#hope u all had a good holiday season

[dovesick]

red eyed reindeer

[yoongiseesawmp3]

u got it bad - san (m)

summary: baseball player!san x reporter!reader. you've been covering your local team for years. the players, the coaches, everybody knows you. except for newbie choi san. he just joined the team, but he knows you from somewhere...maybe the bar last night?

word count: 14.5k

warnings: lots of baseball jargon, afab reader, sex (some protected some not), thigh riding, oral (barely. m receiving tho), a little cockwarming

masterlist

you love your job. as a kid, you always dreamed of working here, walking into this stadium every day, and doing what you loved most. granted, back then you were imagining yourself as one of the players, but oh well. a girl can still dream, right?

you landed the job as sideline reporter for your favorite baseball team right out of college. they wanted someone willing to stick around for a while, and you recall telling them in your interview, "if i start working here, you'll never be able to get rid of me." they loved it, and they loved that you were a hometown supporter. it made your stories more meaningful, gave you a point of view that fans could appreciate. you were able to write touching pieces on the players, give the season the dramatic arc on camera that it deserved, and you treated everyone at the team with respect. that respect went both ways, with the players, coaches, front office staff...everyone knew who you were and included you as if you were a part of the team.

you had to work hard for that respect. it didn't take long for you to prove yourself, but it did take several sleepless nights and countless overtime hours to become the reporter you are. you know everything about this team, and that's what makes you so good.

because you know eveything, you obviously know that they're close to signing star right fielder choi san. you've heard talk that it's basically done, he flew in this morning and is set to sign his contract first thing tomorrow. of course, you had memorized his past work jumping around the league as soon as the rumors started. it was your job, after all, to know these things. you knew he was great on the field, that was easy, but everyone loved him in the dugout. he's the kind of player that remembers everyone's names, brings gifts for the team around the holidays, asks about your family when he sees you. he's a stand up guy, you hear.

you've also heard that he likes to play the field outside of the stadium, if you catch my drift. he's very popular with the ladies in whatever city he deems to call home for that season, and as you walk through your favorite bar outside the stadium, you can tell the women here already know choi san is close by.

one thing you do not know is that san is in this bar, right now. yes, he's signing his contract tomorrow, but he wanted to visit the stadium today, when it was still quiet. he likes getting the feel of a team before he joins, so he wandered around the empty stadium a few times before coming here to clear his head. upon entering, he sees his face plastered on all the tvs as espn does a deep dive into what his move here might mean. he thought he was screwed, that people would immediately notice him, but so far so good. he's got a nondescript cap on and dark sweats, so he hopes his booth in the corner is enough to keep him hidden while he has a celebratory pint. he doesn't report to training until day after tomorrow, so he thought he could treat himself tonight.

as he sits and drinks, soaking in the atmosphere, he has to laugh. he wants to stay hidden, but really, with his likeness and his entire career plastered on every screen above the bar, you'd think someone would know. at least look at him and make a comment about the resemblance. but it doesn't seem like anyone here knows a thing.

except you. as you sit at the bar, swirling the straw in your glass, you take a look around. there's some regulars that smile and wave, but for the most part it's not that busy. maybe that's what makes him stand out more. your eyes fall on choi san, all star right fielder and the newest member of your team, trying to hide in the corner. but his sharp eyes and broad shoulders alert you immediately that the subject of all your recent studies is here. and he's staring at you. you stare back, and he quirks an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.

you take the bait and make your way to his table.

"anyone sittin' here?" you ask in a slight southern accent, and san smiles. it's been a while since he played in the south. he forgot how charming it can be. maybe he'll catch himself a southern belle while he's here.

"saved it for you," he smirks, and you hum as you sit across from him. he sees your almost empty glass and states, "looks like you need another."

"ah, i probably shouldn't," you shake your head. "got an early morning."

"me too," san nods, that smirk still comfortably on his face. "so what's your name, beautiful?"

"y/n," you reply. you try not to let your heart flutter at the nickname, or the way he's staring at you, but it's hard. "yours?"

"san," he says simply. "you from here, y/n?"

"born and raised," you answer. "you new to the city?"

"you could say that," he sighs. "just moved here for work, but i've visited a couple times."

"how are you likin' it so far?"

"to be honest?" he makes a face. "it's kind of boring."

"excuse me?" you're taken aback. you don't take kindly to people badmouthing your hometown, and you don't like the mischievous spark in san's eyes as he continues.

"well, girl as pretty as you not taking me up on my offer of another round, that's no fun is it?" he teases.

"ahah," you laugh halfheartedly. "sure, i can see why that would upset you."

"i'm not upset, doll, just disappointed."

"well, hate to disappoint you further, but i really do have an early morning," you say as you start to rise. "just saw a stranger sittin' all by his lonesome and thought i would say hi."

"i'm glad you did," san raises his glass to you. "maybe i'll see you around?"

"maybe," you shrug, trying to bite back a smile. "nice meeting you san."

you feel his eyes on you as you return your glass to the bar, waving goodbye to the bartender before you head to the door. you turn before you leave, meeting san's eyes across the room, and you just smile to yourself as you step outside.

-

san is the first one in the clubhouse the next day. he loves the smell of an empty locker room, untainted by the man stench that inevitably comes with a roomful of athletes. he smiles warmly as he walks in and sees his locker decorated in welcome. he's looking through all the gifts, some regulation equipment he asked for and some just goodies from the team, as the players start slowly arriving.

the first to arrive is jongho. he's the catcher, and san finds it easy to talk to him. he seems quiet, but most catchers are the stoic type, so maybe jongho will open up to him in time. the next guy in has the opposite issue. wooyoung, the shortstop, immediately claps san into a hug, babbling a mile a minute about how great it's gonna be to have him on the team.

san gets stuck talking to wooyoung for a while, which he doesn't mind. they get along quickly, but as they talk the rest of the team trickles in. hongjoong, the second baseman, waves to san from across the room. seonghwa, the left fielder, carefully places his things into the locker next to san's, then gives san a wordless handshake and a warm smile. yunho, the first baseman, is spread out at the locker to san's right. mingi, the third baseman, is next to him. wooyoung finally leaves for his locker next to hongjoong, and next to him is yeosang, the center fielder. pitchers must not report today, because san scans the room and counts eight.

he checks the time and notices he's almost late for his press conference, so he gets to work getting dressed before someone appears at his side to escort him down the hall. she works in media relations and gives him the run down of the conference, explaining that the coach will do a quick intro before san comes up to say a few words. they'll shake hands, he'll sign his contract, and then take a few questions before reporting to more press stuff. nothing he hasn't done before, but san still brushes his sweaty hands on his pants to calm his nerves as they enter.

san hears the chatter of the press die down as their eyes fall on him. it's a big room, lots of reporters and cameras, and he smiles and waves as he gets ushered to the side of the makeshift stage in the front. the coach steps up then, welcoming everyone and giving a bit of insight on why they wanted to sign san. this team desperately needed a right fielder, so in all the negotiations it was basically just their operations team begging san to come play for them. the coach paints it a different way, and san does his best to grab onto a few phrases so he can sprinkle them into his own speech. the coach calls him up and san takes a seat next to him, falling smoothly into his regular "happy to be here, excited at the opportunity" spiel. he scans the room and recognizes a few faces, so he gets more comfortable as he goes on.

"i think at the end of the day, i'm looking for a team that i can be with for a long time," san starts to conclude. "and so far, i'm really liking it here. maybe this will be that team."

he goes through the motions of signing, shaking hands, posing for pictures, and then settles back into his seat for the question portion. at his other teams, he's been allowed to pick the press he talks to, so he scans the room for familiar faces, but media relations steps in and starts calling names. the first one takes him by surprise, and a smile grows on his face as he sees who steps up.

"y/f/n, local news," you smile back at san as the recognition crosses his features. "you said you're liking the city so far? can i ask what makes you think this team, this franchise, will be the one to make you stay?"

"you were at the bar last night," he responds, and you feel yourself blush. a chuckle ripples through the crowd of reporters as san goes on. "sorry, just. this is a surprise, is all."

"i agree," you quip back. "because yesterday you told me you didn't like this city. so i'm just wondering what made you change your mind."

"honestly? the people," he answers sincerely, holding your gaze. "it's hard to explain, but things feel...different here. i've never been with a team where the players are so welcoming, the staff is so kind, and the reporters are hanging out at local bars after hours." another laugh. "so i think this franchise might have more of the culture i've been missing from those other teams i've played for. that answer your question, y/n?"

"yep," you give him a satisfied nod. "happy to have you here, san."

"happy to be here," he smiles, and you swear the lights from all the cameras make his teeth sparkle. he keeps staring at you as media relations calls for the next question, and only when his attention is no longer on you do you realize that your heart is beating too fast.

-

today's only a press day for the boys, there's no actual training that needs to happen, but that doesn't mean the clubhouse is calm. no, actually, there's more people here than there will be for the rest of the season, what with all the camera crews and a few stylists running around. oh, and the fact that everyone who works here wants to get a peek at choi san. he left the press conference and saw a group down the hall, staring and whispering. san wasn't sure which way to go to find the locker room, so he approaches the group with a smile. turns out it's front office staff, part timers, anyone who works here that needed to see san with their own eyes to believe he's really playing here. he's charming as ever, learning everyone's names, signing things, taking pictures. he even stands by happily as an older woman calls her grandsons, and they laugh together as the little boys squeal in excitement.

san stays until everyone has what they wanted, which must have taken a while, because he sees the press trickling out toward the exit. he keeps his eyes peeled for one person in particular, and when you pass through the doors and turn san's way, he smiles. you stop, eyes focused on the notebook you're furiously scribbling in, so you don't see him. that won't do, san thinks, so walks over and stops in front of you with a sigh.

"what do you want san," you ask it as a statement, eyes not moving from your notes.

"how'd you know it was me?"

"i know everything," you look up then, meeting his smile with one of your own. "and you've got cleats on, so i knew it wasn't anybody from your fan club coming to ask for my notes."

"my fan club?" he laughs, but you can tell it boosts his ego. "i think they're just fans of the team."

"are you always like this?" you ask thoughtfully, and san says he doesn't know what you're talking about. "you're not cocky, but you're humble, and you're cocky about being humble. does that make sense?" you stop to scribble that down, and san tries again to see what else you've written. you catch him this time, tugging the notes just out of his line of sight. "don't you have pictures to take?"

"how'd you-"

"i told you, i know everything," you joke again, taking a moment to stuff your pen back in your bag. that leaves your notebook unattended, and san snatches it, running a few steps down the hall with evil glee. you stomp after him and fail in grabbing it from his eager hands.

"hey, this is good," san reads, his eyes scanning the paper. "you write all your stuff by hand?"

"depends," you shrug. "i started getting bored at the end of that talk and i needed to organize my thoughts."

"oh i can tell you were bored," san smirks, his eyes flicking to you. "i like the doodle of me."

"that doodle could be of anybody," you say as you finally snatch your notebook back. you put it securely in your bag as san continues to look smug.

"i think it was a doodle of me," he says as he starts walking away. "if you ever want me to sit for another portrait, you know where to find me, doll."

"where ya goin'?" you ask him, and he stops. he looks down the hall in front of him back towards you with his thumb pointing behind him.

"to the locker room?"

"that's this way dummy," you point, and you're pleased to see his ears turn red as he corrects his steps. you're heading to the exit, so you walk in the same direction briefly. san slows his steps to keep up with you, and he's so close that his hand keeps brushing yours.

"looks like this is where i leave ya, doll," he sighs, and you wave as you keep walking. "i'll see you soon?"

"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you turn around with a smirk, watching san as you push through the doors to the parking lot. "bye san."

-

san loves the first practice of the season. he loves the feeling of walking onto a brand new field, seeing the empty stadium ahead. at his his other teams, he's had to make this walk alone, his former teammates usually more reserved or too good to talk to him. not here, though. as he takes the field, he finds himself engrossed in a deep argument with jongho and wooyoung about the best world series team of all time, and san feels giddy. he feels like he did when he was a kid, playing ball with his friends, and it's only the first day of practice! imagine what an entire season here would be like. every day, san is thankful he made this move.

another reason for san to be happy he's here is, well, you. working with the press at other teams wasn't exactly a thrill, but rather a part of the job he had to get through. here he's eager to give a statement, always willing to join a press conference, just to have the chance of messing with you.

as he makes the long walk to the outfield for warm ups, san sees someone by the visitor's dugout who's not in uniform. he squints a little in the early morning sun and sees that it's a woman, but assumes it's someone from the front office. he keeps walking, but a laugh echoes out and san turns back to this mystery woman.

"y/n?" he shouts, holding his glove over his eyes to see if that'll block out the sun. sure enough, you turn from your talk with the managers to send him a wave, and that giddy feeling san had walking onto the field is back. "what are you doing here?"

"my job!" you shout back, and with that you go back to work. one of the coaches jogs by san then, tossing a baseball in his direction.

"stop shoutin', son," he says. "go throw that in left field. seonghwa will take you through the warm ups, then we'll come together for drills."

"yes sir," san nods, jogging over to his teammate. he steals one last glance at you, and he swears the sunlight makes you glow.

-

san is exhausted after practice. he knew playing for this team would challenge him, but damn. he's sore and it's only the first day! he's still catching his breath as the team mills about around him, and yunho smirks as he alerts the boys to san's condition.

"i think we wore the superstar out," yunho laughs, and san throws one of his sweaty towels at him. yunho screams and tosses it back, but mingi jumps in to grab it. "what the hell are you doing?"

"this is a sweaty towel used by the choi san," mingi says with importance. "do you know how much i could sell this for?"

"guys, come on," san laughs, snatching the towel back. "i'm not a superstar."

"says the superstar," wooyoung mumbles, and san contemplates throwing the towel again but decides not to, mingi is still close by.

"no, we get it," hongjoong assures him. "just because the press is saying that doesn't mean it's true. you're a part of the team, so you're a team player, right san?"

"yes, exactly-"

"please, i hope everybody is decent!" a familiar voice shouts from the doorway, and san smiles when he finds you standing there. you've got your notebook over your eyes to hide any naked players, but a quick sweep tells san that everyone is dressed for the most part.

"wait, wait!" jongho shouts as he fights to put a clean shirt on. some of the boys chuckle at him while san says, "dude, she's probably seen a guy shirtless before."

"but she's a lady, san," jongho insists. "it's not polite. and i don't like to have my nips out when i'm giving quotes."

"that's why he's my favorite," you say, finally risking a peek. "all good?"

to be honest, san is a little shocked you're here. it's kind of odd for a reporter to be in the locker room after a regular practice, but he trusts this team and how they run things. most importantly, he trusts you. but his shock holds true as you greet the team while making your way straight toward him.

"aw, she's just here for superstar," mingi pouts, and you make him hush.

"i have to publish my story on him today and need to check quotes," you explain. "i'm coming for you next, mingi."

as mingi celebrates, you surprise san further by walking right up to him and taking the seat by his locker. you're flipping through your notebook as he watches you, and after a few seconds you look at him then pat the bench next to you.

"come on, get cozy," you tell him. "you spoke too fast yesterday and i didn't catch all of your answers."

"because you were too busy doodling?" san teases, taking a seat exceptionally close to you.

"that was after you," you explain, but san sees your ears turn red. "can you look through this and tell me if anything rings a bell?"

"y/n, you may be good at your job, but you have shit handwriting," san says after staring at the page long enough for your chicken scratch to make his head hurt. some of the boys near him laugh, and yunho pops his head in to take a look.

"oh yeah that's illegible," yunho confirms. "cute drawing of san, though."

"go away yunho."

"yes ma'am."

you're able to piece together what san said in the press conference, so once you're satisfied you take a moment to type up the changes into your phone. you send the story off to your editor, but then start working through who else you need to talk to today. san is watching all of this, and when your eyebrows furrow in concentration, he leans in.

"i know what you're thinking," he whispers, and you have to shake from your concentration to look him in his sneaky eyes.

"what?"

"i said i know what you're thinking," he repeats with a shrug. when you don't respond, he keeps going. "i bet you're wondering, hm, is san free tonight? well, i am."

"i can't use that for my story," you tell him, and he bumps his shoulder into yours.

"this is when you say if you're free."

"is it?" you ask, gathering your things so you can move on to the next player. "i'm not quite sure about that yet."

"whatever, doll," san smiles. "you know where to find me."

-

you did know where to find him. you knew he would be at the bar tonight. you knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and you knew you shouldn't go looking for him but you couldn't help yourself. after all, you've got to take yourself out for a drink - you filed your first story of the season today. you deserve to celebrate!

as soon as you walk in you can tell it's a mad house. the bar is packed, and it reminds you of how busy it gets after a game. you wonder if it's just preseason excitement that has so many people here, but you don't wonder long. you're here for a drink, so you squeeze between two guys at the bar and wave the bartender down. everyone here knows you, so you get to cut the line.

"hey y/n," he smiles as he walks up. "want your regular?"

"yeah, but top shelf tonight," you tell him. "finished my first story of the season today."

"is it any good? maybe i'll read this one," the bartender jokes as he gets to work.

"i didn't know you could read," you tease, and you smile when he tosses his head back in a laugh. the sound draws someone's attention, but you're too busy flirting with the bartender to notice.

"and to think i was gonna pay your tab myself," he shakes his head.

"put whatever she gets on mine," someone says at your side, and you physically jump when you recognize who it is.

"san?"

"told you to come find me, doll, why are you surprised i'm here?" he smirks. you can tell he's wearing league issued workout clothes, but to the regulars in the bar he's just some dude in sweats. he's got a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, and if he didn't have such striking features you'd say he was blending in pretty well. "i thought we were getting a drink together."

"are we?" you ask. "because i don't recall you actually asking me." san dips his head, knowing that you caught him in a lie.

"can i get whatever she's drinking?" san asks the bartender as he finally places your drink down, and your mouth hangs open in surprise.

"what's this sparkly shit for?" you ask, flicking at the gold pompom on the toothpick poking out of your cup. there's also swirls of gold in your drink, and the bartender shrugs.

"you said you were celebratin'," he explains. "wanted to make sure the drink rose to the occasion."

"well thank you," you say as you lift the drink to your lips, mostly to hide your blush. san is watching this interaction next to you, doing a horrible job of hiding his disgust.

"here's your drink man," the bartender says, plopping a cup down in front of san. "her's was on the house. i added yours to your tab."

"how generous," san smiles, tipping his cup toward the bartender as he walks away. san turns to you slowly, and says, "he's nice."

"you shouldn't be here."

"why, am i interrupting your date?" san quips.

"no," you roll your eyes. "you shouldn't be seen here. lots of fans, you'll probably get stopped for pictures, autographs, kissing babies..."

"they don't let babies into bars, y/n," san smirks at you. "but thanks for looking out for me."

"isn't against team rules for you to go out during the preseason anyway?" you ask, knowing full well it is.

"i don't like following rules," san shrugs.

"oh so that's why you've played for six different teams in five years?" it's your turn to quip, and san whistles.

"you got me there, ace," he sighs. "so what's this about you celebrating tonight?"

"that's nothing," you try to brush it off. "i sent in that story about you, remember? well, it got approved, so i have a tradition of taking myself out for a drink here when my first story of the season is filed."

"taking yourself out?" san shakes his head. "no, no no no. that won't do. i'm getting you another drink, unless your boyfriend tries to pay for it again, and then we're going out."

"you have to report to practice at 7am," you remind him, and he groans, dropping his head on your shoulder.

"you knowing everything about the team is totally ruining my game."

"aw, you did a fine job of that yourself," you coo, patting his cheek. you cup his chin and pull him back up, and you hide a smile when you notice the blush on his cheeks. "maybe you can owe me? take me out for real?"

"i'd like that," san nods.

"i knew you would," you tease, and san reaches an arm out to pull you into his side. he over calculates and accidentally smacks the guy behind you, who turns around in a drunken haze ready to fight.

"what the-" he starts, anger in his swimming eyes. when they land on san, you both see recognition take over his features in slow motion. "holy shit y'all! it's choi san!"

"come on," you grab san's arm, tugging him in the opposite direction. you think there's an entrance out the back, so hopefully the two of you can squeeze through the masses before too many people catch on. as you drag san behind you, you hear the bar goers talking about the star in their midst. some drunk lady grabs sans arm and won't let go, and he won't shake her off like you tell him to. you get caught, the exit you were hoping for just in the distance. people start crowding around san, trying to wedge between you, but he won't let go of your hand. he finishes signing a bar napkin for a guy who definitely used a fake to get in here, and then you're pulling san along again. the crowd is starting to push, and they're all drunk. and rowdy. and loud.

"aw, look, he's already got himself a bitch!" someone shouts, watching you cling onto san as you push him toward the exit. he stops cold, looking around for the drunken idiot. he reinforces his idiocy by stepping forward, slurring his words as he says, "didn't take you long, son-" *hiccup* "always got sluts lookin' for ya-" *hiccup* "she's a pretty one too-"

before you register what he's doing, san shakes you off of his arm. he steps closer to the man, and you feel yourself calling his name, but in the chaos even you can't hear yourself. san pulls his arm back and clocks the man in the face, splattering blood from his now probably broken nose.

"SAN!" you shout, yanking him back toward you. "let's GO."

adrenaline and shock give you the strength to drag a stunned san out of the bar, but it's so packed there were people in the alley already. they weren't aware of what went on inside, so you're able to tug san around the corner. you rush him toward the parking deck, and thank your lucky stars you moved your car from the employee lot earlier. you shove san into your passenger seat, slamming the door shut so you can rush to the driver's side. as you start the car, you look to the side and see san sinking further into the seat.

"i fucked up," he whispers. you hear a quiver in his voice, but you don't press him. "fuck. i'm gonna get kicked off the team. am i gonna get arrested?"

"you won't get kicked off the team," you tell him softly. "and i'll call the bartender in a minute, explain it to him. just pray that asshole you punched doesn't press charges."

"y/n, i'm so sorry," san says, looking to you with a scared look in his eyes. "i just. i couldn't let him talk to you like that."

"thank you san," you say sincerely. "let me see your hand."

"no, it's fine," he insists, but when you touch it he flinches.

"fuck san, how are you gonna play tomorrow?"

"i'm so losing my job," he shakes his head, sitting up like he's going to leave.

