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daechwitatamic · 2 years

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All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t || MYG

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t

WC: 11k

Genre: exes to lovers, the babiest angst straight to fluffy smut (they’ve got shit to work out, but they get there!!)

Summary: You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Warnings: manbun!yoongi YES THAT IS A WARNING, drinking, language, kissing, breast play/nip stim, fingering, unprotected sex with bc (be safer than this!!!), multiple orgasms (f), penetrative sex, soft idiots in love

A/N: Merry Christmas, Kelly!!!! @here4btsfics I was soooooo excited to pull your name for @bangtansecretsanta because it gave me such a good opportunity to get to know you better and start talking to you! I really, really hope you love this little Christmas fic!

I know you said no angst so just a lil disclaimer, a synopsis I messaged my beta was "it hurts for a hot minute but then they kiss about it and everyone is fine" so I think you'll be okay!!!

Huge thank you to @kookstempo @moonleeai and @cherrysoulth for beta-ing and to @itaeewon for the gorgeous banner!

“Anything new with you? How’s work?”

You plaster on what you hope is a friendly smile and not a sarcastic one. Seokjin’s girlfriend is super nice, you remember her from a party over the summer, but you do not want to talk about work right now. You want to drown yourself in another cinnamon toast crunch cocktail and double-fist those iced, reindeer-shaped brown-sugar cookies.

You admit to being a little bit on edge.

You’ve attended Taehyung’s annual Christmas party every year since you left for college. It’s tradition, and it’s one of the only times each year that the whole group is back together again after you all went your separate ways in the world.

Except, for the last five years, Yoongi hadn’t attended. You never thought too much about why - too busy, other plans, just the fact that he’s an absolute Grinch… or maybe it’s your presence that keeps him away. You didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. You’re just always happy he isn’t there.

Until this year.

No one even had the decency to shoot you a warning text. Hey, heads up, your ex is here, very unexpectedly.

You knock back the rest of your drink and head to make yourself a new one.

You normally attach yourself to Jimin at these, but he’s betrayed you this year by bringing an absolutely gorgeous date. They’re currently hogging the doorway with mistletoe above it. You make a mental note to remind him tomorrow that the PDA thing stops being cute after a while.

“Work’s good,” you say, finally answering the question. “Nothing new. How about you and Jin? All good?”

“Nothing new to report!” she grins. Then, the smile slips off her face a little as she glances at her phone. She notices you watching and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just keeping an eye on the radar. The storm tonight is supposed to get nasty.”

“Hey! What’s the rule tonight?” a voice bellows from the living room. It’s Taehyung, perched against the back of one of his couches, and he points an accusatory finger at the girl you’re talking to.

She must know something you don’t, because while you’re baffled, she looks chagrined. “Don’t talk about the blizzard,” she recites by rote.

“Don’t talk about the blizzard,” he repeats. “Have another drink. It’s Christmas Eve, we welcome the snow.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s optimistic enough to try to throw a party on a night they’re calling for the storm of the century,” Seokjin tells him, making his way into the kitchen - probably to protect his girlfriend from Taehyung’s scoldings.

“They say that every time,” Taehyung scoffs, waving a hand. Then he’s up and moving, heading towards the dining room, where a spread of food is laid out.

There must be more people in there, you think, because the kitchen and the living room are definitely looking a little less crowded than they were an hour ago. Yoongi and Hoseok are on the couch, glasses in hand, talking quietly. The tv, mounted high on the wall, plays a classic Christmas film in black and white. You stop before the balcony doors, peering out into the night. The lamps that line the parking lot glow orange, and you can see in the lamplight that snow is falling steadily, and it’s starting to accumulate a little on the pavement below.

Jimin comes up beside you. His date’s lipstick is still smudged in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a hot mess,” you tell him affectionately.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” he tells you, ignoring the jab.

You shake your head, your earrings glittering in your reflection in the glass. “It’s not even nine,” you point out.

“The roads are going to get slick,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “You should think about getting an Uber before too long, too.”

“You’re going to break Taehyung’s heart,” you inform him. “I think he’s starting to catch on that people are leaving.”

“He should have rescheduled the party!” Jimin says hotly; he and Taehyung had argued about this passionately all week, ever since the forecast picked up on the storm coming through. “We could have done this yesterday, no blizzard, everyone would have stayed all night!”

Jimin’s date slinks over and presses her hand to his upper back. “Ready?” she asks, voice like silk.

“Bye,” you tell him sulkily. In the reflection, you watch him pause to tell Yoongi and Hoseok goodbye. They each stand, reaching in one at a time to give him a quick one-armed hug goodbye.

You keep watching the reflection in the glass as Hoseok takes advantage of already being up and heads for the dining room.

You knew it would happen at some point tonight - you’re alone in the living room with Yoongi. You’d just hoped it would happen after you were a lot drunker.

He meanders over. You glance at the drink in his hand - whiskey, neat. You could have guessed that on a gameshow and earned some money.

He’s dressed in all black - down to the chelsea boots. His hair is half-up in a bun that sits just behind the crown of his head. The rest brushes the tops of his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends.

He’d never had long hair like this before. It’s a crime how fucking good it looks.

Your gameplan tonight has been simple: avoid, avoid, avoid. But Yoongi stands close enough to reach out and touch you, sips at his whiskey, and murmurs, “It’s been a while.”

Five years. But who’s counting?

“It has,” you allow. You hate confrontation, you don’t want this to be a thing. You’re determined to be polite, play nice, and hopefully get out of here unscathed. “How have you been? Are you enjoying yourself?”

He wiggles his head. “Eh. You know I’m not into all that holly, jolly shit.”

“It’s a Christmas party,” you point out flatly. “Holly, jolly is kind of the point.”

He shrugs. “The point for me is just to see the guys, catch up with everyone. It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

He means we the guys, not we you and him. But your heart still speeds up at the word, the traitor.

You nod, turning away from him to look outside again. But your eyes stay on his reflection, both of you standing with your backs to the party. He looks down at his drink, swirls the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass.

“You always did hate the holidays,” you observe absently.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, so gently that it shocks you into turning to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Rehash everything,” he says with a shrug. “Talk about everything we remember. Talk at all.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t,” you snap, suddenly defensive and heated. “You came over here, not the other way around.” So much for polite and non-confrontational. But damn, he has some audacity.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, a little quickly, holding up his one empty hand like he’s surrendering. “I just meant… don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Your temper settles, but you still feel a little… disgruntled, unsettled. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be,” you grumble.

He smiles at this. “That’s right. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

Maybe that used to be the case.

The liquor takes over your mouth. “I didn’t want to break up,” you say pointedly, “so I guess that’s not true.”

He huffs out a single laugh, shaking his head at your audacity. “You always just say shit,” he murmurs. “To hell with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you demand, turning to face him fully. “Are you going to dump me more? I fail to see how I could make things worse for us after five years of not speaking.”

He licks his lips, eyes on his glass again. That was the thing about you and Yoongi - he’s right, you did just say shit. And he always just handled it. He always heard you, processed it, and dealt with it productively. He never took the bait and got mad back, never yelled - even when you’d wished he’d yell.

“It’s because,” he’d told you, sometime around seven years ago, when you were together, “when you say absolutely wild shit like that, you always mean something else. And I just happen to be very good at translating you.”

Now, he meets your eyes again, having processed. Having translated. “What I’m hearing you say,” he says slowly, “is that you’re still mad at me.”

That’s all it takes to take the wind out of your sails - that’s always how it worked with you and Yoongi. You blustered and got worked up, and he defused you easily - just by meeting your gaze, just by assuring you that you were heard.

“I think I’m mad at our circumstances,” you correct quietly. “And I think I’ve had too many of these.” You eye the cocktail in your hand with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

He gives you the barest sliver of a smile. “Don’t blame the drinks,” he says, shaking his head. “You never could lie to me - it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

He’s right. For all your faults, for all the negatives you can take credit for, you always told him the truth.

Namjoon appears in the living room, a beer in hand, still in the bottle.

“I’m trying to decide which one of you needs to be rescued from the other,” he admits, looking between you, “and I honestly can’t tell.”

“Rescue him from me,” you say. “He’s been nice and I’ve been prickly.”

“You?” Namjoon says in mock surprise. “Prickly? No way.”

You flip him off, smiling.

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re going,” he says, looking past you to the snow outside. “I don’t want to drive once the roads are slick.”

Namjoon sighs, following his gaze. “I was having fun,” he says sadly. “But I’m probably not too far behind you.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung whines from the dining room. “Everyone stop leaving! It’s just a little snow!”

Seokjin’s girlfriend finds him, joining your little circle, her phone still in her hand. “We’re supposed to have almost three inches by midnight,” she says in a whisper, clearly not wanting Taehyung to come after her. “We need to get moving.”

When Seokjin and his girlfriend leave, you float back towards the dining room. Namjoon and Yoongi stay behind, talking quietly. Probably, Namjoon is checking to make sure you weren’t too mean to him. Which… that’s fair.

The truth is, you aren’t mad at Yoongi. How could you be? When he ended things, he hadn’t been cruel, or unfair. His decision had been made logically. You understood exactly why he felt he needed to do it.

That’s where the hurt came from, you figured. You were always led by your emotions - quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Yoongi was always more even-tempered, logical. While you were packing up your life to move away from home for university, he’d laid out the reasons you shouldn’t stay together like they were a grocery list.

Like it didn’t hurt him at all.

None of his reasons were wrong. But would it have killed him to act like he cared? You’d been together three years - and you felt like they should count more, since they were such formative ones. Like dog years - each one should have counted for seven. It had broken your heart to let him walk away - shouldn’t he have felt something, too?

You’d dated plenty in college, a few of those relationships getting serious enough to last a few months. But at the end of the day, nobody compared to your first love. How could they? How could anyone?

No one understood you like Yoongi. No one could translate you like Yoongi. No one knew - or learned - how to settle you down like Yoongi. No one had that mental encyclopedia of useless knowledge like Yoongi. No one else had that perfect blend of dry and earnest like Yoongi. No one else fit to your body like a puzzle piece like Yoongi.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Yoongi had left, Yoongi had taken the decision right out of your hands and walked away with it. You weren’t mad at him, but you definitely resented that.

You’d had years to get over it, to forgive him, to come to terms with the fact that he was right about every single thing. But forgiveness and understanding are one thing. Letting go - of him, of loving him - is something else entirely, and you’re starting to think that even a lifetime of years won’t be enough for that.

That’s enough of that, you think, giving yourself a rough mental shake. You set down your drink glass and head for the bathroom, but it’s occupied. You lean against the wall outside, counting your breaths, trying to get yourself back into that holly, jolly headspace.

The door opens and Jungkook emerges, singing under his breath, “Pah-rum-pum-pum-pum!”

“Hi, JayKay,” you say, moving to slide past him into the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” he says brightly. “I was just about to leave. You have a way to get home, right? It’s getting worse out there.”

“I was just going to Uber,” you tell him.

“Better do it soon,” he warns. “Soon the drivers aren’t going to want to be on the roads.”

“Good point,” you say, and wave a quick goodbye before shutting the bathroom door. You give yourself a stern look in the mirror.

Get it together, please, you think firmly. Seeing your ex - this ex, too, not just a casual one - for the first time in five years earns you a little wallowing, you think, and you fully intend to. At home. Later. Not here, in front of everyone.

Not here, in front of him.

Back in the kitchen, the party has really dwindled down to the last few people. Outside, snow falls as steadily as Taehyung’s guest list.

The peer pressure gets to you, and you pull out your phone and open a ride-share app. It takes a while before a driver connects, but you’re persistent. Once you have a driver, you watch the little image of their car start to head in your direction on the map.

From the dining room, you hear Yoongi make a tch of frustration. “No one is picking up for me,” he grumbles, seemingly to himself.

“Good,” Taehyung says seriously. “Don’t leave me.”

You go find your coat, slipping your arms into the sleeves and doing up each button. When you return to the dining room, Yoongi and Taehyung are the only ones left. Taehyung is fully, blatantly, sulking, his arms crossed on the table and his chin resting dejectedly atop them.

“Better luck next time, bud,” you tell him kindly.

Yoongi is still squinting at his phone screen, frowning.

You feel a twinge of concern, of the need to make it better for him the way you used to on a regular basis. “Still nothing?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even see anyone on the map.”

You check your phone again - your car is just up the road. “I have one,” you tell him. “Join mine - we’ll just request the extra stop.”

Yoongi meets your eyes, holds your gaze for a minute. Then, he says, so seriously, “Are you sure?”

You know he means it. You know if you give any indication that you don’t want him in a car with you, he won’t push it.

“Yeah,” you say. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you stranded here.”

“Why not?” Taehyung whines, kicking his feet a little in protest.

“My car’s just here though,” you warn, eyes on your screen, both of you absolutely ignoring the host of the party.

“I’ll grab my coat,” Yoongi says, and heads for the hallway.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” you say sympathetically. “I know you’re sad.”

He refuses to look at you.

After giving over-the-top goodbye hugs to try and un-sulk the whiny baby, you and Yoongi head down the stairs and outside. You don’t look behind you to check that Yoongi is following. The car idles by the curb, and you double-check the license plate against the app.

In the backseat of the car, you slide over to make room for Yoongi. As soon as he closes his door and the car lurches into motion, the vibe changes. You sit stiffly, ramrod straight, eyes on the windshield. Yoongi’s not sitting quite as straight as you, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, like he’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t touch you by accident with the car’s inertia.

You had put in your parent’s address when you requested the ride, since that’s where you’re staying until New Years’ Day. You and Yoongi sit in blasting, blaring silence as the car crosses the middle of the town you’d both grown up in, that you’d run around in together as teenagers in love. But, past town, towards the quiet neighborhood where your parents’ house is, the car slows to a stop.

“I can’t go through this way, Miss,” your driver says, peering at you through the rearview mirror. “There’s a powerline down up there.”

“Oh shit,” you say, which is probably not very polite of you. You lean forward to look at the same time Yoongi does, your shoulders bumping. You both recoil quickly.

“I think you can get to the development from the other side,” you muse, “but we’d have to backtrack and go around the lake on the other side…”

“Let’s just go to my place,” Yoongi interjects. “The roads are getting worse, and it’s close.”

You frown. Yoongi’s parents’ house - which you’d been to plenty of times as a younger person - is on the other side of town. Not close by your standards, but you aren’t here to argue.

Or maybe you are.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” you say, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “How will I get home from there?”

“You might have to stay,” he admits, leaning down to better look at the road through the front windshield. The driver sits, watching you debate, waiting for a directive.

You give Yoongi a silent look like, okay, and so you see my problem?

He scoffs at you. “It’s fine. We can handle one night.”

You want to ask, how sure are you about that? Instead, you start to tell the driver Yoongi’s parents’ address.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, putting a hand gently on your arm to stop you. You both freeze, looking at the point of contact. Yoongi shakes himself out of it first, and tells the driver a different address.

The car shifts back into drive and you look at Yoongi quizzically.

“Did your family move?” you ask finally.

Here’s the thing. You know Yoongi, you get Yoongi; five years apart hasn’t changed that at all. So when he licks his lips, shifts his gaze to his feet, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, you know it’s guilt.

“Yoongi?” you prod, suspicious.

He mumbles something, still not looking at you.

“What?” you snap. “You what?”

“I sort of moved back last month…” he repeats to the floor.

“You live here?” you repeat, dumbfounded. “You live in town again?”

“Currently, yeah,” he says, and there’s something in that currently that you’d really like to examine, but you’re still fucking floored.

Yoongi had gone to university in the city - hours away. The distance thing was reasons one through four of his Why We Need to Break Up list. It had made sense, logistically. It made sense when you went abroad for university, and he stayed here. It made sense when you returned and got an internship and then a full-time job in a different city, hours in the opposite direction. It made sense when you managed to go five entire years without being in the same place.

But now he was here. Reasons one through four, moot.

Reasons five to whatever largely revolved around being young and needing to experience the world and figure out what you want in life, that kind of shit. Now it’s five years later and you’ve both experienced plenty of bullshit.

Reasons five through whatever, moot.

You wonder, wordlessly, heart pounding again, if Yoongi knows or cares that every reason he gave you to validate walking away no longer applies.

“You live here,” you repeat. You’re stuck on it, you can’t move on. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he says guiltily. “I know you didn’t. I… was honestly fighting with myself about if I should reach out or not. I guess I ultimately decided not… since you’re in the city, and you have your whole life and everything…”

What life? You wonder.

The car pulls into a small, understated neighborhood. You’ve been here before; your chemistry partner from tenth grade lived in this development, you’d come to do homework more than once.

It’s always so weird to come back to this town, where everywhere you go has memories, secondary definitions. It’s not just a library, it’s the library where Yoongi had kissed you for the first time. It’s not just a park, it’s the park where you’d had your first fight, where you’d screamed at him in front of God and the ducks and all the moms pushing strollers. It’s not just a diner, it’s the diner where Yoongi had told you that it made no sense to try and stay together from different time zones.

Everything came back to him. It always had. It always does. In a lot of ways, you felt like you were fated to be tied to him this way - and you usually didn’t believe in shit like that.

You always break your own rules for him.

The place is small, and not very Yoongi-ish, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as Yoongi slides out of the car and waits for you.

“Get home safe,” you tell the driver before closing the door. Yoongi’s got his house keys in his hand, and he leads you up the walkway. It’s slick, and you try to step only in the footprints he leaves in the inch of snow coating the ground.

Inside, the light over the sink illuminates a small, mostly empty kitchen. That’s not very Yoongi-ish either, you think. You remember him cooking all the time - appliances everywhere, cutting boards hanging, pots and pans stored on hooks.

He passes the kitchen and enters what looks like the living room, reaching to click on a few dim lamps. They cast a yellow glow to the room.

You set down your purse and fold your coat up on top of it. Yoongi waits for you in the living room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the window, watching the snow. His jawline from the side nearly takes your breath away. He’s so damn beautiful it makes you sick.

And he’s back, Yoongi is back.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“Whatever you’re having would be great,” you tell him. You settle gingerly on one end of the couch as he busies himself in the kitchen. You shoot your parents a quick text that the roads were too bad and you weren’t going to make it back to their place so they wouldn’t worry.

