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whatsnewalycat · 9 months

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Once in a Blue Moon

One Shot // Dieter Bravo x HotelStaff!F!Reader

Description: You're the only person working when a Christmas blizzard rolls into town and snows you in with a notoriously difficult guest, Dieter Bravo.

Rating: E (Explicit 18+ Only)

Word Count: 12.9k+

Tags/Warnings: one shot, slight dub con elements (power imbalance, isolation, alcohol) although both parties are enthusiastically consenting, hotel guest x hotel staff, blizzard, Minnesota because that’s my best friend, dieter generally being an ‘if you give a mouse a cookie’ ass bitch, kinda enemies to lovers???, Christmas, loneliness, palm reading, food and eating, cannabis, conspiracy theory mention, fluuuuuufffff, smut, dirty talk, a dash of conflict, painting stuff, power outage, poverty mention

Note: Merry Crisis! This is part of a secret Santa gift exchange and a present for my dearest Syl (@all-the-way-down-here @im-sylien). I hope you enjoy!! Have an excellent holiday, friend ❤️🎄

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 2:00 PM

“We are right in the bullseye for what people are already calling The Great Christmas Storm. Blizzard Warnings remain in effect throughout most of Minnesota until Tuesday morning. Forty to fifty mile-an-hour winds, combined with an anticipated twelve to twenty-four inches of heavy snowfall, are expected to create whiteout conditions, making travel dangerous or impossible in the Blizzard Warning areas. If you must travel—”

You kill the engine and look up through the windshield at Blue Moon Manor. The white exterior of the three-story Tudor Revival mansion seems to glow in contrast to the dark clouds hanging overhead. Some rich guy built it as a family home in 1905. It stayed in the family for over a century before a property management company scooped it up. Now the ornate family heirloom is a boutique hotel. Go figure.

You open your car door and grab your backpack from the backseat, swinging it over your shoulder as you step out of the vehicle. As you walk up the path to the staff entrance, snowflakes start floating down from the gray, low-hanging clouds like teeny-tiny feathers, landing on your cheeks and nose, melting on impact.

So it begins.

You press your security code into the door lock, waiting for the quiet beep-beep-beep of approval before shoving the door open to the back office.

Your coworker Jenna looks up at you when you enter giving you a nod of greeting as she zips up her jacket, “How is it out there?”

“Just starting,” you drop your backpack on the built-in bench and take off your stocking cap, shaking out your hair as you ask, “How’s it been here?”

“Let’s just say I’m ready to go home and drink some wine,” she snorts, “Should be a piece of cake for you, though. 202, 203, and 101 checked out early because of the storm, and the check-in today cancelled.”

“Storm of the century,” you mutter, “Merry fucking Christmas.”

“I hear it’s gonna get nasty. Do you really have to stay the whole time?”

You wave her off as you peel off your jacket, “It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I can’t cover some of the shifts.”

“Really, it‘s fine,” you insist while hanging up your coat, “Bossman said he’d pay me double time to stay ‘til he gets back to town.”

“You’re goddamn right he’s gonna pay you double time.”

Trying to change the subject, you go over to the daily checklist, “Ok, 202, 203, and 101 are gone,” you frown, running over your mental tally of guests, “So, what? Just 302?”

“Just 302. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you roll your eyes, then look out the window at the snowfall, heavier now, “You better head out before you get stuck here with me and Mr. Fluoride Mind Control.”

“I suppose,” she sighs, grabbing her purse, “Well, have a Merry Christmas?”

“You too,” you smile and meet her eyes as she extends her arms and beckons you closer. You groan, but accept the hug, face pressing against her puffy winter coat.

When she steps back and starts towards the door, she tells you, “Don’t have too much fun now.”

“I’ll try not to,” you snort, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” she calls behind her as she opens the door, letting in an icy-cold draft of snowflakes before closing it behind her.

You sigh and wiggle the mouse on the computer. The second you do, the service bell dings.

“Fucking already?” you mutter to yourself as you follow the floorplan through the kitchen, into the formal dining room, then finally arrive at the archway to the parlor.

You find the man staying in Suite 302 leaning against the grand piano, thrumming his fingers on the shiny surface.

Wearing pajama pants and a grubby t-shirt, chestnut curls shooting up every which way, he sighs and taps the call bell again. The shrill ding makes your eye twitch a little, but you paste on an amenable smile, “Mr. Bravo, how can I help you?”

He spins towards you and looks at you over his sunglasses, dark eyes flicking up and down your body before settling on your face, “Can I get some towels?”

“Of cour—”

“And can you do that thing where you fold them into animals?”

You furrow your brow and tilt your head at him, lips parting to ask what he means, but he preemptively answers.