"whoa, where are you going?"

"i have to go apologize," he says, trying to open the door but struggling to do it with his hurt hand. "shit, i have to pay for our drinks, and my car! i need to-"

"san," you say sternly, and he looks to you again with those sad eyes. "i'll fix it. ok? do you trust me?"

"yes," he nods vigorously.

"good," you nod back. "can you buckle your seatbelt or do i have to do that too?"

"where are we going?" san asks after securing his seatbelt. it's a good thing he did, because you whip your car out of its spot so fast his body slams against the strap. "seriously road runner, where are you taking me?"

"we need to fix your hand," you tell him. "i live close by, so i'll fix you up and then in an hour or two i'll bring you back for your car."

"thank you," san says. "you're saving my ass."

"just be really good this season, ok?" you ask him. "it'd be fun to watch my team win for once."

"anything for you, ace."

-

a few minutes later, you've got a sheepish all-star perched on the edge of your tub as you stand over him and wipe the blood from his hand. you already sent a text to the bartender, so that's cleared up. apparently, san was doing everyone a favor by punching that guy. no one likes him, so san's not in any trouble with the bar. chances are the guy won't press charges either, he tends to start shit around town so the cops wouldn't necessarily be on his side.

the main issue now is the team. there's pictures and videos floating around, and you were right, san wasn't supposed to be out tonight. he's got a missed call from hongjoong already, and you're helping san figure out what to say to the coaches now.

"just own up to it," you tell him. "they'll appreciate the honesty. and tell them you beat that guy up because he was being mean to me, that'll help your case too."

"no," san shakes your head. "i'm not bringing you into this. i don't want to hurt your reputation."

"do it," you shrug. "i was there. i was part of it. if you don't tell them now, i will tomorrow when i do their preseason interviews."

"are you sure?"

"yep," you reply. "it'll help take some of the heat off of you. sources tell me not everyone is sold on you yet, but if they know you were defending my honor it'll get you some respect in the clubhouse."

"do you have blackmail on all these guys?" san jokes as he tries to focus on typing a text with one hand. you're done wiping the blood from his knuckles, and you've found a small cut on his hand that you need to cover. you step away for a second to bend down in front of your sink, searching through the cabinet below. san tries to hide that he's staring, but he does a poor job. he watches still as you stand up and tear open a bandaid, but he scoffs when he sees what's on it. "you are not making me wear a hello kitty bandaid."

"so you want to get infected?" you ask as you put the bandaid on him anyway. you trace your thumb over it softly, making sure it's laying flat, but you realize how tender this moment is. you're holding san's bruised hand in yours, standing so close to him that your legs are between his spread ones. you take a step back, but san uses his free hand to grab you by the waist.

"where you going, doll?" he whispers, looking up at you softly.

"you need an ice pack," you whisper back.

"you're not gonna kiss it to make it better?" he pouts, and you laugh to hide the way your heart skipped a beat.

"that doesn't work you know," you say as you bring his hand to your lips regardless. you place a delicate kiss to his soft skin, holding eye contact with him to watch his reaction.

"you're right, that didn't work," he sighs, and you start to let go. "maybe this will?" he asks, bringing you closer before cupping your face and pulling you down to his lips. he kisses you once, separating from you with a satisfied look on his face. "there. i'm all good now."

"nice," you squeak. "was this all an elaborate ploy to make me kiss you? because you could've just asked."

"really?" san asks gleefully. "will you kiss me?"

"just did."

"again," he pouts, and you lean down to kiss him quickly. he uses both his hands to hold you in place, his lips caressing yours as he lets out a quiet hum. he pulls back just to lean his forehead against yours and says, "yeah, that's got healing power baby."

"you still need ice," you tell him, stepping back before he can grab onto you again. "come on. maybe we can kiss some more in my kitchen?"

-

san ends up sleeping on your couch. he wouldn't let you leave after fixing up his hand, insisting that you've done enough for him tonight. he'll deal with his car in the morning. you tried giving him the bed, but it barely worked. he wouldn't even let you finish your sentence before he started covering his ears and shaking his head. you gave him an innocent kiss goodnight after setting him up with more pillows and blankets than one guy needs, and you both went to sleep.

except, he wasn't there when you got up. you set your alarm earlier than you planned, but even then you walk into your living room to find all the pillows stacked and blankets neatly folded. the only sign that san was here. well, that and the breakfast he ordered that waits for you on your kitchen table.

san had to be the first one at practice, so he couldn't wait for you to wake up. he also couldn't burden you more than he already has, so he woke before dawn and got to work. his hand feels fine, not great, but he thinks he can get through practice. he's rehearsed what he's going to say to the coaches, the team, the press, and he hopes it's enough.

-

most of your work for the day will take place in a smaller media room that's been set up for your one-on-one interviews with the coaching staff. that means you have no reason to linger outside the locker room, hoping to see san and check that he's ok. you distract yourself by going over the notes for the first interview, and before you know it, there's a knock at the door. it's the pitching coach, one of your favorite people on the team. he pokes his head in and smiles, so you welcome him as you dive into the same spiel you always do for these interviews. you're a pro, and the guys know what they're doing too, so it should be easy going. but as soon as you sit down to start, the coach stares at you with a look that's up to no good.

"so you were out with san last night," he states.

"i wasn't out with him," you explain. "we happened to be at the same bar."

"i heard he wrecked his hand defending you," the coach continues.

"he wrecked it?" you ask, more concern in your voice than you probably needed. "will he be able to play?"

"he'll play just fine," he nods. "don't you worry. we all heard what happened. shoot, some of the coaches and me were sending the videos back and forth last night. i tell you what, the boy's an idiot, but we've let men get by with worse. like i said, don't you worry."

"good," you breathe in relief. "then should we get started?"

-

it was a long day, after an incredibly long night, so when it's time for you to leave you're exhausted. you've been all over the place today, trying to keep up with your schedule, tracking people down for interviews, and you misplaced your notebook at least four times. you can't wait to get home, shower, and immediately go to sleep, but as you approach your car you realize you've lost your keys.

"shit," you hiss, dumping most of your bag out onto the hood of your car. you're mining through all your junk, wondering if it's too late to head back inside.

"hey," san says from behind you, and you jump.

"jesus!" you whip around to stare at him. "you scared me!"

"sorry ace," he smiles sheepishly. "thought you heard me coming."

"obviously not!" you screech, your heart still racing. "what's up?"

"looking for these?" he asks, dangling your keychain in front of you.

"oh my god you're a life saver," you sigh in relief, taking the keys from him gratefully. "how did you know these were mine?"

"i recognized them from last night," he shrugs. "and from the mascot keychain. i remember someone saying they had a childhood obsession with phil the bucket?"

"stop paying so much attention to me, could you?" you ask as you start shoveling your things back into your purse.

"here, let me help," san says as he joins you. he holds your purse open as you slide its contents back inside. "i owe you from last night, so consider this my starting point."

"the starting point?" you smile at him, and he nods.

"yep," he says nonchalantly. "first i found your keys, now the bag thing, and next, i don't know, maybe i take you to dinner?"

"hm, tonight?" you ask, and he nods again. "i have plans."

"then cancel them," san replies. you can tell he's joking by the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but you know he really wants you to say yes.

"where would we go?"

"somewhere nice so i can spoil you," san says simply, closing your purse and walking to the driver's side of your car. "can i pick you up in thirty?"

"thirty minutes isn't enough time to get ready for a date, san," you frown.

"yeah, but any longer and i'll miss you too much," he pouts. you cup his chin and bring that pout to your lips, kissing him softly before you pull away.

"did that buy me another thirty?"

"twenty," he replies. "maybe twenty five if you promise to wear something sexy."

"deal."

-

as promised, san is outside your building exactly fifty five minutes later. you worried that not having his number and vice versa would make it hard to coordinate, but you're surprised when you check your phone and find that he texted you.

"i'm outside, ace," his text reads. no 'this is san' or anything to identify himself. you know it's him, so you tell him you're coming out.

you worry briefly you won't know which car is his, but as soon as you step outside you let out a soft laugh. of course he's got the most expensive car here, and of course he's leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. he lets out a low whistle as you approach, and you could act coy, but the reporter in you has to ask, "how'd you get my number, san?"

"i'm not giving up my source," he smiles smugly, opening the door for you. "you look incredible."

"it's nice seeing you in something other than baseball clothes for once," you reply. you take his hand and let him help you into the car, watching intently as he crosses the front to reach the driver's side. you're turned to him when he sits, and ask, "seriously. was it hongjoong? one of the coaches? you know they'll be on your ass if they find out you took me on a date."

"i'm not telling," san smirks again. "you gonna buckle your seatbelt or you need me to do it for you?"

"why, you a bad driver or something?" you tease.

"says the woman who gave me whiplash last night."

"i was trying to make a quick getaway before you got stormed by adoring fans again," you remind him.

"always looking out for me," he shakes his head. "i think someone has a crush." you don't respond, instead looking out the window to hide your smile. "you not saying anything isn't helping your case."

"no comment?" you reply, feeling proud at the blush on san's cheeks when you turn back to him. "so where's the superstar taking me?"

"san, the very nice young man you agreed to go out with, is taking you to one of his favorite restaurants," he replies.

"you've lived here like a week, how do you already have a favorite restaurant?"

"there was a place in one of the cities i used to play in, i went there every week," he explains as he drives. you catch yourself staring, but he doesn't seem to mind, so you continue. "the nicest staff. best food. always packed. then one day, it's gone. the owner and his wife moved so they could be closer to their daughter while she was at school, and they ended up here. he gave me a call as soon as my trade was final." you guess a couple places it could be, but they're all wrong. "so ms. know it all doesn't actually know it all?"

"don't call me that," you groan. "there's plenty i don't know."

"enlighten me, ace."

"i can't do math to save my life," you admit, and that gets a laugh out of san. "i don't know how to fold a fitted sheet. and don't tell anyone, but that new stat all the baseball pundits are talking about? it makes no sense to me."

"oh, that's easy," san says, and he falls into a comfortable conversation about baseball. you always wanted this from the guys you date, but despite your work, most guys assume that you don't know anything about sports because you're a woman. you're grateful that you don't feel that way around san, and you start to relax a little bit. you're not on a date with superstar outfielder choi san, you remind yourself. just san. just a, what did he say, a very nice young man?

that niceness continues when he parks his car, rushing to your door to get it for you. he takes your hand to help you out and doesn't let go as you walk in, and you're genuinely shocked that you haven't heard of this place before. it's fabulous, beautiful inside and out, and as soon as you walk in you're hearing san's name called. but this time it's not a fanatic, just a kind looking man and his wife.

"sannie!" she exclaims, pulling him into a soft hug. "oh, it's so nice to see you again. we were so happy when we heard you were coming here. i think it'll be good for you."

"me too," san agrees. he turns to the man then, the owner, and they exchange a manly handshake and similar pleasantries before he turns to you. "this is y/n, by the way. star reporter, loved by all-"

"and way out of your league," the owner winks at you. you feel yourself blush as san agrees, and then he's escorting you to your table. as you walk through the restaurant you notice it's surprisingly empty. didn't san say their last place was always full?

the owner helps you with your seat as his wife explains the specials, but you don't see a menu anywhere. you look at san quizzically and he gives you a look that says he'll explain shortly. after some more kindness, the owner and his wife are gone, and you get a chance to really take this place in.

"if you're wondering where the menu is," san starts, "they won't give us one. they never let me order when i come here, they just decide for me. and it's the best food i've ever had, each time."

"can't wait," you smile at him. "is this place as popular as their last one, you think?"

"i know it is," san nods. "that's why i booked it just for us."

"what?"

"i told them i was bringing a date and they offered to stay open late for us," he shrugs. "i hope that's not weird?"

"no," you reply. "i'm sure they're used to it by now."

"used to what?"

"you bringing dates here," you answer. "i can't be the only lucky lady you've done this with."

"well consider yourself lucky, ace," he says. "you're different."

"like can't be seen in public with me different?" you tease. "san, i'm flattered."

"no ace," he laughs. "i wanted this to be special, but if you want a crowd i can call the team-"

"no," you cut him off, grabbing his hand that's laid out on the table. "i like this. it's nice."

"told you i was gonna spoil you, doll," san smiles. "get used to it."

"should i?" you challenge, but san just continues smiling as a waiter brings by your drinks. you feel your walls falling more and more as the night goes on, as you and san eat some of the best food you've ever had. he's fun to be around, you think. maybe you'll give him more of a chance than you were expecting.

"so. i have a question," san says after the plates from your meal are cleared. you're waiting for dessert, but you're not sure you can eat much more.

"shoot," you tell him. "i ask you plenty, so ask away."

"in the locker room, yesterday i think? you said jongho was your favorite," he finishes with a pout.

"that's not a question," you laugh. "you'd be a shitty reporter."

"compared to you, everyone is," san replies. "but i meant, why is he your favorite? were you serious or just joking?"

"if i had to pick a favorite," you start, "i think it would be jongho. i've always liked catchers, so that works in his favor. he's fun to watch, and a lot of fun to work with."

"you have a thing for catchers?" san teases. "why?"

"not a thing," you say, wishing you could kick him underneath the table. "but maybe? i don't know. catchers do have really nice thighs."

"and outfielders?" san tries.

"never stood out to me," you reply. "it's either catchers or third basemen." you start to explain how your favorite player of all time, the one who got you into baseball, played third base, and you don't worry about sounding too much like a fangirl. you admit to the jerseys, the baseball card collection, all of it, and when you finish you look up to find san watching you with an amused look on his face. "what? too much?"

"no," he shakes his head. "i'm just thinking how good you'd look in one of my jerseys."

"try playing third," you tease. "maybe i'll buy one."

dessert comes then, and your focus turns to the amazing food again. maybe it was just you, but you felt a sort of...tension when you were talking just now. you weren't planning on sleeping with san, really ever, but that look in his eyes when he thought about you in his jersey, maybe the date won't end here.

after another visit from the owner and his wife, and plenty of take out to last you a few days, you're walking back to san's car. there's a chill in the air, so you gravitate to him for warmth. his arm circles around your waist, pulling you to his side, and he squeezes your hip. you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you wonder again where the night might be going.

ever the gentleman, san helps you back into your seat and places your food carefully in the back. you're looking at him now in a new light, imagining how his hands would feel on your hips without a layer of clothes separating your skin from his. you're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't notice san has taken his seat, or that he said something to you. you ask him to repeat it, and he has a happy look on his face as he says, "thanks for going out with me, doll."

"thanks for asking," you reply. "i had a great time."

"good," he nods with finality, starting the car without another word. he doesn't even look at you again until he gets close to your building, and all those thoughts of what would happen next have left your mind. whatever vibe you caught from him in the restaurant was gone, he obviously wasn't planning on coming up to your apartment after this. your suspicions were confirmed when he pulls up to your door, turning to you with that same sappy look. "i had a great time tonight, y/n. thank you."

"yeah, sure," you mewl, gathering your things. "um, the food-"

"take all of it," san insists, twisting back to grab the bags. "this isn't exactly on my in-season diet, so i'm not sure how much i could sneak before the dietician clocks me for it."

"right, thanks," you nod, laden down with bags as you struggle to open your door. "well, thanks."

"you said that already ace."

"right," you repeat. "um, so, see you at work i guess?"

"looking forward to it," he smiles softly. "text me when you get in?"

"right," you say again, stepping out of his car without looking back.

-

the season starts shortly after your date with san, so you're too busy with work to think about it.

except that's a lie, you can't stop thinking about it. how could san be so flirty, act so into you, and then end the night without so much as a kiss goodbye? you don't want it to, but it's bothering you.

you don't have a reason to see him, at work or otherwise, until the first day of the season. you're set up in the dock next to the home dugout so you can get updates or a quick interview for the broadcast. you see san for the first time in days then, sitting there with your notebook and a headset, as he takes the field for warmups. it might be your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear san looks for you as he waits for seonghwa. as soon as his eyes find yours he turns around, jogging to the outfield after. you shake it off and get to work, checking your notes to make sure you've got the info right for the game. san will be the leadoff hitter, and you feel a pit of excitement in your stomach at the thought of watching him play. just from watching him in practice you know he's good, but he's electric when there's a real win on the line. still, you don't let your thoughts linger on him too long. you've got a job to do.

the game runs like clockwork, and the team easily knocks down three outs to switch sides. you don't look up when they walk to the dugout, afraid of catching san's eyes again. you don't look up until you hear the announcer call san's name, watching his back as he walks to the plate. through your headset, you can hear the commentators upstairs in the press box listing off his accomplishments at past teams, painting him in this otherworldly light. he's a superstar for a reason, his stats show that, and the way they're talking about him upstairs shows that everyone is captivated by him.

the pitcher, not intimidated by the silver slugger he's facing, sets up his first pitch. it's a curveball, somewhere in the 80 mph range, and it looks like it's gonna be a ball. but san is confident, his stance strong, his shoulders poised just so, and you watch in amazement as he rears back and completely shreds it. the ball is gone before anyone knows what's happening, and your eyes stay locked on san as he rounds the bases. when he approaches first, he looks directly at you, pointing in your direction as he turns at the bag. your heart is racing, you notice, and you shake off your surprise so you can describe the hit in your already cramped notes.

the rest of the game is exciting, but nothing matches san's leadoff homer. you could tell that lit the team up, an enthusiasm in every at bat, every play. your team wins, by a lot, and you go through the motions of finding players and coaches to interview for the post-game show as fans file out and the grounds crew comes in. the one person you're hoping to snag is nowhere to be seen, though.

by the time you're done with your work on the field, the post-game conference is already over. you're not sure if san gave a quote there and that's why you missed him on the field, but you don't care. the team won't mind, so you make your way to the locker room to find the man who's been running laps through your head all day.

san knows as soon as you enter the locker room that you're looking for him. he's showered and dressed in his outside clothes, his jersey neatly folded on the bench beside him as you approach.

"hey ace," he greets you. "some game huh?"

"it was good," you nod. "nice hit."

"glad you liked it," he replies cockily. "did it for you."

"can i quote you on that?" you ask, and san chuckles.

"come on doll, why the cold shoulder? i did what you asked, i helped your team win. figured that would get me on your good side."

"i just need a quote about that hit," you stand your ground. "i'm risking my innocence the longer i stay here, so if you could just say something arrogant on the record, i'll be on my way."

san can tell something is up, so he returns your formality with some of his own. you're in and out in less than five minutes, heading to the press room to collect your thoughts before you shoot your editor a text about your incoming story. as you stand there typing, you hear someone come up behind you so you start walking toward the exit.

"y/n, wait," san calls, and you want to walk faster. you want to leave and not look back, but he adds a quiet, "please." and you take a deep breath before you turn.

"what's up?" you ask. "i've got a deadline."

"you left this," san says simply, offering you the folded jersey from his locker. "i...whatever. it was my jersey from this game. i want you to have it."

"what?" you're shocked, aware of how much it costs for a player to give away a game worn jersey. it may not be much to san in the long run, but still. it softens your heart and you take it wordlessly, searching for something to say in thanks.

"well," san sighs. "see you tomorrow."

"san, wait!" you call before he can get too far. he looks back at you hopefully, and you jog to catch up with him. "why..." as you trail off, you look up to him and find an unreadable look on his face. "sorry for being a dick earlier, i just-"

"no worries," he shakes his head. "i get it, the season changes things, so-"

"did you take me out the other night to pay me back for helping you at the bar?" you ask what you've been wondering for a few days now. "because, i don't know. i thought we...or i, um, i felt...something. and when you dropped me off, it was like you changed."

"changed how?"

"before that, i thought you were into me," you try to say nonchalantly. "but after..."

"you think i'm not into you now?" he asks sadly, and you nod. "check your facts, ace. i think it's the opposite."

"well i wasn't sure-"

"you want me to prove it?" san asks, taking a step closer to you. "or you got a story you need to get back to?"

"i have time," you whisper, looking in his eyes. they're darker, more serious, a little hooded. that tension you felt the other night is back, and it takes your breath away briefly.

"come with me," san's tugging your hand, dragging you along behind him as he leads you outside. a quick scan of the parking lot tells him you're alone, so he rushes you to his car. again, he helps you in, rushing to toss his things in the back. you're sitting there, his jersey gripped in one hand and your notebook in the other. when he opens his door, you mumble something about your stuff, but he cuts you off. "you can get it tomorrow, ace. i'm taking you home now."

"but my keys-"

"i'm taking you to my place," he cuts you off again, looking to you as he starts the car. "there a problem?

"no," you reply meekly, and san is satisfied. he drives like a madman to his place, not far from the stadium. he parks in the deck below, bringing you with him to an elevator close by. he punches the button to his floor before he pounces, cupping your face to crash his lips into yours.

"can't believe you thought i didn't want you," he grumbles, dragging his hands to your neck, down your arms, to grip your waist. "ridiculous." he kisses you again, pulling you by the waist out of the elevator into his hallway. he only detaches from you to find his keys, hands steady as he undoes the lock. he pulls you inside and doesn't give you a chance to look around, capturing your lips in a kiss again. you finally drop your stupid notebook, embarrassed that you've been holding onto it this whole time. you start to let go of his jersey too, but he stops you. "what are you doing, ace? told you i've been thinking about you wearing my jersey."

"what-"

"put it on, baby," he coaxes you, his hands guiding yours. "let's get you out of this librarian dress and into something a little sexier."

"san, slow down," you say breathlessly, following him into his apartment. he collapses on the couch, watching you with that same fire in his eyes from earlier. "what now?"

"change," he replies. "put the jersey on."

"not fair," you pout. "i'm gonna be naked and i don't even get to see you shirtless?"

san tears his shirt off in record time, sitting back with a challenging look on his face.

"your turn, doll."

with shaky hands, you undo the zipper to your dress, letting it fall as san lets out a hiss of air. you slide your arms into the jersey, amazed that it still smells like his cologne after a game in the sun. you kind of flop your arms out after that, like a 'what now?' and san pats his thigh.

"sit," he commands.

"what?"

"you ask a lot of questions."

"it's my job," you quip back, and san lets his head fall back in a laugh.

"you said you had a thing for thighs, baby. figured you'd be jumping at the chance to ride mine."

spurred on by adrenaline and the growing pit of excitement in your stomach, you do as he says, straddling his thigh as you drape your arms over his broad shoulders.