Yoongi returns with two glasses of red wine. He hands you one wordlessly and sits opposite you on the couch.

“So,” you say. The awkward, hyper-polite vibe from the car is back. Like you’re strangers. Like you didn’t know each other inside and out, once. “You’ve been here a month?”

“Just shy of it,” Yoongi corrects politely. “I signed a two month lease, so… I’ve got a few weeks to figure out my next move.”

“You don’t think you’ll stay?” you ask, then sip at the wine. It’s good - of course it’s good, he’s got great taste. You love and hate that about him.

He shrugs, drinks from his own glass. “Doubt it.”

He doesn’t give you any more information than that - why he’s back, what’s next for him, why he’s here for such a short time.

You don’t press it. He’ll tell you if he wants to.

Instead, you both drink in silence. Outside, the snow seems to redouble its efforts, the wind picking up until it seems to be snowing sideways for minutes at a time before calming into a normal downward fall again.

“I think we made the right choice,” Yoongi murmurs, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the weather and Taehyung’s party, not about your past.

“Mhm,” you nod, as you come back into the present. That’s a problem you have - you’re always looking back. “Imagine if we were just leaving now? What a mess. Thanks for taking me in, I guess.”

“You guess,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but there’s no ire in it.

You drink in silence a little longer, and then Yoongi rises with a sigh. “I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed,” he says, sort of absently, like he’s both talking to you and also just thinking out loud. “And then I’ll show you how to work the tv in there if you –”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Yoongi,” you tell him flatly.

He balks. “I didn’t mean with me, I meant by yourself!”

“No, I know that,” you reassure him. “But I’m not letting you sleep on your own couch because of me. I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. That long hair swishes. “You’re a guest. I’m not putting you on the couch.”

“Yoongi,” you say sternly. “If I know you’re out here on the couch and I’m in there with your whole friggin bed, I will simply not sleep because I will feel too guilty about it! And I would like to sleep. So, please, put your chivalry and hospitality aside, and let me sleep. Out here.”

He considers this, because he knows you, and he knows you’re telling the truth. “Fine,” he concedes, and disappears into what must be his bedroom.

When he returns, he’s carrying a stack of what looks like linens. He sets down the pile and you spy blankets and pillows. He pushes the pillows aside gently and picks up something else, turning to hold it out to you, an offering.

It’s gym shorts and a large tshirt, and you reach to take them without thinking. Once they’re in your hand, they feel suddenly heavy with meaning. You used to wear his clothes all the time - you might have one or two of his hoodies in the back of your closet at home because you love them and don’t want to get rid of them, even though you feel too weird to actually wear them. You’re not sure how you feel about wearing his clothes again, now that it means nothing. The alternatives are pretty undesirable, though, so you’ll have to grin and bear it.

“There’s a half-bath on the other side, through the kitchen,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom in question. “So you don’t have to feel weird walking through my room to the full bath if you don’t want to. Though... do you need to shower? I can get you towels and stuff –”

“Maybe in the morning?” you say, eyeing the clock on the wall. “Just… could I borrow face-soap? And toothpaste?”

You’ll have to make do without your make-up remover and an actual toothbrush. Finger-brushing it is.

When you emerge from the bathroom, teeth freshly finger-brushed, wearing Yoongi’s clothes, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the wine glasses you’d used.

You brush past him silently, and start setting up the couch how you want it. You hear the sink turn off, the click of the lightswitch as he shuts off the lights behind him. He comes back through the room and pauses in his doorway.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No,” you say, feeling small in his baggy shirt, feeling small in the face of all the feelings you’re swimming in right now. “I’m all good.”

He looks at you for a long minute, searching. “Okay,” he says, finally. “Sleep well.”

He turns into his room, and you watch his skinny wrist turn as he reaches to shut the door.

“Yoongi,” you say, the word out of your mouth before you really know what will follow it. He pauses, peeks his head back into view, raises an eyebrow at you. “Thanks,” you say, meekly.

He nods, silent, then reaches to close his door, gently and effectively shutting you out.

You get comfortable on the couch, bunching the blanket up around your head how you like it. It takes almost no time at all to fall asleep, and when you do, you don’t dream.

You’re awakened sometime later by a noise, and you sit up, your brain scrambling to catch up to the present and figure out where you are.

A couch, it processes. It comes back to you a little at a time. Yoongi’s couch. Yoongi’s house. Yoongi’s house in town.

The noise that woke you must have been his bedroom door opening, because as you slowly get your bearings, you become aware of him staring at you from his doorway.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says apologetically, then moves across the room towards the kitchen. “I just needed water.” Then, from the kitchen, as an afterthought, he asks, “Do you want one?”

“Please,” you say immediately, mentally cataloging all the effects of dehydration you can feel. Cottony mouth, ringing ears, the tingling beginnings of a headache…

He returns to the living room and stops near the couch. You stretch to turn on one of the dim lamps, casting a quiet yellow on the room. He stands there in too-big pajamas and holds out a water bottle silently.

It’s definitely still the middle of the night. You can’t have slept more than a few hours. Everything feels different, somehow. It was so awkward before; you’d felt the need to be cautious and hyper-polite. Now everything feels blurred, fuzzy with sleep, softer. You’re sitting up, the blanket you’d been sleeping under still over your lap. You reach over and lift the other side, holding it up like a question.

Yoongi pads over and sits on the far side of the couch, but he curls his legs up and slips his bare feet under the blanket. You let it fall, covering him from the shin down.

He taps on his phone and grimaces at the time. “Hey,” he says, a little wry, “Merry Christmas.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

He taps at his screen again and a speaker near his tv comes to life, playing what has to be a Coffee Shop Christmas playlist, pre-curated. You lean your head against the back of the couch, listening to the strum of acoustic guitar and the gentle snare of a drum meander through a mellow, lethargic version of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

“Christmas music, huh?” you tease, eyes closed. “That’s very holly, jolly of you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he protests. “I’m not, like, a Grinch. It’s just… another day. So is tomorrow. Why all the fuss?”

You bump his foot with your knee beneath the blanket. “Scrooge.”

Ignoring your teasing, he looks sideways at you, something baleful on his face. “Y/N? I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

You’re surprised into silence, looking back at him across the couch. “What? What for?”

He grimaces, like the answer is too big, like he’s got an annotated list of every fault he’s mentally cataloged. “For all of it, I guess.”

You’re not letting him off the hook; this is too important to skirt around. “What are you sorry for, Yoongi?” you ask seriously.

He laughs once, quietly, incredulously, like he can’t believe you. “You really want to go there?”

“You know I do.”

He thinks before he speaks - one of your favorite things about him. “Because for the last five years, I hated myself for leaving you behind. And I wondered every day if you hated me for it, too.”

You sit in silence, feeling frozen. Yoongi lets you - Yoongi waits. Is he admitting regret? Does that mean he’d do it differently, given the chance?

Because here you are - being given the chance, in a way.

“I was never mad at you for going,” you tell him, because you know he needs to know. Yoongi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, which means he really did wonder if you hated him. You don’t owe him much, but you figure you owe him this truth. Then you admit, “But I was mad at myself for… letting you. Did you… I mean, should I have argued? When you left?”

You’d always wondered. What would have happened if you’d fought just a little harder for him to stay?

He scoots a little closer, tugging the blanket closer to his knees, thinking about your question. “I think part of me had hoped you would… but it wouldn’t have changed my mind,” he tells you honestly. “Just would’ve made it hurt more. The way things happened, I could lie and tell myself you were fine with letting me go.”

You exhale on a note of indignation. “Fine? That was you. You were so… okay with walking away.”

He shakes his head. He must have taken the bun out when he went to bed, and his hair swishes around his shoulders, loose and beautiful. “I wasn’t okay. I didn’t go a single day and not wonder… how you were. I didn’t go a single day sure that I made the right choice.��

You feel, weirdly, kind of pissed. “What am I supposed to do with that, Yoongi? Seriously?”

He opens his mouth to answer this rhetorical question, but you don’t let him. The words pour out of you, unleashed after five years of being held back.

“This is just… unfair. Because normally, in the movies, when you get this moment - the post-mortem - with someone from your past… they always ask why, right? Why’d you leave? But I don’t need to ask why - I know the why, I understood why. I want to know… I want to know if you regret it. If you’d take it back.”

“That’s two different questions,” he says solemnly, “with two different answers.”

You cut your eyes at him. It’s the middle of the night and your brain is mostly mush. You need him to just be forthcoming, just say things plainly.

He knows.

“Of course I regret it,” he whispers finally, as if the words hold too much weight to utter any louder. “I regretted it while I was still saying it. I hated being away from you, I hated not talking to you, I hated not knowing how you were or what you were doing or if you… still cared about me at all.” He pauses, inhales slowly, rubs a hand down his tired face, then exhales with a whoosh. “But would I take it back? I don’t know.”

You exhale, eyeing the ceiling. Who’s the one just saying shit now? God. “You can’t just say things like that, Yoongi,” you tell him, eyes trained on the shitty, popcorn ceiling above you.

He says your name, still so soft, so quiet.

“What?”

“Don’t cry.”

It’s so stupid. You hadn’t cried then, not in front of him. You wipe hastily under your eyes. “Sorry,” you say hastily, trying to save face. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

“I’m not sure I would take it back,” he repeats carefully, and you realize he hadn’t been done before - you’d interrupted his thought, “because when I left… I knew the whole time that it didn’t make anything better. But if I hadn’t… I think I’d still be wondering if I should, if we’d be better apart. I wouldn’t know, so the question would still be hanging over me.”

You think he’s saying something without saying it, but it’s like four in the morning and you just aren’t sure.

“But now?” you prod.

He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “Now I know the answer.”

You want to shake him. You’ve never had a conversation go in circles like this in your life, and you need to get to the center of it. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice tight like a warning.

He knows.

He always knows. He cuts to the chase. “I have a job lined up in the city.”

You almost drop your water bottle. “My city?”

“Your city.”

“Yoongi,” you say again, pleading. “Just say what you mean.” Please.

He smiles your favorite of his smiles - only one half of his mouth lifts at first, cocky, until it spreads the rest of the way and shows his gums in all their glory. “Just thinking about that whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together… null and void now, don’t you think?”

You feel like you can’t breathe. You’ve both been circling it like predators, and now you’re closing in.

“So what does that mean? For you?” Do you dare to ask it? You do. “For us?”

Someone else, you think, would probably have asked you, what do you want it to mean?

But it’s Yoongi - and Yoongi knows the answer already.

He’s pushing the blanket off of his legs - and yours - and coming to hover over you. Your body responds, laying back against the pillow you’d been sleeping on, making room for him like it remembers exactly how you fit. Your fingers find his jaw like they’re magnetically drawn, your thumb sliding against his cheek.

His hair falls around your faces like a curtain, blocking out the dim lamplight, as his mouth finds yours.

Kissing him again is everything. It’s absolutely everything. He’s home, he’s wilderness, he’s calm, he’s the whole damn storm, he’s undoing every seam you have, he’s stitching you back together, he’s beautiful beautiful beautiful.

His lips are soft but sure against yours, his jaw moving under the press of your fingers. You feel like you’re flying, falling, maybe both, as your eyelids flutter. He’s bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, holding himself over you. You were resting your free hand against his side, his ribs like piano keys beneath your palm, and you find yourself bunching his shirt into your fist, trying to pull yourself up, closer, closer.

You have to will yourself not to babble against his mouth, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. You could say it six hundred times and it still wouldn’t get it all out of you. You pour it into the kiss instead, straining up to meet him, beating words away from your mouth as you toy with his bottom lip.

He drops his lower body carefully, pinning your hips beneath his own, shifting to hold himself up on elbows instead of hands. The weight of him is welcome; something needs to keep you tethered to this planet.

He licks into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours, and you inhale sharply against his mouth.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips, and he turns his head to kiss your palm where it’s been resting against his face. There’s something so tender about it that tears spring to your eyes, and you blink them away quickly.

Then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth again, humming a low, happy note against you. You go for the hem of his shirt, pulling until it gets tangled against his armpits. He sits back on his haunches, helping you pull it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Your eyes trace him, over and over, trying to remember every shade and every line, trying to find every difference from five years ago. He’s beautiful, flushing dark across the chest, eyes positively predatory in their focus on you.

“You, too,” he says, sounding a little breathless, and you scoot back and sit up. He goes for your hem before you can, tugging it up and over your head. The cold air assaults you and you shiver. Yoongi makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl in appreciation, lowering himself over you again. His kiss is insistent this time, one hand coming up to cup a breast, fingers deftly rolling your nipple, sending electricity skittering down your spine. You whine, deep in your throat, and you feel his lips quirk into a smile.

“Would you kick my ass if I said ‘I’ve missed your tits’ right now?” he asks, chest quaking as he tries to rein in laughter.

“Yes,” you grumble, reaching to weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug him back so you can kiss him again, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as you do.

“Okay,” he says, in between kisses, “but I did.” Then he puts his money where his mouth is - or maybe vice-versa - to prove it, lowering his head and taking the other nipple in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. Your whole body reacts, feet stretching, back arching to push against his body, fingers tightening in his hair as you moan out loud. Each little motion of his mouth ignites sparks that reach every part of you - the pit of your stomach, the base of your spine, clear down to your toes.

It’s honestly embarrassing how turned on you get as he continues, working one side until you’re writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together desperately, then switching to continue his onslaught on the other side.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, and some absent part of your brain is aware that his name is the only coherent word you’ve said in a while. “Please, you’re torturing me.”

He releases you with a wet pop, grinning up at you deviously. “So pretty when you beg like that,” he remarks, like he’s observing the weather - which is still a fucking blizzard, by the way. Then he’s coming up to kiss you again, deep and slow this time. His hand slides along your bare stomach, around and under your back, and you arch your back partly to make room for his arm underneath you, and partly because you can’t not, as his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Please, what?” he murmurs, lips close to your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of the shorts you’re wearing - his shorts. “What do you want?”

“Anything - whatever you’ll give me,” you manage. All you can focus on is his fingers, their circular path along your lower stomach, toying with your waistband.

It must be the right answer, because he slips his hand into your shorts, fingers pressing along your slit, your underwear clinging to you already. He slides his fingers along the slickened fabric, eyes on your face, listening to the tiny moans that escape when you exhale.

He shifts to his side, between you and the back of the couch, and you loop an arm around his neck - half to hold yourself up on the couch, and half because you need to be holding him. You can feel how hard he is now, as his body presses against your legs. He distracts you with a kiss, and slips your panties aside, wasting no time in sheathing his middle finger up to the last knuckle.

You hiss his name, your head lolling back against the couch in pleasure, your neck bared to him. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. You groan, the sound rumbling from your chest. You could let him do this all night if you had the patience - just this simple act feels so good you think you might come undone.

And if you remember anything about sex with Yoongi, he’s just getting started.

He slips his fingers out of you and brings them up to your clit, circling once, then twice, before going back to where he started, the pad of his middle finger circling your entrance, careful to stay just outside.

Your whole body turns to jelly, everything quivering from head to toe at the sensation. You grip the couch with both hands, digging your fingers in. “Ohhh my god,” you manage, something accusatory in your tone, like you’re asking him how the fuck are you doing that?

He smiles against you, middle finger still running in lazy circles through the wetness collecting there. “That’s right, I know what you like,” he murmurs, smug, his lips tickling your neck, before plunging both fingers back into your heat without warning. He repeats the cycle - in, out, up, down, around, around, in again - until you’re dizzy from it, your fingers clutching the fabric of the couch so hard that you’re sure you’ll rip it.

You have one single moment of clarity that sends you reaching down to where you can feel him hot and hard against your leg, but he shifts away, tutting.

“You first,” he says. “I want to see you make that face you make. It’s been literal years.”

“Oh my god,” you say, feeling yourself flush. “Yoongi! Seriously?”

He laughs, shoulders shaking. “What? I love to watch you lose your shit. What a fucking ego boost.” He punctuates these words with a quick change of wrist direction, suddenly pistoning against your front wall in a way that has your comeback melting right out of your brain.

He’d had you close before, and the sudden switch-up does the trick - you feel everything tighten from your shoulders to your toes, your eyes screwing shut. Yoongi shifts his weight to hold your leg in place so you can’t try to close them on him and redoubles his efforts, humming in pleasure as you squeeze around his fingers like a vice.

You let out a series of wordless cries as the pleasure builds to the point you want to shy away from it, and then Yoongi presses his thumb to your clit just so and you’re spiraling over the edge, your ears filled with a buzzing white noise, your toes curling, your desperate hands leaving the couch and clutching Yoongi instead, trusting him to guide you to the other side.

When you come down, heart hammering in your chest, you bat his hand away, breaths heaving.

“Take those off,” you pant, tugging on the bit of his pants you can reach, and shimmying your own bottoms the rest of the way off and dumping them onto the floor.

“Bossy,” Yoongi remarks, smirking sideways at you as he obeys.

You resituate yourself against the arm of the couch as he comes to kneel near your feet, stroking himself languidly. You both freeze with the same thought at the same time.

“Do I…” he says hesitantly, “do you want me to wear -?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, mind racing for an answer. You’re tempted to just tell him it’s fine, because surely having a how many people have you been with in the five years since we broke up conversation will absolutely kill the mood right now. But that’s not really safe.

“Maybe you’d better?” you venture. “Have you -? I mean, we don’t need to talk about this right now. But I haven’t been with anyone without… you know.”

“Same here, and I got tested after… the last one. Just in case,” he admits, eyes on yours, and the moment feels heavy. Do you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth?

Of course you do.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” you tell him. “No pressure.”

“You’re still on -?” he checks, and you nod.

“In that case,” he says, and leans over you to kiss you again. You can feel him, rubbing along the messy slickness, and it occurs to you that you haven’t even touched him yet.

You whine, twisting your shoulders to try and reach him with a hand, but he’s too impatient, lining himself up and starting to sink into you. You groan at the stretch - it’s been a while since your last fling - but the sound that tears through Yoongi’s throat is more like a growl, guttural and animalistic.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, as he slowly rocks into you until he bottoms out, his hips tight against yours.

