top of your head softly. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ready for four days of you and me time?” you teased him a little. 

Despite your teasing, his response was entirely genuine, “Been looking forward to it for weeks now.” 

Your smile in response to his words stuck with you the entire way home. Nate loved you in actions, but sometimes it was nice to hear words from him as well. You kicked off your shoes at the front door, just in the knick of time before the dogs could come and greet you both. 

“Want me to crack a bottle of wine or champagne?” you asked Nate as he dropped his bag by the front door. 

“Champagne,” he told you before dropping a kiss to your temple. “We’re celebrating tonight.” 

You slid into the kitchen, dogs hot on your heels, as you made a beeline for the champagne in the fridge. You’d slid it in before you left for the game on the chance Nate finally got his hat trick tonight. You hadn’t wanted to drink warm champagne if that was the case and now, holding the cold bottle of champagne and two flutes, you knew you had made the right decision betting on your boyfriend tonight. He rounded the corner into the kitchen a few moments later, game day suit still on, jacket and tie lost back in your shared bedroom.

“Glad you got yourself what you wanted for Christmas, Nate,” you smiled teasingly at him as you started to fuss with the gold foil over the champagne cork. 

“Before you pop that,” he told you, reaching a hand out to place over yours as you worked on the foil covering the cork, “I, um, I have something for you.” 

“Nate, it’s December twenty-third,” you sighed, setting the bottle down on the cool stone counter. “Can’t it wait a couple of days?” 

Nate smiled softly at you, a smile that seemed to mean he knew more than you in this exact moment, “I’ve actually been holding on to this gift for a long time and I think tonight is the perfect night to give it to you. Are you okay if I blow up Christmas a little bit?” 

You sighed again and gave Nate a stern look up and down, but the softness in his blue eyes and the innocence in his lazy smile pulled you in and had you nodding in approval. Your nod caused nerves to dance in Nate’s eyes and his hands to slide into his pockets, fidgeting with their contents. He shifted softly from one foot to the other. His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment to watch his feet move before he slowly lifted his head back up in time with a bounce on his heels. 

“Okay, here we go,” he mumbled softly to himself. 

He cleared his throat before speaking, “I told you I don’t know what I want for Christmas. Hell, I told you that I didn’t know what I wanted for my birthday and that was back in September. The truth is I’ve known what I’ve actually wanted the whole time. The hat trick was nice and all, but it wasn’t really what I wanted.”

“Whatever it is, you could’ve told me,” you chided him a little. 

Your words were met with an anxious smile and more shuffling of his feet across the floor. He shook his head softly and let out a tight breath before continuing. 

“The only thing I want for Christmas is something you can give me, but you can get it for me,” he told you softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the nerves in his eyes and his feet and his hands tightening and constricting his voice resonating in his chest. 

Nate slowly pulled a hand out of his pocket before purposefully, and painstakingly slowly, dropping down on one knee in front of you. Your hands flew over your mouth on instinct and your eyes clouded over instantly. Nate smiled softly at your reaction, trying desperately not to let what he hoped your actions meant take over and make him too hopeful of your answer to his question to prevent him from asking it. He carefully opened the small black box in his hand to show you your early Christmas present, a beautiful ring nestled among the black velvet inside. 

“For Christmas, I’d like for you to say you’ll be my wife,” he continued slowly and as steadily as he could. “The thing I’m most proud of, of everything I’ve ever done, is being your partner. I love you so much more than I say, but I hope I show it enough that you want to sign up for me forever because it’s just you. It’s just you forever, for every single day, every single holiday, every single moment. I want to spend every single Christmas for the rest of my life with you. So, what do you say? Will you be my wife? Will you make my Christmas wish come true?” 

The cliches hung thick in his words, but the emotions behind them, the sentiment was so true you could feel it in the very core of who you were. Nathan MacKinnon saw you, faults and gifts and everything in between and loved you in the steadiest, most true way you had ever known. In the light of the Christmas tree, in the home you built together, with the life you build together palatable around you, Nate was asking you to build the rest of it together. You didn’t have to think about your answer. 

“Yes, Nate. Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

Nerves gave way to relief which even more quickly gave way to joy on Nate’s face as he slowly slid the ring he’d had tucked in the back drawer for months onto your finger where it belonged. Nate let out a long breath at the sight of it finally on your hand before slowly standing up in front of you, his hands reaching out to cup your face gingerly. 

“Best early Christmas present ever,” you told him with a wide smile on your face. 

He smiled back just as widely and happily as you grinned at him, “Merry Christmas, my future wife.”