"what now?" you whisper into his ear, nipping just beneath it to drive him insane. his hands return to your waist, and whispering into your ear, he says, "ride me, doll."

you grind against his thigh, sucking in a breath at the friction. you take it at your own pace, going slow so you don't overwhelm your senses. san's warm skin under your hands, his scent surrounding you, it's intoxicating. you let your hips move on their own accord, picking up speed as the pressure in your core builds. you let out a breathy moan when he bounces his leg, and his grip on your waist tightens.

"how's it feel, baby?" he asks, watching you intently.

"good, san, feels good."

"then go faster," he smirks. "might feel even better." you do, gasping as a hand leaves your waist to trace over your bra. his hand dips beneath the fabric, pulling a breast free before moving to the next cup to do the same. both of his hands find your chest, tweaking your nipples as he watches you unravel above him. "how's it feel now?"

"i'm close," you whine, hips jerking as your core gets too sensitive. you try to stand, to move things along, but san grabs onto your ass and guides you against his thigh.

"if you're close then why are you running away?" he chuckles. "show me how good it feels, ace."

"fuck," you whisper, grinding against him harder. "i'm almost there, but i-i can't, san, need more. need your fingers."

"you do?" he pouts. "i don't think you've earned it."

"i have," you whine, squeezing his thigh between yours. "fuck. if you don't do it i will."

"show me," he challenges, and you stand before he can stop you. you take your panties off, tossing them somewhere before sitting back down on his thigh. you cry out at the new contact, your arousal ruining his pants. you look down and see just how much you're dripping onto his leg, moaning as san guides you faster. you pop two fingers into your mouth and then reach down to rub your clit, crying out as you come.

"fuck, san," you moan, hips sputtering over him as you chase your high. "jesus." you let your head fall to his shoulder, your hand stilling at your core as you catch your breath.

"so dirty, baby," he whispers, brushing your hair away from your neck to trail kisses across your skin. his jersey has fallen from your shoulder, so he takes his time leaving a mark on the exposed skin as you come down. "you look real good in my jersey, making yourself feel good like that."

"what now?" you ask again, nipping at his ear.

"you ready so soon?" he asks. "so eager."

"i'm afraid you're gonna come in your pants," you whisper in his ear. "don't wanna ruin the fun before it even starts."

you shriek then, feeling san lift you like it's nothing. he kicks his bedroom door open before dropping you on the bed, taking a minute to admire you splayed out on his sheets as he undoes his pants. you're still breathless, watching him undress, and you feel your breath catch when he pulls his cock free.

"what, don't think you can handle it?" san asks, tearing a condom packet open with his teeth. "gotta say, i'd be disappointed."

"try me."

san crawls over you next, trapping your hands in his as he drags them above your head. he holds them in place as he guides his cock to your core, slapping it against your clit teasingly. you moan, hips bucking to chase the feeling. he keeps teasing you though, coating his cock in your arousal.

"so wet for me, baby," he groans. "are you like this when i play?"

"no," you grit your teeth. "san, please-"

"please what, baby?" he asks, stopping completely. his tip is pressed to your entrance, but he's not moving, and you squirm beneath him. "use your words, pretty girl. you get this wet when you see me?"

"when i think about fucking you, yeah," you respond honestly.

"and how often is that? just ballpark."

"sometimes."

"every day?" he asks, pressing his tip past your walls. he won't give you more than that, so you whimper, and he smirks. "tell me."

"since we kissed," you admit, wishing you could hide your blushing cheeks.

"aw, baby's been desperate that long?" he tsks. "i'm sorry, doll. didn't know you wanted me that bad."

"just fuck me, san."

"ask me."

"huh?"

"ask me how often i think about fucking you," he replies with a shit eating grin.

"how often?"

he thrusts into you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest. he leans down and kisses you, biting your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. then he whispers, thrusting with each word, "every single day."

he keeps thrusting into you, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. you moan into his mouth, whining his name, and you twist away long enough to ask, "let go of my hands. wanna touch you."

he lets you go, and your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he groans, egging you on, and you drag your nails down his back as you say, "your shoulders."

"what?"

"your shoulders. they drive me insane," you admit. "catchers have nice thighs, sure, but, fuck, you're built like a god."

"a god?" he smiles, and you can tell you're gonna regret saying that. "what else drives you insane?"

"hm, everything about you?" you reply. "you're infuriating."

"and you're close already," he smirks. "i can feel you clenching around me, baby. this feels good too?"

"so good," you nod. "can i come?"

"wait," he hisses, pulling out as you whine. "patience, baby. wanna try something else."

you let san move you how he wants, sitting up further on his bed as he props your legs open. he slides his hands beneath your legs, almost folding you in half as he cups your head. he moves you so you can see your dripping pussy, shining in the low light of his room.

"help me out, ace," he says, and with shaky hands you guide him back to your entrance. he thrusts, both of you watching as he enters you, and you moan in sync as he thrusts all the way in. he stills for a moment, loving the way you clench around him, and he speeds up, fucking you so fast you can't catch your breath. "shit. look at you, taking me so well."

"can i come now?" you whine, but he shakes his head again. "san!"

"wait for me, baby," he insists, thrusting faster. you can barely take it, but then his hips jerk, and you know he's close. "now, come on my cock, fuck-"

"san, oh my god," you cry out, bucking forward until your forehead is pressed against his, watching as you come around him. you feel him come with you, and you stay trapped in his hold as he slows down. he kisses you softly before he lets go, his hands carding through your hair as he helps you lay down.

"be right back," he whispers, kissing your forehead before he disappears. he comes back with water and a wet washcloth, handing you the cool glass as he cleans you up. you hand it back to him when he's done so he can take a sip, and then he leaves again to toss the condom. he collapses back into bed when he returns, immediately pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles his head into your neck. "can't believe you'd think i didn't want you, doll."

"this might be the first time anyone's proved me wrong," you tease, yelping when you feel him bite your skin. "mean!" he moves to lay his chin on your chest, looking up at you with warmth in his eyes. you brush some of his sweaty hair from his forehead as he speaks.

"do you wanna stay the night?" he asks. "please say yes. but if you don't want to, give me a minute and i can drive you home. but i really want you to stay."

"i'll stay," you nod, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "you're really handsome, you know?"

"am i?" he smiles. "tell me more."

"that's all you get," you say as you flick his nose, and he scoots up the bed to lay his head next to yours. you're both quiet for a minute, thoughts flooding your head. you don't realize you're frowning until san whines.

"what's that face for?" he pouts, propping himself up on his arm as he stares down at you. "you want to go home."

"no, i'm just thinking," you pout back.

"about?"

"what will the team say if they see our walk of shame?"

"about time," he replies, kissing you before he lays back down. "i talk about you all the time, so i'm sure they'll be thrilled to know i finally got some."

"you're sick," you giggle, pinching him. "but maybe you should go in first. just to be safe."

"whatever you want ace," he hums, looking at you again. "you gonna sleep in my jersey, or can i give you another shirt to wear?"

-

despite your exhaustion from your night with san, you still had a story to write. it wasn't yet midnight, so after san gave you a shirt to sleep in you stayed up, furiously typing on your phone to get the story done in time. you thought san had fallen asleep beside you, his quiet breathing providing a sort of metronome to keep you focused. but as you got to a certain point in your story, you realized you need your notebook. you can't remember where it might be, so you try to quietly slip out of bed and go looking.

"come back to bed," san grumbles, making you jump.

"i thought you were asleep," you whisper, looking at him from the doorway. the sheets have pooled around his waist, and his chest is flushed. you wish you could just lay down with him, rest your head on his warm chest, and fall into the deepest sleep. but you've never filed a story late, and you're not interested in doing so tonight.

"i'm not going to sleep till you do," he answers, rubbing his eyes. he pulls the sheets away and slides out of bed himself, shuffling toward the door after you.

"what are you doing?" you ask, taking a step back.

"if you leave me alone in here i might die," he says seriously. "you looking for your notebook? i put it on my coffee table," he explains, placing his hand at the small of your back while he guides you through his apartment. you barely have a second to grab it from the table before san is pulling you down onto the couch with him, locking you in his hold on his lap.

"um, san?" you ask. "i need my arms." he groans as he loosens his grip, and you try to scoot over to take up the ample space left on the couch.

"uh uh," he shakes his head, looking at you with sleepy eyes. "you're staying right here until you finish."

"but you'll distract me," you pout, which san tries to kiss away.

"distract you, or motivate you to hurry up so we can go to sleep?"

"fine," you sigh, getting comfortable in his lap as you prop your notebook open on his chest. "keep that there for me."

"yes ma'am," he mumbles, closing his eyes as you work. you flip through a few pages and find what you were looking for, trying to concentrate on transcribing the quote, but it's hard. you're not comfortable, so you keep shifting. san's hands tighten around you, but you ignore it. just a few more minutes and you'll be done, but damn, is your leg cramping? you try to move again, but end up yelping when you feel san pinch your thighs. "baby," he whines. "stop moving. i'm getting hard."

"jesus, really?" you ask, shifting again to see for yourself. "oh hello there."

"stop," san chuckles, looking at you with hooded eyes. "are you almost done?"

"i've got a few more sentences, then i need to proofread it," you reply. "so kinda."

"alright," he nods. "keep working, ace." so you do, reading back a few lines to catch your train of thought. you frown though, feeling san's hands trail up your thighs to play with the material of your panties.

"san, stop," you tell him. "you're being a distraction."

"ah, no i'm not," he says, cupping you in his hold as he sits forward. he fidgets with something for a minute before resting back against the cushions, and you gasp when you feel his cock against you. "i'm motivating you, remember?"

"san, what are you doing-"

"just keep working baby," he coos, pulling your panties to the side before sliding his cock through your folds. "want you to sit on it until you finish."

"funny," you twist his nipple, and he hisses.

"ah, no pun intended," he smiles, "but happy coincidence. come on, i'm bored, and if i don't do this i'll fall asleep."

"then sleep! i won't be able to focus with you...in me."

"try," san kisses you, sitting back with a smirk. "i believe in you baby. now keep working."

you look at the time and groan, because you don't have time to argue with him. you watch as he lifts your hips and sinks into you, letting out a shaky breath once your hips are slotted against his. he keeps his eyes on you, taking in every wince, every jolt, every bite of your lip to stop from whimpering. you feel so full, and san is so warm, and you can't focus but you're almost done-

"read the story to me," san says next, breaking through your thoughts once again.

"hold on," you say, completing the final sentence before you scroll back to the top. "on the record i think you're insane."

"that's a weird way to start an article about baseball," san smirks, so you roll your hips to get him to shut up. you start reading your story, and he listens like he's hooked on every word. at the first mention of his name, he lifts you up slightly before bringing your hips back down and you stutter on your words. "come on ace, keep reading."

"fuck you," you breathe out.

"you are," he smirks again, and you grit your teeth as you continue. you speed through the story, but san keeps slowly fucking you as you go. you find a typo and he stills while you fix it, but as you get to the end he picks up speed. when you finally read the last word, you place a hand on his chest and he stops again.

"let me send this to my editor, please, and then you can keep defiling me," you beg.

"i learn so many new words being around you," san jokes, but you're not listening. you manage to send the story at 11:59 exactly, and you toss your phone away before grabbing onto san's shoulders.

"you need a hobby or something," you get out between moans as he starts fucking you again. "fuck. feel so full, san."

"yeah?" he sighs. "you feel incredible. so tight, so warm for me."

"shit, you're not wearing a condom," you realize. "get out."

"hold on," he whines. "i'll pull out. just give me a minute. are you close?"

"very confident in your skills," you point out. "we haven't been fucking that long."

"but i can feel you dripping around me," he says, pinching your hips. "feel you squeezing me. i know you're loving this baby."

"i'm almost there," you fess up, rolling your hips against him to get some more friction. he brings a hand around to your core, his thumb tracing over your clit so teasingly it's driving you insane. you collapse in his hold, your head resting against his shoulder as you let out breathy moans. he slows down, just to tease you more, and you bite his shoulder.

"ow!"

"keep going," you groan against his skin. "gonna come, fuck-" and you feel your high crash into you, hips jerking against san's as you come. you're quick to hop off of him, which he protests, but you sit before him on your knees as you stroke his cock. he's got to be close, so you bring his tip to your lips to suck him into your mouth. he lets go almost immediately, gasping above you as he comes into your mouth. as soon as he's done, he pulls you off of him with a huff.

"show me, doll," he rasps, and you stick your tongue out to show him his release. you swallow most of it, some drips sneaking past your lips so you sit up and wipe them off on the edge of his boxers, still caught around his knees. "hey!"

"you can deal," you tell him, standing with his help. your legs are shaky, and the exhaustion is really hitting you now. "come on, let's go to bed before you keep us up all night."

-

for the next week or so, you and san fall into a habit of going home with each other after each game. the first two series of the season are at home, so it makes things easy for you. you don't have to talk about what you are to san or vice versa, it's just understood that any free time you have will be spent with each other.

you're getting nervous, though, because the first away series is this weekend. you're strictly a local reporter, so you don't travel with the team. you'll report solely based on what the broadcast team on site is saying, or by bugging the team with phone calls. a little piece of you is nervous that san will fall back into his superstar ways, because he did have a reputation before coming here for having...friends...in every city. you try to push that feeling away for now, but it keeps nagging you at the worst times.

like now, san has cornered you in the clubhouse, kissing you in between questions for your next story and all you can think about is the trip this weekend. you're trying to focus on the story, really. the team is on an unbeaten streak, and some of the guys have cited san as the reason for that. word around the team is that his energy and passion for the game has made them better. you're trying to get something heartfelt out of him, but he's distracted.

"baby, i'm doing some of my best work here," he mumbles against your lips. "can't the questions wait?"

"i'm on a deadline san, you know that," you say as you put your hand on his chest and push back. "two more questions, and then i'm all yours."

"fine," he sighs, taking a step back. his hands stay on your waist as you talk, his thumbs rubbing your skin beneath your shirt. you're able to get what you need, so you stop the recording on your phone and put it away.

"you know, if anyone ever hears those, i'd be fired," you tell him as you drape your arms over his shoulders.

"good thing i'm loaded," san smirks. "i can buy their silence and you can keep your job."

"you know i used to be a clean reporter?" you pinch his neck. "you're really blurring my ethical lines here."

"i won't tell if you don't," he whispers, kissing you again. you stay like that, lips locked together, until a buzzing in san's pocket interrupts you. "ah, i should get that."

"who's calling? you don't have friends," you tease him, your uneasy mind wondering if it's one of his usuals from out of state.

"it's the equipment team," he explains, "they've never packed my stuff for an away trip before so they want to confirm before they ship out."

san answers the call, but keeps a protective arm hooked around you so you can't leave. you distract yourself with a stray thread on his shirt as he talks, and when he hangs up he places his hand over yours.

"whatcha thinking about, ace?"

"when do you leave for the series this weekend?" you ask nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze.

"day after tomorrow," he replies. "i figured we'd get an off day here, but they want us to come in for an extra practice to stay sharp."

"gotta keep that win streak going on the road," you tell him. "like you promised."

"exactly," he smiles. "so when will you leave?"

"huh?"

"for the series," san asks in an equally confused tone. "you're coming with us, right?"

"i don't travel with the team," you shake your head. "so i'll be here, wasting away."

"aw, you're gonna miss me," san coos, pulling you into his side as he walks you down the hall. "guess i gotta fit in as much y/n time as i can before i go."

"seems like it," you give him a tightlipped smile before pulling away. "i gotta go back out to the field, i'm doing a report in a few minutes. so i'll text you when i'm done?"

"sure," he nods, kissing your forehead before you go.

-

you went back to your apartment at the end of the day, tired and mind racing. you're not even dating san, why are you so concerned about what he might get up to on this road trip? you try to busy yourself until san comes by with dinner, so you're in the middle of washing dishes when there's a knock at your door. you let san in, stepping to the side in your small entryway to let him through. it leaves him standing incredibly close to you as you close the door, but once the space is cleared he stays where he is.

"you can come in, weirdo," you laugh. "do you need me to move?"

"no hug? no kiss?" he complains, pouting his lips as if waiting for a smooch.

"my hands are wet," you say as you hold them up, "so no hug, but-" you stand on your toes and aim a kiss perfectly on top of lips, spinning around quickly after to go back to the kitchen. "put everything on the coffee table, i'll get plates."

you walk into your living room to find a feast laid out for you. how'd you miss san carrying in so much food? you place plates down for you both, sitting next to san so your thighs touch. he piles food on your plate as you tell him about the rest of your day, but when he keeps going you make him stop.

"do you think i never eat?" you laugh. "why the mountain of food?"

"i'll be out of town for a while," he shrugs. "gotta make sure you're taken care of before i go."

"right," you nod. "thank you, but this is plenty."

"want me to feed it to you?" he asks with a sappy look on his face, but you know he's serious.

"i'll kick you out if you even try."

"then what about you feeding me?"

"are you excited for the first road trip of the year?" you change the subject.

"i am," he says slowly. "not much to see there, though, so it'll be a boring trip. especially if you're not coming..."

"can't," you remind him. "the big man won't allow it."

"but let's say, i don't know, a player on the team had an extra ticket to the game...then what?"

"huh?" you look at him confused. "what are you saying?"

"if i told you i got you a ticket to the game, would you come?" he asks sincerely. he grabs your hand and squeezes, saying, "i need my good luck charm there."

"san, i don't know," you shake your head. "how would i get there? where would i stay?"

"you could travel with the other wives and girlfriends," he answers. "apparently it's a whole big trip, they do this every year for the first away series."

"but i'm not a wife or a girlfriend," you tell him. "i'm a reporter."

"then why don't you leave the notebook at home and just come to the game as my girlfriend?"

"your girlfriend?" you smile. "i think i can do that."

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Rec List 2023 #4

Hello! This is the last list of 2023! These are the wonderful fics I ended my year with! I hope you enjoy them! If anyone would like to be removed from this list; please let me know! As always each of these fics has its own content warnings, and most, if not all are 18+ so Minors Do Not Interact!

Seokjin

daydream @joonie-beanie

summary: Your literature professor has a bit of a…gift. A gift that let’s him see other peoples thoughts when he wants to. And despite the fact that he warns his class openly about this gift, one day you forget, and find yourself in a bit of pickle when Kim Seokjin reads your mind, and finds you imagining some not so school appropriate scenarios…involving him.

pink panther @gimmesumsuga

summary: The one where your boss, Kim Seokjin, tries to show you how beautiful you are

9 months to fall in love @floralseokjin

summary: It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in. Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it. Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

dream come true @sugaurora

summary: Since your brother had warned you years ago that his best friend Seokjin was off limits, you’d only allowed yourself to safely fantasize about him in your dreams. You’re not sure why tonight his lips feel so much softer and his hands so much warmer than usual, but you’re also not about to complain.

whole @yoongiphoria

Yoongi

can't afford love @dollfaceksj

summary: Your childhood dream of having 2 children in a big house with a blooming marriage by this point in time has been eliminated the moment divorce came knocking at your door. With only one child and finding yourself back at square one, you ask your ex-husband—Min Yoongi—if he’d be down to fulfill 1 of these 3 things on your childhood’s bucket-list. And no, it’s not giving you a big house.

u suck !! @kithtaehyung

summary: Jimin’s cul-de-sac is filled to the brim with autumn leaves, trick-or-treaters, and halloween spirits. but the scariest part of the night? yoongi himself. and the way he looks downright sinful in his costume.

three tangerines ^

summary: throughout high school, you sometimes caught glimpses of your brother’s older friends: some of them were sweet, some of them were smart. but the one closest to him? that guy was a total f*ckboy from day one. after a foray of horrid relationships spanning years - ending with one that broke up with you for an alarming reason - you needed advice on what the hell you were doing wrong… and this wasn’t a conversation for anyone sweet or smart.

broken pt. 1 ^

summary: chilling conversations prolong things even further… until everything goes to hell.

ghostface killers @gimmethatagustd

summary: You’ve had your eyes set on Yoongi for as long as you can remember. What you didn’t know is that he’s had his eyes on you, too.

red & white @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: you and yoongi have something to share this holiday

Hoseok

spookie coochie @gimmethatagustd

summary: The only monster Hoseok wishes you were interested in finding this Halloween season is his monster c–

drink champagne in my airplane @bangtanintotheroom

summary: Your friend Hoseok decided to use his excessive wealth for good and take the both of you on a much-needed vacation. The flight was meant to be relaxing until he broke out one of his most expensive bottles of champagne.

a holly, jolly crisis @kpopfanfictrash

summary: At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

12 lays of christmas @minisugakoobies

summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies 

it's a promise @sahmfanficbts

arranged marriage au

Namjoon

close, closer, closest @augustbutwinter

summary: you know your soulmate is close, but you haven’t met them yet. every day your counter goes up when you pass that one station. until one day it doesn’t.

make an effort @7ndipity

summary: When you ask Joon to be your fake boyfriend, he ends up finding out about your very real crush on him. Luckily for you, the feeling’s mutual.

a word from our sponsors @ugh-yoongi

summary: you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it.