He’s everywhere - caging you in, hovering above you, holding you down, filling you up. He’s everywhere, and he feels both so familiar it makes you want to cry again, and also - somehow - brand-fucking-new, like you’ve never felt him before.

You can feel every ridge of him, every twitch, as he sets a slow but even pace, letting you adjust.

“God,” you gasp when he hits a spot just right. His head had been hanging above you, his eyes watching the place where he disappeared inside you, all that long hair loose, but he smirks up at you at this.

“Good,” he coos, and picks up the pace, hips smacking yours, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin, his grunts and your whines.

You’re gasping a little at each stroke, that tight feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach growing stronger with each thrust. “God,” you growl, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade as you hang on for dear life. “Yoongi, fuck!”

He slows on purpose, straightening up, forcing you to release your hold on his back. He grins at you, that shit-eating, one-sided grin, and then grabs your ankles, maneuvering them both to rest against his right shoulder. He leans forward against your legs and hammers into you, breathing hard, and you swear to god you see stars for a second.

“Ohmygod, yes, there,” you gasp, hands going to the backs of your own thighs to help alleviate the stretch. You need to start doing yoga or something.

The build-up is slower this time, the feeling pulsing through you in waves that strengthen and ebb again. Yoongi can tell when it’s real by the change in your voice - wordless whines rising in pitch, by the arch of your back, by the way you clamp around him so hard that he almost loses it right there.

“Yeah?” he asks, the word more like a gasp for air. “Close?”

“Please,” you beg, the sensation of pure light racing up your legs to your toes, the pulsing starting slow and determined in your core.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, brows furrowed with concentration as he works to keep a steady pace. He grips one of your ankles and switches it to his other shoulder, creating space to reach down and rub gentle figure-eights around your clit.

The wave takes you over, and there’s a long moment where you’re completely devoid of your senses - no sight, no sound, nothing but how tight tight tight everything has gone, too tight to even breathe - and then it breaks and you can hear yourself wailing, eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You clench around Yoongi hard, the aftershocks rolling through you, so hard that he hisses and drops his forehead to yours, his pace slowing significantly as he fucks you through it.

You go boneless as it leaves you, and Yoongi pushes all the way inside you and stills, pressing his lips to your temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, so sweet for someone who just had you experiencing the multiverse.

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, so spent and tired that you can barely form the word.

“C’mere,” he grunts, slipping out of you, and he grips the back of your neck, hauling you upright and falling backwards in the same motion, pulling you over top of him. You loop your arms around his neck, feeling floaty, and he wraps his around your middle. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his breath loud next to your ear.

“Can you keep going?” he checks. “I know you’re tired. I’m almost there, I promise.”

“M’good,” you assure him against his collarbone, and he gives you one quick squeeze before reaching down to adjust himself. He pushes in and you cry out, the sound muffled as you press your face into him. You’re so sensitive now, the sensation is entirely different.

“You can take it,” he whispers, sliding a hand down your spine. Then, with a grunt of “shit,” he grabs you and jackhammers up into you, his fingers furrowing into the meat of your ass, so tight you think you’ll have five little bruises on each side when this is over.

You feel so close to him - your cheek presses up against his, your arms wrapped tight around him, his hands securing you in place, his heart beating wildly against yours where your chests press together.

You gasp for breath into the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, just trying to take what he gives you. You can hear his breathing change as he gets close, his pace quickening but his thrusts starting to come less evenly, his grip on your ass tightening just a bit further as he pulls your hips down to meet his every few thrusts.

“Is inside okay?” he asks, the words sounding like they’re torn from him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but it comes out more like a moan.

“God,” he grunts in response to this, and the word tears, ending on a strangled moan as he empties himself deep inside you.

You lay there, gasping for breath, for a long minute. Then Yoongi gives you an affectionate pat on the ass, indicating that it’s safe to move.

“Go get in the shower,” he suggests. “I’ll grab you a towel and meet you in there.”

“I don’t know if I can get there,” you say, joking, but your legs feel like jelly. You grab your phone and make your way, wobbly, through the living room and into his bedroom.

You hadn’t come in here before. It’s clean, but sparse. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel homey. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel like Yoongi.

You keep going, padding through his room and towards the attached bathroom, fumbling for the lightswitch. You place your phone next to the sink and fiddle with the shower’s knobs until you get a steady stream of hot water going.

It feels heavenly to step under the hot water, your aching muscles relaxing in the steam. But it feels even better when Yoongi wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you giggle. You might still be riding a little bit of a post-orgasm high.

You both rinse off in silence, and then Yoongi places his hand on the knob, looking at you to make sure you’re ready to get out. You nod, but he hesitates.

“Will you sleep with me?” he asks, a little unsure, leagues different from the cocky man you’d been tangled up with mere minutes before. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

You give him a soft smile, and he turns off the water, reaching for the towels hanging just outside.

“Of course I will,” you tell him before wrapping yourself up in the soft, gray terry-cloth.

You crawl into his bed once you’re dry, and he joins you after making a quick pass through the living room to turn the lights back off and gather up the clothes you’d both tossed around. When he clicks off his bedside lamp and rolls to face you, you feel a fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

You’re not sure where you go from here.

You lay facing each other in the darkness; it’s just too dark to really see much, but you can tell he’s looking at you.

You’re laying there, letting your thoughts spool around you, the what-if’s and what-now’s laying themselves out in your mind, when you realize you’ve reached out without meaning to, your fingers tangling in his long hair, rolling strands between them. You keep playing with it, cautiously, practically holding your breath, waiting to see if he objects.

Instead, you feel him relax under your hand, letting out a long breath. “That feels nice,” he admits, voice breathy with almost-sleep and barely audible.

You fall asleep without any answers, with your fingers curled up in Yoongi’s hair.

You wake up to a warm body behind you, not quite touching. You shift your cold toes a little closer to the warmth you find, smiling when you hear him whine about it. The light outside is white, that abnormal shade of light that comes from sunlight bouncing off of snow and ice. You’re about to close your eyes again when you realize that the warm body behind you isn’t sleeping, because you can hear the incriminating clicking and clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously working right now?” you ask him, rolling a little to look at him over your shoulder. He peers back at you guiltily, his glasses low on his nose, fingers frozen in the air above the keys.

“I just wanted to answer a few -”

“It’s Christmas morning!” you scold.

“I’m aware of that,” he answers dryly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Turn it off, Yoongi. It’s Christmas and you are in bed with someone. My God.”

He shoots you a defensive look, but finishes whatever he was doing and clicks the laptop closed, leaning over to place it on his nightstand.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, a little fondly, sitting up a little next to him.

“Neither have you,” he says pointedly. It’s less fond when he says it.

You consider this. “You want to know something stupid?” you ask. Yoongi doesn’t answer out loud, just meets your eyes and waits. “You’re right. I haven’t changed. I think… I think I’ve been afraid to.”

He turns to face you, sensing how serious you are about this. “What do you mean?” he presses.

You stop to think, the way you learned to after spending years watching him, knowing he did this better than you. “I guess… some little part of me always wondered what would happen if we crossed paths again. If I changed too much… what if I stopped being someone you’d want? What if I became someone so different that your heart didn’t know mine anymore?”

It sounds so corny coming out of your mouth, but the truth behind it is so heavy you can’t hold it up anymore. It was a fear you’d secretly harbored for half a decade - what if fate put Yoongi in your life again, and he still didn’t want you?

And Yoongi does what he’s always done - hears you, understands you, answers you in your own language.

“Impossible,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, eyes combing your face. His voice is like a layer of snow, smooth and clear, full of something unnamable. Or maybe you don’t want to name it. You turn your head, as if that will get you further away. “That’s impossible. My heart will always know yours.”

You look at your hands, feeling a little choked up. Your heart stutters and jumps in your chest. The question you’re holding back churns in a little ball behind your ribs.

“Hey,” he says, softly but intently. You manage to look up at him. “Let’s make breakfast?” He says it like a question.

“Yeah,” you say, able to speak again. “That sounds good.”

Yoongi lends you sweatpants, since it’s too chilly to roam around the house in basketball shorts, and busies himself in the kitchen while you get changed. When you finally join him, he’s plated something for each of you, and he pushes a glass of iced coffee towards you.

You can’t help but smile. “You remember,” you accuse, and he avoids your eyes, cheeks flushing.

“You get a girl ninety-thousand iced coffees, it stays with you,” he defends.

“Ninety-thousand,” you scoff, but you’re pleased. As you eat, you look out the kitchen window. It’s bright outside, but it’s still snowing - tiny, wispy flakes floating leisurely down to join you. The road clearly hasn’t been plowed yet; the snow outside is untouched, unbothered, a perfect sheet of white. You can’t even tell where the road is, except for the mailbox poking up out of the feet of snow on the ground already.

Yoongi follows your gaze. “Looks like you’re trapped here for a while,” he observes.

“A shame,” you deadpan, and he kicks at you playfully beneath the table.

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud, “since you won’t let me get any work done… do you want to put on a movie?”

“A Christmas movie?” you ask, perking up.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a little smile. “I guess that’d make sense,” he agrees.

He leads you back to the couch, which you eye sideways, remembering clearly what this couch witnessed about three hours ago. Yoongi seems unphased, slouching sideways against some pillows and looking at you expectantly. You join him gingerly, leaning against him, and he drapes a blanket over your legs.

“Pick something,” he asks, passing you the remote - another old Yoongi trick that you remember well.

You take the offered remote, clicking through the holiday options for something that you don’t think will make Yoongi gag. As you scroll, brows furrowed in concentration, he clears his throat beside you.

“So, uh,” he says, and you stop scrolling, because he sounds nervous. “Next weekend I’m supposed to go look at some apartments. Do you… would you want to keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes wide, the remote forgotten in your hand, still aloft and pointed at the tv.

“Why?” you whisper once you find your voice.

He shrugs, wets his lips. “You know the city well,” he says. “You can offer your brilliant opinions - tell me if the neighborhood’s okay… if there’s good take-away… where the transit stops are, that kind of shit.”

“Hm,” you say, a little tightly.

He shoots you a sheepish grin. “I’ll take you to dinner after?”

You give him a look. “Say what you mean, Yoongi.”

He purses his lips a little, disgruntled at being called out. Then, busted, he sighs and tries again. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend? Preferably in the city, and preferably after you help me make some choices about my living situation?”

You grin, unable to hold it back. “Yeah,” you say, trying hard to fight back the smile, to play it even a little bit cool. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Trying to save your dignity, you turn back to the tv and go back to scrolling until you find a movie that seems like it’s not too over-the-top.

Yoongi reaches an arm around your shoulders, and this time you settle against him comfortably. You can feel him breathing beneath you, can smell that Yoongi smell - clean and alluring, can hear the shouts of some neighborhood kids running around outside. From the tv, tinkling bells and happy strings play a medley of Christmas songs as the opening credits run.

Part of you is already thinking about when the roads are plowed and you have to go home, shower off the scent of him, update your best friend about all of this, miss Yoongi in a much more real way than you’ve had to in about three years. But at least you have the promise that you’ll see him again next weekend. You close your eyes, content, happy to just be right now.

Yoongi feels it too, obviously. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, looks down at you fondly, and murmurs, “You know what? All this holly, jolly shit isn’t so bad.”

“God bless us, every one,” you deadpan. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at you, gums showing, and you smile back before leaning your head against his chest as on the TV a little girl watches out her window for signs of Santa.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! My full masterlist can be found here :)

3K notes · View notes

xhanelia · 7 months

Note

Hi, I hope you’ve been having a good day! Can I please request a Sova that goes absolutely feral when you pull on his hair during sex... like he's a whole new man when you do that. The thought has been invading my brain and it won't leave hdjwkkdkd

-Sova lover anon

Ngl at all i be giggling and kicking my feet even thinking about this 👉👈 Thanks so much for waiting for me and i hope i do not dissapoint. Love uuuu <333

<<<Reader is she/her. MDNI.>>>

Im lost with words iykyk with Sova (nsfw)

It always starts slow and affectionate with Sova. We know him. He knows himself too. He knows that he is a little bit of an overgrown man (190ish cm long like holly shit boy what did your babushka feed you?) and he doesnt want to overwhelm you with himself.

But if you press his buttons, yeah, he switches a bit fast.

When he gets the 'fuck me hard' signal from you he doesnt care. You are under him now.

For him, its his hair getting pulled by you. Its like a wordless signal between both of you. Does the job perfectly so why need to ask for it, right?

The second you grab a handfull of his beautiful long blonde hair and pull it, he growls from the very deep of his throat. His body lovering over you for you to feel his weight on you more. Mhm. He got what you want for sure.

"You want to do it my way, darling?" The russian accent with the word 'darling' sounds deep near your ear. You know our giant bear. He gotta make sure even if he is too much over to control himself.

His moves are much over and about controlling you and your body. He is playing with your buttons too but mostly like a 'dim red light sex at midnight' kinda sex iykwim. He is rough but not ROUGH rough. Just the perfect amount to make you squirm under his body.

He can overpower you so easily he cannot lie that this doesnt turn him on. Pulling you in, stretching your legs, lifting you up and everything. And the sounds you make for him while he does these things? He could listen to you all night long. (Thats totaly not the reason he likes long sessions with you.)

This man has the highest stamina in the protocole if it wasnt for kay/o. He climbs up an down on snow for a daily basis. He is not letting you go anywhere if you dont use the safe word and make him stop yourself. If you know how to tire him then its another story.

You swear the first time you two get close like this, you thought that he had no experience whatsoever but now you realize you are so damn wrong. He may not look like he has experience but its all because he wants to make you feel alright and safe in his hands. But if you want to give the control all into his hands, then he will gladly take it from yours.

Kisses, hickeys, bite marks all over your body. Did i mention he has no shame? I guess i did on another one of my posts. I will say it again. He has no shame. He will look proud if anyone notices the hickeys he left over you. They gotta know that he knows how to do his job.

If you were to ask him about how he likes being in charge, he will laugh and just say a simple "yes, i do". Maybe his cheeks will get a little red but not because of embarrassment, its because of he lies how much more he likes it. This man LIVES for these moments.

(I wish i had a Sova for myself 😔)

#valorant #headcanon #sova #sova valorant #valorant sova #valorant x reader #sova headcannons #sova x reader

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princesssmars · 10 months

Text

holly jolly!

an abby anderson x reader based on my abby winter drabble !

wc : 15.718

contains : fluff, angst and smut . fxf relationship. fem!reader. switch! abby and reader. oral and penetrative sex. strap-on yippee. past abby x owen ewwww. owen hate bc i hate him and its funny. reader is a skier and abby does hockey! shitty dad for reader sorry girls. slight alcoholism sorry girls again. the reader is described as slightly tall i know yall been wanting taller readers. reader is kind of bitchy and abby loves it my fave dynamic (dynamic and pretty much the rest inspired by the little ruse go read it).

a/n : sorry i never got over my drabble guys. i dont know who exactly made hockey!abby but ive read em all so big creds to @angelkissiies @millersaurora @whatwouldsylwrite (and @eightstarr for calling abby princess) everyone else smoochies ily <3 made reader a skier because ive been obsessing over the olympics and i watched mollys game and thought it would be cool if i made a skier reader instead of a figure skater. ballerina next time if yall will indulge my delusions.

christmas has always been a bittersweet holiday.

you can remember the good parts from your childhood. picking out your first stocking with your mom. when your younger brother hid in the cupboard to try and catch santa. when your baby brother got cookie dough all over the kitchen, even on the ceiling. or when you were five years old and your dad gifted you your very first pairs of skis.

but it was hard to remember when the bad could get really bad. constant days spent out in the cold and snow, redoing your runs over and over until your legs burned and your back ached. your days that were supposed to be full of vacationing and fun instead filled with aches and falls and countless arguments once you realized you could start talking back.

some of the few friends you've had over the years tried to get you to focus on the good times and not the bad. that dwelling in the past wouldn't help you move forward. when you were younger you'd just call them assholes and move on, but recently it didn't seem worth the effort. that's probably why you started college with no close friends.

it was fine. you had your smarts, which helped you to get a full-ride scholarship when a skiing one fell through after a bad leg injury a few months back. because of that, your mom managed to convince your dad to get off of your ass for a while as you recovered. you had money thanks to your parents and you had your looks which would land you a hookup once in a blue moon.

you'd even made two acquaintances on campus, your roommate, tonya, who was pretty mellow and made sure not to bring the weed she smoked inside your dorm, and a girl named nora in one of your general ed classes whom you would partner up with often.

so yeah. it was fine. at least until the end of your freshman year.

you were running late for your ten am class, sleeping in because tonya had somehow managed to convince you to go to a small party with her last night and take body shots, and then when you were close to being drunk you saw one of your past hookups in the corner who you had dropped for getting way too attached way too quickly, so then you had to quickly find tonya and run back to your dorm-

youre in the middle of remembering ton's bird-like laugh when you nearly faceplanted into your front door when you ran full force into a hulking mass of a body.

the sound of them lightly cursing and asking if you were okay falls on deaf ears as you pick up your bag and hike it to your class, ignoring the stairs of the other students when you rush and plop into your seat.

luckily you manage to get yourself together afterwards, fixing yourself up at your dorm before heading to your next course with nora. as soon as you sit down she's teasing you about a video she saw of you getting wasted last night and you don't even have the energy to entertain her.

"well, instead of getting drunk off your ass again how about you join me tonight? one of my friends is on the hockey team and i got some nice ass tickets."

"c'mon, nora. hockey? seriously?"

"oh, im sorry ms. olympian, is hockey too good for you suddenly? just a bunch of women tossing a puck around too barbaric for you?"

"wait, you didnt say it was women's hockey."

"well, it is."

"..."