“Some hotels fold them into swans or elephants or whatever. You know what I mean? Towel animals.”

There’s no way he’s not fucking with you.

“I, uhh…”

He raps a knuckle on the piano, then saunters off, calling back, “Thanks, you’re the best!”

You stand there for a moment, mouth agape as you watch him disappear up the stairs, thinking: No fucking way I’m doing that.

And yet, half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back office watching a YouTube video on how to fold two towels into an elephant.

Following along with the step-by-step, you make the legs. Easy enough. The head ends up looking like an uncircumcised cock with wings, though. You set it on top of the legs and take a step back, glancing between your creation and the video’s example. As a final touch, you stick a couple googly-eye stickers on it.

“Good enough,” you sigh and tuck the microfiber monstrosity under your arm.

When you arrive at Suite 302, you pause for a moment, turning your ear towards the door. You hear the old wooden floor creaking as he walks around humming to himself. It smells like paint and skunk spray.

You swallow your buzzing nerves and knock on the door, fidgeting a little as you wait.

Inside, a fit of coughing erupts, and he chokes out, “Hang—on—”

His footsteps squeak across the floor to the kitchen. Clink of glass. Water faucet. The coughing stops for a few silent seconds, then he groans and the footstep squeaks grow closer.

A cloud of weed smoke bitch slaps you when the door to Suite 302 swings open.

He frowns at you, crossing his arms in front of his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe, “Hey, uhhh…”

“I got your towels,” you smile, presenting the towel elephant to him.

His eyes drop to the elephant, then he raises his eyebrows, “What is this?”

“An elephant?”

He glances between you and the elephant, flattening his mouth into a line before telling you, “Looks like a dick and balls with googly-eyes.”

The force you use to hold down your laughter makes you snort.

So fucking professional.

Your eyes meet his. An amused smile graces his lips as he takes the elephant.

“Anything else I can get for you?”

“Yeah, can I, uhhh… can I get some snacks? Something sweet, something savory.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” you nod, peering over his shoulder into the hazy room, “Just a reminder, we don’t allow smoking.”

“Oh, it’s not cigarette smoke.”

“I can smell.”

It goes straight from your brain out your mouth, drenched in sarcasm. So fucking professional.

His eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression.

“I apologize, Mr. Bravo—”

“Oh, fuck that. Don’t,” he chuckles, waving off your stammering, “Call me Dieter, by the way. Mr. Bravo makes me sound like a fucking… karaoke machine.”

“Ok,” you chuckle, then put your customer-facing demeanor back on and tell him, “I’ll go see what we have for snacks. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”

He pushes off the doorframe, giving you a nod of acknowledgment as he steps back into Suite 302 and closes the door.

You return sometime later with a silver serving tray hosting a variety of cheeses, dried fruit, olives, spreads, and crackers. When you knock, he hollers to leave it outside the door, so you do.

The remaining daylight you spend cleaning.

Blue Moon Manor has eight suites: one on the first floor, four on the second, and two on the third. Working from the bottom up, you rid the recently vacated units of dirty dishes and trash, then collect the linens and haul them up to the laundry room on the third floor.

By this time, the serving tray you left outside Suite 302 has disappeared. The pot smoke, however, dissipated throughout the entire level. It seems even stronger than the last time you were up here. Almost like he completely disregarded your polite reminder of the no smoking policy.

You decide to table the issue temporarily. If he was still smoking by the time you returned to take his dinner order, you’d remind him again.

The prospect of confronting what your boss referred to as “a very important client” intimidates you, though, if you’re being honest.

Not that you’re particularly intimidated by him as a person or anything.

Sure, he has an IMDb page and some awards, but beyond that, he’s just another entitled guy.

It’s more so the influence he has on your employment that intimidates you. Sometimes your feral mouth speaks before your poorly-domesticated brain can articulate a proper response. If you were to say something combative, and this guy complained to your boss, you’d probably lose your job—a loss you cannot afford.

When it’s time to take his dinner order, you gather yourself before knocking on his door, repeating your script in your head as you wait. Then the door swings open and you’re absolutely blindsided.

He answers while wringing his hair out with a towel. It’s one of the two you brought him earlier. You can tell because there’s still a googly-eye stuck to it, pupil shaking around inside its little plastic dome. The other towel clings to life around his waist, parting to show off a slice of his tan thigh.

Regrettably, you follow your knee-jerk reaction to ogle him, looking him up and down before returning to his expectant eyes.

This results in an uncomfortable staring contest, where you’re trying to make your mouth work and he’s trying to figure out what the fuck you want, as made evident when he asks, “Do you need something?”