Jimin

cloud nine @suga-kookiemonster

summary: “he’s here again,” viv whispers. “you know who. the hot guy who’s totally into you.” and he is hot--devastatingly hot enough that you know he can’t actually be into you, because the universe simply doesn’t work that way. that still doesn’t stop your heart from pounding when he smiles at you from across the room.

menace @eoieopda

summary: Far and away the worst of your brother’s friends, you added Park Jimin’s presence in your life to the long list of grievances you held against Seokjin. Too bad you can’t keep your hands off him.

crescent bound @parkhabits

summary: One night you’re having the best hookup of your life and the next you’re being told that the little mark on your neck is more than just a hickey and that Park Jimin was more than you expected too.

the dark side of the moon @dovechim

summary: falling in love at first sight is cliche, not until it happens to you on a dark night in a lonely alley. but you’re only human, while Park Jimin is Alpha of his pack; it could never work out. so you resort to pining for him like a wolf howling at the moon, but when Jimin goes feral, that’s when everything changes. 

a remedy for mondays ^

summary: all you wanted was just one day off work. but for that to happen, you need to invent a plausible reason. and then somehow, somewhere along the way, things get out of hand, and now people think you’re having a baby with your co-worker Park Jimin after a one-night stand. confused? join the club.

heavy petting @kittae

summary: Your boyfriend is not just a cat hybrid, he’s also very needy! When you come home from work and you expect him to be all over you, you’re fairly disappointed to find he prefers a nap over some well-deserved quality time. You’ll make sure to pay him back for that.

the devil in his details @johobi

summary: Evil comes in many forms. In this instance, it’s a 5′8″ pretty-boy with an even prettier dick. And you’re the form you want him to come in.

me, you, and this thing we have between us @boymeetsweevil

summary: You’re pregnant and jimin is…happy about it

devil's advocate @7cypher

summary: You had met the devil on a hot summer day. He had shown up in a red polo, red cap, and white sneakers on his feet. That day, you had invited your devil into your home and he hasn’t left since.

no strings @kpopfanfictrash

summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

the ten days of ex-mas @kpopfanfictrash

summary: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling. Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Taehyung

midnight @sailoryooons

summary: Taehyung loves being your prince charming, even if it means trying to find where you’ve wandered off to in the middle of a Halloween party without your shoes. 

the holi-date @kpopfanfictrash

summary: When your ex-boyfriend becomes engaged to his new girlfriend at your annual Holiday party, you admittedly are not in the best place. Which explains why you down six shots of alcohol, enthusiastically drop it low on the dance floor and – oh, yeah – tell everyone you are also dating someone. The only problem? You are obviously not. Good thing your neighbor happens to be cute and in need of a ride to work every morning.

of lace and lust @hobidreams

summary: friendship rule number one: don’t imagine how amazing your best friend’s cock would feel inside you. except that’s all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung’s kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you’re so fond of wearing.

hush @suga-kookiemonster

summary: four seats, five bodies. “careful, sweetheart,” he breathes into the shell of your ear, hands tightening over your waist in warning. you lick your lips, pausing just long enough to ponder: what if you don’t want to be careful?

rotten angelcake @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

sausade @kimvvantae

summary: no one is born to be alone and no one can be complete in oneself - that’s why, in this world, every person has a pair, someone that complements their soul in every aspect. you, however, are an exception to the rule, for the mark on your wrist indicates that your pair has passed away way before you were born.

kinda hot @kimnjss

summary: you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

Jungkook

jungkook drabble @euphoricfilter

summary: obsessed gf m/c and equally as obsessed boyfriend jungkook. he’s the light of her life, and she’s the reason he smiles

blessed with a curse @sweetestofchaos

summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them.

seasons don't fear the reaper @augustbutwinter

summary: life is short, they say. one day everyone meets their death, they say. how often can you meet yours before he takes you with him?

because i love you ch. 13 @readyplayerhobi

summary: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

a holiday snowdown @kpopfanfictrash

summary: The Inn on the Hill is in trouble. Or that's what your boss, Namjoon, says during the last-minute All Staff holiday meeting he calls. You need money, and you need money fast, or his parents are planning to sell the resort. When no one can think of an easy solution, Namjoon proposes his parents' idea: a weeklong social media blitz with a celebrity guest. The celebrity? None other than Jungkook Jeon himself: two-time Olympic gold medalist, world-class snowboarder and the nation's sweetheart. What's the problem? You happen to have met Jungkook Jeon before, and sincerely hoped you'd never see him again.

all grown up @btsgotjams27

summary: A family reunion brings back the young boy you grew up with. Though he wasn’t the doe-eyed boy you once knew, he stood in front of you all grown up.

this is us ^

summary: you start to fall hard for jungkook.

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror ch. 2 @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

the gentlemen @honeymoonjin

summary: Sick of unsatisfying hookups, boring relationships or the company of your own hand? Apply today for the chance to be on bangasm.com’s very first reality show! Seven attractive young gentlemen will be vying for your choice of who is best in bed. All from different backgrounds, these men claim they’ll be able to rock your world, so don’t hesitate! Apply now!

of storms and vampires @wishesunderthestars

summary: During the worst storm you have witnessed in your life, a bat crashes on your window. When you bring it inside your cottage to take care of it, you realize it isn’t simply a bat but a baby vampire. Your past has come back to haunt you because Jungkook’s sire is no one else but Min Yoongi, who you had left behind when you disappeared five years ago.

oh, little red @jincherie

summary: You knew they warned you about that path for a reason, you knew you shouldn’t take it as a shortcut. You knew, but you were running late, and you did it anyway. Oh, little red, just what have you gotten yourself into?

Ateez

Seonghwa

let me keep you warm @sweetestofchaos 💜

summary: “Are you cold?” “A little bit but I’ll be okay.” “Come here, let’s get you all warmed up.”

[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (ii)

AN: i’m so sorry for the delay on this second chapter, i got really caught up with uni stuff and then some personal projects i’ve been working on. anyways i have about a month off and will do my best to catch up on this story! hope u guys enjoy this one….happy holidays!

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: natalie is lowkey a mastermind. rumored romance with another certain actress…..

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

3 weeks later.

new york is everything you love, put into one city. you thrive in it’s anonymity, ironically.

it’s got the strong sense of culture, the food, the creativity, and the people. like every single person who walks the streets is made to belong there, they all have their purpose for making new york what it is.

that’s what you think as you’re sat outside a coffee shop on 463 w broadway.

you make a note of how one day you’ll commit to living here. you also make note of just how reckless it’d be if you just up and left la then never went back. you hate la, you’ve come to find out. yet there’s so much that keeps you there. you hate it. you don’t belong there. but in some sense of the word, you do.

you sigh with the shake of your head, adjust the cap securely on your head, and tighten the large overcoat you have on. the latte in front of you seeming more interesting now. the still hot liquid distracts you from the intrusive thoughts.

your mind drifts off to natalie. you’re immediately taken back to that night at the party. it’s your first time thinking of that night in weeks. and you realize how you truly haven’t felt the way you did that night, since. you remember the conversations you had, you remember how she went to school at nyu, how she told you she hasn’t left new york since. how she never plans to.

you wonder how she’s doing, if she’s in the city. if she remembers you, or has even thought of you.

it makes you a little sad to think about. your life hasn’t slowed down since the release of the series and sometimes all you wanted was to find some small relief in it all. even with the short-lived moments of connection it feels odd to come back from something like that and move on with your life.

your thought is cut short with a text message from samantha.

greta decided to move the meeting a little earlier. she apologizes for the last minute change. can you be there in the next 30 minutes?

you text a quick reply saying that you’ll be there as soon as you can. with that, you grab your to go cup and find the nearest subway that’ll take you up to 19th street.

you make it there just within the thirty minute mark. a kind man waits for you to arrive at the door and leads you up the elevator to the fourth floor of the walk up.

you’re surprised to see who is seated next to greta when you walk in.

“oh good, you made it! let me introduce you to—” you cut her off.

“—natalie.”

the redhead stands from her seat at the table and reaches over it to shake your hand.

“it’s a pleasure we meet again.” her eyes say something different. not bad necessarily, but something more. you’re not sure what it might be. greta’s eyes light up at the gesture.

“oh you’ve met! well, natalie here is gonna be joining us as head writer right besides me and noah for the next season.”

it’s your turn for your eyes to light up. a sense of relief floods through you. natalie isn’t here just to be here, she was here to be part of something with you.

you turn to her with a genuine smile. though you’ve worked with the people in this room for over a year, natalie is drastically different to them.

natalie was the first person who spoke to you as if you were just you. she didn’t bother you about work and stuff.

she talked to you about things that interested you, that interested her. she talked to you like you were just another individual who happened to be at the same party she was at.

“that’s- that’s actually really good to hear. i’m really excited for how this’ll turn out.”you let out a laugh, one that says you’re still trying to comprehend the news.

“right well, let’s get the meeting started!” greta claps her hands together and sits down.

——

natalie hasn’t stopped staring at you since the meeting started.

she hopes you’re as interested in the meeting as you look, because then at least she’d be sure you haven’t figured out her staring problem.

she only catches your eyes whenever greta or noah turn the attention towards her, then you’re forced to look at her. but she’s always just in time to look away before you can notice the stares.

the truth is, natalie is an absolute maniac. she’s a psychopath. she’s a writer for gods sake!

writers have a tendency to be more in sync with their awareness which is great…but they’re also more able to get in touch with that darker side in their psyche. how else do you think she managed to snag a few award-winning films under her belt?

her creativity reaches into places in her mind most wouldn’t even consider to think of.

point is, natalie is a huge romanticist, and it’s a problem. sometimes.

in her defense, greta came up to her for this job. so in some sense of the word, it was fate. plus, tony had put in a good word, not that she asked him to. obviously.

up until that point, natalie had no clue on how to get to you. her only idea was writing her next screenplay and giving you the lead.

but now, the ball was in her court. she takes the next shot.

the meeting ended and everyone was seeing themselves out. natalie thinks of what to say while she’s packing her things but you beat her to it instead.

“it was really nice to see you again.” she hears you say. she lifts her head up, you’re smiling and your hands are stuffed into your coat pockets. a smile easily reaches her eyes at the sight.

“i’m glad. i’ve already got some plans for where i want to take this next season.” natalie replies with an enthusiastic smile.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise eager to know what she might have to say but you hold yourself back. she wouldn’t spoil that for you, even if you asked.

“i have trust you’ll do it right then, i’ve already grown so protective of this show, especially my character.” it was very true. there were moments where you really had to oversee things going on with the script. thank god greta was as collaborative as she is. you’d always try exploring things with your character and she was always very supportive of where you’d take things. it made the series all the more fulfilling to you, honestly.

natalie confirms that she’ll do anything she thinks is in your best interest for the show and before she even realizes it, you’re making a move she wasn’t expecting.

“i know this is on short notice, but…i saw this really nice bistro on my way here and, i’d love to get to know my head writer more…over brunch?” you ask timidly. the thought to ask her had occurred to you only a few seconds ago. natalie seemed wise, and you liked it and she was here with you now and honestly, you just wanted some good company while being in the city.

“yeah i can do lunch. yeah that’s great actually.” natalie was surprised. to say the least. she hadn’t planned to continue the day with you. she decides this was her chance in. her way of getting to know you better, something she’s been desperate to get back to since she realized it that night in her home.

you lead her out of the building where you’re met with the crisp wind of new york city. car horns and police sirens are heard as you walk through the streets of the flatiron neighborhood. on the way to the restaurant you ask eachother how you’ve been.

you tell her about how you just wrapped up your press tour in europe and had spent a few nights with some friends in london. natalie pays close attention to every word that is hung from your lips. she notices to light blush that covers your cheeks and nose due to the cold and she almost reaches out to pull you in closer.

as you speak, she tries not to notice the obvious man with the camera that makes himself known a few hundred feet away from you. a sense of pride makes washes over her at the fact that there’d be a picture taken of the two of you, together.

you end your story and in return ask her how she’s been. natalie doesn’t miss the genuine interest shown in your eyes as she talks.

even as you reach the restaurant and are seated you never lose your sense.

natalie talks and talks and you listen. you’re so entranced by her stories that you’ve come to find that you deeply admire her for what she does and says. it makes you feel all the more excited for the chance at working with her.

she tells you she’s never not writing. even before greta came along to offer her the role of head writer, she was still writing. natalie tells you about the screenplay she was working on, how she plans to direct it as well.

you beam at her revelation seeming genuinely excited at the fact that she’d be making a movie sometime in the future. you tell her that she better invite you to the premiere.

natalie laughs off your comment. she doesn’t tell you how she got back into her writing after she saw you on her screen for the first time, all those months ago.

or how you’re the muse in her next story.

once your ordered food comes in you sit in a comfortable silence as you eat.

“what do you do on your days off?” natalie asks suddenly. she looks up at you through her lashes, her fork playing with the baked eggs on her plate.

you’re so caught off guard by her question it makes you blush at the way she stares you down. you chew down the food in your mouth and answer.

“uh, i like going home, to see my mom. she doesn’t let me stay for more than i need to though, she says i need to go out and meet new people.” you chuckle. your mom was your biggest supporter but also your biggest critic. although she always enjoys her time with you, she was always telling you to go meet with some of your hometown friends.

it’s why you liked going home so much. she’s great at grounding you when you need to be.

“oh? and have you met any new people?” natalie’s interest is piqued by now. she carefully treads around the question, hoping, wishing for any information that’d give her an in into what she desperately wants to know.

who are you with when you’re not alone? who do you think of when you are?

“i mean, i’ve met some really cool people through mutual friends." you reveal.

“wow, so you haven’t met anyone you fancy?” natalie plays it off coolly. she treads along the sacredness that is your romances. and natalie doesn’t mention the fact that she’s read into your love life recently. the rumors of you and another actress.

the one you were pictured with in london very recently.

“huh? oh, no. i don’t really have anyone like that in my life right now.” you nervously chuckle at her question.

“so you and that actress aren’t a couple? you and jenna ortega?” natalie feeds a forkful of food into her mouth, seeming very nonchalant about what she just asked.

you try not to laugh at natalie’s question. your eyebrows raise in surprise at her very forward question. it’s almost comical, really.

jenna was amongst the close group of friends you stayed with while in london.

she was a flame, someone you’d come to deeply admire over the time spent knowing her. she tells you things that you learn from, you check on eachother, you bring eachother back down to earth.

and she was one of the few people you could actually depend on with your life in this industry.

the silent shock wears off. you’re not sure what to say, except the fact that you feel a little embarrassed at her question. that even natalie of all people had heard about your supposed love life.

something that you tried to keep nurtured as much as possible.

“she’s one of my best friends.” you finally say. more sure than anything. you try not to laugh at the accusation. the idea of it seeming so far away from where you are now.

“i haven’t even dated in such a long time.” you even go as far to say. anything to make it clear you’re nowhere near any level of romance with anyone.

you miss the look of surprise on natalie’s face when you say this. she sets her fork down to sip from the breakfast martini she had ordered. she sets her glass down and takes a look at you, leaning forward only slightly.

“i was so sure someone as pretty as you wouldn’t have stayed single for so long.” then she looks down at her plate with a small smile, contemplating. there’s a beat of silence.

finally, she looks up.

“can’t say i’m disappointed at being proved wrong though.” she finishes.

you laugh at natalie’s comment. it’s all you could do, not really sure at what she could be getting at. you even blush a little.

and natalie misses none of it.

[purinfelix]

joao fluff where him and the reader decorate their house for christmas together and then bake cookies + watch christmas movies + cuddle afterwards! it’s okay if yoy don’t celebrate christmas, i could request a diff prompt :) I LOVE UR WORK AND UR USER AS WELL 💗

love actually, is all around ₊˚⊹♡

pairing: joao felix x reader (established relationship) summary: just some good old christmas-themed fluff !! warnings: none w/c: 1k

a/n: like i said with the Gavi one, i had completely misunderstood how soon christmas actually was so i'm so so sorry for how long this took and how late it is (but also the joao Christmas tree decorating vid lowk came out at a perfect time)... still anon tysm ily and thank u for being patient !!! hope you enjoy and have a good christmas !! <3

“No, look here Joao,” you sigh, squinting at the back of the empty cookie-mix box, “it says to put the eggs in after the butter.”

“Now why on earth would I do that,” he sighs, already grabbing two eggs from the carton and cracking them both in before you can stop him. If you weren’t so focused on the fact he cracked them both with one hand with such ease, you probably would’ve been more upset about the fact he was sabotaging the gingerbread cookies you two were attempting to make.

But even if he did, you were in no mood to be upset today - in fact, it was virtually impossible to be anything but utterly content at the scene you two had set out for yourself. You and your boyfriend had spent the better part of the afternoon decorating your apartment in time for the holiday season. And several fights with tangled Christmas lights, uncooperative sticky tape and broken baubles later, you had managed to make your shared space festive enough. Even from the kitchen you could spot the tree, who’s soft glow gave your living room an ambience and your heart a warmth that made all your efforts worth it.

You had even managed to talk your boyfriend into dressing the part, the two of you were wearing matching plaid pyjama bottoms. Meanwhile, Floki pattered around in a tiny reindeer outfit Joao had bought for him on a whim and seemed way too excited to see him in. And you couldn’t help but share his beaming smile once he finally wrestled the dog into the suit.

Watching Floki jump around your feet had distracted you from the issue at hand until you heard the sound of wet batter slapping onto itself, causing you to whip your head up to where your boyfriend stood tightly gripping a wooden spoon.

“Should it be this,” he paused, eyebrows furrowed as he searched for the right word, “wet?”

“I don’t think so …”

You leant in a little closer, worry growing in you as you looked at the concerningly runny batter. However your boyfriend was determined to go on, simply shrugging as he dumped it out onto the floured counter with a small huff. Before you could stop him he was already hands deep in the brown mush, face twisted into an almost adorably focused expression complete with a bottom lip jutted out just enough to form a pout. You found yourself resigned to just watching him as he worked through the dough, an endeared smile spread across your face - at least until he turned to you, hands covered with sticky residue and a look that had morphed from focus to frustration, and you decided you would lend a hand.

Once your gingerbread cookies, or at least your attempt at gingerbread cookies, were in the oven and the two of you had cleaned the stubborn remnants of the dough off of your hands you found yourself curled up on the couch beside your boyfriend. The combination of the pyjama pants and Christmas sweater he had insisted on wearing made Joao the embodiment of a heat pack, and the perfect thing to snuggle up to given the cold weather outside - even if he was more concerned with picking the perfect movie for the two of you to watch than reciprocating your hugs.

Still, you let out a soft hum of happiness once he finally picked one after what seemed like an eternity of searching and could set down the remote to wrap an arm around you and pull you even closer - which you had thought was physically impossible given how you kept shuffling up next to him. As the movie opening played, you felt his hand come up to catch on a strand of your hair, wrapping it around his finger to twirl it. It was a half-thought out action and a habit he had developed in quiet moments like these the two of you spent alone, a silent way of expressing his love.

“This is nice,” you heard him say softly, not needing to raise his voice anymore above a whisper given how close the two of you were. It was an obvious enough statement, but said in a way that conveyed a second message - one that said “This is nice, and I’m glad I get to experience it with you.”

“It is,” you mumbled in response, feeling the temptation of fatigue tugging your eyelids closed. Joao noticed this, and only let out an amused chuckle as he pushed your hair away from your face and offered more of his shoulder for you to lean on.

“I hope we get to have many more Christmases together,” he breathed, watching you try to fight your urge to sleep with nothing but love in his eyes.

“We will,” you said in response, which, even through your haze of sleepiness, sounded as definite as a sure fact.

You recognised the familiar feeling of Joao’s lips gently pecking your forehead as you drifted off to sleep, curled up next to him. You could just make out faintly the smell of ginger, cinammon and all the other spices you had used in your cookie batter still clinging to him. You could hear Floki pattering around in the background, the bells on his reindeer costume jingling softly, as well as the steady beat of Joao’s heart. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so content, so at peace, so calm, and the last thought that graced your mind was about how you would give anything to make sure you could relive this moment a thousand times again.

At least, it would’ve been - if you hadn’t been woken up rudely by the loud beeping of your kitchen timer, the distinct smell of something burning, and Joao cursing under his breath as thick clouds of smoke squeezed their way out of your oven from your gingerbread cookies, or at least what remained of them.

[constesplanetarium]

Watch the show.

☼⚠︎ Male! Yandere Circus Ringleader/Magician x GN! AFAB! Reader

Darkness rating ) 7/10: “Getting a little shocking now.”

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

this is inspired off what im dressing up as for halloween, literally a circus ringleader :)

i hope u guys like him <3

✧─── ･ ｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TW! General Yandere shenanigans (possessiveness, jealousy, aggression towards other guys, etc.), light sexual activity, violence, blood, murder, choking, dacryphilia, implied kidnapping.

Word count: Around 4k.

⋆♱✮☽🦇☽✮♰⋆

The acrobats swing too and fro above you, lighting up the crowd's eyes with excitement and anticipation for what's next. Will one of them fall? Will they pull off the trick? You gasp as the acrobat flings himself across the stage, almost covering your eyes in case he misses and falls…

But as always, he lands the trick, the acrobat clinging onto the other one's arms as the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter. Your nerves ease as you smile softly at the acrobats on the stage, still swinging as they revel in the excitement.

This is your… What, fifteenth show by now? But you never get sick of any of the tricks they do. The circus always comes over for the fall, and a friend of yours won tickets from a raffle for the first show when this whole festival started, about a week ago. The show ended up being so good, that you went to the next one on your own accord. And then the next one. And the next one after that. And the next one…

They have shows pretty often, huh? It’s surprising how they never run out of energy.

You had never been interested in the circus before this, but the jaw-dropping tricks, alongside the good-looking members of the cast, made you stay and come back for every single show. It looks like many shared your sentiment, since it seemed that the crowd grew more and more ever since the first show of the season.

Ah, those acrobats are really cute. Maybe you can get lucky and get to meet both of them after the show. Maybe you’ll even get to meet the ringleader, he’s so handsome…

You don’t rip your eyes away from the rest of the show, cheering alongside the crowd at every little trick and flip the cast does; you cheer the loudest in your row once the ringleader bows in the center of the stage with his members, concluding the show.

“Make sure to come see us for our next show in two hours! You won’t want to miss it.” The ringleader does a simple wink, sending every fan of his into a frenzy. You still aren’t sure why people like him so much. People don’t even know his last name, let alone his first one. He’s just referred to as ‘the ringleader’ or ‘the mysterious master of the circus’ by eccentric journalists who are trying so desperately to keep the reader’s attention. A bunch of celebrities, along with reported billionaires and people from big spots in large companies have come here to watch his tricks, and maybe even strike business, but reportedly he’s always turned down these people, no matter how much money they offer him.

Strange. If they offered him a billion dollars to buy out his circus, would he take the offer? Ah, you know you would. Maybe he already has a private sponsor?

Once you gather your things, you step back out into the festive atmosphere of today's holiday; halloween. Jack-o-lanterns and scarecrows line the pathway back to the main center of the festival, and you can hear the screams of fear coming from the haunted house they all set up. The orange and red lights from the ferris wheel look so pretty from here…

You find yourself wandering around the festival for around 10 minutes, noticing every little detail the festival coordinators setup. There’s even cute little artwork for the signs pointing you in the events you might want to check out later. Looking at everyones costumes and the decorations makes you feel all giddy.