"what time does it start?"

at around five you're putting on a cute sweater and a puffer jacket before joining nora on the campus bus where she tries to quickly explain the rules of hockey to you in the span of five minutes. she asks how on earth you haven't been to one of the games or at least heard of the team's star breakout player. you have to carefully explain that you've had enough of sports to last a lifetime.

the indoor arena is packed, and you have to roughly squeeze and push multiple people out of the way to get by. nora starts laughing and tells you to leave the violence to the players and you brush her off. (for some reason she constantly loves to tease you.) when you both finally sit in your seats, you notice that they're behind the glass where the team players get out onto the ice and sit for breaks. nora suddenly bangs on the glass behind a player wearing an ANDERSON 20 jersey. the girl stands up and turns around and good god.

you weren't the shortest girl yourself, standing a couple inches over most girls you knew, but jesus she was easily almost six feet tall, and big, even if her jersey and gear probably made her look larger which really didn't help you focus. you liked the contrast of it with her face, bright, cute, and red from the cold as she talked to nora through the plexiglass. you were just about to admire the shape of her nose when her slightly unnerving blue eyes turned to you.

"hey, i recognize you!"

your brows pull in a deep scrunch.

"from this morning, you bumped into me and nearly knocked me on my ass."

"oh my god, i had a feeling that was you!" you hear the familiar noise of nora laughing at your pain. "jeez, how drunk did you get last night?"

"would you just- look, im sorry about earlier. i was hungover and rushing to class."

she smiles and shakes her head. "its chill, dont worry about it. nora, are you going to that party at derek's frat after? i swear he was begging me to come but i wasnt too sure."

"abby, everyone asks you to go to their parties and you never do! live a little." nora pauses before wrapping her arm around your shoulders.

you knew she was about to say something to piss you off.

"even little y/n here is gonna come and properly apologize to someone for once. isn't that right, hun?"

great.

"well, that wasn't my plan for tonight. at all." you say before picking up your giant hockey-themed plastic cup and taking a sip, hoping the chill of your slushie numbs out the rest of this conversation.

abby adjusts some of her straps and her helmet before resting her hand on the glass, noticing how the rest of her teammates are getting ready to go out on the ice. "well, i'd really like to see you there. is there any way i could convince you to come?"

"i don't know, is there?"

"how about... when i win, you come to the party with me."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard they hurt. leave it to nora to be friends with the walking cliche of an arrogant sports player. you could've been spending this moment in your dorm watching a dumb hallmark movie about a businesswoman falling in love with a farmer while eating chips and drinking a self-indulgent capri sun.

"and if you lose?"

the announcer over the loudspeaker called for the game to start and the players started making their way onto the ice. abby winks at you before turning around and joining the rest of her team.

"trust me, i won't."

you scoffed and flopped back into your hard seat, sucking almost angrily at the bright red straw in your slushie to ignore nora's look.

"are all of your friends that annoying?"

"kind of. thought you'd enjoy it though. birds of a feather."

not bothering to entertain her, you focused on the game that was starting in front of you.

you could understand the basics of the game; one team had to get the puck into the other goal several times until they won. you had a brief understanding of some of the other rules, mostly because your father explained every winter olympic sport to you in great detail when you were twelve. it became so boring at one point that you fell asleep and banged your head on the coffee table, startling the both of you so much he decided to let you go to bed.

but as the game goes on you have to admit that anderson is frighteningly good at what she does. she moves gracefully and quickly on the ice, so well you think to yourself that if she ever tires of hockey she could seriously pursue ice skating, but when an opposing player gets too aggressive with her she returns it with force. she's like an avalanche on skates.

when the game ends you can't tell whether you're shocked or agitated. your team won in what nora called a 'total fucking landslide', the bright 6-1 lighting up the scoreboard like a smack in the face. it felt slightly awkward that everyone around you was yelling and celebrating while you were sitting statue still in your seat.

nora could probably sense your discomfort and gently pulled you up, telling you that the both of you could throw your things away before meeting up with some more friends of hers before heading to the party.

so awesome.

her friends were nice enough, a psychology student named leah and her boyfriend jordan who was some type of biology major. they seemed happy to meet you but happier to make googoo eyes at each other and go to the party, which meant you most likely wouldn't see them again once you got there unless you stumble upon the two in a hallway closet or bathroom. there was also mel, a nursing student who seemed slightly closed off but agreed with you when you mentioned this party would probably be loud and gross. a bunch of athletes celebrating a win is a recipe for disaster.

"finally, the campion herself arrives!" jordan cheers and raises his bag of chips up to abby who's walking up to your group, wearing a simple college sweatshirt and some black sweatpants. for something so basic she makes it look good, and if you didn't have any integrity and weren't pissed off about this party bet thing you'd tell her so. but you are pissed off and still have about half of your integrity, so you keep your mouth shut.

when she bumps into your shoulder with a 'told ya i'd win' you're about to reply with a snarky remark when a tall man with dark blonde hair and another with tanned skin and brown hair come up beside her and raise her up on their shoulders, chanting 'anderson, anderson!' on repeat. you look to nora who just rolls her eyes and tells you that she'll introduce you in the car.

you're all split into two cars, with you riding with the two strange men along with abby and nora. they tell you the guysin the front seats are owen and manny. also that they've all known each other since they were teens which definitely doesn't make you feel like an outsider. but manny keeps trying to joke around with you so you don't feel too awkward which you can appreciate. even if you don't really laugh.

when the car stops at a giant white frat house you arent surprised in the slightest. you were about to prepare yourself for another night of drinking and finding another hookup when abby throws her arm over your shoulder and decides that she likes you enough to spend most of the night by your side.

she walks with you to get drinks and then leaves to go celebrate with some other friends while you sit and nurse your drink for a while. it leaves you some time to think, asking yourself why you're acting like you're trapped here when you could just leave whenever you want, but you don't understand why you don't. maybe it's because you'll use any excuse to have a good reason to drown out your problems with alcohol. or because you're lonely but don't feel like admitting it.

after around half an hour she comes back and sits on one side of you while you talk to nora and joins in. she asks about your major, if you're from seattle, and how you met nora. after a while you stop rolling your shoulders when she asks a new question and settle into conversation with her. and after a few hours you learn more about her too, that her dad is a neurosurgeon and she's following in his footsteps with her pre-med major, but that as soon as she tried hockey she knew she wanted to do it forever. she tells you that she doesn't really like drinking, she knows most of the people on the other women's sports teams, that she used to date owen-

you choke on a sip of your vodka and nora pats your back with a chuckle. you were definitely off your game tonight. but besides that hiccup you have to admit talking to them is enjoyable. even their friend manny comes over and dares you to do shots with him and you were seriously about to do it before the girls talked you out of it.

over the next few weeks, you talk more and more to the anderson girl, to the point where you're staying up at night to talk to her over the phone and waking up to your roommate giggling in your face. once she was so tired after a game she started snoring and you would not let her forget it. just like she wouldn't let you forget the time you got wasted at a sorority party, got on top of the kitchen island, and danced to a city girls' song before she set you back on the floor.

you wouldn't ever admit it out loud, hell you had barely admitted it to yourself, but you had started to catch feelings for abby. there was nothing more mebarrasing and cliche to you than falling for your straight friend, and you really didnt want to be on eof those girls who did so. but in your defense, it was really hard not to. she was annoyingly pretty, lord knows how many times youe admired the freckles dusting her cheeks down to her shoulders. she was strong and smart and every other positive character trait your brain could conure up.

but the worst thing was just how nice she was to you.

in hindsight, the way everything fell into place was honestly the dumbest thing ever. you were at a county fair leah had heard about and asked you to come with her along with jordan and abby. obviously, the couple went in their own direction after a while, which left you and abby to wander around getting on the different rides and getting your reaction to abby eating her first-ever funnel cake. but then it was later, and the two of you had stopped at one of those rigged pop up games and you bet her twenty bucks that she wouldn't win, and if there was one thing you knew about abby it was that she took bets very seriously, so when she won and had to pick her prize you were a little confused when she picked your favorite animal and handed it to you.

when you asked her how she knew it was your favorite, all she could say was 'you said they were cool a few times and they're your profile picture on your private instagram, so i just put the pieces together.'

you went home and didnt talk to her for a week. or at least you tried to, because after a weekend of ignoring her calls and convincing tonya to bring you meals from the lunch hall the blonde girl banged her fist on your door and basically demanded you tell her what your problem was.

"i don't see what the big fucking deal is. i'm allowed a little bit of space from you, abigail."

she scoffed and you could see her tongue bunch in the corner of her mouth before her body pushed past yours until she was standing in the middle of your room.

"i'm not saying you can't have space and you know im not. i mean, one second we're having a good time together and then you just shut me out for no reason. if i did something wrong i need you to tell me. i can't read your damn mind, y/n."

sometimes it feels like you can, you think with a snort, feeling slightly embarrassed by the angry look on her face. you collect yourself and cross your arms over your chest. "i just don't feel like talking to you right now, so if you could please get out now-"

"nope. not gonna leave until you tell me what's wrong."

sometimes you could forget just how damn stubborn she was. it mostly popped up on the ice, and you had once overheard her coach say that if she wasn't such a great player she'd be benched most of the time.

"do you realize how annoying you're being right now?"

"don't care."

"i don't give a shit if you have muscles, i can still kick your ass."

"i'd really like to see you try, princess."

you groan and cover your face, but not before raising them in a choking gesture. you walk backward and sit on your bed, trying to take a breather before anderson follows you and resting on the ground in front of you, her large palms smoothing up and down your thighs.

"please, y/n, just...just tell me what i did and i'll fix it, i promise."

you've never been one to cry. or maybe you had been when you were a young child before your father taught you that 'crying doesn't achieve success, at least not the kind you want.' but you can see how much abby cares about you in her eyes and you know that despite you being unreasonable she'll put up with it anyway. your eyes start to sting and you rest your head in the crook of her neck.

she doesn't force you to say anything more than you want, rubbing the expanse of your back while another hand gently pats your head. after a long minute, you pull your head up and find that the space between your two faces is almost nonexistent, your eyes dart from her eyes to her lips, and before you can say anything else her hand is on the back of your neck and she's bringing your lips down to hers.

its soft and sweet and her lips are soft and feel like heaven against yours, and she doesn't give you a second to be confused about what's happening because she's making the kiss deeper and pulling your body closer to hers by putting her arms under yours and pressing you in by the back of your shoulders. you throw your arms over her shoulders and behind her neck and decide that you're going to enjoy this moment for as long as you can.

but eventually, you need to breathe, pulling your head back and letting out a shaky breath of air when abby just moves her ministrations to your neck, sucking and biting on the skin until it bruises.

"i..i thought you were straight." is all you can manage to voice, the feeling of her body pressed into yours and her teeth nipping at your neck making your mind hazy.

she laughs and kisses your neck a few times before looking you in the eyes. "well, i never actually said i was, you just assumed so."

"seriously? you dated owen? he's the dullest straight girl choice i've ever met. and we live in washington" you scoffed.

"yeah, well. that was a long time ago. i've moved on to bigger and better things."

she plants a big overdramatic kiss on your cheek, repeating so on the other side of your face until she can see your smile and hear you giggle. when you both calm down a little she backs up and wears a more serious look on her face.

"i care about you. more than i've cared about anyone before." she smiles, her thumb rubbing over the back of one of your hands. "except maybe my dad, obviously. and nora, she was kinda my best friend before you. but you get what im trying to say."

you laugh and nod at her. "i understand. i...like you too. a lot."

"geez, you're seriously emotionally stunted. but i'll take what i can't get, you'll warm up to me eventually." she slaps her hands on your thighs, ignoring the annoyed look on your face before scooching your body up until you're laying down on your bed, her body gently flopping down onto yours.

"abby! get the hell off, you're wearing your outside clothes!"

"cmon, just five more minutes."

and as much as you complained during those five minutes, you both knew you didnt mind that much.

after that things were really nice. at least for the most part. you were officially abby's girlfriend, which she had asked if you wanted to be the day after you two semi-confessed your feelings. she knew that this kind of commitment was new to you, and the last time it didn't go so well for her, so you both decided it'd be best to take it slow.

(slow meaning you did everything you two did before with the added bonus of making out whenever you wanted. you weren't complaining.)

but keeping things on the down low was a bit of a struggle. abby was a huge fan of pda, always found hugging one of her teammates after a successful game or cuddling with someone on movie nights. she would hug you when you were just friends, but now that you were comfortable with her touching you more in private it started to bleed into public life, her hand looking for yours when walking around or giving you a kiss on the cheek after you aced another test.

the next problem was your friends. you had told nora over a late night phone call while manny had found out when he had walked into the living room of his and abbys shared dorm and found the two of you with your shirts off and kissing on the couch, shouting in both spanish and english about how his eyes burned but he was happy for you both.

you both knew you could trust the two of them with your 'secret', but you didn't expect that end-of-the-year party owen and manny decided to invite you both to.

it was a mix of things really. you were going to just spend time with your friends and nothing more, but you were feeling really pent up. when you and abby decided to take things slow, that also meant sex. which at first was all right with you, hookups were a lot different than sharing yourself with someone you really cared about. but abby was just so effortlessly hot, and now since hockey season was over she had more time to spend with you and it was driving you up the damn wall. it got to the point that you found yourself nearly always on the brink of an orgasm when after a long day she'd press you into her bed and kiss you until you felt dizzy.

so when she decided to go to the party in a tight long-sleeved top and a normal pair of jeans, you definitely should not have been all over her as you were.

(to be fair. she was also on you like white on rice. you had decided to don a tube top with a mini skirt, figuring it couldn't hurt to dress up a little for a simple party. especially since it made your girlfriend look at you like she wanted to eat you alive.)

after mingling a bit and getting yourself a drink, you meet up with some of your friends and start to talk to leah about some drama in one of her classes when abby rejoins you, moving your body so your body is resting into hers. you aren't used to such a public display of affection, but this alcohol is blurring any desire you had to hide that she was yours and you were hers.

"god, you guys are so cute together it makes me sick." nora laughs into her red solo cup, shaking her head at your adorable but annoying affection.

leah's eyebrows scrunch up and she starts to pinch at your arm. "wait, am i missing something? you two are dating?"

at that point, some other people were listening in and looking in at the two of you, including none other than owen moore. now, you and moore were always cordial, but you wouldn't call him a good friend like you would the others. you always felt that whenever he saw or heard about you abby spending time together or heard about how close you two had gotten so quickly, he would smile silently while staring at you like he wanted to burn lasers through your brain.

and he was doing the exact same thing now, his grip on his bear so tight you feared the glass would break. somehow you were the only one who noticed.

"yes, we're together. finally managed to convince this one that jocks aren't just big dumb idiots a few weeks ago." abby's talking breaks you out of your thoughts, her arms snaking around your waist and pulling you to sit on her lap.

you cant help but roll your eyes. "i never once said that."

"well you were thinking it. i could tell."

some of the people who you didnt know and who were friends of friends said congrats, how cute they thought the two of you were, etc. it kind of weirds you out to have all these people paying attention to you just because of who you were with, but abby's quips to any weird remarks you didn't want to acknowledge made you feel better about anything.

but later on, when the two of you are unseriously dancing in the living room, owen comes over and asks abby to talk in private, leaving you to dance with some girls you recognized from the last party. but after three songs pass and abby still hasn't come back, you get a weird feeling in your chest and decide to go looking for the two. you head upstairs and down a few hallways before you hear two voices in a heated argument, and after numerous visits to her games, you can recognize abby's yelling anywhere.

before you can knock on the door to ask if something is wrong, it opens and you see a red-faced owen, not even saying anything before he knocks into your shoulder and goes back downstairs, clearly ignoring your call of 'fucking dick' to his back.

you scoff and shake your head, turning back around to say something to abby before you slightly step back at the look on her face. its dark, like if owen didn't leave she would have kicked his ass first, and now it's trained at you. you know she'd never hurt you, though. partially because she cares about you too much, and partially because you always keep a taser in your back pocket whenever you go to a party.

"abby? what's wrong? did he fucking say something to you?

she laughs before grabbing your arm and pulling you into the room, shutting the door behind you and locking it. her long legs take seconds to reach the bed, her arm releasing when your body sits and bounces slightly on the bed as she stands above you.

"its...its nothing, just owen being a dick like always."

her voice is strained and her hands are tensing into fists, telltale signs that she was really pissed off. you hold her hands in yours, pressing little kisses to her knuckles. normally you hated being so sappy, but you knew that being cute with her was a quick way to calm her down.

"don't worry. i can guarantee one of these days someone is gonna kick his ass. unless i do it first, and you know i want to." you joke and smile when she laughs, gripping her hands so she can sit on the bed next to you.

"yeah, youre right."

"im always right. you should learn that if you wanna stick with me."

she shakes her head before looking at you in silence, and you feel your face get hot under her gaze. you'd never admit it to her but seeing her so angry really did something for you. the bottom of your leg rubs against hers, and her eyes dart down before trailing up your legs to the point where your skirt is starting to ride up your bare thighs.

"here, babe? seriously?"

you sigh, figuring she was right and having your first time together in some stranger's house during a party was horribly tacky. you start to move your leg before she grabs it and puts it on the bed before grabbing you and resting you in her lap.

"i didn't tell you to stop."

so yes, you did get tacky in a strangers house. and back in abby's dorm. and again after you both showered.

so if there was one thing you could ever thank owen for, it was finally giving you both the push you needed to take the next step in your relationship. but after that night things were a little strained, as abby and owen were on a no-contact basis, their fight having something to deal with them and maybe you although she wouldn't go into details, which just led to this drama also spreading to mel since she was dating owen and was always pretty neutral when it came to you and tense when it came to abby, and mel was close friends to leah who was now close to you and...

it was complicated.

but you were used to not having people around. you had abby, nora, manny, and tonya, and that was all you really needed. speaking of tonya, you don't think you've ever seen anyone as happy for someone else's relationship as you did when you told tonya that you and abby got together. she said it was 'half happy that you found someone for you and half happy that someone will finally get the stick out of your ass.'

but your bliss was partially broken when your mother called a week after you had your last finals to let you know she and her father were going to be visiting seattle to talk to you about something important. at this point you hadn't talked to either of your parents since winter when your dad had not so discreetly told you he would be on your ass about skiing again as soon as your leg was alright again. and you were definitely going to dread every minute you had to spend trying to cordial to them, don't even mention finally introducing them to your girlfriend who you so far had never told them about.

for a few days after the call, you must have been acting weird because abby could tell something was wrong and took you to a relaxing little cafe she had found when she first got to the city. you're sipping on a milkshake while abby does the same across from you, digging into her stack of blueberry pancakes, waiting for you to tell her what's going on while she talks about her schedule now that school is out.