[doctenwho]

A Night With The Stars

Hello! So, a bit of housekeeping first! Sorry once again for this taking a while, I mentioned yesterday in an ask that I hurt my shoulder right after Christmas, so writing was a bit of a struggle! Thankfully it’s starting to feel better now, and hopefully I can keep working through the requests I have waiting! Sorry if you’ve been waiting a while, I promise I’ll get to it!

This request was so much fun to work on, and how cute is that idea? Just sitting with Ten looking at the stars? Adorable! Also, cute and flirty Ten is best Ten. That’s all, so, please enjoy!

Rating: None?

Word Count: 2,707

Summary: Read prompt above!

(As always, lovely gif doesn’t belong to me! Credit to the creator!)

You liked quiet evenings with the Doctor in the TARDIS. Sitting with your legs hanging off the edge of the TARDIS doors, just taking in what the universe had to offer.  

There really was nothing better than sitting up in the stars, seeing it and, if you really wanted to, leaning out and touching those stars (though the Doctor strongly recommended you didn’t touch stars, nor lean out too far). You’d heeded his warnings, of course, but the thought still crossed your mind every so often.  

The universe was far more extravagant than anything that the earth had to offer, and it felt like it was just for your eyes. It put earth planetariums and that experience to shame, and you weren’t sure you’d never manage to find anything quite as beautiful anywhere else. 

This was a special gift only you, a few other companions you knew about, ever got to see. A privilege that came with the Doctor’s hectic life.  

Sure, you could see the stars from earth, or with a telescope, but once you’d experiences this, seeing planets, and stars and all their details and glory up close, a telescope would no longer deliver that amazing experience.  

Honestly, if you had to guess, you were sure the Doctor really just liked to ruin telescopes and star gazing for people when he got to option too, because now that you’d seen this, nothing would ever compare.

You crossed one ankle over the other, and just stared out. Taking it all in.  

It was early in the evening, you knew, not that the darkness around you told you anything regarding what time of day it was. It was always dark and stary in space, the sun certainly wasn’t the way to tell time in the TARDIS.  

The Doctor was behind you, not that you bothered to look. He was probably steering the TARDIS silently, like he tended to do. There was a gentle hum of the TARDIS surrounding you, one you’d gotten used too early on. It was a comfort to you now, more than it was annoying.  

“Y/N?”

You drew your attention back to the Doctor, turning to look at him briefly.  

The Doctor moved to join you, sitting down beside you and shifting so his legs were also hanging out like yours. The doorway was wide enough to accommodate the two of you perfectly well, but he still chose to sit beside you so his thigh settled against yours.

You smiled to yourself, as you leaned a bit into his side. You could feel his fond gaze on you, but you didn’t look towards him to confirm it. He lightly tapped his foot against yours, hanging down into the darkness of space and shimmering stars beneath the TARDIS, and you pushed yours back against his playfully.  

You liked this.  

Just being with the Doctor in the best sense of the word. Just... being.

Where you weren’t in danger, or being chased, or any other dangerous situation you’d been stuck in before while accompanying the Doctor in his travels. The good times far outweighed the bad ones, but it just made moments like this all the while more special.  

Moments where you could just breath, with the Doctor by your side.  

Calm.

“What’re you doing?” the Doctor questions, kicking his feet lightly so they waver back and forth. You don’t have to look at him to know he’s look at you. You can feel his eyes on you, so you keep your attention straight, looking over the beauty of the universe. Taking in the details that were always passing you by as you whipped off, to whatever destination the man beside you had in mind, now that you had the chance.  

“Taking it in,” you mumbled, finally lulling your head in his direction, “I still can’t get over how... pretty this is,” you gestured a hand towards the expanse of the stary world surrounding you, “it’s just... so much more beautiful up close...”

“Indeed,” the Doctor agreed, looking out as well. He didn’t look quite as impressed as you, but he had been travelling space and time for over nine-hundred years. He’d seen it since he was young, you were sure.  

But he still did like to be the one to introduce space to people. To experience it with his companions and share the beauty of it all, and you could tell that just from the knowing smile playing on his lips as he looked back towards you, “nothing your earth has to offer will ever truly capture this kind of view, will it?”

“Not in my time,” you shrugged with a light smile, “but that’s alright, because I get to see it with you. Not everyone is that lucky.”

A grin spread across the Doctor’s face, small but prideful, “I’m honored.”

“You should be,” you laughed. “Don’t get cocky, Spaceman.”

“Never,” the Doctor teased. He gave an easy sigh, leaning back with his arms supporting him. “I’m truly lucky to have a companion like you, (Y/N). Nothing cocky about that, now is there?”