Oh wow, look at that huge skeleton! Your hand digs into your pocket quickly to-

Wait.

Your phone?

Where’s your phone?

You pat down your pockets, and the moment you realize it’s not with you, you run back over to the building, swinging open the door and bound for your seat. Holy shit, lady luck must be on your side today. Thank god no one had closed the entrance yet.

You bend down, trying to dig around for your phone on the floor. It’s so hard to see, since they already shut most of the lights off, damn it…

Where the hell is it?!

“Hello.”

Oh my gosh!

You jump up, almost stumbling right back down, yet a hand grabs your arm before you can fall, and you see who it is instantly once you look up.

“Looking for this?” The ringleader smiles cheekily, waving your phone around as the screen lights up your surroundings a bit. “I’m sorry, I should’ve waited by the door to see if the owner would pop up.” The shock of seeing him this up close is so bad, you don’t even reach for your phone. He takes your hand in his and sets your phone down, right in your palm.

You slowly hold your phone close to your chest, and thank him for returning it.

“It’s not a problem.” Should you ask him for a picture? Maybe an autograph? “I’m glad you came back for it, instead of giving up, and assuming that someone already stole it.” You don’t even have paper for him to sign. Maybe he’ll sign your clothes or something?

Oh my gosh, he’s so much better up close…

“Are you alright?” He chuckles, brushing his hand across your cheek, and your body flinches in response. “You were zoning out there. Oh! I see,” He chuckles. “You’re surprised to see me up close.”

Right on the money.

Warmth spreads all the way up to your face, and all you can do is giggle nervously. God, it’s like you’re a schoolgirl asking out her crush.

“It’s alright. I find it flattering.” He glances between you and your phone for a moment. What’s up? “Would you like a picture?”

On my god.

He brushes up next to you, pressing your hips together as you open up your camera app quickly, setting it in selfie mode. “Is this okay?”

Yes.

“Good. Smile.” You would find it amusing how he’s holding up a peace sign for the picture, but you're more nervous about the hand he’s set on your hip, digging into your body.

“Oh, you aren’t going to take the picture?” Oh my god, the picture. “Or are you distracted by something else?” You glance up, seeing his guilty smile as his gloved hand rubs your hip slowly.

These pictures need to be taken before something else happens right here, right now.

You signal him to look over and smile, snapping a couple random pictures. You don't even know if they turned out good or not. Is it hot in here? You should probably get out.

You thank him quickly, and turn your heel-

“Leaving so soon?” You turn back to see a clear frown on his face, the dimmed lighting shining right on him. “You can stay a bit longer, if you’d like. I’m not in a hurry.”

But what about his next show? Doesn’t he have to prepare?

“The break is more for my members than for me.” He sits down in an empty seat, patting the spot next to him. “Come, sit. I would love to have your company for longer.”

You walk back up and sit down next to him, shuffling in your seat as he takes his hat off, setting it down in the empty seat adjacent from him.

“Thank you for staying with me.” He clears his throat and starts to take his gloves off, flexing his fingers in and out as he tosses the gloves in his empty seat too. “Meeting all types of people when they come to my shows is wonderful, but not being able to talk to them personally makes me a bit sad.”

You smile empathically, and he returns your smile.

“Oh!” He snaps his fingers, his smile widening at the thought of his sudden new idea. “How about I save you a seat for my next show? Please, tell me where you’d like to sit!” Woah, really? “I mean, you are coming to my next show, right?”

Uh. You were planning to go to the ferris wheel with a friend of yours, actually…

His mood shifts from happy, to immediate disappointment. “Well, you can just visit the ferris wheel after my show, can’t you?” Well, you COULD, but-

“Oh please, I would really like you to be at my next show…” He takes your hands in his, rubbing his thumb over your palm. “Please?”

Urgh.

“Oh, just amazing!” He laughs and stands up, pointing to a seat around the front row. “How about there? Perhaps I can even perform a trick for you once I’m on stage! How does that sound?”

Wow, this man’s pulling out all the stops, huh? You can’t help but thank him again, from saving your phone to getting you a free seat. This ringleader’s so nice…

“Oh? ‘Thank you, Mr. Ringleader?’” He laughs and grabs your shoulder, rubbing it affectionately like you two are good old friends sharing a joke. “You don’t have to call me that! Loosen up a little, will you?” Even with his encouragement, your whole body is still tense with nervousness. “Please, call me Mr. Vidales.” So that’s his last name! Ah, how pretty…

“Now, now, don’t be all fidgety with me.” Mr. Vidales grins, clasping your hands with his again. Oh my god, what if your hands are clammy now? But the way his thumb is caressing your hand is strangely putting you at ease. “You’ve been looking all over the place.” He tilts his head while peeking at you, seemingly lost in thought, until his face lights up. “Ah, how about this? Watch me.” He pulls out a small deck of cards from a coat pocket around his right thigh, pouring the cards out into his hand. It doesn’t take long to see he’s performing a small card trick for you, yet you don’t tear your eyes away from him.

“Pick a card, any card.” He murmurs, the enthusiasm still there behind his voice, but it also sounds like he’s sweet talking to you, enticing you further. You pick a card on the far left, looking at it discreetly.

The 2 of hearts.

“Back in the deck now.” He shuts his eyes as you slip the card back in, and he shuffles it all with his eyes still closed. “Now,” he starts, picking a card from the deck. “Is this what you chose?”

NAH.

Hah! He failed the trick! You grin and shake your head, the king of hearts in his hand instead as his smile drops to a frown. “Oh.” He stuffs the deck into his left hand, placing the card face up on top. But strangely enough, he starts to smile, and reaches behind your head, leaning closer to you. “Now let’s see.”

Oh. He smells really, really nice…

Why is your heart racing?

You peek up at the ringleader’s face, your body warming up as he looks down at you, a mixture of amusement and something else in his eyes. “Ah, now what do we have here…” He whispers, and his hand drags down your back slowly as he shows the king of spades in the deck on his left hand. Is he still trying to prove he’s not cheating? You sigh at the shivers flowing up your spine, pressing your thighs together once you feel the heat between your thighs get more intense. Lord, he’s good at this. Does he do this often or something?

“How cute.” He says adoringly, like he’s talking to a small puppy. “Look at you, how cute.” He repeats, his hand pressing itself against your waist, tugging you closer to him. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m supposed to be showing you a trick…” He can show you something else in just a few seconds if he keeps this up. Mr. Vidales groans loudly once you palm his bulge, followed by a small laugh once you tease him for reaction. “Please, let me finish my trick. Unless you want to do something else right now…?” He begs quietly, and you sigh with a smile as you move your hand.

A bit disappointing, but you do want to see the end of this trick.

“Ahem.” He clears his throat, clearly still a bit riled up, but fine. “Now, watch me.” His warmth vanishes from your waist, and you see his hand come back into view with…

The 2 of hearts in his right!?

You stare at his right hand in awe, as he waggles the card around a bit, grinning sheepishly at your dumbfounded expression. “Good, huh?” Even after all of that, you never saw the deck vanish from view! How did he…?

“I’m not just a ringleader,” he says. “I dabble in some magic here and there too.” He shuffles the cards again, stuffing them back into the box, then back into his coat pocket. A light clap of your hands at his trick and his mood shifts from proud to flustered, fidgeting with the buttons on his outfit as you praise him for the trick.

“Thank you, thank you.” Mr. Vidales bows a bit and laughs quietly. “Your praise is very appreciated.”

… He looks scared. Ah, no.

Shy?

“There must be something on my face, with the way you’re looking at me, it’s…” Mr. Vidales stops talking, staring into your eyes for a moment. “Oh…”

Is he okay? You frown, tugging on his sleeve in concern for his well being. He seems to snap out of his trance, blinking repeatedly.

“Oh! Erm, yes,” he says. “Yes, I’m fine.” A smile spreads in his face quickly, but you can’t help but think that it’s all insincere.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He sighs. “It’s just some fatigue.” There’s a voice in the back of your head, telling you repeat that he’s lying, but you ignore it in favor of his charming voice and attitude.

Maybe he just needs some time alone?

And, to be completely honest, the hunger’s kind of getting to you too; maybe you can grab a bite to eat and bring something back for him?

“Oh, please.” He nods quickly. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Perhaps you can get me those cinnamon bites with the glaze? They’re delicious.”

You fidget with your wallet as you run out the tent, waving him goodbye as you run for the food stalls.

Hopefully the lines aren’t too long…

The line was pretty damn long. You glance down at your phone to check the time, and decide to jog back over to the tent once you notice it’s already been 25 minutes. And it’ll probably take you another 5 minutes to get there, ugh, the ringleader probably thinks you left to go on a couple rides or something, and forgot about the food entirely.

You slow down once you notice the door’s closed, and look around for a sign of him, but there’s nothing around. Maybe there’s another entrance in the back?

Clutching a drink in one hand and a bag, witn a box of sweets at the bottom in your other, you make your way to the back of the building to find the door slightly ajar, and you use your foot to kick it open the rest of the way, walking through.

There are several doors on both side of you, and by just reading the names on the doors, you can tell these are the member’s dressing rooms! Ah, no way…

It’s so tempting to go up and knock on one of their doors, but you have to shake your head a little to get those thoughts out. Mr. Vidales. That’s who you’re looking for.

You wander around for a bit until you come up to his dressing room, about to bang on the door, but as soon as you try to, the door slowly opens up, and you-

You…

What.

What?

The smell of iron and the sight of crimson fill your vision as you stare at the ringleader, tugging and shoving a man's body into a small closet. It looks like the man was stabbed repeatedly in the chest, along with the broken teeth in the pool of blood in front of you, and a spot of blood on his head.

Isn’t that… Isn’t that one of the employees here? He literally gave you free shit, what the hell…

Mr. Vidales’s face is splattered with blood, alongside his chest, and his outfit has puke on the lower side of his coat. A fallen, bloody knife lies on the ground, surrounded by his victims blood.

“Bastard. Must’ve wanted to give me a goodbye gift before his passing…” He scoffs, staring at the stain with disgust.

The police.

You need to call the police.

Mr. Vidales looks up at the sudden stream of light, and a couple beats pass as neither of you move from the sheer shock.

“Oh.”

Run.

You turn your heel, but trip once someone grabs onto your arm and pushes you down, spilling your drink all over the floor. You try to scream, but a hand covers your mouth instantly, and you feel the tears start to flow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He frantically whispers and he climbs on top of you, his hands shaking and bloodied as he struggles to keep you quiet. There’s blood all over him, and he’s spreading it onto you. All over your mouth. Your body.

It’s sickening. You have to fight back the urge to throw up once he turns you over and you see his face. Why does he look so excited to see you?

“Stay quiet. Quiet.” He hushes you, keeping your mouth covered as he helps you up. "It's okay darling, see?" As soon as you get up, you’re going to run. That’s what-

“Quiet, or I’ll kill you.” A sharp knife is suddenly pointed at your throat, and you let out a choked-up sob. “Oh, I’m so sorry darling…” He whispers, as he slowly lets the hand from your mouth go.

You don’t dare scream.

“Come on, come.” He pushes his arm against your waist, slowly pushing you back as he steps into the room, shutting the door. “I’m not going to hurt you, or kill you. I promise.”

You shut your eyes as soon as you step in, shaking as you hear the door lock. The bag you’re holding is slowly taken from your grasp, and set down with a thud on his desk, along with the knife. All you can do is listen to what he says.

“Oh, you did get my favorite! Thank you.” Mr. Vidales cooes, pushing you closer as you wince at the gesture. You can feel the blood seeping through your clothes. “Shame about the drink. I’m sorry for grabbing you so tight.” He sighs. “Now, let me just…”

He slips his coat off, revealing that the blood stain on him went deeper than expected, staining his grey undershirt with a dark crimson. You stare at the blood on your own body and almost feel like puking yourself.

“There’s no point in running,” his face is full of pity, yet he smiles at you all the same. “My acrobats are already outside, waiting to catch you if you try to run. Not that I’d let you get that far anyway.” He wipes the blood on his hands away with a loose rag, the white of said rag being stained with that sickening red. “Weren’t their tricks just wonderful? I worked hard to teach them, you know.” You immediately catch that he’s stepping closer to you, and you back away in response, glancing around the room for another exit point. “I know a thing or two about flipping around myself. Maybe I can perform some tricks for you?”

There isn’t any. Not even a window.

“Why do you keep looking around? Why can’t you be happy with me?” Mr. Vidales whines, throwing the rag aside in frustration, with a small splat. “I did all of this for you! You like me, don’t you?” But… Why?

“Oh, you’re so sweet,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid that someone else will hear him. “When I first saw you in the crowd, I saw your excited face and couldn't stop thinking about how adorable it was. But then,” He takes a step. “You came back. Again.” And he takes another few steps closer, suddenly feeling yourself bump into a wall behind you, frantically glancing around for a way out. “And again,” His breathing becomes shaky as he lunges forward, grabbing your arm as you try to escape from his right side, your left. You cry out in fear as he pins you up against the wall, grasping your neck tightly. “And again. And again, you came back every time. You must’ve loved seeing me so much…” The grip on your neck tightens. “Next performance, I’ll be up on stage with all of them. Performing just for you.” Your breathing becomes ragged and hazy from the lack of oxygen, but he acts as though nothing is wrong, kissing your cheek. “Tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do anything.” It’s getting hard to see. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and run down your cheeks as he kisses them away, licking them up before they drip down to your shirt.

“You’re adorable, even when you cry…” His soft lips press against your cheeks repeatedly, his chuckles making you feel sick to your stomach. “You’ll be all mine, ah,” Mr. Vidales lets go of your neck, and as you take those much-needed gasps of air, he hugs your body close to his, and you wince once you feel his hard cock press against your thigh. “There’s nothing better than that…” His hand wraps around the back of your neck, applying some pressure, but jot enough to cut off your oxygen

What the fuck…

You try to turn your head, trying to get a glimpse of the corpse so you can identify who it is, yet he’s already shut the door to the closet, so you can’t.

“Are you trying to peek?” He frowns. “You don’t need to look at him. He isn’t your concern.” It looks like he’s trying to avoid the topic of the dead body altogether. He reaches over and pinches your cheeks, chuckling at your displeased expression. “Ah, I hope you understand how angry I get when you get so starry-eyed by looking at my member’s performances.” Mr. Vidales sighs, pushing you over to his desk by your waist. “I wish it were only me that you show that adorable expression to.” Why the hell is he acting so casual? He just killed someone. Your eyes keep on glancing towards the door, since you don’t see any other escape route.

Oh, when will you get your chance?

“But, I guess we all can’t have what we want.” He stops. “Well, maybe I can.” He shoves you up against the desk, patting his hand on top. “Sit.”

Oh.

You shakily hop up to sit on his desk, and he slides himself in between your legs, both of your faces mere centimeters apart. You have to hold your breath with the way you can see every drop of blood slide down his face,

“Now you’re with me! Isn’t that wonderful?” He presses a small kiss on your lips, grinning. “You’ll get to be with me everyday!” What? He tugs you closer, pressing your back against his chest once he pulls you into a big bear hug.

“Yes! With me.” he says plainly. “Forever.” No way. You glare at him in horror, but his smile never falters for even a moment. The blood splattered all over himself and his clothing, along with his declarations of love towards you…

It’s so sickening.

“What a dream come true.”

ミ★ 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴. ★彡

happy halloween! ik i said i was gonna do the ghost boys for halloween, but i couldnt help myself </3

plus im gonna just extend the ghost boys into november bc i got hit w/ a mean writers block halfway thru….

hopefully this little fic can get me thru it

BUT IM WORKING ON OLIVERS DAY AGAIN SO YAY!!!!

yall gonna see the fnaf movie??? i am <3

[idk-im-just-here-now]

MERRY CHRISTMAS @onejellyfishplease!

I HAD. SO MUCH FUN DRAW THIS I LOVE D IT AND IT WAS SUCH A PROCESS TOO YOUR STRAINED EYES BABIES CAPTURED MY BRAIN AND I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MANY GOOD VIBES IM PACKING INTO THIS! :D

I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!

(Bonus lil oneshot even though it wasn't really necessary because I needed to get my brainrot out)

(Extra bonus, I appreciate u so much for making the things you make, they're so awesome and creative and you've inspired so many art pieces of mine as of late. Your rambling is really fun to listen to and you're all around amazing, hope u have a good holiday season! :D)

[cloudcountry]

AUBBIE AUBIE AUB CORNIELIOUS COBBINGTON THE 3RD PLEASSSEEEEEEE PLEASSE PLEASEEE LET ME KISS BEEL PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IM BEGGING PLEASE I LOVE HIM

SUMMARY: you kiss beel under the mistletoe

WARNINGS: none!! :D

COMMENTS: OK DAMN IM HANDING HIM OVER YOU CAN KISS HIM I EVEN GAVE U SOME MISTLETOE

You can feel Beel pawing at your fluffy sweater, his lips sealing yours as you stand out of Hell’s Kitchen. After a lovely holiday dinner, he’d insisted on taking you to a nearby cafe so the two of you could sample some of the new sweets they'd procured for the holiday season.

Those plans were put on hold, however, when you spotted the mistletoe hanging from the canopy shading the outside area of the restaurant.

Beel had been confused when you’d pointed it out, stuck in his hunger haze as you adamantly tugged him over to it. Once you’d explained the tradition to him, he’d been all too inclined to participate, just so long as he could go to the cafe with you afterward.

“You taste good.” he murmurs against your lips, catching them again. 

You feel your heart skip a beat at the compliment and hold back your laughter, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Is he talking about the meal you order at Hell’s Kitchen all the time? Yes. Do you mind? Never.

He breaks away with one of his sweet, puppy dog smiles, and if you weren’t already smiling you would have smiled at the sight of him alone.

“I love you so much.” you confess, burying your face into his chest and holding him tight, so tight that you hope your heart will reach into his chest and touch him for real so he can feel the same things you are.

“I love you too.” he says, and he hugs you just as tightly to prove it.

Tears bubble up in your eyes but you blink them back, heart overflowing with too much love to think about anything other than him and the way he feels.

Oh, you wouldn’t want to spend this winter with anyone else.

Even when his stomach growls and shatters the moment.

[junosmindpalace]

hi! i've been rewatching a few tdliosk eps every once in a while and i kinda missed kusuo 😩 and since it's christmas season i was wondering if u could write a saiki x fem reader one-shot in reference to season 1 ep 16 where saiki dresses up as santa and distributes presents to the kids in their neighborhood? so uhm when he was about to go home, he sees reader walking in the street (she lives nearby) also dressed up as santa for some reason lol. saiki and her are friends to say the least but there's an unspoken mutual pining stuff going on between them. saiki walks her home then she suddenly sees a mistletoe on one of the houses... reader froze and blushes hard and saiki got confused so he read her mind and he was like oh... he's hesitating on whether he'll kiss her or not but much to his surprise reader makes the first move 😆 tysm and pls take ur time! ❤

hi there! Thank you so much for your request! I couldn’t resist writing one of my more recent requests especially with the holiday theme…i hope you enjoy!

ps., dialogue in italics are kusuos inner thoughts/talking via telepathy!

warnings: angst? maybe? if you squint?

wc: 1.4k

The last person Saiki wanted to see today was you. 

It was already a pain going door to door dealing with all the brats in his neighborhood, but suddenly it was a hundred times more embarrassing when you were nervously eyeing his Santa get-up in confusion. 

But something that sort of lessened his dread upon running into you was that you too were also wearing a costume like his.

Saiki had spent his entire evening playing this Santa delivering presents to the children in his neighborhood, courtesy of his parents. He flew around the sky with a sack full of presents, just like the real deal. He’s dealt with all sorts of headaches tonight- a scared child, a non-believer, and a family conflict, to name a few. By the time his sack was empty, Kusuo was exhausted and ready to head home, opting to simply walk with his empty bag instead of teleporting as he didn’t live far. He regrets this decision immediately, however, when he runs into you. Which leads him to the dilemma he’s put himself in right now. 

“Oh no…of course I'd run into Y/N at this very moment. Why didn’t I just teleport home as soon as I finished?”

Just like with the rest of his friends, Saiki found you a nuisance, someone who interfered with his ability to lead a “normal” and peaceful life, but for a different reason than the rest of his peers. The two of you had been friends for a long time, longer than any of his current ones, but your relationship has felt different recently, and it’s been stressing Saiki out. 

As of late, Saiki has taken notice of some new uncomfortable feelings that only arise around you. Tightness in his chest, a weird sensation in his stomach. He doesn’t get sick, so obviously these symptoms alarm Kusuo. What was even more alarming was the fact that they were recurring, and most alarming of all, they were only recurrent around you. 

He’d been trying to avoid the most dreadful conclusion for these feelings ever since he noted that they only arose around you. He’s heard the signs a million times thanks to his love-crazed classmates. Clammy hands, he’s got it. A burning feeling in his chest? A blazing feeling, even. It brought him a sense of horror unlike any other, but after being unable to rid himself of his troublesome feelings, he’d come to the conclusion that yes, he, of all people, has a crush. Even worse, it was a crush on one of the only tolerable people in his life.

Maybe this conclusion wasn’t all that shocking, but it certainly didn’t make Kusuo feel any good. He’d been friends with you for years, spending all that time getting to know you and growing comfortable with you, and now suddenly he feels something more than friendship? Him of all people, the psychic who thought that it was his very nature not to be romantically involved with anyone? It turned his view of himself upside down. 

Saiki reached this conclusion not too long ago, and he’s still trying to figure out what to do with it. What was even worse about the ordeal was that your thoughts, as of late, have also been worrisome, seemingly more eager than usual to be around Saiki and questioning yourself whenever you caught yourself thinking of him in a not-so-just-friends kind of way. He's been trying his best to avoid you until he can figure out how to dispose of these feelings without them growing and without you catching on, as it seemed that they only intensified each time he saw you, and that wasn’t something he wanted.

Yet here you were, and for some reason, you were also in a Santa getup like Kusuo.

And after recovering from your initial moment of shock, you spoke out into the quiet, frigid atomosphere.  “Kusuo? Is that you?”

-

As you lived near Kusuo, the two of you accompanied each other on your walks home. You both removed your beards and hats to see and talk to each other properly, and you anxiously explained to Saiki the reasoning behind your getup after he explained his own, flustered that he caught you at such an embarrassing time. 