"manny's gonna be gone for a month because of his music internship, so i was wondering if you wanted to come and stay at mine while he's gone. we can watch movies, dance to music, or we can practice those recipes i saw on tiktok."

"mhm, that sounds nice, babe." you continue to at least show minimal attention to what she's saying, briefly slurping at your shake until she speaks again.

"yup. but after that, i might have to leave for a while, i haven't seen my dad in forever and he wanted me to stay for two weeks while my aunt is visiting salt lake."

her words slowly die out when she notices how you stop slurping your drink, your eyes staring into space as your thumb scratches at your palm.

throughout your relationship, you had told abby the rundown of your relationship with your parents maybe once. at first, it was because it was a touchy subject and you would be embarrassed if she knew the reason for the way you acted the way you did and thought your baggage was too much for her.

and then it was because deep down you were jealous. they had their ups and downs, but abby had such a pure relationship with her father that sometimes it made you sick. while he didnt flaunt his wealth because of his principles, but abby would tell you about all the times when she was younger that her dad would give her the best birthday parties, take her with him to conferences around the world, and made sure she had anything she desired.

so when you had to tell her that the most your dad did was give you a break to be a normal adult instead of shaping you into a champion, you don't think there was ever a time that you secretly envied her more.

"this is about your dad, isn't it?" she whispered, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. you nodded, relieved that your girlfriend could read you like a book and you didnt have to say it out loud.

"could you tell me more about it?"

shit.

you sighed, a deep breath leaving your body and clearing your head.

"my parents are gonna be here soon. said they wanted to talk to me about something "important", which means my dad thinks i've had enough time to recover from my leg being nearly snapped in two because he thinks he knows better than the doctor. but hey, maybe when i was gone he got another fuckin degree to throw in my face."

while you ranted abby never said a word, just paying close attention and providing you comfort. out of everyone in the crew, she was always the person people went to talk to when they needed it. she said it was something she got from her mom.

"all my life he's been like this. just pushing me and pushing me until im at the point of breaking until i use my anger to win. there's no doubt he's still doing it. heard my brother is being scouted at his games and he's only fifteen."

abby nods and presses a kiss to your hand, treading carefully with what she says next. "your dad sounds...horrible, honestly. he never...hit you did he?"

you feel your body jerk back and both of your eyes go big at your reaction.

"no, no he would never. im serious. wouldn't make sense from a logical standpoint, id be in front of other people all the time and any injuries would fuck up my skiing."

"well that's a bleak way of looking at it, but im glad he didnt. but the other shit is still bad."

"yeah. definitely not looking forward to dealing with that again in two weeks."

"i know, but im here, and im gonna stick by you every step of the way, alright? even if your parents find out they hate me and curse my bloodline."

you couldn't help but snort at her. "nobody could hate you, anderson. you would annoy them too much and make dirty bets against them."

"what? that wasn't a dirty bet! you'd just never seen my skills before and i used it to my advantage."

"whatever you say abs."

abbys reassurance and patience helped greatly, and by the time you met your parents at their hotel for breakfast, you weren't nervous about whatever bullshit they had to say.

but for some odd reason, they were very cordial. your mom asked you about school, how your grades were, and how you liked your chosen major. when it got to the point if you were seeing anyone, you not so subtly gushed about abby and she seemed really happy for you. your dad even praised you for picking another sportsman, avoiding your look while he ate his eggs.

a week later you even had the courage to introduce them to abby, who told you she would cook something for all of you to eat.

that tiktok recipe she was talking about? it was ratatouille. and you had to admit it was delicious, and you wondered how abby was so good at so many things and she told you when she was a kid she wanted to learn how to do basically everything and her dad was more than happy to indulge her. sometimes you really wondered how she didn't appear to be so spoiled.

but your girl was nothing if not a charmer, and by the end of the night your mom was gushing over how much she liked abby and thought she was a great match for you.

your dad was...your dad. he acted polite, asking abby about her intentions, if she was dedicated to her studies and sports and you at the same time. blah blah blah. abby gave perfect human resources-like answers that she knew would make you giggle and loosen up.

once dinner was over your mother insisted on staying a little while longer to watch a movie, finding out she and your girlfriend both had soft spots for mamma mia and grease and planned to drink some wine and let loose for once. while the two were watching meryl streep panic on screen your dad tapped you on the shoulder and asked if he could speak to you in private, and you were mentally prepared to get into yet another argument.

"i know i'm the last person who gets to say this but..you've seemed to have really grown this past year. I'm proud of you."

"thanks. i guess."

he sighs, shifting on his feet. "i know i've always been hard on you and your brothers. i just-i knew that if you had guidance you could be phenomenal at whatever you do."

"yeah, dad, but that doesn't mean forcing me to train for ten hours a day when i was still in third grade." you could list more instances of him being overbearing and partially ruining your childhood, but you don't feel like being the person who makes the conversation go sour.

"i know. trust me, i know. look, your mother has us going to a shrink and...one of the steps is asking for forgiveness and whatever mumbo jumbo."

you almost snort but pass it off as a sneeze. your dad in therapy was about as believable as a talking donkey.

"well, it's nice to hear dad but it's not gonna be just as easy as being nice to me and my girlfriend for a night."

"i know. which is why i wanted to show you this."

he pulls out and his phone and after a few taps shows you an article. you read the word 'olympics' and nearly blow before he cuts you off.

"just listen, alright? one of the big coaches was caught and fired for doping a bunch of the players, so they're postponing the winter games for another few years for investigations to see if there's any more misconduct."

"are you serious?"

"deadly. and i know with your leg and your schooling you'll have your hands full but, i figured the best way i knew how to bond with you was to help you. it'd be enough time to get extensive physical therapy and train up. but only if you want to."

"dad, i. i really don't know what to say."

"you don't have to say anything, at least not now. just promise me you'll think about it, alright? and if by next spring you still don't want to, I'll never bring it back up again."

after that, your mother comes and says they should get going to get enough sleep for their flight tomorrow, and you bid your parents goodbye with stiff hugs and a genuine smile.

for the next few months into your sophomore year your on the fence. when you were a kid, despite the pain and the tears and the bruises, there was nothing you loved more than skiing. you swear that the adrenaline rushes you would get speeding down slopes were better than anything you've ever experienced, even sex.

(when abby heard you say that one night on the couch, she pouted and wouldn't touch you for a week, telling you to go back to those stupid slopes if that's how you felt.)

but the point was that you were basically going through a beginning life crisis. either stick with the new normal you've created and potentially miss out on fulfilling your childhood dreams, or take a risk and potentially come out more damaged than before.

you were planning on spending the next thanksgiving mulling it over, but to your shock baby invited you to come with her to her dad's house for thanksgiving with her family. when checking in with her to see if she and her dad would be ok with this big step, she told you it was actually her dad's idea and she'd be more than happy to have you meet her family.

you swear to god you have never been more nervous on a plane than you were on the flight to salt lake, only being soothed by the constant free drinks you get in first class, the six hundred page book in your hands, and abbys large hand constantly rubbing on your thigh and back. you suggested that you both join the mile-high club as a joke and she seemed a little too into it.

"babe please, i promise ill be quick. i can even put my fingers in your mouth."

"abby, i was just joking. im not gonna do that and get kicked off the plane. god, you're so fuckin weird."

"you make me weird. pretty please? ill pull out the puppy eyes."

"i really don't give a fuck."

and you come to find out that abby's stories were true because her dad is so weirdly nice. he greets you at the airport like he's known you all your life, and is eager to find conversation the whole drive to his house where you both are staying.

you were glad that like you abby had a smaller family, or at least one she spent thanksgiving with. after her father you only had to introduce yourself to her aunt and her small family, a husband who you have to look down at and likes to boast about his coin collection, and three children. the eldest, ashley, was closer in age to you and abby and was clearly abby's favorite cousin. the middle child was a wild child named kris, who didn't seem at all phased that you were a stranger and kept asking you if you'd ever heard of their favorite anime series.

now, you've never been the best with children, you repeatedly told your mother to throw your baby brother in the trash when you were six, but you couldn't help but fawn over abby's baby cousin lyle, the cutest infant you've ever seen who after a few hours of fussing because of the time change, he calms down into a smiling drooling little thing who, although he keeps tugging at your hair when his mom hands you to him, seemed to actually enjoy your presence and laughs like its the funniest thing ever.

you didnt catch the way abby looked at you fondly while you were playing around with her cousin or the way she swatted her father away when he called her out on it.

so thanksgiving was easy, a peaceful week full of meeting kind people and eating some surprisingly good food. but you didn't even get a week of peace after before abby brought it up.

christmas.

yes the holiday was full of joy and warmth when you were a child. but after a mini teenage rebellion and your energy you just...gave up on the holiday completely. last year you spent it alone inside your dorm which wasn't the worst thing on earth. you got to watch corny feel-good movies like national lampoons, drink hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and had free reign to the library since the librarian apparently used to watch your games on tv. it wasn't like it used to be, but it was enough.

"so, you're coming with us to the cabin right?" nora reaches across the library table and takes one of your fries from the fast food you sneaked in. for some reason she refused to order her own fries, content to pluck the ones from your container.

"what? what cabin?"

"god, abby hasn't told you about this by now? i thought she would have taken you there already and made it her love shack or something." she quickly ducks her head when you toss a burnt fry at her, looking around to make sure no one saw. "it's her dad's cabin at one of the ski ranges in the mountains, she invites us every year for christmas break or new years if we can't make it."

"first, you're a perv. second, i don't know why she hasn't told me about it. id probably tease her for it anyway."

"well when you see her next ask her, because you definitely have to come with us this year."

"i don't know, nors. you know how i feel about skiing right now..."

"you don't have to ski! we literally never do, as sad as it is. we just hang out, go out for drinks, and hit the skiing town. im telling you cold resort parties are insane."

you take a minute to mull it over, staring into space as you tap your fingers on the hardwood table. nora fingers tap on the top of your hand.

"i understand you're going through things, with your dad and all. you don't have to come if you don't want to. but i know we'd really enjoy it if you came, especially abby."

you nod and eat another fry before gegging back to the novel you were reading, some 'all-time classic' abby had said you had to read.

you saw abby a few hours after that, yet again staying the night at her dorm to kick off the following weekend. when you entered using your spare key the smell of chinese food instantly hit you, and it took you by surprise since abby normally insisted on cooking for you and manny.

you set down your things and kicked off your shoes before heading into the little kitchenette, hearing the sound of rather loud whispers that stopped as soon the roommates saw you, noodles stuffed into both of their mouths.

"what the fuck are yall starin at?"

manny snorts before making some weird excuse for leaving, telling you he's meeting up with some meteorology student at a bar and he won't be home until tomorrow. you bid him. a quick goodbye before turning back to abby, the blonde picking through her food.

its only then that you notice the gauze wrapped around her palm, quickly cross the threshold to gently but firmly raise her hand up to your face to observe it.

your about to go on a triade when you see that sad pout on her face.

"tell me who did this to you." you grumble, putting on a fake deep voice.

she chuckles and shakes her head. "you're so weird."

"only because of you. tell me what happened."

"i was trying to cook before we ordered takeout and i just...got distracted and burned my hand. its not a big deal, don't worry about it."

you tell by the way her shoulders were tensing that she was getting into one of her moods, always hating when she failed at something and hating even more when people kept asking her about it.

"well im always gonna worry about, something that's also your fault by the way. what made you distracted."

"nothing."

"abs."

"please just drop it."

"abigail."

she groans before slumping her head into her arms on the counter.

so you decide to drop it. at least for a little while. you put away the rest of the food, deciding to eat the box she bought for you after her mood had been resolved before figuring you'd leave her alone while you took a shower.

but if there was one thing you knew about abby, it was that she took 'golden retriever energy' to a whole nother level. aka most of the time she couldn't leave you alone and followed you near everywhere. after only a few minutes, you heard the shower door open and felt her large arms circle around your waist and her head rest on your shoulders.

"i wanna ask you something. there's this cabin my dad owns that we all head to for winter break and stuff-"

you felt your heart skip a beat. to be honest part of the reason you were nervous about abby asking you this was because you were second-guessing yourself and your relationship. you hadn't even been together for a full year at this point, and even if you knew you loved her and that she adored you, you didnt want to be the one to bring up this thing she does with people she's known for years and get your heart damaged.

"and i wanted to invite you to go with us because i just know youd make it feel so much more special."

"i feel like a 'but' goes at the end of that sentence."

she rubs her head into your shoulder more, kissing at the soft and wet skin of your shoulder blade.

"i didn't tell you much. about my fight with owen. but everyone knows we haven't been talking much, but he's still been my friend since elementary, and i was hoping that maybe during the trip we could resolve things. but if he ever said something to you or about you i think id go fucking crazy."

your turn around and hold her head in your hands. her body is still slumped so her head is more at your level and her pretty blue eyes stare right into yours.

"i appreciate that. your slight anger issues make me feel honored." a smile quirks on her face and she nuzzles her head into your palms more. "and as much as he pisses me off, i don't know how i feel about causing a greater rift between you and your friends. ive only been with you less than a hear, he's known you for-"

"year or not doesn't matter. you mean...so much to me i can't put into words. the only reason i was nervous all day was that i didnt know how to make this sound like i wasn't putting him before you because i wouldn't. ever."

you look at her a bit longer, swiping away wet pieces of her hair back from her face so you can see all of her. because she's looking at you like she can do the same.

you both take an intimate shower without a word, helping the other bathe and lather her hair in apricot shampoo she's become addicted to. once you exit, dry off, and change into some matching fluffy pajamas she bought for you both, you finally head back to the kitchen to eat your food before turning on a movie.

it was only because you both decided to choose some random movie that the stupid thought crossed into your mind.

"could you imagine if we were that touchy all the time? we're already halfway there and it drives your friends nuts." you poked her cheek while you were resting on her, her arm wrapped around your shoulders while your legs intertwined on the couch.

"what do you mean?"

"just like, overdoing it. always with an arm around the other, making eyes across the room. if you wanna get extreme you could carry me on your back."

"or i could carry you on my front."

the shift of her hips and the tone of her voice makes you turn your head to look at her, nearly busting out laughing at the way her eyes are glued to the screen while she chews on her lower lip.

"stop doing that."

"doing what? im watching the movie. watch the movie with me."

"this is just like on the plane. y'know i was kidding about the exhibitionist thing at first-"

"baby, please."

"please what?"

she groaned while you just giggled at her, moving your bodies so she was sitting up on the couch and you were on top of her, adjusting your hips so you were straddling her waist.

"what're you thinking about, bunny?"

a subtle whine escaped from her throat and you smirked in triumph. there was nothing your girl loved more than being called the softest and cutest pet names, and you would frequently use it to your advantage, like the time when she refused to help you cheat on a test 'on principle' and you rested your face on her thigh from under the desk with a 'please, princess?' and she happily gave you the answers after roughly grinding herself on your tongue.

"i just...maybe if we played it up at the cabin owen would finally fuck off and realize im yours. i just thought it'd be funny."

you felt a warm feeling in your chest at the thought, showing your girl all the affection she craved from you on an idyllic vacation while also showing that dick owen who's boss. maybe then he'd finally let whatever his issue with you go. or not. at this point you didnt care.

"ok. we can do it."

"what? are you serious? i was half joking. i don't wanna make you do anything you don't want to-"

you cut off her sweet rambles with a press of your lips to hers. her arms brought you in closer until your breasts were squished into hers.

when abby texted the group chat the next morning next to you in bed to let the others know you'd be joining, you couldn't help but feel warm at the replies.

manny : thank god, i need a drinking partner since no one ever wants irish hot chocolate

leah : because the last time you made it you got drunk by five pm and kept singing baby its cold outside while doing both parts

jordan : and badly

manny : haters

nora : omg thank god

nora : this is all because of me btw

nora : tell y/n we're gonna have sooo much fun

manny : wait is she gonna ski

jordan : stop.

you giggled at your friends' antics. you were already imagining all the crazy things that would happen on the trip and happily listened to all the stories abby had to tell you.

mel : cant wait for the trip! hoping ben's is still open.

owen : 👍🏻

a snort escaped from you. "oh hes so pissed."

"definitely." abby agreed before turning the phone off and snuggling into your neck to relax for a little while longer. "prepare, he's probably just gonna get angrier from our masterful plan."

"technically my plan. and are you sure you still wanna do it? i don't wanna drive a wedge between you guys."

"he started that at that party. either he's gonna deal with me changing for the better or im gonna leave him in the dust. now shush, im going to sleep."

your hand smooths through abby's locks as she drifts back into sleep, and you soon follow her into it, dreaming of pale snow and the sight of the slopes.

the nex two weeks before break starts you're horrifically busy, finishing up some tests while also buying and packing everything you'll need for the trip. which is really just an excuse for you to get a bunch of those cute thick sweaters you saw on ebay but that's neither here nor there.

once your last class was finished abby immediately called an uber to take you to the airport, citing that as the host she always headed to the cabin earlier than everyone else to fix it up and stock up on little things, everyone would need or forget like extra blankets and lots and lots of water. during the trip to the airport, waiting in the airport since you were both 'get there hours before the flight' girls, and on the flight itself, abby was telling you stories of the cabin and what has happened on the past few trips that you should know about.

apparently, the cabin (in aspen, which you teased her was so basic) was bought by her grandparents (more teasing) for family trips when her dad was little. but as his siblings got older and started their own families the trips dwindled down, until his parents decided to just leave the place to him, telling him not to sell it for anything since it was worth a fat load of cash by now. hed take abby and her mom there before she passed, and then once she turned sixteen told her he trusted her enough to bring her friends up there if they could.

"honestly, i think it was part of him being nice and feeling sad we didn't spend much time together then. we were still mourning and he was always working." she sinks into her first-class seat, sipping on her complimentary ginger ale can. "but we're better now, and i get to have a laid-back vacation with my friends every year."