You shook your head with an embarrassed smile, ducking your head so he couldn’t see your face anymore. Beside you, the Doctor cleared his throat, voice following a bit nervously, “I’ve prepared something for us, if you’d like to see?”

“You did?” You raised an eyebrow skeptically, “and what would that be?”

“It’s a surprise,” the Doctor grinned, shaking his head as if saying he wasn’t going to tell you, like his use of ‘surprise’ had implied, “you wait here, and I’ll be right back with it, alright?”

“Alright.”

The Doctor was only gone for about a minute—maybe two. You didn’t bother looking back at him until he was sitting himself back down beside you. He’s set something down, then pulled it close so it took up residence between the two of you, which drew in your attention.  

You looked down at what the Doctor had brought, eyeing it thoughtfully.

“A picnic?” You blinked in surprise, eyes lifting up to the Doctor’s smiling face.

Beside the Doctor, settled between the two of you, was an old picnic basket. The kind you’d really only seen in films, or tv shows. Old and probably obtained before you even existed. You weren’t even sure they made picnic baskets like that anymore.  

It was perfect down to the checkered fabric covering the inside and peeking out of the rim of the basket.  

“A picnic,” the Doctor confirmed, flipping the top of the picnic basket open so you could gaze in at what he’d brought along, “you didn’t seem too keen on leaving the doorway today, and I know you humans tend to eat three meals a day so... I thought you’d like to have something to eat... a picnic in the stars?”

You shifted your eyes from the basket, back to the galaxy before you, smiling lighting up slowly. You looked back at the Doctor to see him watching you, a fond expression on his face. “Do you like it?”

“It perfect,” you decided. And it was.  

No one had ever gone the lengths like the Doctor was. You’d never even really been on a picnic on earth, where you were sure the idea stemmed from, unless it was one of those whole neighborhood picnics, or family gatherings. Never one as... romantic as this.  

Your cheeks flushed at the thought-- at the Doctor being romantic-- since he was usually all hyper and bold, running you ragged on various adventures. He had his sweet and tender moments, of course, when he’d come to your aid, or put himself in harm’s way for your sake, but there was just something so... genuinely sweet about this.  

About him putting in the time and effort of organizing and making a picnic up for the two of you. The thought that had gone into it, when he could’ve just told you it was close to dinner time and you would’ve stood to leave the TARDIS doorway, shutting the doors behind you.  

“Good,” the Doctor flashed a grin, digging different food items out of the basket to show you the selection. There were basics, like earth sandwiches and snack items like chips and cookies—a few fruits and vegetables that had been cut down to bite sized pieces for easy eating.

A good selection of the foods you’d brought into the TARDIS after your latest trip to earth.  

As interesting as space foods, and the kind of things the Doctor liked were, you still liked to stick with what you knew. There was always an off chance something could make you sick, or even be poisonous to humans, so earth food was usually the way to go. Plus, the Doctor didn’t mind occasional trips to earth for you to pick up earth food.  

Then there were other snacks from other planets—various berries and vegetables that you’d tried along the way and liked, as well as some snacks the Doctor liked that you wouldn’t try. Somethings just didn’t look very appealing to an earthling.  

It was all so carefully constructed, put together with you at mind. From the sandwiches, to the snacks he’d selected for you (your go to snacks when you were hungry), even to the food from different planets that you liked.  

“You made sandwiches,” you mumbled out, looking at the plate of triangle sandwiches. They were made exactly the way you liked them, down to the smallest details. The Doctor had never made you sandwiches before. He’d never really made you anything food wise, just since you had such vast different tastes in foods—much less earth foods.

“I did,” he gave a hum of agreement, pawing through the snacks he’d brought, before pulling out your favorite type of drink, “earth-y, isn’t it? It’s what you usually have on picnics, right?”

“Yeah,” you blinked shyly before shaking your head, “I mean, I think? I’ve never... No one really does picnics anymore—Not like this, I mean... Not, like, as a date, I guess?”  

“Oh?” the Doctor tilted his head. “You humans always seemed so proud of your picnics.”

“It’s just easier to go out to dinner, or catch a movie now,” you shrugged, playing with your fingers nervously, “but, wow, this is... it’s perfect, Doctor. Really perfect.”

“I just thought you should eat,” the man gave you a small smile, “I know it’s been busy these last few days, and you just looked so content out here tonight... Didn’t want to disturb it.”

You opened your mouth the reply, but the Doctor beat you to it, “anyways, sandwich?” He offered you the plate of sandwiches, to which you took one without speaking. The Doctor grabbed his own off the pile and took a bite.