“Well, my work required me to wear something festive, and I got stuck with Santa out of all our costumes. I would have preferred an elf or even a snowman over Santa. I’ve been sweating all day.” You laughed nervously as you held your gaze to the ground and your beard up in defeat. But then you let your arm drop to its side and you turned toward him with a small smile. 

“I think it’s nice what you did, even if your parents coaxed you into it. Not many people would step up like you did tonight.”

Saiki stared at you exasperatedly. Usually Saiki doesn’t care for any sort of praise he receives, and he really (and I mean truly), doesn’t mean to brag, but he usually receives a lot. He doesn’t think much of it, but something about it coming from you makes him reflect, which pained him. He hates the effect you have on him, which is why he’s been trying to stay away. But somehow, he always keeps finding his way back to you, and you to him. He has to deal with a lot of irritating people on a daily basis, but you were his ultimate headache. Just how was he about to go about this new development in your relationship? It made him uneasy to think that things would have to change between you two, that things were already changing. Was it because he let you so close to him that he developed these feelings for you? That he’s gotten so vulnerable, so much more anxious and scared? Was he right about relationships in general being nothing but an inconvenience? 

Your house came before his, and out of respect, Kusuo walked you to your doorstep, deep in almost dark thought about his feelings. You didn’t mind Kusuo being quiet, and for the most part, your dynamic has usually consisted of you being the more talkative one. Besides, you were both exhausted from your eventful evenings. What you didn’t expect was for Saiki to follow behind you as you climbed up the steps to your porch. When you turned around behind you, your eyes widened in alarm.

“Oh no, Saiki, it’s okay, you don’t need to-!”

By the time he stopped in his tracks, your warning was futile. Saiki stared in confusion over your panicked face, your eyes carrying a sort of frenzied look in them. “What? What’s with the sudden dismissal? I only-”

And suddenly his own eyes widened in panic as he realized his error, his miscalculation. He’s beating himself up for not being more cautious, especially during this time of year. How could he be so careless?

Kusuo slowly turned his head up, almost in fear, to get a better view of the mistletoe that hung above the two of you. 

“My family thought…it would be sweet…”

Saiki stared in horror with his mouth open at the plant before quickly turning his attention back to you. What was he supposed to do? He wasn’t entitled to kissing you, he could obviously refuse. But his stomach churned. Did he really want to be turned down? The thought, even if it cropped up for a second, made him want to slap himself and hurl. 

The two of you stared at each other nervously in silence for a couple of moments before you suddenly took a deep breath. Saiki’s eyes widened even further. “Are they seriously going to kiss me? I didn’t think they’d have the courage to make a move like that. Their thoughts never indicated-”

Warm lips met his cheek for the swiftest moment before only a tingling sensation lingered. It had happened so quick it left him feeling dazed from being pulled out so suddenly from his thoughts. His surprised gaze still firmly held your nervous one, and silence fell between the two of you for a brief moment. 

“Thank you for walking me home. Merry Christmas, Saiki.” You quickly sputtered out these final words before turning on your heel and quickly heading inside, thankful that the door was left unlocked by one of your family members like you had asked earlier that evening. 

Saiki couldn’t help but linger at the porch for a few seconds, staring at the closed door before slowly turning around and continuing the path toward his house.

There was good reason for him to want to avoid you, especially tonight. When he got home and headed into the kitchen to greet his mother, she commented absentmindedly on the deep rose that settled into his face from the cold, and talked to no one in particular about how wonderful and joyous the Christmas season was.

wishing you all a happy and healthy 2023!! thank you for all the support i’ve received this past year <3

[dumbpeachybaby]

it’s still the 31st here but happy new year to all my qts who already started their new year <333 my new year resolution is to post here more, i missed all you bbys 🩷

i hope everyone had a good holiday as well!! what did you guys get this holiday season?? :o

can you believe this used to be my fav shirt a few years ago ( *｀ω´) it’s a size M but now im a 2XL, the buttons are about to burst!!

ill be answering all my inbox stuff n dms soon~ sorry for the wait my loves

i had a family medical emergency so I had to disappear again but I really hope to be more active on here soon. most of you guys are so sweet. s/o to all the sweet sweet girlies I’ve met on here so far!! u guys rock!! mwah, kisses n huggies

[daughterofcain-67]

𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓁𝑒𝓉𝑜𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓉𝒾𝑒𝓈

(Alec McDowell x Female Reader)

𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝: PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE MISTLETOE WITH ALEC 🙏 I NEED THAT MAN LIKE I NEED AIR 😭 anyway love u <3 (Anonymous)

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: Thank you so much for your request, Love, and I hope that you enjoy! 💖

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Alec isn’t really into the holiday season but when Max forces him to go to a party, he starts to get curious about certain traditions. Little does he know that you’d be willing to show him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: This is not accurate to the show, sorry to those who know if Alec has already celebrated Christmas or not. This is in essence Alec’s first real Christmas without having to train or be on any sort of mission.

It was a cold, honestly ugly day in Seattle. There were piles of muddy snow where people would walk, and people would complain about freezing their asses off. Meanwhile some other people would talk about the upcoming holidays and how they should enjoy the time while it was there. Even when that may have been easier said than done for some people.

Alec never would have thought in a million years that he would be standing right here. He knew of what Christmas was because of how Max had described it to him sometime after Manticore blew up. But he never thought he’d actually get around to celebrating it. Not really.

Most of his Christmas’s growing up on the military base were spent either training or working on some kind of undercover mission. He’s never experienced the whole decorating a Christmas tree thing or making gingerbread houses, or anything like that. And since he escaped, he wasn’t necessarily sure that he really wanted to be a part of the holiday activities. He didn’t really see the point.

At the moment Alec had just arrived to the post office to clock in for the day when Max caught him. He lifted a brow as he looked down at the fellow mutant soldier and smirked.

“Isn’t it a little early for you to be seeking me out?” He asked and Max nudged his arm and rolled his eyes.

“It’s way too early for you to be a smart-ass.” Max said, “Anyway, I only came over because Original Cindy and I are going to have a Christmas party at our place and she thought that it would be a good idea for you to swing by.”

“You mean you aren’t going to your little boyfriend’s place for the night? That’s a first.” Alec smirked.

“Logan is coming by too.”

“Right, and you think I’d actually go to a party like that?”

“Why not? You seem to be the type to go to any other party. And it’s not like there won’t be any girls there for you to flirt with.” Max reminded.

“How dare you?” Alec feigned offense by placing a hand over his heart, “You really think I’d only go to a party for girls?”

“You would if you thought the girls were hot. And I know for a fact Y/N is gonna be there.”

Alec’s brows raised up for a moment, “So?”

“Oh don’t act like I don’t know what I’m talking about. I see the way you look at her and the fact that you have talked to literally all of the girls here except her kind of speaks volumes.”

“No one ever said those statistics always have a positive outcome.” Alec commented. “Besides, I don’t care who’s going. And I just haven’t gotten around to talking to her yet. I’ve been talking to some others first, is that so wrong””

“Uh, little on the defensive aren’t we? Okay well, you’re going whether you like it or not. It’s not like you have any other plans other than hitting the bar or the strip club tomorrow night, right?”

Alec rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little called out since that would likely be the only plans he would have. “Tomorrow night? Yeah, I guess it won’t kill me to make an appearance.”

“Good. Now I’ll see you around.” Alec watched Max leave.

Honestly, he hated how much Max was starting to be like a sister - in the sense that she was starting to know him a little too well and she’s starting to read him like a book. But he supposed it wasn’t totally a bad thing. She did tend to have his back the more they got to know each other. He was thankful for that kind of sibling bond - even if she was a pain in his ass most of the time.

While Alec was heading to his locker, he caught a glimpse of you taking some packages and put them in the basket of your bicycle.

So what if he hadn’t talked to you yet? He’s seen the way that you were with people. You were so optimistic about so many things even if this world was shit. You have a certain charisma that pulls everyone towards you and they like you almost instantly, whether you care to talk to them or not. You were just approachable, likable.

Not to mention beautiful.

Sure, Alec has talked to several women and yes a lot of them were attractive. But none of them were quite like you. You had the most beautifully colored eyes he had ever seen, and the way your hair frames your face so perfectly. Everything about you was stunning, but he knew that you had to have some kind of boyfriend already.

Just because Alec talked to a lot of women, that didn’t mean he was the kind of guy to go after someone else’s girl.

In the midst of his thoughts, he didn’t realize he had been staring at you. Not until he saw you wave and he blinked before he looked away, slamming the locker door shut and he went to go deliver packages.

You were a little stunned when Alec abruptly slammed his locker door and walked off. That was a little unlike him.

Then again, you weren’t necessarily sure what he was really like at all. You barely knew a thing about him, much to your dismay.

“You good?” Max asked and you glanced over just to see her and Cindy standing together.

“Yeah, just wondering if Alec’s alright. He was staring at me, I don’t think he realized that he was. But when I waved at him, he slammed his locker and went to start his route.” You explained and Max chuckled.

“Oh don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’s fine. He has his random moments, I swear he’s not normally that awkward. Maybe he had something on his mind.”

You shrugged it off, but you still couldn’t help but wonder what he was staring at you like that for. It was a little creepy if he just did it for no reason. But you turned back to your basket to make sure your packages were secured while Max spoke again.

“You’re still coming to the party tomorrow night right?” She asked.

“Yeah! It wouldn’t be a party without you there.” Original Cindy smiled and you grinned. How could you let your two best friends down.

“I didn’t exactly have anything else planned now did I?” You replied, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Great! Now don’t forget that it’s at six tomorrow.” Max reminded and you nodded.

“I won’t forget, and I’ll see you there.”

As Max and Original Cindy walked off, you grinned at them. You never thought that you’d have this sort of camaraderie when you started working here at the Jam Pony. Max and Cindy took you. Under their wing practically from the first day you started working here three years ago. You had gotten to the Jam Pony two years before Alec did.

Alec..

He was certainly an interesting character you had to admit. Attractive, sarcastic as hell, but he never failed to make you smile even if he didn’t intend to. He just had that kind of personality you supposed.

You wondered if he would be at the Christmas party, or if he’d find different ways to spend his time.

Honestly you hoped that he would decide to come to the party. Maybe that would be the chance you would have to actually talk to him and maybe get to know him a little outside of work.

After all, everyone could use a friend.

You were enjoying yourself at Max and Original Cindy’s party. There was some faint Christmas music in the background but it was mostly overshadowed by people talking amongst themselves and having a fun time.

You couldn’t help but notice how Max seemed to really let down her walls around Logan. He seems really sweet to her and you hoped the best for the two of them.

In a way you envy them. You’ve never found someone that made you feel the way Logan made Max feel. You simply figured that it wasn’t your time yet.

Anyways, you were leaning against the counter top in Max and Cindy’s kitchen while Cindy and Sketchy were talking. You heard about half of what they were saying, yet the other half just went straight though your other ear.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Sketchy waved the palm of his hand in front of your face, causing you to look up at him and then at Original Cindy.

“Girl, whatcha thinkin’ so deeply about?” Cindy asked you and you shrugged.

“Nothing, just watching people enjoy the party.” You insisted.

“Oh come on, now’s not the time for people watching! Here, let me pour you a drink.” Sketchy said and he grabbed one of the solo cups from the counter to make some kind of concoction.

“She’s got it bad for him, doesn’t she?” Cindy asked as she looked at Max and Logan.

“I’d say so. They have their cute moments. Although Max should lighten up a little more and let something come out of whatever it is they’ve got going on.” You let out a sigh.

“Yeah well I give it another hundred years before those two become official.” You heard a different voice chime in. When you looked over, you and Original Cindy saw that Alec made an appearance after all.

“About time you showed up.” Cindy said with a smirk, putting a hand on her hip, “What took you so long?”

“Better late than never, right? Besides, I had to make a pit-stop.” Alec said as he held up a couple of six packs.

“Ah great! We’ve got some extras.” Sketchy said when he came back with your drink and he handed it to you, then he took the six packs from Alec to put them somewhere with the other drinks.

“I didn’t think you would show up.” You said with a chuckle and Alec looked down at you since he was significantly taller than you were.

“I mean I thought about it. But you know Max. She can be awfully…”

“Persuasive?” You completed and Alec chuckled before he nodded.

“So, where’s your boyfriend? Didn’t he come to this thing?” He asked you, and you were confused.

“Was I supposed to have a boyfriend to come to this thing?” You asked with a chuckle, then you realized he looked confused for a moment, “Who told you I had a boyfriend?”

“No one, just an assumption.” Alec said with a shrug then he looked over at Sketchy, “Here, let me help you with those so you don’t spill anything.”

About an hour went by and it was starting to get a little late. Some people left a little early because they had earlier shifts, but the ones who had later shifts or had days off tomorrow stayed behind. Alec happened to be the ones that stayed behind.

Although something caught his eye.

There was a green plant with red ribbon pinned on the doorway separating the kitchen and the living room of this place. Anytime two people lingered beneath it and they were either caught or they noticed it for themselves, they would kiss.

This happened a couple of times and it was starting to puzzle him, did people kiss under the mistletoe on purpose?

“You’re doing that thing again.” Alec heard your voice.

When he looked at you, you were holding two styrofoam cups full of cider and you offered him one.

“What thing?” He asked you before thanking you for the cider. It felt warm in his hands and he took a sip of it.

“That staring thing. I wouldn’t make it too much of a habit. Some people might get creeped out by that.” He heard you chuckle and he figured you meant about the previous day.

“Sorry about that. I guess I should break that habit.” He chuckled and you smiled at him.

“No worries. Just wondering if you’re alright.”

That was… oddly sweet of you. Then again, he knew that it was in your nature from what he had observed about you, “I’m alright. Just a little confused by the amount of make outs that have taken place under that doorway.”

He watched you glanced over to the corridor and he heard you chuckle before you looked up at him, “Do you not know what happens under the mistletoe around this time of year?”

Alec shook his head and he saw a look on your face, maybe shock? “I’ve been told I live under a rock.” He explained.

“Ah… well typically when a couple stands beneath mistletoe, they kiss. It’s one of those Christmas tradition things.” You replied and Alec lifted a brow a little.

“How did you not know that?” Alec heard the curiosity in your voice and he let out a nervous laugh before he rubbed the back of his neck, covering up the barcode.

How was he supposed to say that where he came from, he was a soldier and Christmas traditions were the last thing the soldiers of Manticore were concerned with, “Where I come from, we didn’t really celebrate Christmas or indulge into those traditions. So I’m a little bit of a late bloomer with knowing what some of the traditions are.”

You gazed up at him as he talked to you. This was probably the longest conversation you’ve ever had with Alec, and you honestly hoped that it wouldn’t end anytime soon.

“I see.. well there’s nothing wrong with that. I mean I know of some traditions but I don’t really indulge in them either. I’ve actually never made a gingerbread house, but that’s a big thing that some people do around Christmas time.” You confessed.

“I’ve heard of gingerbread houses. Sounds like it could be… interesting I guess? Unfortunately I’m not much of a baker, not exactly an architect either.” Alecs laughter made your heart swell but you grinned at his response.

“Guys! Come on, you’re gonna miss watching the Grinch with us!” Sketchy called to you and Alec.

“Well, you heard him, Alec! Let’s go.” You smiled and you took his free hand before the two of you ended up sitting together on the floor to watch the movie together. It was the version of the Grinch with Jim Carrey and it happened to be one of your favorite Christmas movies.

“Have you ever seen this before?” You asked Alec and he shook his head before you grinned. You supposed he would have quite a few firsts the more he hung out with Max’s group.

You continued to watch the movie yet you couldn’t help but to wonder what else Alec had missed out on if he’s never heard of the mistletoe thing, never made a gingerbread house, or even seen the grinch. Then you wondered what exactly he had done.

Meanwhile Alec watched the movie for the first time and he could see why you liked it. It was actually pretty funny. Although it was kinda pathetic that an entire town bullied a kid into self isolation. What a shitty thing to do.

When he glanced down at you, he noticed that you seemed to be off in your own little world while you enjoyed the movie. He noticed that this is probably the happiest he’s seen you, surrounded by Christmas related activities and parties. Even at work you seemed to smile more.

Honestly, seeing you like this was uplifting in a way. It gave him a break from the shitty job he had or the memories of those past Christmases with missions he had to deal with. He wouldn’t mind if you taught him some traditions or even did some of those traditions with him.

He wondered what experiences you’ve had with the holiday growing up, it kind of made him wonder what he and so many other transgenics like him missed out on because of their upbringing.

On the flipped side, Max had been in the very same shoes that he was in, and now here she was hosting Christmas parties and having fun. He was excited to be out of that military base so he could experience all of these things too, really experience them without worrying about blowing some kind of cover he was under.

While he turned his attention back to the movie on the screen, he placed his arm around your shoulder, deciding to make a move now that he knew you didn’t have a boyfriend - a fact that still shocked him - and he could feel you relax beneath his touch. He grinned to himself the moment he felt your head on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, every year you felt like when you watch the Grinch, or any Christmas movie for that matter, the film got shorter and shorter. It felt like only thirty minutes had gone by and it was over. When the movie ended, some people said their goodbyes and decided to call it a night.

You decided to stay behind with Sketchy, Logan and Alec to help clean up the place so it wasn’t too much of a disaster to deal with the following morning.

You were in the kitchen washing some of the dishes so Max or Original Cindy wouldn’t worry about them, and while you were doing that Alec happened to come in with a trash bag full of cups and cans and other trash guests left behind.

“Can I ask you something?” You finally spoke.

“Yeah, shoot.”

“How come you’ve never talked to me before tonight?” You asked curiously. That question had been in your mind for a while, even before that night had even started, and you couldn’t help but wonder about it.

“Honestly, I dunno. You seem friendly and I know I’ve had different opportunities to talk. But I guess at work all we really get is a quick ‘hello’ before we go on our routes. Never had the time to have more of a conversation than just that.” He said.

And you supposed that could be a fair argument. It was rare that the two of you have had the same shifts. And when you saw each other any other time, it was like he said: if you two were to actually talk, you didn’t really get a word in before it was time to go on the routes. Normal was a little relentless with how he runs things at work.

“Yeah, I guess with Normal being up everyone’s ass it kind of makes it hard to have longer talks.” You said, but it still felt like he was holding the truth back - whatever his truth was. You wouldn’t push him though. Honestly you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what his truth was.

“Now it’s my turn to ask you a question.” You heard Alec say as you finished up with the dishes.

“Okay?”

“How come you didn’t have anyone to bring you to this thing?” He asked, causing you to lift a brow.

“Anyone meaning a boyfriend sort of anyone?” You laughed and he shrugged as he tied a knot in the trash bag so it could be taken out.

“Well, it could be any mixture of things I suppose. Maybe it could be because I haven’t really been talking to guys at work and caught their interest yet. Maybe it’s because a the one person I would have an interest in hasn’t asked me out yet. Maybe it’s just because I don’t quite get out much and my life is mostly between work and home.” You shrugged.

“A mixture of those, huh?” Alec chuckled.

“And since you brought that up, how come you didn’t have a girlfriend to come along with you? I mean you’re bound to be someone’s type.” You said with a teasing tone and a smirk, causing Alec to chuckle a little.

“Well, maybe I have the same predicament.” Alec said.

“Yeah right! That’s so not what I’ve heard. You have no problems talking to other girls, and how come you didn’t have a little arm candy?” You dried off your hands with one of the kitchen towels.

“Honestly? Felt like coming by myself tonight. Yeah I talk to different people but obviously that’s empty flirting and I can do that anywhere I want to. Just didn’t feel like it this time around I guess.” He replied and went to the sink, washing his hands to get whatever gunk was on the trash bag off his hands.

You hummed a little at the explanation, leaning your back against a random wall before you handed him the towel to dry off his hands and he thanked you for it.

“I’m glad you came, even if Max may have had to persuade you to come.” You admitted and he looked at you once more.

“It was actually pretty fun. I didn’t think she knew how to throw a party that was fun like this.” He commented and you rolled your eyes.

“You’d be surprised,” You grinned, “You two really are like siblings, huh?” Then he laughed.

“Sort of.” He said but then he noticed something about where you were standing.

“Well, we’ve established that couples kiss under a mistletoe, but you didn’t explain when a one person is beneath.” Alec commented and he watched you look up above you just to see the plant above your head. Then he saw the way your cheeks seemed to flush in color.

“Well… you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you can figure it out without needing someone to explain it.” He heard you say and he smiled a little before he tossed the hand towel onto the counter next to the dishes before he carefully walked towards you.

“Well, I can’t keep a damsel like you waiting alone, now can I?” He said as he carefully placed a hand on you hip. You could tell that he was being cautious and trying to give you the opportunity to push him away if this wasn’t what you wanted.

A sweet gesture, really, but how dumb could he be to think you didn’t want this? And how dumb could you be to push him away?

“I suppose it wouldn’t be that heroic of you to keep one waiting beneath mistletoe.” You chuckled and one of your hands found a spot on his shoulder.

Then, he carefully leaned down and placed a soft and quick kiss on the corner of your mouth, as if he were trying to be a tease about it. You weren’t surprised that he would be a bit of a tease.

When you moved your hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, however, he looked down at you for a moment before he smirked slightly. Then he leaned down and kissed your lips and lingered this time.

You knew that this wasn’t anticipated, and honestly you didn’t think you would be standing beneath mistletoe and kissing a man you had barely spoken to, but Alec took your breath away with his kiss. This kiss was different than you had expected from him; surprisingly sweet and gentle and he handled you with care.

His lips were a little chapped but they were warm and soft nonetheless. It took you by surprise when you felt his other hand cup your face but the moment that he did it felt like it was just the two of you. You had honestly forgotten that you weren’t even in your own home.

Then, the kiss ended too soon for your liking but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever, even though you would have loved to stay like that with Alec.

“Wow…”You whispered breathlessly and Alec grinned, noticing your cheeks were redder than before.

“It’s about damned time you two did something!” Original Cindy’s voice broke through the atmosphere between you and Alec.

You and Alec both glanced over and noticed that you had a little audience, consisting of Cindy, Max, Alex and Sketchy.

“How long were you guys standing there watching?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Long enough to know that if something doesn’t happen between you two after tonight, I’ll be sorely disappointed.” Cindy said.