"sounds like a win-win to me. traumatic way you got there and all."

"you of all people saying that is hilarious, truly."

a few hours of talking and napping later and you've landed in colorado, a rental car waiting for you in the airport parking lot.

"abs, you are so secretly bougie. like, why didn't you rent a private car that time yours was in the shop and we were stuck in the rain downtown?"

"it's for emergencies and the necessary."

driving through the roads of aspen snowmass is something close to magical. at this point, the sun has set and the twinkling lights of the villages are everywhere, and you can see a plethora of christmas decorations inside shop windows.

when abby parks outside of the cabin your jaw is close to dropping, and you have to hold it up once you step inside. there was obviously a lot of wood, making up the floors, walls, and beams that connect both. but it was also decorated with relaxed brown and cream furniture.

"i want you to know if we get married, im not signing a prenup."

abby cackles before sneaking up behind you and tickling your waist, cackling at your shriek followed by a scowl.

"'if' babe, really? nice to know you're so committed."

"i'll be more committed if you give me a tour of this place."

the cabin was big, of course. enough bedrooms for your whole group and a few more. you honestly couldn't pick your favorite. there was a game room with a pool table you were just itching to beat jordan and leah at, a hot tub outside on the deck looking down onto the village that looked like the perfect place to drink champagne with nora talking shit about her recent ex.

"now, this is what i really wanted you to see," abby smiles before pushing open a wide set of doors on the upper floor and revealing to you the grand bedroom. there's a giant bed against the back wall, with a warm little nook tucked into a bay window.

"it's so nice here abs, really. i can't wait for everyone to get here so we can start doing stuff." you drop your bags by the front of the bed and flop your behind onto it, loving the way it bounces you up and down a bit. and you can tell that abby also loves it by the way she's staring at the way your boobs jiggle.

"im glad you like it, baby. but we don't have to wait for the others to get here to have some fun." a pervy little smile lights up her face and she starts inching towards you, making stupid little grabby hands as she does so.

"you're insatiable. aren't we supposed to be making sure this place is ready for everyone else?"

"wasn't it your idea for us to play everything up for fun? that includes sex. a lot of it. strap-ons are allowed on planes, by the way. and other things."

"...seriously?"

"seriously."

at this point, her arms are caging you into the plush of the comforter, and you don't know whether to look at the veins in her arms or her eyes or her mouth-

"you're staring, pretty."

"well you're all i can see, gorgeous."

she presses a soft kiss to the underside of your chin, her tounge poking out to lick down your neck.

"god, abs, please."

"please what?"

you groan and she just laughs at you.

the hardest part of being a switch was that abby could just throw shit back in your face when she became more dominant. it was both infuriating and arousing.

“im not gonna say it."

"you sure?" her large hand slips beneath the band of your pants until its resting over your underwear, teasing you.

"yes i a-am!" your refusal is cut off when two of her thick fingers slide inside of you, filling you up in the most delicious way. it doesn't help your case that there's no restriction, the wetness between your thighs letting her know just how much you were enjoying this.

"y'know, your master plan isn't exactly gonna work if you have an attitude with me, baby." her words are gravelly as she speakes into the crease of your neck, occasionally looking up at you to ingrain your reactions into her memory.

"god, abs."

"this is one the things i love most about you acting like a brat, just means i get to fuck and love on you until it goes away. and i've got all the time in the fuckin world."

just when you start getting close to your orgasm, you could've sworn in the distance you heard the sound of a door opening before closing a few minutes later. the feeling of abby kissing you and adding a third finger inside of you. you decided to just drop it

later on, after a nice long shower and putting on this cute warm sweater you bought, you and abby decided it was time to head out and get enough groceries to last for around two weeks until everyone else would arrive and decide what meals they would want after. it was very entertaining to watch abby standing in a fluorescently lit market aisle decide if she wanted to make a giant chicken pot pie or some creamy chicken soup one of her teammates told her about. she just stuck her tongue out when you looked at her.

once you returned to the cabin you could hear some music coming from inside the house, and despite your initial worry abby just smiled and rushed inside, your brain seriously wondering if you had chosen correctly romantically.

you headed inside with a few of the bags, setting them on the kitchen counters before heading to the source of the music that appeared to be coming from the living room. once you cross the threshold you are happily surprised to see your girlfriend and manny talking and laughing in the middle of the room.

"ah! nice to know abs hasn't broken you already." manny comes over to give you a big hug before setting you down and shaking your shoulders, just laughing when you start smacking his hands.

"jeez, what is with you guys? be normal."

"you forget im abby's roommate. this is because of you. you gave me this trauma."

you roll your eyes before patting him on the shoulder.

"ok, ok. why did you come early? when do the others get here?" abby asks from her place still on the couch.

"what, i cant just come because i love and miss two of my best friends."

the room is silent as you both stare at him.

"well just so you know, that was half true. but also," he looks down a dark hallway before tugging you closer to the couch so he can speak quietly. "mel and owen are here."

you blink. "thats...odd."

"very odd, but maybe it's a good thing? who knows, maybe owen's gotten over the whole fight and wants to put it to bed." abby turns to you, those big blue eyes filled with hope that you don't have the heart to squash with a joke.

"yeah, maybe."

"well if he did do that, i don't think he's in the mood for it now." manny chuckles.

"why not?"

"he was confused to see a car in the driveway, so he came by two hours ago and left like two minutes later. his face was as red as a tomato, you know how he looks when he's flushed."

oh my god.

you turned to abby and her cheeks were puffed, a clear sign she was trying not to laugh.

well, it looks like your plan was already working.

the next three days were more laid back, just spent taking a chance to relax and sleep in after your grueling semester. you decided to spend these days exploring more of the cabin, admiring all of the rooms and the random really pretty art pieces on some of the walls.

you swore that nothing could beat the bliss you felt on that second day, waking up to the faint sun in your eyes and abby gently snoring next to you, deciding to cook up a bunch of waffles, one of the meals you excelled at, and read a four hundred page book on the sofa.

(the plan was still in motion at this point, just more tame.

once jordan, leah, and nora came things really took a turn for the exciting. after hearing that you'd been cooped in the house these past few days, leah insisted you come with them to some bars and other hot spots around town. you hadn't been drinking much lately but figured that since you were surrounded by people you trusted and a bunch of strangers you'd be able to handle yourself.

and you did.

for the most part.

you just weren't expecting the bartender to be the chillest girl you've ever met and make a killer strawberry daiquiri, because before you knew it they were playing some old-school song over the speakers and were hanging off of leah's arm like a koala.

"oh my god, im so glad you invited me out. this place rules. have you tried the daiquiris? serenity said she'd make me one more but you can have it."

"her name is trinity, and you're getting touchy. where's abs?"

you shrug and she shakes her head, looking over your shoulders to see if she can spot the hulking blonde. she waves someone over and then abby is in your vision, a soft expression on her face as she tugs your body into hers.

"how much have you had to drink, baby?"

"mmmm, not too much. i could walk in a gay line. look, i even made a corny joke!"

"yes, you did." she squats down a little bit and you wrap your arms around her neck and your legs around her waist, trying to restrain yourself from making any noises when she lifts you with ease to the amusement of some of the people in the bar.

"how about we head back and take a long bath, pretty. ill even try those rose face masks you bought."

you were about to agree when out of the corner of your eye you catch owen, sitting inside a booth with jordan and manny, sparing looks in your direction.

you smirk down at her and she can already guess what you're thinking, tightening her grip on your hips.

"or we can do that later. and dance now."

you nod and loosen your legs for her to drop you but she just holds you tighter for a moment, leaning her head up to place a heated kiss on your lips before pulling away, fighting to ignore the tiny string of spit that connects your lips to hers.

"ok. now we can dance."

abby told you the next day that owen had asked to talk to her one on one in the morning and she didn't really understand what it meant. he apologized for lashing out at her, apparently, but still didnt agree with some of the 'drastic changes to her personality' that were happening lately.

you really tried to promise her that you wouldn't cuss him out, telling you she'd handle it later after having a conversation with manny to figure out when the hell he started acting like this.

focus on tried.

you and nora were in the kitchen that night making cups of hot chocolate, taking the chance to top them with all the stuff you weren't allowed to as a child. also probably increasing your risks of cavities, but whatever, it was nostalgic. you were laughing at the absurd abundance of whipped cream in her mug and the three candy canes in yours when you heard footsteps coming into the kitchen, looking over to see owen looking over some things in the fridge.

you looked at nora. she looked at you.

"so owen, how are things going with mel?"

his hand pauses over some leftover noodles, gripping it with a fist.

"we're great actually, thanks for asking norsie."

noras eye twitches, bumping into your shoulder before leaving the room to rest in the kitchen and wait for you before starting a movie.

owen turns and suddenly its just the two of you. staring at each other. you with a three-caned hot cocoa and he with a tupperware of linguine.

"what's your fucking problem."

his eyebrows shoot up, almost like he wasn't expecting you to actually bring up the tension at hand.

"y/n, is this really the time-"

"yes, it is the goddamn time to ask you why you've been acting like a dick to me and my girlfriend."

his mouth quirks downwards and you nearly laugh at the realization of the words, the glances, how he would look at abby sometimes like a kicked puppy even when his damn girlfriend sat on his lap, it was all because he couldn't move the fuck on.

"seriously? that's the reason? you've been putting me, putting abby through hell because you're still hung up over her? this is my worst gay nightmare."

"it's because ever since she's been with you shes been different, always acting like she's some better person now that she's over me. like i was the thing holding her back. how do you think that makes me feel, huh?"

you stare at him after his quiet outburst, his face that signature shade of pink and his eyes enraged. but he doesn't scare you.

you walk closer to him, entertained by the way she avoids you like the plague, and presses his back into the refrigerator. you want to lash out more, to scream at him until your throat is sore, to whisper all the little flaws about him you've noticed over the past year that are driving everyone away, but you won't.

"i hope it makes you feel like the heap of shit you are. goodnight, moore."

when abby feels you snuggle into her later that night, feeling your hands squeeze into her stomach from behind you, she asks if everything is ok, and you press a kiss to her cheek and tell her to go back to sleep.

the next morning it's christmas eve, and everyone is in the dining room eating breakfast and talking about how everyone somehow has no plans when you make a suggestion for the day.

"i wanna go hit the slopes today."

you swear most of them look at you like you've grown another head that just started trying to sing the tequila song.

manny continues chewing his eggs before giving you a thumbs up, but you can tell he's secretly been waiting for this. after you first met he asked you if you've ever skied again after your accident and then dropped it when you gave him a death glare. but since you've gotten closer he knows more about how it's not that you can't ski, but almost as if there was a mental block that stopped you from doing so.

"uhm...sure. i can see if we can do that. are you sure you want to?" abby rests her arms on the table and leans her head into yours, trying to give a sense of privacy for your answer.

"i'm not made of glass, abby. it's about time i get back out there. its the only way i'll known for sure about what my dad said."

"what'd your dad say?" mel speaks up from the opposite side of the table, her hand rested over owen's on top of the wood.

you straighten your shoulders. "some stupid doping scandal got the olympics postponed, and my dad said if i wanter he thinks he could get me back in shape by then to apply."

"holy shit! i mean, it's your choice obviously, but that's cool as hell. i think you should do it." jordan exclaims, sipping on his orange juice through a straw.

"wait, what about your leg? you've only had problems with it a couple of times, but is it alright enough to go ski?" nora asks. she was the one who besides abby you've told the most about your skiing problems, and once took you to the pharmacy to pick up your pain meds like it was no hassle.

"it's better if i don't push myself too much, but the blue and reds should be a piece of cake."

you look at abby, and even though she has no idea why you've had this sudden change of heart, she can hear the subtle excitement in your voice and nods her head at you with a smile.

thanks to everyone always waking up at the break of dawn for some reason, you're checked in to the slopes and ready to go only three hours later. jordan and manny even decided to join you and try their hands at the bunny slopes, the rest of the group deciding to find somewhere to sit and relax while they watched you all.

"mama please, you're embarrassing me." manny groans while you tilt his head from side to side to make sure all of the straps for his helmet and goggles are secure. you weren't about to have him getting a concussion and blaming you for bringing him here or the workers for their sloppy job.

"no one knows better ski safety than me. now shush, I'm almost done."

once you were finished you gently smacked his head and headed to the side of where the slope ends, abby beaming at you from over the rail. she was wearing this cute little beanie she bought for the trip and this all-black bomber jacket that made her look so much bigger than she already is.

"hello? babe, did you hear what i said?" abby's hand waves in front of your face bringing you back to focus. you slowly blink and she shakes her head. "you're so weird."

"again, i get that from you."

"whatever." her gloved hand rests on your face and she brings you closer so she can press a soft kiss onto your lips. when she tries to pull away but your arms are wrapping around her neck and pulling her body into yours, starting an impromptu makeout session before jordans wolf call yanks you out of it.

her fingers reach up to push a strand of hair back into your helmet. "are you sure you'll be ok up there? if your leg hurts just pull over to the side and i'll try to come up and help you-"

you cut her off with another kiss. "i'll be fine, princess. don't worry about me. just worry about all those losers I'm gonna show up."

she laughs that cute and loud little laugh of hers and sends you off, waving to you multiple times when she sees you go up the lift.

once you are at the top you go over everything again, making sure all of your equipment is snug, the track in front of you is good, and your skis are tight and before you know it you're standing at the top of the slope breathing heavy and feeling like you're about to have a panic attack.

your head feels like it's on fire and you swear that you are close to passing out when someone taps on your shoulder. you turn around and it's some teen by his face unobstructed by the goggles, a go-pro attached to his helmet.

"hey, sorry if i'm being annoying but, you're y/n l/n right?"

you nod, hoping he can't see the strained expression on your face.

"i just wanted to say that i think you're like, so cool. i saw that video of you training for the super g at thirteen and it changed my life, seriously."

your head felt a bit better at the memory. the adrenaline you got skiing down slopes at top speeds and then dodging the flags your father asked the owners if he could put on the track to help you train. they were nice people, and even let you pick what flags you wanted. a mix of pink and black.

"thank you. i swore that training took everything out of me. but at least i didn't have to worry about how i was doing in algebra."

he laughs and bobs his head. he clears his throat before slightly hopping on his two feet.

"you ok, kid?"

"yes, yeah, i just... ya see i have this youtube channel where i post videos of me riding down the slopes, helping beginners, trying the harder slopes, and stuff like that." he taps the go bro on his helmet. "and i was wondering if you wanted to do like, a friendly little race? i don't know, you don't have to i know you're leg is probably still healing, i can just go if you wa-"

"i'll do it."

his eyes bulge, surprised at your answer. you have to admit you're slightly surprised too. you weren't planning on doing anything more than inching your way down the intermediate slope a few times, but the memory of the super g has energy suddenly rushing through you. besides, it'd be a nice distraction from everything else. your dad. owen. you.

when you both get to the edge of the slope, you let him know you'll give him a twenty-second head start before you follow. he nods, and a few seconds later you're skiing for the first time in years.

and it feels fucking great.

at the speeds you are going the wind is whipping across the unprotected parts of your face, the stinging cold keeping you focused as you turn around trick hills and get your legs used to the feeling of slight strain. but your legs feel fine, and that makes you feel even better.

before long you can see the kid ahead of you and your friends in the close distance, nora's red coat bobbing up and down as she cheers for you. only five seconds after you pass your fan and can hear his slight spluttering before you're bringing your skis to a stop and the ice is flying from underneath them.

your heart is pounding as the kid, who tells you his name is aidan, thanks you for 'kicking his ass, i swear it'll get so many views". he tells you he'll tag you, and you do him one better by saying you'll follow him back and you're a little scared he's about to have a heart attack before he leaves to check in with his parents.

"oh my god oh my god oh my god! that was so fucking cool! i really thought you were gonna wipe out there for a second but I'm glad you didn't." leah squeezes your body in a hug rocking you from side to side. "are you gonna go again? if you do i swear I'll put on some skis and go down the bunny slope."

you throw your head back with a laugh, imagining leah slowly going down the snow while pizza and french frying her skis. you bask in the compliments given to you by nora who was watching the whole time and manny who tells you he successfully completed the green slope with no falls or bumps. you feel the urge to talk to abby, to have her tell you she's proud of you when you see her near one of the equipment cabins, talking to owen.

"are you gonna go again or do you wanna stop for the day?"

you look at nora with a grin. "yeah, i'll go again."

later that night, after a few more hours of racing your friends and even seeing a few more fans who recognized you, even one lady who said she remembered you based on your form, everyone is headed back to the house to end the day after getting some drink from the community lodge

for some reason, abby hasn't talked to you since, and based on what you saw you're preparing for the damn worst. a small part of you knows you might be overreacting, that there's no way she would fall for the bullshit more had to say to her, but her avoidance of you isn't helping that little part take charge.

like she could read your mind, she's on your tail and following you into your bedroom, taking off her clothes as you do the same but still no word before you head into the shower. under the heat of the water, you rest your head on the wall and close your eyes to try to center yourself. you know abby, you know how much she's done for you. owen wasn't going to get in the way of that and you refused to let him.

you dry yourself off, brush your teeth, moisturize your body, and decide not to put on your pajamas and just this cute robe abby bought for you before leaving the bathroom. after turning off the lights you stop in your tracks, abby sitting on the side of the bed and staring at you.

your feet slowly carry you closer to her before she rolls her eyes and tugs you onto her lap. your face is neutral, even when you can feel the bulge inside of her sweatpants. you tilt your head and she replicates it.

"let me guess, you got an attitude again?"

"you're a fucking hypocrite."

"wh?" her face jerks back in confusion. "what are you talking about?"

"don't play fucking dumb with me abigail. biggest personal growth moment for me in forever and you spend it talking to your damn ex, who if you didn't catch it is still hung up on you, by the way."

"i know, just let me explain-"

"no, i don't want to know. if you're just doing all this as some fucked up way to let me down gently i swear to god-"

you get cut off when one of her hands moves from your waist to cover your mouth, her eyes drooping when you nip at her palm.

"stop it. you know i wouldn't do something that shitty to you, please stop being so paranoid." she waits to gauge your reaction before she decides that you aren't likely to cut her off, softly rubbing at the skin under your eye. "please don't cry."