“I’m never sure about your earth food,” the Doctor mumbled after swallowing his bite, “I barely branch out further than the occasional holiday dinner I get invited too, but these sandwiches are really good.”

You eyed him for a second before taking your own bite. It was really good. It tasted just like you’d made it, but you knew you hadn’t. You actually wondered when he’d managed to slip away to prepare this meal.  

“You did a good job,” you told him, taking another bite. The Doctor gave you a wide grin before you looked back out at the world around you. You finished off your sandwich, just looking at the stars that gleamed around you.  

It was quiet, but you didn’t mind. You were both just enjoying the view around you, and the company beside you. You didn’t have to be talking, it was a comfortable silence.  

You ate together, not really talking more than occasional comment about something being good. It was nice. You didn’t get a lot of time with the Doctor like this, where nothing was happening, or going to happen. Where he wasn’t distracted by one thing or another, because as much as he rarely had a plan, he was always busy.  

“You should try this,” the Doctor waved a piece of some kind of fruit in front of you, “it’s a delicacy on the planet Sontar. Those little guys love this stuff, and for good reason too. It might be one of the best things I’ve ever tasted. You won’t believe what I had to go through to get it.”

“What’s it taste like?” You wrinkled your nose at the fruit held a couple inches from your face. It smelt sweet, almost familiar, but not all the same.

“A mix of earth fruits really,” the Doctor gave a shrug, as he inched the fruit towards your lips, “c’mon, (Y/N) trust me. It’s very good, and perfectly fine. You’re not the first human to be wary of this stuff. You’ll love it though.”

His voice dropped, and his smile widened as you looked towards him, unsure even though it had clearly been tested by other companions before you. The thought of biting into the fruit held in the Doctor’s fingers had you shyly staring at man’s fingers and not letting your eyes wonder back to his face.  

You gave in after a second though, leaning forwards to taste the fruit. His hand didn’t waver as you finally bit a small piece off, biting the cubed fruit from his fingers as a blush crawled up your cheeks.  

You leaned back, chewing slowly and trying to understand the mix of tastes in your mouth. It didn’t taste bad or anything, it was just overwhelming. It was good, you decided. The Doctor’s eyes were on you again, watching and waiting for your opinion.  

“So?” he prompted with a crooked smile, “how is it?”

“Good,” you told him, ducking your attention from his charming glance, “really good. Can I have more?”

“Of course,” the man grinned. He paused briefly, between moving to offer you the bowl. His eyes flickered up to your face for a moment before he slowly lowered the bowl back into his lap, and instead offered you another bite, testing his luck.

He raised one eyebrow, almost challenging you to repeat your actions and let him feed you more fruit. Your cheeks lit up once more in embarrassment as you leaned over the basket in a bold move to bite the fruit again. The Doctor watched your movements, smile fond.  

You didn’t hate being fed by the Doctor, in fact it was nice.  

When you leaned back, the Doctor popped the remained of the piece you’d bitten into his mouth, grinning at you. You giggled at him, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

You ate a bit more of the Sontaran fruit before you both called it quits on the picnic. You were full. You made it through a lot of the food, but the Doctor had definitely overpacked. You tidied up, putting everything back in the basket to be sorted back into the cupboards and fridge later, before flipping the backet closed again.  

The Doctor pushed the basket back so it sat just behind the two of you, before sliding closer to you and settling at you side, like he had earlier that night. You looked towards him with a smile, but he wasn’t looking at you now, or, he wasn’t until he felt your gaze on him, “what?”

“Thank you,” you told him, looking down at his knee, just barely touching your own. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget this it was... amazing.”

“It was my pleasure,” the Doctor told you softly, “I’m so glad you enjoyed this.”

His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you carefully into his side. You let your head fall against his chest as you looked out around you. It hadn’t changed, but it was just as beautiful.  

“It really is beautiful,” you sighed fondly, not bothering to look up at the Doctor. His arm tightened around you, holding you against his side. You melted into the embrace, just enjoying this one night of perfection, since you were sure things would return to their usual hecticness tomorrow.

But you wouldn’t want it any other way.  

“Yeah,” the man’s voice broke the quiet atmosphere after a few seconds of silent contemplation. He spoke softly, agreeing with you distractedly. “Indeed, it is.”

But the Doctor wasn’t looking out at the starry universe—no, his eyes were trained on you.

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Another beautiful gif just to give you an idea of what I pictured while writing this, I stumbled upon this gif and thought it was perfect! Credit to the creator once more!

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoyed! As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! Wishing everyone a very Happy New Year (RIP to me saying that way too late).