“Same here. Alec, you had better take care of my girl, Y/N, otherwise I’ll be kicking your ass straight to the moon.” Max said with a playful smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Wait, you two have been waiting for something like this to happen?” You laughed.

“Waiting? More like manifesting. Max has told me about you two and what she’s hoped to happen.” Logan said with a little chuckle as he adjusted his glasses.

“Awe, so you do think of me outside of work.” Alec teased and Max rolled her eyes and shook her head, smirking.

“Yeah, whatever. Now would you guys get out of here? Cindy and I will finish up with the cleaning.” Max said.

“Personally, I’m wiped. I’ll see y’all around. Thanks for the party, guys. That was great.” Sketchy said with a smile and he held up a peace sign before he walked out of the door.

“I’ll stay and help you finish up.” Logan insisted, but that wasn’t too much of a surprise there.

Then Alec looked down at you for a moment, “You want me to walk you home?”

You smiled up at him, “I’d like that. Maybe on the way we can talk about more of those traditions. I’ll even look into getting some gingerbread houses or something.”

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart.” Alec said and he held your hand before the two of you walked out of the apartment.

Never in a million years did Alec think he would be in a place where he would be kissing a girl under mistletoe, or even talk about something like building gingerbread houses. But he knew that this year would be different and he couldn’t be more excited to what this season held for him now that you were there.

Hello everyone! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! This will be the first of hopefully a plethora of holiday themed one shots and I ok forward to sharing them with you! Wishing you all the best~

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch

[headkiss]

a little on-brand seasonal idea? eddie and a scared reader going to a haunted house, eddies all like “i’ll protect you dont you worry” but then you get separated or something & he finds you crying/upset/anxious. proceeds to be the angel he is & comforts you

hiiii i hope u like it! ty for requesting :)) | 0.8k words, scared reader, sweet sweet eddie

Eddie loves Halloween. It’s his favorite holiday.

This meant that he would drag you along to every single Halloween activity he could think of. You’d complain, but really you were happy that you’re the person he thought of to do this stuff with.

When it comes to movies, you’re usually okay, only hiding in Eddie’s neck or shoulder at the super graphic or scary stuff. In real life, however, you were scared of so much.

Spiders and snakes and every cliche fear, really. Eddie didn’t mind, though, because he liked to protect you. He likes to be the one you yelled for to kill a bug, to call when you were nervous alone at night. It made him feel helpful, needed.

He had to do a lot of convincing to get you to go to the haunted house with him. You hated the jump scares, the masks people wore. But you liked to make him happy and so, you eventually agreed.

He beamed at you, promised not to let go of your hand for a second.

That brought you to where you were now, sitting in Eddie’s van that was parked outside a haunted house he saw in the paper. He was excited, practically bouncing on his feet. You, on the other hand, were a ball of nerves.

When you’re walking towards the entrance and your steps slow, he slings an arm over your shoulders, urging you to walk with him.

“Don’t you worry, baby. I’ll protect you.”

“I know. Just scared.”

“That’s the point!” He’s being overly positive to try and make you feel better. It’s kind of working. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

You can't imagine describing this as fun, but you walk inside with him anyways.

He makes good on his promise to hold your hand, he doesn’t let go at all. He even takes his free one to give you brief hugs after each scare. You certainly aren’t having fun and you feel awful about it, but he does help you feel safer.

It’s not until the very last jump scare that the experience is completely ruined.

You could see the exit, and by mistake, you let your guard down, stopped clinging onto Eddie’s arm the way you had been for the majority of the haunted house. Then, some sort of thing jumps out at you while fake spiders drop from the ceiling, thin strings holding them just above your heads.

You actually scream this time, not just a squeal or a scared gasp. A full on scream. You get so scared your eyes fill with tears.

As soon as Eddie hears that scream he knows to get you out of there so he squeezes your hand tight and pulls you until you’re outside. He doesn’t stop until you’re by his van again, away from other people.

“Shhh. Baby, you’re okay,” he holds your face in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs while you lean against the side of the car.

“Sorry,” you sniff, more tears fall. “I didn’t make that fun.”

“Stop it,” he kisses your forehead. “This is on me, ‘kay? Should’ve known you wouldn’t like it.”

He feels horrible. The last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. He thought that maybe going through the haunted house would ease your fears a little but he’s made them worse.

Realistically, he’s not responsible. He couldn’t have known about the last scare, but he feels terrible anyways.

“Promised to protect you and look what happened,” he says.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” you’ve calmed down some, your eyes still shiny but no more tears have fallen. Your eyes are slightly puffy, you have tear tracks in your makeup. “Not your fault I’m so scared.”

“Baby. I’m still sorry. Still love me?”

“Like I could ever stop.”

It’s true, you don’t think anything could take the love you have for this boy away. He’s so caring, so soft with you and it shows. His rings cool against your cheeks but his gaze is warm. He hasn’t taken his hands off of you, and you reach up to grasp his wrists, give them a squeeze. A reassurance.

“Yeah?” He smiles, “I love you, fears and all. How ‘bout we go home and you can pick a movie.”

“Not a scary one.”

“No, not a scary one. Whatever you like. And I’ll cuddle you real good. Squeeze that stupid haunted house memory right out of you.”

He draws a smile from you with his words. You don’t know how you got lucky enough to deserve someone like him. Someone who stays good when he’s faced so much negativity, someone who loves so completely that you feel it every second of every day.

“Sound like a plan, baby?”

You nod, he kisses you, and he takes you home.

[loversj0y]

'tis the damn season

chapter one - we could call it even

its your first day back home from winter break, and the overwhelming extent of the holidays leads to some interesting rekindlings

'tis the damn season masterlist

pairing: cc!wilbur soot x gn!reader

fluff and angst (quite a lot of angst in fact)

trigger warnings: reader's mother is abusive (not physically) and father is emotionally absent. this will be talked about in extensive detail. alcohol, some suggestive themes, and a lot of anxiety.

author's note: WELCOME! to the very first installment of a multichaptered fic inspired by taylor swift's tis the damn season! this work has been in progress for about. 4 months now so !! yipee!!! hope u enjoy (chapter two should be out sometime within the next week; i wont make the wait too long between chapters) dont like tumblr formatting? ao3 version is available here!

word count: 6.3k

If you had to be honest, you despised the holidays. It was always stressful, no matter how prepared you tried to be. But regardless, being in your final year of Uni, it was pretty nice to get a final winter break before graduation. The idea of staying with your parents wasn’t ideal. They’d spent years neglecting you and taking a toll on you emotionally, but in the time you’d been gone, it had seemed like things had improved. You agreed to go home for the holidays under this idea, hoping to have a nice break from everything, despite the heavy feeling in your chest that came from being in your hometown – that you’d proudly left behind – and the general dread of the holidays.

Wilbur wasn’t exactly the opposite. While he didn’t mind the holidays themselves, he hated the social conventions of it all. Particularly the insistence that you must be with family or else the holiday isn’t worth anything. However, Wilbur seemed to luck out this year. His mother and stepfather happened to book a cruise for the holidays, and all they wanted from him was to watch the house while they were gone. It gave him both the convention of helping out family without dealing with the mental decline that he gets from actually being around them, mostly his stepfather. So, he’d spend a month in his old bedroom, in the town he dreaded because the number of good memories he’d had all involved one person that left not long before he did.

When you’d finally arrived, it wasn’t long before your parents were hugging you and peppering kisses on your face, talking about how much they’d missed you, and asking if you were eating alright. It was loving, and you did appreciate it, but you felt uneasy. As your mother hugged you, it felt unfulfilling as you looked around the room, each familiar surrounding bringing up memories of your mother’s yelling. You’d settled down fairly easily, which tended to be a perk of returning to your childhood bedroom. After changing into something much more comfortable, you’d returned to where it seemed your family members had accumulated.

“Y/n, darling, my goodness, you’ve grown so much since I’ve last seen you! What are they feeding you out there in London?” It was your aunt who spoke to you. She was tame enough, save for when she got her hands on enough cosmopolitans to feel the need to share everyone’s gossip. 

“It’s nice to see you too. And I cook for myself, in case you were wondering.” You deadpanned. Honestly, you just didn't feel like humoring her advances to pull information out of you. You’d fallen for them as a kid, but now, even with little to hide, you couldn’t quite trust her. 

“Of course, you are, my genius. How’s the dating scene been?” 

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, brushing it off, “Boring as ever.” 

She hummed, taking a sip of her drink.  Ah, looks like she may already be ready to gossip, you thought, noticing the soft flush on her cheeks consistent with her drunkness. Your suspicions were confirmed when she continued, “You know, your mum told me she saw that old fling of yours at the shops the other day. What was his name?” She hummed for a moment, “Wilbur! That’s what it is.” 

Your chest turned to stone in a matter of seconds, and you forced out a response, “Oh, cool.” 

It was not “oh, cool” however, it was very much not cool. You and Wilbur had been friends since the third form, and while you weren’t incredibly close at first, you became much closer as time went on and as social circles grew smaller and smaller.  It came to the point where you two were inseparable, the best friend you’d had even until now. Your “fling” couldn't even really be classified as such. Despite how much you loved Wilbur Soot, you and him just never seemed to break that barrier, save for one weekend in your final year of A-levels. You’d planned to go to prom together, neither of you being romantically involved with anyone else, but you never actually made it to prom. You both went and sat in a field outside the back of the school, sharing a bottle of vodka he’d lifted from his stepdad’s stash. It was then that he’d opened up to you about how embarrassed he felt to be leaving school without having ever kissed a girl before. The mixture of his vodka and your love for him ultimately amounted to a few sloppy kisses, a moment’s worth of making out, before the two of you both had to run from a counselor who was looking for any delinquent students. Neither of you ever addressed it again. 

The years you two had known each other eventually culminated in the same relationship that you had with most people these days: you leaving him and losing contact. You didn’t mean to leave him behind, but between a full scholarship in London and his insistence on how shitty London is, you had to leave. 

You thought about him frequently. There were numerous nights where you’d open up his contact and attempt to draft a message, but it always ended in watching the cursor blink as you struggled to find the words. Honestly, you never thought you’d see him again. You knew nothing about him anymore, what he was like, what he was doing. It was impossible to decide if you dreaded seeing him or would go out of your way to attempt to see him. 

After catching up with your family for a bit longer, you decided to step out. Honestly, you didn’t know where you were going. It was late, almost midnight, and you just needed the fresh air. After walking into town, you found the one thing that would realistically be open this time of night: the pub. It was mostly empty, save for a few older folks sitting in some booths around the wall. You recognized the bartender, he was a few years above you back in school, but he always made an effort to be kind to everyone. He grinned at you once you sat at the bar. 

“Well, if it isn’t Y/N L/N. Shit, I would’ve thought you died," he chuckled, "You visiting for the holidays?” 

“Yep. And trust me, I’d quite rather be dead than be around my whole family all day.” 

He laughed, “Let me guess, a martini for the sophisticated Londoner?” 

You laughed back, “God, no, I haven’t exactly been converted over yet. Just a pint.”

“Still the same as before?” 

“Mmhm,” you nodded out, sighing softly. Being here felt a lot less tense than being at home. At least here you didn’t have to deal with the hushed fights and curses whispered between spouses. 

Wilbur had been incredibly excited by the idea of being alone when he first arrived at his old house a week before. It wasn’t long before it got old. 

“Alright, chat, who should we raid?” 

His chat moved rapidly in response to his words. He’d been playing Minecraft with Tommy, not unlike usual, but he’d been live for an hour and a half, which was a long time to hold up a persona for. Once he’d ended, he stayed on call with Tommy through Discord. 

“I dunno, man. I like being alone, like having the place to myself, but I’ve never felt so lonely,” Wilbur paused, “This place is way bigger than I remember.”

“So go somewhere,” Tommy offered.

Wilbur groaned, “You do understand that there is nothing to do here. It’s part of the reason I settled on Brighton.”

“Oh, c’mon, there’s gotta be something there for you to do. Don’t you have at least, like, a park or a pub maybe? You could go meet women!” 

“Tommy, I know every woman in this town, nobody has moved here or left here since I left,” he sighed, “we do have a pub though. Honestly, that’s not a bad idea. I could go for a drink.” 

“See! Just gotta think outside the box. Have a little optimism, man. Maybe you’ll see that person you knew in school.” 

“Tommy, don’t.” Wilbur genuinely considered leaving the call, his heart sinking at the mention of his old friend, “They haven’t been back since they left, alright?” 

“Yeah, but you never know! Have you thought about what you’d say to them if you did see them?” 

“No,” he groaned, “I don’t know why I’m humoring this, but if I saw them, I’d probably be nice. As much as it hurts, I miss them, and it’s not like I reached out much either, so.” 

Tommy hummed, “Wilbur the Wise, you are. At least maybe if you do see them, you’ll be much less bored.” 

“Yeah, I suppose,” Wilbur sighed, pulling an old beanie on. “Alright, I’m going to head out, talk to you later, man.” 

“Have fun!” 

Wilbur hung up the call after a moment, sighing a bit as he stretched. While he didn’t actually want to go to the pub, it was a better idea than staying in another night. Plus, at least he could get to walk his old path and try and see some of the cats he always used to stop for. 

His walk did end up taking quite a while. He only spotted two cats on the way, but he’d given them as much attention and love as they’d allow. But that wasn’t really what took up so much of his time. He kept going back to what Tommy had asked. Honestly, he did not even consider he’d see you here. For a long time  after you’d left for school, he thought that one day he’d see you walking to the shops and he’d go up to you, and just by saying hello, everything would feel like it used to. After a while, he’d lost hope that he’d ever see you again. He’d tried to find you online, some scrap to see how you had been and to see if you were okay, but he knew he couldn’t exactly just follow you without the risk of questions. He cursed himself for a long while over his pettiness in never reaching out. He thought about that prom night often. Part of him couldn’t make peace with the idea that his best friend, someone who he’d fallen in love with the second they’d spoken to him, was now just a stranger to him. It didn’t make sense to him, but  what made even less sense was when Wilbur opened the door to the pub to find you sitting alone at the bar. 

Wilbur��s breathing went full stop when he saw you. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but whether that was from the cold or the shock he felt seeing you, he couldn’t tell. Once he could feel his body again, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He’d have to make a choice right now, and he’d have to make one he wouldn’t eventually regret, but-

“Wilbur! Mate, close the door, would you, you’re lettin' in a draft!” 

You felt frozen in your seat when you heard the bartender– whose name, you were kindly reminded, was Liam– yell to Wilbur. You didn’t know if you wanted to look up at him or look anywhere but him. Eventually, curiosity got the best of you, and you looked up directly into his eyes as he stood in the doorway. He seemed to come back to life after a second, turning to walk towards the bar. 

“Uh, right, sorry, man. Could I get a pint?” 

He sat across the corner of the bar, close but still seemingly holding you at a distance. 

After Liam walked away, he turned back to you, and for a moment, you both stared, trying to find words. He’d grown quite fit since the last time you’d seen him. He was still  tall, but not quite as lanky. His shoulders have filled out nicely.  

You decided to start, stuttering a bit as you began, “Hi, Wilbur.”

He seemed to think for a moment before the look faded from his face and something kinder replaced it, “Hi.” 

“How- um,” you contemplated even asking, but you’d rather ask than be sitting here in awkward silence with the boy you’ve loved for years, “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been…” He took in a breath, a moment to compose himself, before responding, “I’ve been good, actually. How about you?” 

You considered lying. “I’m okay, could be better but…”

“But?” 

“Well, I’m still doing the whole uni thing, so still just living in London. Not many developments.” 

“Right. How is London?” 

You thought back to your apartment. Your shitty apartment and your three roommates who you never spoke to, the leaks in the ceilings, the constant noise, the crowds, the grey fogs that would weigh down on your lungs, the deaths on the tube, the harassment just from walking to campus, everything. “It sucks. The city is horrible,” you sighed, “The school is alright, though. The people are standoffish and don’t talk, but the education is good.”

Wilbur looked as though he was fighting off a smile, taking a sip from the beer he’d been given. “I’m sorry to hear that. Glad the school is good. It may not be my place exactly, but do you mind if I say something?” 

Dread filled your chest. “Well, you have to now.” 

A smile crossed his face, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “I told you so.” 

A moment of processing passed before you burst into laughter. Of course, after all the years you knew Wilbur Soot, you probably could have predicted that would be the first thing he’d want to say to you. 

“Okay, okay, I can admit. Maybe you were a little right. I’ve got my regrets, but despite the city, I don’t hate my choice,” you took a sip from your pint, “what about you? How’s life been?” 

He shrugged a bit, “I’d say good. I did some schooling online and graduated a bit ago. Been doing some work, uh, online, so yeah. It’s been good.” 

“Oh, that sounds cool. Anything I’d know?” 

 “Uh, maybe…” He went quiet for a moment before continuing, “I work for Twitch if you know that company.” 

You shrugged, “I know of them. That’s cool though, I’m glad you found something you enjoy.” 

He smiled a bit, “Yeah, it’s been nice. I’ve made quite a few friends.”

“Really?” That was a bit of a surprise, “Shy little Wilby is making work friends?” 

He seemed to flush a bit, chuckling, “I’ve gotten better about the shyness.” 

“That’s good. You seem to be doing better in that department than I have. I haven’t changed much at all, I think.” 

He hummed, pondering. He stared for a moment, and you almost felt shy under his gaze. Finally, after what felt like ages, he spoke up, “You do your hair differently. You used to part it to the side.” 

You laughed, surprised by the unexpected statement, instinctively reaching up to fix some stray hairs. It brought a blush up to your cheeks, as you couldn’t remember the last time someone had noticed such a small detail as that. You bit your lip for a moment before responding, “Yeah, I- I guess so. Though, to be fair, we kind of had the whole edginess thing going on back then. Had to look the part.”

“Very true,” He snorted a bit, “I still listen to the same music for the most part though.” 

“Oh, let me guess. Favorite band is still Los Campesinos!?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed, “though I play a bit of my music now too.” 

“Oh?” that was a major development. Wilbur spent a significant amount of time in school talking about how much he wanted to play music, always humming some tune to himself, “Will, that’s fantastic. You’ll have to show me sometime.” 

“I could show you now, if you’d like. I’m just watching the house for my parents, so I brought some of my music equipment with me.”

You don’t know what made you so willing to say yes. Maybe it was the fact that you’d finished your pint. Maybe it was just the way that being here and talking to Wilbur made the heaviness in your chest finally lighten up since you first realized you’d have to go home. Either way, before you knew it, you and Wilbur were walking back to his place, chatting lightly the whole way there. 

“Wow, this place hasn’t changed.” 

You took off your coat as you and Wilbur entered his front door. 

“My parent’s haven’t made much of an effort to change things. They think the nineties are still in.” He joked lightly as he locked the door behind you both. 

You chuckled, “Yeah, I can see that.” You followed him up the stairs, “So, you said you were just watching the place for them. I take it you don’t live here anymore?” 

“Nope, I’ve been living in Brighton, actually. I think you’d really like it. It’s still England, so it’s not great, but the ocean is gorgeous.” 

“I’ve been meaning to go down there, actually. It’s only about an hour's train from me, so sometimes my roommates go down there for long weekends. I just haven’t had the time.” 

He hummed, “Well, whenever you do have the time, let me know. I’ve got a pretty nice spare room. Plus, I could introduce you to my mates.”

You smiled softly, mostly to yourself, “Yeah. That would be nice.” 

He sat down on his bed, reaching behind him and grabbing his guitar.  You  took a moment to look around the room. The same posters were still hung up, the dents in the wall from you and him goofing off and throwing things, even the scuffs on the floorboards from when you and him rearranged all his furniture. In the years of separation, you expected more of a difference. The only actual difference was that the room was cleaned for once. You hesitated before sitting next to him as you made your observations. He noticed. 

“What’s up?” 

I shrugged, “It’s weird. Being back here, I mean. I haven’t sat here since A-levels.”

He nodded, thinking it over for a moment. “Yeah. It is a bit weird. Doesn’t it kind of seem like nothing’s changed though?” He chuckled, “I mean, despite the time gap, you always did say being here made you feel safe.” 

“Yeah,” I sighed, “the feeling is still there. I just feel… weird. I’m used to missing you and all of our memories, but I’m not used to being here again after everything that has changed.” 

He smiled slightly, “you missed me?”

I chuckled, “Obviously, man. I missed you every day. Missed having a best friend to bully.” 

He snorted, “Hey, all of our bullying was friendly. Unlike some of the other wankers at our school.”

You laughed, throwing your head back, “Oh god, yeah. Bloody hell, man, I feel bad for their kids. Marshall’s going into medicine, and my god, I pray I never end up as his patient. I feel like his negligence alone would kill me.” 

Wilbur laughed, leaning into you a bit. “God, that is not a man who should have a medical license,” he sighed softly. “Don’t fret, though. I missed you a lot too. I missed having someone yell at me to go outside or cut my hair.” 

You laughed, “Yeah, my yelling comes from a good place, though.” 

He hummed, “True. It did help me not go stir-crazy for a while there.” He paused for a moment, turning towards you slightly. “Wait, if you missed me, then… why didn’t you ever call?” 

You took a deep breath, sighing softly. “Honestly, at first… I thought you might be mad at me for leaving. We did kind of have a whole argument about it, and I didn’t know if you’d want to hear from me. And then, once some time had passed, I considered it. I considered looking you up and trying to talk to you, or even just texting you, but I just felt like it might’ve been weird for me to just text you out of the blue. I didn’t want you to think I was just contacting you because I needed something or something stupid like that. I got busy, and more time passed, and reaching out just felt weirder and weirder each time I considered it.” 

He nodded softly. He didn’t make eye contact as he listened and thought. “If I’m being honest as well, I didn’t want to hear from you at first. I was pretty upset. But after a while, I just missed my best friend. And I was going to text you, but I thought you’d be upset with how we left things. I wanted you to reach out because if I had hurt you, I couldn’t handle reaching out only to get anger, or even worse, just silence,” He sighed, “but if I knew you were thinking the same, I would have dedicated as much effort as I have to keep you in my life.” 

You flushed a bit, “I would have too.” You made eye contact with him and everything felt warm for a moment, as if his gaze was sunlight peering through dark clouds. 

“Now that I know, though,” he started, “I am going to annoy the fuck out of you.”