"im not gonna cry."

"just wanted to make sure. because i care about you, and that's what i was letting owen know that when he was being a jealous dick about you skiing earlier. told him I'm this close to kicking him to the curb for good."

"wait really? what'd he say? i bet he was pissed when i skied over that stuck stump, probably wishes i rode over it and fucking broke my back."

"jeez, you really do despise him." she shakes her head, smiling and rubbing her hands on your thighs. "but yes, he was wondering if maybe now that you were fine to ski you were trying to upstage me or something."

"and do you? and why were you ignoring me?"

she sighed. "literally the opposite. you're just...so amazing, and funny, and talented, and i just know soon you'll be this olympian and wont wanna deal with me and my dumb ex anymore."

"i mean, i am amazing you're right about that," you brag, giggling when she pinches you. "but i'd deal with anything to be with you. i don't even have the words. i wouldn't have gotten on that slope without you always pushing me, despite how annoying i may find it."

abby's' face is beaming and suddenly she's kissing you like you're air, leaning back into the bed so you can hover over her. she stops kissing you just to move her ministrations to all over your face, repeating little 'i love you's' as she does so, reveling in the little hums that leave your throat.

"ok, are we done being sappy so we can fuck now?" your question ends in a squeak when her palm slaps your ass. you look at her with a glare and she just dopily smiles at you, gripping your hips to flip you underneath her.

"y'know, owen and mel picked the room right next to ours." she grinds her hips into yours, the friction of the strap rubbing against you heightened since your robe was riding up to show her bare cunt.

"god, you want me to be loud, don't you?"

"mmhm." she grins as her hand moves down to push the band of her pants down, the feeling of the toy grinding out forcing you to bite your lip to hide your moan, embarrassed by how quickly she could make you want it. her thumbs moves to pull your lip from between your teeth.

she continues humping you until she can see you're wet enough to slide in, looking for your nod to push the strap into you, groaning as it just slides in.

"y/n, we barely did any foreplay-"

"shut up, please shut up."

for some reason she takes that as a sign to start thrusting, reveling in your moans as they finally start to pick up volume. you try to bite the back of your hand when she pulls it away, holding it in hers and holding it above your head. the action is so sweet it almost makes you cry, instead thrusting your head up to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

"mm, love when you're all sweet like this honey. wanna stay like this forever, love you so fuckin much i swear to god." she accentuates her last couple of words with short but harsh thrusts that knock the breath out of your lungs. your orgasm is fast approaching at this rate, and she can tell by the way your eyes are fluttering and your hand is squeezing hers.

"you gonna cum? huh? gonna cum all over me baby?" you nod your head, not trusting the words and sounds that are coming out of your throat. she moves her hand down to rub at your clit and suddenly your stomach is pulsing and your orgasm is hitting you like a truck, abby's following after yours as she's groaning into your neck and thrusting harder to grind the base of the strap into her clit.

it takes a minute for both of you to calm down, the bliss overtaking the both of you.

"was...was that loud enough?" you whisper and feel her silent laugh on top of you, rubbing your leg over the back of hers.

she pushes her head up enough to look you in the eyes, and you really regret asking the question because she's got that dumb-ass smile back on her face and shaking her head.

only a few minutes later she's got you on all fours, leg propped up as she forces your hips back and forth on her dick. and then after that she makes you ride her, and then the position she knows you're obsessed with: her fucking you while standing up.

"a-abs! abby! oh my god!" your throat is sore as her fingers grip the meat of your thighs, the force of her bouncing you and thrusting her hips up getting you closer and closer to euphoria. your eyes are closed and your head is tilted back, doing anything to avoid the way she's looking at you like you're some goddess she's been blessed to witness.

"just a little bit more baby. cmon, tell me how much you love it."

"i do! fuck abby, love it so much."

"love what, honey? you can do it, know you can. god you're so perfect."

your mind is hazy with the feeling of the strap hitting that sensitive spot inside of you with every bounce of your hips and her words that you barely even register her demand, groaning when she bites at one of your tits that have been bouncing in her face.

"tell me what you love. please, please tell me."

"nghh, love you abby! fuckin love your dick so much!"

"that's it, thaaat's it pretty girl. let everyone you're mine, that i'm yours-"

you're pretty sure she kept talking after that, but the rush of your orgasm deafens every sound and lights your body on fire, only able to feel the high and the cum leaking down your thighs. you go in and out of consciousness but come back to when you're both back in bed, abby pulling you onto her chest and she rubs a soft hand down your back.

"love you." you mumble, snuggling into the warmness of her.

"i love you too, y/n."

"'m sorry about earlier."

"me too. promise that i'll tell you whenever i'm feeling down. or when i'm dealing with a douche."

"me too."

you get the best night's sleep you've had in years.

in the morning everyone seems ecstatic for the holiday, ready to share their gifts with each other after breakfast. you decide to join in helping to cook, which gets you a crazy accusation from jordan saying your helping is just 'sitting on the counter so abby has something to look at while you drink a mimosa". whatever. abby is standing between your thighs and talking to you about her new workout schedule when owen and manny walk into the room, manny bidding you a sly 'good morning' with a smirk as owen grabs water from the fridge.

"hey owes, can you hand me one?" abby asks, her fingers drumming on your thigh as she uses the other to catch the bottle he tosses to her with a polite smile. your eyes are following the action suspiciously before abby is for some reason keeping a grip on the middle of the bottle as she opens it so the liquid spurts onto a bit of her shirt.

"ugh, abs! wait a second." you start to move off the counter when she holds your hips down.

"its fine, babe. i'm used to things squirting on me, anyway."

your face scrunches up as you smack her in the shoulder, your face hot as you hear jordan and manny cackling like hyenas and owen chugs down his water. abby just presses a loud kiss on your cheek.

other than your friends constantly teasing you, nora whispering a 'love shack' in your ear when she walks behind you in the living room, the day really is perfect. when the sun sets everyone is exchanging the gifts they got for each other. leah got jordan some necklace he's had his eyes on, manny bought mel some earmuffs after hers broke a month ago. some of them teased you for having surprisingly thoughtful gifts despite having a heart of only half-thawed ice, making you only reply that you weren't past taking the gifts back.

and then you open the gift abby got you and nearly cry; a custom snow globe, inside two mini figures dancing on a mountain of snow, one wearing skis and the other wearing skates. the she almost does the same with the corny 'cooking for two' book you bought her and the limited edition version of her favorite novel.

its a night full of warmth and laughter, and once it ends you find yourself standing out on the balcony, looking out at the lit lights of the village and the lifts on the slopes. your phone is in your hand and you open the text messages to your dad.

tell everyone i said merry christmas. its going to take me time to mentally heal enough to train. but if you're willing to do it with me then i'm in.

"hey, it's fucking freezing out here." abby opens the slide-apart door and comes up beside you, wrapping her arms around you to look out at the view with you. "are you ok?"

you sigh, turning to admire her. the redness of her cheeks, the tiny snowflakes in her hair. the way she's looking at you.

you nod your head.

"i'm on top of the world."

fics keep getting longer to overcompensate allah take me now. spent so much of yesterday aka my birthday writing this omg but it was so fun to write a more developed reader. uhhh idk stream cobra by megan.

#the last of us #tlou #tlou x reader #abby #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #hockey!abby #skier!reader

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the-book-ferret · 6 months

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Set in the snowy, folkloric woods, this cottage-core atmospheric, sapphic romance is the perfect cozy fantasy for a younger YA audience. Thank you so much to @pagestreetya for sending me a copy of the book! I can't wait to dive in! A sapphic twist on the classic fairy tale Snow White and Rose Red, perfect for fans of Holly Black The western wood is where Ro's father built their garden, taught her to forage, and told her tales of the faeries who live there—how to summon them, how to protect herself, and warnings of what they are capable of. Now, her father is gone, the garden has withered, and their family is struggling. Her mother and sister want to move into town, but Ro doesn't want to give up the memories of her father and his stories—or the charming village girl who shares Ro's love of the trees. The forest isn't ready to let Ro go either.

One winter night, on her way home from foraging, Ro encounters a bear attacking a fox. She fights the bear to save the fox's life, only to see the bear turn into a boy after her sister shoots him with an arrow. When the boy wakes, he has no memory of who he is—all he knows is Ro's name and that he has to kill the fox. Ro never believed in the faeries from her father's stories, but she can't deny the magic surrounding her and that both the boy and the fox are victims of a faerie curse. She'll have to remember everything her father taught her in order to extract herself from this deadly game and keep her precious fox out of harm's way. #pagestreetya #callforthafox #sapphicromance #storygramtours

#thebookferret #books #booklr #book worm #book nerd #book pets #book addict #book photography #bibliophile #ferret #ferrets of tumblr #pets of tumblr #wasabi #page street ya #call forth a fox #sapphic romance

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 3 months

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Benedict Bridgerton with wife reader. They're celebrating Christmas as a family with their children. ( idk if they celebrated it back then) Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a tradition was born. You decide what it was. Thanks!! :))

A Bridgerton Christmas

benedict bridgerton x fem wife reader

The Bridgerton household was alight with festive cheer. The grand estate was adorned with garlands of holly and ivy, while the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked gingerbread wafted through the halls. Snow had blanketed the grounds outside, transforming the landscape into a winter wonderland. Inside, warmth radiated from every corner, courtesy of the roaring fireplaces and the love that permeated the air.

Benedict Bridgerton, ever the artist, had spent the morning with his children, helping them craft intricate paper snowflakes and ornaments to hang on the tree. Each child’s creation was unique, a testament to the imagination and creativity that Benedict so cherished in them. Y/N, his beloved wife, had been bustling about the kitchen, overseeing the preparation of the Christmas feast with the help of the household staff. She wore an apron over her elegant dress, a slight smudge of flour on her cheek only adding to her radiant charm.

As the afternoon sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the snow-covered grounds, Benedict gathered the children in the drawing room. Their laughter and excitement filled the space as they eagerly awaited the evening’s festivities. Y/N joined them shortly, her smile lighting up the room as she carried a tray of hot cocoa, each mug topped with a generous dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon.

“Who’s ready to decorate the tree?” Benedict asked, his eyes twinkling with joy.

A chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the children, and they all scrambled to their feet, rushing towards the towering evergreen that stood in the corner of the room. The tree was already adorned with twinkling lights and a few cherished ornaments, but it awaited the special touch of the Bridgerton family.

One by one, they hung their handcrafted decorations, each child carefully selecting the perfect branch for their creation. Benedict lifted the youngest, a giggling little girl, so she could place her star at the very top of the tree. Y/N stood back, admiring the scene, her heart swelling with love and pride.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” she whispered, slipping her hand into Benedict’s.

“It is,” he agreed, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “But not as beautiful as you.”

Y/N blushed, leaning into him as they watched their children. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, the spirit of Christmas infusing every moment with magic.

Once the tree was complete, the family gathered around the fireplace. Benedict took out his sketchbook, capturing the scene with swift, sure strokes. The children were transfixed, watching their father bring their Christmas to life on the page.

“Papa, can you tell us a story?” one of the older children asked, his eyes wide with anticipation.

Benedict smiled, closing his sketchbook. “Of course. Let’s see… how about the story of our very first Christmas together?”

The children settled in, leaning against their parents as Benedict began his tale. He spoke of their courtship, the way he had fallen in love with Y/N’s laughter and kindness. He recounted the snowy evening he had proposed, the joy they had felt as they planned their future together. And finally, he told them about their first Christmas as husband and wife, a day filled with love and laughter, setting the foundation for all the joyous celebrations to come.

As Benedict spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a tear slip down her cheek. The story was a reminder of how far they had come, of the love that had only grown stronger with each passing year.

When the story ended, the children were filled with questions, eager to hear more about their parents’ adventures. But Y/N stood, a playful smile on her lips.

“I think it’s time for a new tradition,” she announced, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Benedict raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what might that be, my love?”

Y/N beckoned the children to follow her, leading them to the kitchen. There, on the counter, were bowls of cookie dough, sprinkles, and icing in every color imaginable.

“We’re going to make Christmas cookies,” she declared. “Each of you will make one for Santa, and one to hang on the tree.”

The children’s faces lit up with excitement, and they eagerly set to work, rolling out dough and cutting it into festive shapes. Benedict joined in, his artistic flair evident in the intricate designs he crafted. Laughter and chatter filled the kitchen as flour dusted the air and icing smudged fingers.

As the cookies baked, filling the house with their delicious aroma, Benedict pulled Y/N into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“This is perfect,” he murmured. “You’re perfect.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her heart full. “I think we make a pretty good team.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, watching their children create memories that would last a lifetime. And in that moment, surrounded by love and laughter, a new Bridgerton Christmas tradition was born one that would be cherished for generations to come.

As the evening wore on and the children’s excitement showed no signs of waning, they began clamoring to open their presents. Y/N, now noticeably tired, rubbed her swollen belly and sank into a nearby armchair. She was glowing with the anticipation of their newest family member, but the day’s festivities had taken their toll.

“Mama, can we open our presents now?” one of the children asked, eyes wide with eagerness.

Y/N smiled wearily. “I think it’s time, but I need to sit down for a moment.”

Benedict, noticing her fatigue, quickly stepped in. “All right, everyone. Let’s gather around the tree and open our presents together, but let’s make sure we’re gentle and don’t overwhelm Mama. She needs to rest.”

The children, sensing the importance of their father’s words, nodded solemnly and moved to sit in a semi-circle around the tree. Benedict helped Y/N to a more comfortable position, placing a pillow behind her back and kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, my love,” she whispered, her hand resting on her belly.

“Anything for you,” he replied softly.

The children began to unwrap their gifts, their eyes lighting up with each new discovery. Benedict and Y/N watched, their hearts full as they shared glances of mutual adoration and pride. Each child took turns showing off their new treasures, the room filled with exclamations of joy and wonder.

As the last present was opened and the children began to settle down, Y/N felt a wave of contentment wash over her. Benedict wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“This has been a perfect Christmas,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

Benedict smiled, his eyes twinkling. “And it’s only going to get better.”

In the glow of the firelight, with their children nestled around them and the promise of new life on the horizon, the Bridgertons embraced the magic of Christmas, cherishing each moment and the traditions they had begun together.

like and comment :)

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lives-in-midgard · 10 months

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🎄Beautiful Miracle🎄

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Summary: When your car breaks down in a small village you luckily find a bakery to stay in.

Word Count: 1095

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fic for my Christmas special hosted by the lovely @buckys-wintersoldier. I hope you like it! 💗

Dividers made by @saradika 💗

Prompt 1: Bakery AU

Masterlist | Fluffcember Masterlist

It’s the first day of December and it has just started snowing. You were driving through a small village you had never been to before when suddenly your car broke down in the middle of the road. You were just able to pull over to park your car in an empty parking lot. You tried to start the car again, but it didn’t work.

“Noo, that can’t happen now. Not now when it’s so cold outside.” You said to yourself. After another try, you decided to call a car service station. They told you that it would take an hour or more for them to get here. So, you decided to take your bag, get out of your car, and look for somewhere to stay. You took a few steps and then saw that there was a small bakery.

Maximoff’s Sweets

You smiled and opened the door to the bakery. The air was filled with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. Everything was decorated with Christmas decoration and a Christmas carol was playing. You walked around and noticed that this place looks really cozy and beautiful. You couldn’t see the owner of this shop, but you could hear someone singing.

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly.” You heard the soft voice more clearly now and had to smile. Then a door opened and a beautiful young woman with red hair walked out of a room from the back. She had a plate with cookies in her hand and immediately smiled when she saw you.

“Hello and welcome to my bakery.” The owner smiled at you and placed the cookies in an empty spot.

“Hi, this is a really wonderful place here.” You confessed and looked around and then back at her.

“Thank you. This really means a lot to me. Especially because it’s my first Christmas here.”

“Oh, congrats on that.” You said and the woman had to chuckle. She looked so beautiful and lovely.

“What can I offer you?” She asked and you looked at it all deliciously.

“Umm, I’m not sure. This looks all so delicious, what would you recommend?” You asked her nervously.

“How about these cinnamon rolls? They are really good and a new recipe I tried.” She pointed to the cinnamon rolls, and you nodded.

“Sounds good. I’ll take this and a coffee please.” You answered and Ms. Maximoff turned around to make you a coffee. She put the dessert and coffee on a plate and then walked with you to a table. You sat down and she placed everything in front of you.

“Do you mind if I join you?” She asked shyly.

“Of course not.”

“Okay, great, because my new cookies just came out of the oven and need time to cool. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She went back, made herself a cup of coffee and then came back to you. She sat down across from you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I‘m Wanda Maximoff.”

“Hi Wanda, I‘m Y/N.“

“So, what brought you to my bakery?” Wanda asked and you told her the story of your car and how you luckily found her warm and cozy bakery. Wanda listened intently as the two of you drank your coffee and ate your dessert.

“Wow, that tasted so good.” You complimented her after eating the cinnamon roll.

“Thank you, love.” You blushed and looked out the window for a second and saw that it started to snow more.

“What do you like to do when you’re not at this wonderful bakery?” You asked Wanda as you looked back at her.

“Well, I love spending time with my brother and some friends, I love finding new recipes for all kind of stuff, and oh I really enjoy watching sitcoms.”

“Sounds really cool. What’s your favorite sitcom?”

“The Dick Van Dyke Show. I loved it when I was a kid and I still do.” Wanda told you.

“And what do you like to do when your car doesn’t break down in front of a bakery?” Wanda asked and you had to chuckle at her question. You told her about your hobbies and talked for a while until you got a message on your phone.

“Sorry.” You apologized and looked at your phone.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled when you saw the message from the car service station.

“What’s wrong?” Wanda asked.

“It’s the car service station. It will take them a few hours to get here because of the snow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but hey, you’re lucky you ended up here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled at her. A few minutes passed before Wanda said something again.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“If you're interested, maybe you could help me with some cookies.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” You said and Wanda smiled happily. She showed you the kitchen where she makes all her desserts. Wanda then gave you an apron and you tied your hair into a ponytail. Then she showed you the recipe and started to put everything you needed on the table. You had fun helping Wanda bake the cookies and when you were done you put them in the oven and Wanda gave you a cup of hot chocolate. You stood next to her and talked for a few minutes until Wanda got the idea to decorate the cookies she had baked before you arrived. When you were almost finished, you received a message that the car service station will be here soon.

Wanda decided to give you some cookies and when you wanted to pay, she said that wasn’t necessary. You insisted that you wanted to pay, but Wanda was a little more stubborn than you, so she won. You put your jacket on and were a little sad to leave now, but you know where this bakery is so you could come back anytime.

“Goodbye, Wanda.” You said before opening the door.

“Wait.” Wanda shouted and ran towards you. You turned around and looked at her confused.

“I really enjoyed this afternoon with you and thought you might like to meet me again.” Wanda asked.

“I also really enjoyed it. I can give you my phone number, so you can text me.” Wanda nodded with a smile, and you gave her your phone number.

“See you soon, Wanda.” You said before walking out.

“See you soon. “You walked out with a smile, happy that your car broke down here and not somewhere else. Otherwise, you probably would never have met Wanda.

Taglist:

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 10 months

Note

Freebie

"That is an impressive array of snow people," Bruce observed. "How long have they been at it?"

"Most of the afternoon, I should think," Alfred said. "Master Richard was insistent and I don't think she had the heart to tell him no."

"They must be frozen."

"Miss Y/N, certainly. Master Richard seems to be warmed by a determination to build an army. I have hot chocolate and cookies waiting."

"I think-" But when the snowball hit him in the chest before he could finish his thought, followed by a peal of childish giggles, Bruce took his gloves from his coat pocket. "I'll be back."

And with no further ado, he leaped over the railing to chase the culprit over the snowy ground. And Alfred watched the scene shaking his head.

It was a free for all, but. It had been years- decades since the snow had been so... messy. He wasn't looking forward to the ensuing sniffles and the puddles but. He'd missed the joy.

Bruce, for the first winter in decades, couldn't stay hunched like a gargoyle in the study.

The holidays were here for certain. Trees. Menorahs. Tinsel. Holly. Mysterious packages hidden in drawers. This year, he had more to celebrate than he had had for ages. With Dick and with you.

And Alfred thanked whatever god might be listening that Clark Kent had a friend who fit the right bill. He'd gotten tired of pretending Christmas was just another day.

#bruce wayne x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #bruce wayne #odd duck!reader

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 10 months

Text

Wrapped 🎁

Jason Todd x reader

A/N: another one for Jason!! I love writing for him. I definitely need to do it more. This is the second fic for my Christmas event Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ ! I hope you enjoy some Holly Jason fluff!

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, overall very sweet and domestic! Jason being excited to make fun of Bruce, FLUFF.

Wordcount: 3.3k

Thank you to @certifiedredhoodlover for helping me pick out the presents for Tim and Damian <3

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

"G'morning, Baby," you stirred slightly when his sweet voice softly called out to you. You were firmly in his grasp, your oven of a boyfriend keeping you nice and toasty.

His hands gently stroked along your back while you nuzzled closer to his chest. He was trying to wake you, but his soft touches, cozy heat and comforting voice really weren't helping his efforts.

"Ya need to wake up, sweetheart." The sleep heavy in his voice. His heartbeat was steady, lulling you back to sleep. "Don't wan' to.." you mumbled, scooching impossibly closer.

Jason chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It's snowing." He whispered, you could hear the smug smile that was probably plastered on his face.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he said those words. He knew how to push your buttons. Your eyes shot open and and clumsily scrambled to sit up.

"What, What, really?" You slurred, rubbing at your eyes. He motioned to the window with his head and his heart melted when your eyes lit up as soon as you spotted the little flakes elegantly cascading from the sky. With a gasp and a sparkle about you, you were on your feet in a second, rushing to the window.

"It is snowing!" You beamed, before turning to him. "We wanted to go holiday shopping today, it's perfect! Come on!" You pulled him out of bed, or at least you tried, and he begrudgingly left his warm sanctuary, whining about the cold. But if he was honest with himself, he'd go out in his pajamas if it made you happy.

Jason dragged his sleepdrunk body to the kitchen for some well needed coffee. You were whirling around the apartment, getting ready and finishing off the shopping list. He finished his coffee and yawned while stretching. You stood in front of him with a shocked expression on your face.

"What are doing? Why are you not ready yet?" The disbelief in your voice made Jason's brows furrow. "Babe, we got up 10 minutes ago. You haven't even had breakfast. We've got the whole day, calm down, okay?" He placed his hands on your cheeks and kissed your nose, which made your face scrunch up in the cutest way possible. Your narrowed your eyes at him and walked to the fridge without breaking eye contact.

"You have 30 minutes, Mister." He shook his head at you when you stuffed a piece of toast in your mouth and washed it down with Jason's coffee. "Wha- Hey, that was my coffee!" He exclaimed, taking the mug away from you.

"30 minutes!" Your voice came out muffled, courtesy of the piece of bread, as you made your way to the living room to wait for him on the couch.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were scrolling on your phone, looking for some of the gifts you knew you wouldn't be able to get in store. He came into the livingroom, grabbing his keys and phone.

"Alright, you got your list?" Jason clapped his hands together, resulting in you looking up at him. You let out a gasp of awe when you saw him. You'd bought him a red beanie for the cold seasons but he never wore it, until today that is. He always refused, reasoning he didn't get cold and he'd look ridiculous. It was quite the opposite.

"You're wearing it! Oh my god, you look so cute!" You beamed, practically jumping from your seat on the couch, grabbing his face and peppering kisses over his cheeks.

"You look adorable, I could literally eat you!" You laughed between kisses, his face squished in your glove clad hands. "Babe, it's just a hat." He stated, albeit a little muffled as your hands were still firmly planted on his cheeks.

"I know, but it looks so good on you! Your white streak is peaking out, and it makes you look like a candy cane!" You squealed. No matter how hard you'd tried, you couldn't keep in your excitement. His brows furrowed at your statement as he grumbled quietly, but you could feel his face heating up even underneath your gloves.

"'M not a candy cane..." he mumbled, lightly offended. Well, actually, very offended. A pout settled on his lips.

"You are, but you're my candy cane, and only mine." You whispered with a sweet grin on your face, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before elegantly twirling out of his embrace to check your bag one last time. Jason smirked, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he leaned against the counter.

"If me wearing a hat gets you like that, I wonder what else I could wear..." he pondered, stroking his chin. "I guess you'll have to find out." You said with a cheeky smile.

"Are you ready? Let's go," you held out your hand to him, and he took it in his in the blink of an eye.

Jason loved holding your hand. It was his favorite thing to do, no matter where you were or what you were doing, his hands would be touching yours in some kind of way. He would play with your fingers when watching TV or reading. It was mostly subconscious, but it was a cute habit.

"Are you sure we can't take the car? It's freezing outside!" He reasoned, keeping you in your place when you wanted to step out the door. "But it's snowing! And you're basically a walking furnace, you'll be fine!"

"If I get a cold, you're taking care of me." He grumbled before letting himself be dragged out the door by you.

Jason truly was a man of mystery to you. He wouldn't give a shit when he'd be shot and bleeding out, but god forbid he got a cold. He acted like the world was ending or he was dying. You did enjoy doting on him and taking care of all his needs but his very dramatic 'This is it. This is my end!' talks made you roll your eyes.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You walked through the nicely decorated streets, the snowflakes falling from the sky and covering Gotham as well as yourselves in a powdery blanket. Glancing over to your boyfriend, you couldn't help but giggle. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, matching his beanie. He had his shoulders pulled up a little, trying to cover some of his face with his scarf.

Your hands were still intertwined and shoved into his jacket pocket. He wiggled his mouth free from his cozy scarf.

"What's on your list, sweetheart?" He asked, his warm breath turning into a small cloud in the chilly air.

★

You were sitting at your kitchen table, the blank piece of paper that should've been a list by now starring you mockingly in the face. You sighed, resting your chin in your hands. "I don't know what to get them, Babe."

Jason was cuddled up on the couch, book, and tea in hand. "Doesn't really matter that much." He muttered, all of his attention on the book as his eyes were glued to the pages. "Yes, it does!" You argued,"It's Christmas. What are you getting them?" He took a sip of his tea, still captured by his book. "My presence at the dinner table, and if they're lucky, a hug."

You rolled your eyes. "You're not helping." You grumbled, your head falling forward onto the table. You'd been at this stupid list for weeks, but you couldn't come up with a single idea what to get them. Especially his younger brothers, Tim and Damian. You'd barely seen them, so picking a present that was useful and enjoyable for them was proving to be a real struggle.

"It really doesn't matter that much, I mean it. You could get each of them a card that says 'I'm proud of you' and they'd cry. So, it's your pick, really." He shrugged, flipping to the next page. You sighed again, closing your eyes. At this rate, you'd maybe get them a present next Christmas.

"I want to get them something personal, Jay. Something that means something to them."

Jason looked at you this time, his gaze over the top of his reading glasses.

"My point still stands."

You groaned, sagging into your chair. "Why is your family so difficult?!" You complained, sitting back up properly as you started to scribble some things down on the paper.

"Trauma." His response was blunt, his eyes were back on the book, his mind in whatever fantasy world he was reading about.

"Right."

You watched him for a little while. Calm breaths, the occasional grin or raise of his brows. "What's so interesting in that book, huh? Barely looked at me when we were talking."

"Hm?," his head turned towards you, obviously not listening to you. "Oh, sorry, s'Mister Darcy." You made an approving noise. "Carry on." Who could resist Mister Darcy? Not even Red Hood could, it seemed.

★

"Well," you began, pulling out the little piece of paper from your bag,"for Dick, I want to go to the record store and see if I can find him something new, preferably vintage. Alfred desperately needs a new apron, and I saw one a couple of weeks ago that'd be perfect for him. Tim gets a coupon to get the Manor for himself for an entire day-" Jason's brows furrowed, and he interrupted you.

"How the hell are you gonna achieve that?"

"You do what I say, Alfred would gladly do me a favor, and I think Bruce is secretly a little scared of me and I will use that to my advantage. And Damian.. I haven't thought that one out yet. I'll bribe him somehow. I think he likes me more than he let's on." You laughed.

He looked quite impressed before a smile settled on his lips. "You're a brilliant woman, do you know that?" He pressed a kiss to your temple, smiling against your skin.

"Thanks, Baby. You tell me everyday." You giggled, looking up at him. It surprised you haven't run into anything or anyone yet, your eyes were on Jason like he was the only one in the world. And he was, at least for you.

"I do? Well, I'll keep doing it." The smile he gave you was so soft, something only you got to see. "Damian gets a Katana with a burgundy handle. We have to pick it up from the jeweler, I had them engrave Titus on the blade." You continued, folding over the top of the list, which peaked Jason's interest.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Why did I do what?"

"That sneaky fold over." He pointed to the list.

"Oh, well, that's your present. Don't want you seeing what it is yet," you grinned, making him pout.

He let out a small huff, eyeing the piece of paper in your hands before trying to snatch it away from you. You quickly pulled it out of his reach and stuffed it back into your bag.

"Hands off!" He grumbled quietly under his breath but quickly let it go when you reached your first stop.

You looked through the dozens and dozens of boxes filled with record vinyls, trying to find the perfect one for Dick. The poor lighting and overcrowded aisle didn't help your cause. You did have to give credit to the interior design, it looked like it came straight from the 70s. You were basically digging for gold at this point, and gold did you find.

You'd picked out an original 'A Night at the Opera' vinyl by Queen, and you'd also found 'Crises' by Mike Oldfield and you decided to get both, hoping Dick would like them. Jason assured you that he would as his older brother adored you. He'd said you were a fresh breeze to the family, and he already loved you just for making his little brother happy.

He was the first to really trust and hang out with you, easing your nerves about fitting into the family. You could already see Dick and yourself jamming out to the tunes together.

The next stop was Home Depot. You'd gone there for a new whisk and a set of kitchen towels and had spotted the perfect gift for the resident Butler of Wayne Manor. It was a little cheesy, you had to admit, but you had a feeling Alfred would really enjoy this gift.

"They have to be here somewhere, I know they are.." you mumbled, searching around in the kitchen section. "Aha! There they are." You pulled Jason with you towards the back, and he had to be careful to not knock over any of the ceramic decor pieces.

"Jeez, why are these aisles so small.." he tried to make himself as small as possible, not only that but he had to keep the shopping back from the record store in mind as well. He couldn't really complain about that though, as he insisted on carrying it for you.

You held up the navy apron to show him the embroidery on the front. It said 'King of the Kitchen' and it had a little crown on top of it as well. "He's gonna take that to his grave." Jason grinned, before breaking into a laugh at the apron. "It's perfect, isn't it? I immediately thought of him when I saw it." You joined your lover, laughing in the back of the kitchen section, earning a stern look from a bypassing lady.

You stood in line at the register in the craftstore after having picked out some nice paper, sparkly pens, some stencil cutters, and a little bit of glitter for Tim's present.

"Don't know if Tim is fan of glitter." Jason said, looking into your little shopping basket. "Well, I am, so he's gonna have to deal with it." You huffed, moving further in line. He put his hands up defensively, as much as he could at least, since he was carrying the bags, and moved with you.

"What about B?" He questioned.

"I'm making him a card. It's gonna be an 'I'm proud of you' card." You sighed, not feeling to great about your choice of present for Bruce. Jason's eyes widened.

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah. I mean, what the fuck do you get a billionaire? Especially someone like Bruce. I just took your advice." You joked, bumping him with your elbow.

"I'm so gonna film that."

"Jason-"

"Nope, you can't stop me. Consider it a present from myself to myself."

You shook your head at him and sighed, but he definitely caught the smile that you were trying to hide. It would definitely be a memorable Christmas.

The last stop, thankfully, was the jeweler. Jason had been ready to go home 3 hours ago. The amount of people, crowded stores, and the bright lights were starting to overstimulate him.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up the Katana I had engraved." You smiled kindly at the woman behind the desk.

"Ah yes, and the neckl-" she began but you quickly cut her off with a finger to your lips and a motion to Jason with your head. He wasn't supposed to know wou were picking up his present too. The woman smiled knowingly and went into the back to get your orders.

You tapped your fingers against the counter as you were waiting. You glanced over to Jason, who was grinning like an Idiot. He knew that whatever it was that the woman was talking about was his present. You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You didn't see or hear anything, got it?" You said firmly, earning an even wider grin from Jason.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Good."

The woman came back with a small bag and the Katana in hand. "It didn't fit in a bag." She chuckled nervously.

"No worries." You replied kindly, taking it from her, same with the small shopping bag. You pulled back the Saya and looked approvingly over the engraving of Titus at the base of the sword.

"Wow, that's amazing." He marveled, looking over your shoulder.

"Damian is so gonna cry." He giggled mischievously.

"Christmas is gonna be great this year." He grinned, making you sigh. There was no talking him out of teasing both Bruce and Damian. You could've definitely tried harder if you didn't enjoy it at least a little bit.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were now back out in the cold, walking home after a successful shopping day. The small bag was securely in your hand, keeping it away from Jason. He couldn't stop eyeing it, though. Desperately wanting to know what was inside. You were just as excited to show him as he was to see, it was challenge trying to keep it a secret from him.

It was a gold chain with a pendant. The pendant almost looked like a coin, on one side your names were engraved with a little heart and the words 'forever and always'. On the other was a red Aster flower. You didn't just pick any flower, it had a meaning. It meant undying devotion. You wanted Jason to have the reassurance of your love and loyalty with him whenever he wore it, which you hoped would be everyday.

It was even more special since only the two of you would know what it meant. The language of flowers was something you were both interested in, having read books about it together. You had used it a few times when visiting the Manor, loving the confused looks of everyone, except Alfred who was quite the flower enthusiast himself.

Jason was talking to you about a couple of new books he wanted to get, which you'd obviously already stored in the back of your closet, waiting to be wrapped, when a little cart selling hot chocolate caught your eye.

"Can we get some hot chocolate, please?" You asked excitedly, already dragging him in the carts direction. "Baby, I'm tired, can we just make some at home?" You could tell he was exhausted, social interactions weren't easy for him, for either of you really. But the intoxicating smell of rich chocolate and whipped cream had taken over your senses, clouding your brain.

"Pleaseeee? It'll be quick, I promise! We'll cuddle for the rest of the evening, okay?" You pleaded, making your best doe eyes at him. He sighed and tried looking away from you as not to fall for your sweet look. He could never deny you anything. It might not be the healthiest of habits, but god, did he love spoiling you.

"Fine. But," he held up his finger,"only if I get head scratches as well."

"Deal!" You agreed quickly, pulling him to stand in line. It was going to be such a nice evening. Jason couldn't wait to be all cuddled up with you, your fingers gently running through his hair. He was going to heaven. You were his heaven.

Here you were, happily sipping on your hot beverage as Jason looked at you adoringly. "Thanks for the hot cocoa, Jay." You smiled, blowing on it to not burn your mouth.

"Of course, Princess. Here, let me get that for you." Your brows furrowed in confusion at his statement. He swiped his thumb over your lip, getting the bit of whipped cream off. His tongue went to his thumb and licked the cream off, and he hummed.

"Delicious." He smirked, making you grin. "If you wanted a taste, you could've asked." You smiled, pulling him down into a kiss by his scarf. He melted against your lips, making sure to mind your drink when he wrapped his arms around you.

The streets were lit up festively, the snowing was still falling gently, and you were here with your hot chocolate in hand and your lips on his. He was really glad he decided to stop for the hot cocoa. As if he had the strength to ever deny you anything.

He was under your spell and would do anything you'd asked of him. He was infatuated with you. He loved you. More than he could ever tell or show you.

Just like the presents under the tree, you've got him wrapped.

#bumblebeesfromvenus #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood #FI'S CHRISTMAS MARKET ☆

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climbthemountain2020 · 5 months

Text

Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

#feysand #feysand fic #actoar #solstice gifts #rhys x feyre archeron #fever-induced writing #tooth rottingly sweet fluff

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