You laughed loudly at that, grinning up at him, “I wouldn’t have it any other way. We’ve got a few years to make up for after all.” 

He grinned softly, looking down for a moment. He pulled his guitar up a bit, smiling, “Well, now that that’s settled. Let me play you something.” 

Wilbur’s music was beautiful. He played for an hour before he decided to stop, something about not wanting to play anything he hadn’t quite finished yet. 

“Always the perfectionist, you are,” you commented as he placed his guitar down. 

“Not always, I’ve gotten better about it. But I want to impress you mostly.” 

“Really?” He sat back down on the bed next to you, “You wanted to impress me?” 

He nodded, humming out a soft ‘mmhm’. 

“If I knew we were trying to impress each other, I would’ve made my life sound much cooler.” 

“Oh, really, how so?” 

“I dunno, would’ve made it sound like I have some millionaire boyfriend who takes me to Spain for a casual date.” 

He hesitated, his teeth taking his bottom lip in thought. “Do you have one?”

“A millionaire boyfriend?” You laughed out, “No, Wilbur, I d-“

“No, I just meant like, a boyfriend.” 

“Oh.” You frowned a bit, “No. I don’t. Haven’t exactly gotten to know many people there. Plus, all the men are quite shit.” 

He nodded, “Just like everything else in London?”

“Pretty much,” You chuckled softly, “What about you though? A handsome guy like you in Brighton, I’m sure you’ve gotten yourself, someone, by now.”

He shrugged, “Tried it out for a while, but I just didn’t have much luck.” He stopped as he processed your response in full, “Hold on, handsome? You think I’m handsome?” He teased. 

You lightly blushed, rolling your eyes, “Obviously, man. You’ve always been quite fit. Especially with that haircut rather than that straight line cut you used to have.” 

He laughed, “God, that was horrendous. Well, wait, how about now,” he took his hands and pushed his hair back, revealing his forehead. 

You burst out laughing, “Somehow, yes, even if your forehead takes up half your face.” 

He laughed, moving his hands and shaking his head to get his hair to fall back into place. “I can safely say, I find myself quite flattered. Especially coming from an incredibly pretty person such as yourself.” 

You flushed a soft pink, “You think?”

“No, I don’t think, I just know facts.” 

You blushed darker, chuckling. “Well, thanks.” You lightly nudged him with your side. 

He repeated the action, albeit slightly harder. You two did this for a moment, each going slightly harder until he’d accidentally gone a bit too hard, knocking both of you down. 

You both laughed, him laying his head against your side for a moment, before pulling himself up and holding himself up by his arm above you. 

“You’re still as goofy, Mr. Soot.” 

“Only with you.” 

“Oh?”

“Actually, no. But this kind of goofy, yes.” 

“And what kind is that?” 

He just stared down at you for a moment. You felt yourself flush a bit under his gaze, and you stared back up at him. The light from his room gave him a soft halo glow around his head that made him look completely angelic. You’d always thought him attractive, but fuck he was ethereal like this. 

“The kind I do to make pretty people laugh.” 

Your breath hitched, but you were quiet otherwise. You couldn’t remember a time when your best friend was ever so… bold. Maybe part of you was reading into the tension, but the most gorgeous man you’d ever know just called you pretty. That plus his position above you was enough to make your heartbeat faster. You wanted to kiss him. Something in you felt so strongly the urge to wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him. For some reason you couldn’t quite fathom, though, you didn’t. 

“Well, feels nice being special, then.” 

He laid down next to you, the both of you just staring at the ceiling for a few quiet moments as the tension diffused. 

He turned to you. “I can’t tell if I still know almost everything about you or if I know nothing anymore.” 

“I can’t tell either.” You turned back to him, sighing, “Honestly, you probably still know more about me than I do.” 

“You think?” 

You nodded. 

He thought to himself, “Still play Minecraft?” 

“God, no,” You laughed, “I wish. I just don’t have the time for anything like that. I’ve just been studying constantly.” 

“Unfortunate. If you ever need a break from studying, we could always play together.” He hummed, “ They’ve added a lot of cool things to the game.”

“You still play?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I play a lot. It’s a fantastic narrative tool, in fact.”

“Oh, really?”

“If you have enough people willing to work out a story and act it out, it makes for a cool platform to tell stories.” 

You smiled, despite it being only for Wilbur’s sake. Honestly, you were sad that you didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“What’s up?” 

“Hm?” You questioned softly. 

“Something’s wrong. I still know one of your fake smiles when I see them.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, “no, it’s just… I missed you. I’m a bit bummed that I can’t see the cool stuff you’ve done since.”

“Well,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “actually, you can.” 

You gave him a confused look as he continued. 

“You know how I mentioned I worked for Twitch?” You nodded, “well when I say that, I mean that I stream, actually, so playing live for people and that includes all my stories.”

“Wilbur, that’s amazing.”

“I know,” he laughed, “I’m still shocked people are interested in what I write and create.” 

“If they’re anything like your DnD campaigns, I’m not shocked at all.”

He laughed again, throwing his head back, “Oh, man, I loved making those as convoluted as possible though, you were the one who made the stories make sense. These are more streamlined since we have to deal with so many different schedules and coordinate stuff.” 

“God, that sounds stressful. I can barely coordinate plans with one person.” 

He shrugged, “It’s easier since streaming is all of our jobs. It’s more like assigning work shifts.”

You hummed, “That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I can send you some stuff from it. Though, be warned, without your aid, some pieces of lore are wildly convoluted.” 

You chuckled, “I expect nothing less.” 

You and Wilbur continued to talk for hours, just catching each other up on life and new habits, and every detail missed between the cracks of time you two were separated from each other. You couldn’t be sure when you or Will fell asleep, but you woke up feeling safer than you’d had in a long time. When you’d briefly woken up to the morning light coming through the blinds, and you noticed his lanky arm wrapped around you, you gently reached down and held his hand in yours before falling back into the kind arms of rest. 

You woke up again about two hours later. You were facing him now, both of your legs wrapped between each other, and his arm was still lightly cupping your back. You opened your eyes to see him still sleeping, a soft and peaceful expression on his face. You gently reached a hand up to brush some of his hair away from his eyes. You were so busy staring at his soft features that you barely noticed his eyes open. 

“Good morning to you too, then,” he spoke, his voice laced with sleep. 

Your hand jumped back, a blush immediately rising to your cheeks, “Sorry.”

“‘s alright. Felt quite nice, actually.” He blinked the sleep out of his eyes after a moment, and he flushed himself, going to move his hand off your waist, “Oh, sorr-“

“No.” You stopped him, his arm halting midair, “It’s okay. It felt quite nice,” you said, mimicking his words from a moment ago. 

He blushed, cautiously lowering his arm back onto your side. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Your room feels more familiar than mine, honestly.” 

He chuckled, his laughter slightly gruff from the early morning, “You probably spent more time here than at your own place, so I can’t say I’m shocked.”

You laughed, “Oh, almost definitely. What about you, did you sleep well?” 

He smiled at you, nodding, “Best I’ve slept since I got here. I felt much less lonely.” 

“I know what you mean. My room kind of just feels cold. Not temperature-wise, but just like,” you sighed, “you know what I mean.”

“Luckily, I do.” He smiled, “You’re welcome to stay here again, if you like.”

You hummed, “I might consider it. Though I would like to stop home to put on something clean.” 

He nodded, “Right, of course, yeah. I actually have to stream today, too, so, if anything, just,” he trailed off, “text me around eight?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, “That sounds good. I can bring some food from home too, given that I know you have probably just been eating takeout or, god forbid, have been trying to cook by yourself.”

“Hey, I’m much better at cooking than I used to be,” he laughed. “You’re right about the takeout, though.” 

You snorted, “I know you well, Mr. Soot.” 

He smiled fondly, “You sure do.” 

The two of you just lay there quietly, basking in the early air and light. After a few minutes, you sighed, leaning your head against his chest quietly. 

“Is everything alright?” He whispered. 

You nodded against him, burying your face deeper against him while he wrapped his arms tighter around you. You felt emotional all of a sudden as you held onto him: Your best friend, who you’d secretly loved for years. And now, you thought about what held you back in the past. The main thing you were afraid of was losing him, but in the end, that ended up happening anyway. Love confession or not, you lost him, and now, you were given another chance by whatever fateful creature may exist out there. And as insistent as you were to not lose this chance, your logic stopped you. This trip was just that: a trip. In two weeks, you’d be back to your place in London and he would be back in Brighton. But yet there was an ache in your chest, consistent with longing and want but entirely unattainable. 

“Stop thinking so much,” he spoke softly, placing his chin on top of your head. 

“Wilbur, you know that is entirely impossible for me.” 

“Okay,” he trailed off, “then do you want to talk about it, so it can at least be out of your head?”

You did. You wanted to talk about it all, in its entirety, if only just to know if the ache present in your chest matched an ache in him. But you couldn’t. If that ache wasn’t present in him, who would you be to share it with him? The solution seemed to lie in half-truths.

“I’m just thinking about how I go home in two weeks and how much I’m dreading it. I don’t want to go back to schoolwork.”

He hummed, nodding, “It’s probably not helpful to say, but if you dwell on that the whole time you’re here, then it will come twice as fast. You’ve got to slow your brain down a bit. Try and just be in the moment.” 

You snorted, “That’s rich coming from you.” 

He chuckled, “Hey, my anxiety might take over sometimes, but it really does help to try and just focus on what’s happening, you know. You’re safe here,” he lightly kissed the top of your head, “so just focus on being here.” 

You sighed, “I’ll try.” You shifted your focus to the soft sound of his heartbeat against your ear, the feeling of his arms wrapped around your back. Every detail was comprised of him. 

You eventually did have to go home, after receiving a frantic call from your mum about how you “couldn’t just sneak off every time you got bored” which, granted, you disagreed with; you knew this town like the back of your hand, and you’re an adult so it’s not like she can dictate your every move. When you made it home, you went to your room to change and shower, but your thoughts immediately drifted back to Will. You never really noticed just how many minute details you had memorized, like the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or the way he would tilt his head back when something that caught him offguard made him really laugh. You thought about the way he would hiccup in between laughter so strong it made his ribs hurt. The sly smile he would give you when you made eye contact but neither of you had anything to say.  Your thoughts were entirely consumed by him. 

By the time it was dinner, you had done almost extensive research into Wilbur’s online persona. You watched as many videos as you could, some of his, some of them fan-made. It was a weird concept, your best friend having fans. You’d gone onto the online space briefly before backing away. You didn’t exactly want to intrude on fan debates given how much you knew about Wilbur really. It was odd watching him talk to his chat and everything. It was so different. He didn’t seem like the shy, almost moody, boy you knew. He was much more confident and comfortable. It did warm your heart to see him being so strong in himself. Your mind wonderer over this new information, how different he was from the person you knew, as you ate. You almost didn’t hear your mum speaking to you. 

“Dear, are you listening?”

You brought yourself out of your thoughts, grimacing. She hated when you weren’t listening, “Oh, sorry. No, uhm, what’s up?” 

She frowned, giving you a cold stare, “I asked if you’ve found any jobs lined up yet. For after graduation?” 

You sighed, “Not yet, Mum.”

“Because my old work friend, Charles, he could use the extra folks there. They’re looking into expanding into America.” She never actually cared much about what you wanted to do, always trying to push you into the field she wanted you to pursue. 

“I’ll be fine. I can find a job myself. And Charles doesn’t even work in the same field my degree is in.” 

“Just trying to help,” she tutted, tucking her arms defensively in front of her. “What’s on your mind these days?” 

You shrugged tensely, “School and work. I haven’t had time for much else.”

She cooed, almost mocking, “You really should be looking into a relationship, dearie. You don’t want all the good ones taken, right?” 

“God, mum, stop that. I’m fine on my own.” 

“But are you happy?” She laughed, as if taunting you. 

“I resent the implication that I cannot be perfectly fine and happy on my own without the presence of another person to fulfill me.” You spat.

“I’m not saying that specifically, I’m just saying, you really ought to try harder. I’m sure most people don’t find your constant sweatpants that attractive.” 

You groaned, standing. “I can’t be here for this anymore.” 

She did this every year. Constantly reminding you of your own loneliness under the guise of being thoughtful and caring, rather than just understanding that you are your own person who’d rather be alone before feeling like someone’s personal doll. 

You strode to the kitchen, filling a container with some leftovers for Wilbur as your mother tried helplessly to justify her own points. You waved her off, grabbing your bag before walking out the door.

You let out a sigh once you headed out. You walked to the end of the street and sat on the curb, pulling out your phone to text Wilbur. Once you got confirmation that you could come, you stood and walked the short distance to his place.

He opened the door, and you walked in casually. 

“You look annoyed about something,” he noted. 

“I would like you to take a wild guess,” you hummed, handing him the leftovers. 

He murmured a quick ‘thank you’ before responding, “Your mum?” 

“Still as bad as before, she is.” 

He sighed, “At least you’ve got mine to hide out at. Want to watch a movie or something?” 

taglist: @shubblelive / @superioritycomplexes (dm me or send an ask to be added!)

[clusterbuck]

looked up, saw mistletoe on the ceiling, texted @hattalove a picture, my hand slipped, you know how it goes

merry christmas to everyone celebrating i hope u have a peaceful holiday season 💕✨

buck’s never quite known how to decorate for christmas.

his mother’s decorations were the kind he’d grown up knowing not to touch. the kind meant to impress visiting grownups, not bring holiday cheer to children. and once he’d left, he’d never been in one place long enough to accumulate anything to decorate with.

then he’d come to california, and though he’d never intended to stay roots had started to snake into the very bedrock of LA. job, friends, family—each entanglement made it harder to leave, and over time he stopped even wanting to.

but christmas—he’s never quite settled into what christmas looks like for him. years in LA haven’t translated into years of steady christmas traditions. he’d spent one christmas with roommates he hardly knew, a couple pulling extra shifts at the firehouse so people could be with their kids. one with maddie and chimney, one with taylor; one alone, with a pity invite to bobby and athena’s for boxing day.

he’s always gone along with the flow. he’s never figured out how to make christmas look like him.

except, this year—

this year, it’s one week shy of one year since he kissed eddie at midnight on new year’s eve, a little tipsy and a lot tired of dancing around each other.

this year, it’s six months since the lease on his loft was up and he moved into the diaz house, the final piece of the puzzle of their lives slotting into place.

this year, they’ve decorated for halloween and thanksgiving together, and buck doesn’t blink when eddie starts getting the christmas decorations out.

“you didn’t—” eddie starts, standing in the living room doorway holding a plastic storage bin.

buck closes his book, turning to give eddie his full attention.

“you didn’t bring any holiday stuff when you moved in,” eddie says. “right? i can’t find—”

“yeah,” buck says. “i don’t know, i guess i just never really had any. why?”

“just wanted to make sure you weren’t getting steamrollered by diaz traditions,” eddie says, and buck grins.

“you can steamroller me any day,” he says with an exaggerated wink.

eddie bursts out laughing. “that doesn’t even make sense,” he tries to protest, and buck gets off the couch and cuts off any remaining argument with a kiss.

“baby,” he says, taking the storage bin from eddie and setting it on the floor so he can start to look through it. “i don’t have any traditions. i’m happy to be steamrollered by yours.”

eddie still looks a little dubious, and buck rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss him again.

“i promise it’s fine,” buck murmurs. “just show me where things go.”

“it’s not really that particular,” eddie says—

and proceeds to prove himself wrong, time and time again, as he adjusts buck’s ornament placements and tweaks garlands and moves things three inches to the right.

buck just grins, and gets to work on memorising what christmas at the diaz house is meant to look like, so he’ll know what to do next year.

when everything is finally done, buck sits on the floor in the middle of the living room and leans back on his hands, surveying the room.

“steamrolling looks pretty good to me,” he says, and eddie gives him that smile, the one that’s so impossibly fond he sometimes doesn’t know where eddie keeps it all.

“hey,” eddie says, still smiling. “look up.”

buck cranes his neck, then lets his arms go limp and lies back on the floor, staring at the ceiling above him. “oh,” he says. “is that—”

“mistletoe,” eddie confirms. he sits on the floor next to buck and holds out a hand, pulling buck to a sitting position. “merry christmas, baby.” his other hand reaches for buck’s face, fingertips feathering along his jaw as he leans in for a kiss. warmth spreads through buck, warmth and love and the feeling of belonging. of being known. of being home.

and buck may not have any christmas traditions, but—

this feels like a good way to start.

[josefavomjaaga]

Hi Josefa I hope u're doing well and I hope u had a great holiday season!!! c:

I was wondering if you could tell me anything about Eugène in relation to Jerôme Bonaparte? Since they are quite close in age with Jerôme being younger, I was wondering if they had any relationship to one another, and what they thought of each other. I remember hearing about Jerôme being jealous of Eugène for what he perceived as "receiving special treatment" and being prioritized over him by Napoleon, but there weren't any specific sources linked to this statement and I don't know if there is any credence to it 🤔, Yaggy recommended that I should ask u about it because u know a lot about Eugène ^-^

Thank you, @flowwochair, and all best wishes to you, too. May 2024 have nothing but flowers for you!

Your question reminds me of the looong list of unanswered Asks! in my inbox, and that one of my new year's resolutions was to finally get to them. What can I say? I've never been good with that resolution thingie.

Might as well start with yours.

From what I have read, Jérôme Bonaparte and Eugène Beauharnais originally got along rather fine. They actually went to the same school for some time, the "Collège des Irlandais", and it's quite likely that Bonaparte sent his younger brother to this institution because Josephine's son was also there.

If you remember the timeline for Jérôme's naval career that I once put together for you (please scroll way, way down, it's in one of the reblogs 😊), the author also said a bit about Jérôme's school education. Apparently the two boys, Eugène 15 and Jérôme 12 years old, both lived in that boarding school from January 1796 to April 1797. That means, during the time when both Jérôme's older brother Napoleon and Eugène's mother Josephine were away in Italy.

With regards to Jérôme, I feel like it's also interesting to note that when Joseph and Napoleon left for France in 1779, the three youngest Bonaparte siblings Pauline, Caroline and Jérôme had not even been born yet. And Carlo died a short time after Jérôme's birth. I'm pretty sure the two older brothers felt more like father figures with regards to these siblings.

So, Eugène and Jérôme both had Napoleon as the not-quite-father in their life.

Françoise de Bernardy in her biography of Eugène cites a long letter from Jérôme to Eugène from 26 December 1796, that shows him in best spirits, mentions Eugène's sister Hortense and seems to indicate that the teenagers all got along quite well. Among other things, Jérôme mentions yet another quarrel between the Talliens, informs Eugène that Barras and Carnot expect both Jérôme and Eugène to dine with them despite Madame Campan giving a ball that day, and then goes on bragging about how he had been given a laurel crown by generals and politicians, was put on a table and embraced and applauded by everyone. (And if this happened at Barras', I'm not quite sure how I feel about it.)

According to Bernardy, Jérôme is already "the genuine rascal" that he would later be. Though I would like to put this in perspective, because Eugène at the time also seems to have had everything in mind but school lessons and homework, and according to the memoirs of Arnault, he even was a particularly bad and "stupid" student who drove his teachers to despair. It seems that, at this time, they both were two very charming and very spoilt brats, mostly concerned with girls, hunting trips and being flattered by people who wanted to get in the good graces of general Bonaparte. Jérôme, despite being so much younger, also already comes across as more confident and assertive than docile, polite and often insecure Eugène.

This may already be the main difference between them: Eugène, due to his innate desire to please and to gain the recognition of his new stepfather, will change his ways as soon as he becomes Napoleon's aide de camp and joins him in Italy (July 1797). Jérôme will always only do what Jérôme wants. (And to be honest, I kinda love him for that. Jérôme will always find a way to be a pain in Napoleon's imperial ass.)

I remember hearing about Jerôme being jealous of Eugène for what he perceived as "receiving special treatment" and being prioritized over him by Napoleon

I do not really remember anything about that (but then again, I've only read up on Eugène; this may be the same story from Jérôme's perspective). The closest thing I could find is a remark in the memoirs of Laure Junot about how the Bonaparte brothers would always hold Eugène - despite the fact they could not stand him - up as a shining example to Jérôme, causing the latter to despise his former friend. There also is an anecdote (the source of which I cannot remember atm) about Jérôme being furious because unlike Eugène he was not allowed to join the second Italian campaign (battle of Marengo, 1800), and later demanding Napoleon's sabre from that campaign as a gift in compensation.

Could I imagine that Jérôme was jealous of Eugène? Absolutely. This probably needs to be seen in the context of the Bonaparte-Beauharnais rivalry. The Bonaparte always regarded the Beauharnais as intruders and feared Napoleon might grant them too much money or influence. - Did Jérôme have any reason to? I'm not sure. Jérôme simply was a lot younger than Eugène, so of course Eugène was a step ahead of him in his career. It is also true that Eugène rose in rank very quickly and owed this solely to his stepfather. But in all fairness: so did Jérôme. And while Eugène at some point seems to have started to put in a lot of work and effort, even giving up his comfortable post as Napoleon's aide in order to remain in the military, and while he later as viceroy of Italy often worked from morning until midnight (much to his wife's chagrin), Jérôme seems to have seen his naval career as something of a pleasure cruise trip. Desertion from his post and month-long vacation in the United States included. As to his rule as king of Westphalia, I do not want to judge him because I have not read much about it, and in any case he was given very little leeway from his brother. But fact is: Jérôme was made a king. Eugène was not. So who had reason to be jealous?

I am not aware of much contact between the two of them later during the Empire. Eugène was in Italy since 1805. They may have met when Jérôme came to Italy for an interview with Napoleon, at the time when he gave up on his wife Betsy Patterson. But I am unaware of any reaction from Eugène to that. And later, when Eugène goes to Paris for the first time in almost five years, for his mother's "divorce" proceedings, he finds his house already occupied by - Jérôme. 😁

But the funniest (or saddest?) thing is that, while Jérôme was forced to join the navy very much against his will (as a disciplinary measure after the ill-fated duel with Davout's younger brother), Eugène for his part during his finale exile in Bavaria admitted: "I would have loved to be a sailor."

Thank you for the Ask! and sorry for the long rambling. Asking me about Eugène is a dangerous thing to do because I won't stop blabbering...