“Dinner,” you blurt out, then shake your head, “Sorry, I mean—What’ll you be having for dinner, Mr. Bravo?”

“What’re the options?”

“Chicken roulade or salmon.”

He groans, throwing his hair-drying towel over his shoulder.

“Do you guys have any normal food, or does it have to be upscale bullshit?”

You pause to once again gather yourself, and in that two-second silence he decides, “I’ll take the chicken roulade.”

“Dining room or room service?”

He shrugs, looking over his shoulder into the suite, then back at you, “Dining room.”

“Fabulous. While I’m here, can I take your tray from earlier?”

“Let me get it,” he mumbles, closing the door. While he’s gone, you go over the lines you rehearsed, and when he opens the door to hand you the tray, you tell him, “Just as a reminder, we don’t allow indoor smoking—”

“Look, usually I open the window and use a doob-tube, but, uhhh… the weather outside won’t allow it. I don’t want the wind to fuck up the crank windows.”

“But still—”

“And not that it’s any of your business, but I have a medical condition that I treat with cannabis. This is prescribed to me—”

“What? I’m not—”

“Besides, it should be legal—”

“Ok, you know what? Fine! Smoke away, but don’t be surprised when the manager fines you for it, plus the cost of extra cleaning charges.”

He crosses his arms and straightens his spine, “I can live with that.”

“Great,” you snip, taking a big step back, “Dinner will be ready at six.”

He closes the door a little harder than necessary and you stomp down to the kitchen, fuming the whole way.

Lucky for you, dinner prep involves flattening chicken breasts with a meat tenderizer, which helps tame your frustration. As you follow the recipe, sprinkling seasonings and feta cheese onto the breasts and rolling them up like neat little sleeping bags, potential consequences for your outburst run through your mind. Bad review, getting canned, all that.

Maybe if you hadn’t been dealing with this guy’s shit for the past two weeks, you would’ve been able to handle the situation with a level head. But his haughtiness is fucking grating. He can’t just answer a question or make a simple request. It has to be a whole production that makes it clear: he thinks he’s better than you.

By the time you finish cooking, though, you come to peace with the fact that you’ll probably have to kiss his ass to rectify the situation.

When the grandfather clock in the parlor chimes six times, you plate the chicken roulade and bring it to the dining room, slightly surprised to see him already seated at the table.

“Mr. Bravo,” you smile in greeting.

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you repeat as you set the plate down on his place setting, “Can I get you anything to drink? We have a Sauvignon Blanc that would pair well with the chicken—”

“I’ll take it.”

You go to the sideboard and find a bottle of wine. As you pour him a glass, he wrings his hands together and glances around, “Anyone else coming down?”

“Just you.”

“What about you, where do you eat?”

You shrug, setting the bottle down beside his glass, “In the kitchen.”

“You could eat out here.”

“Oh. It’s fine, sir. Really, I don’t mind.”

His nose wrinkles up under his sunglasses and he shifts in seat. You study him for a moment, sensing an air of loneliness about him.

“Unless you want me to join you.”

He shrugs, “Seems silly for both of us to eat alone.”

“So true,” you nod, clasping your hands together, “I’ll uhhh… I’ll be right back.”

When you return with your plate, you sit across the table from him. An uncomfortable silence settles in the room. The kind that makes your skin feel too tight and amplifies every little noise. The chewing, the utensils clinking, the wet swallows, everything seems ten times louder than reality.

Clearly, it’s not just the two of you in this dining room. There’s a third guest, the giant invisible elephant wedged between you.

He finishes his glass of wine and pours another, asking, “Do you want some?”

“I… shouldn’t.”

“Uh-huh,” he raises his eyebrows, looking at you over his sunglasses, “Do you want some anyway?”

You consider it, squishing your face to one side with indecision.

“I won’t tell on you, sweetheart, I promise.”

Your eyes flick to his, finding a sort of amused playfulness there.

“Fine,” you smirk and push back your chair, going over to the wine cabinet to grab a glass, “Just one.”

“No one’s twisting your arm about it.”

You return to your seat and reach across the table to grab the bottle, pouring only a small helping.

“Cheers,” he holds up his glass.

You mimic the sentiment and take a big sip, then tell him, “Mr. Bravo—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod, glancing at your wine glass, “I, umm… I apologize if I was rude earlier.” You meet his eyes and shrug, “If I’m being completely transparent, my boss will have my ass if the whole third floor smells like weed when he comes in next week.”

He watches you as he absorbs this, face inscrutable.

“But if you want, I can show you the back patio. You can smoke out there all you want, I really don’t care about that part.”

Leaning back in his seat, he takes a swig of wine, then says, “Fine.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile.

“Uh-huh,” he sets down his glass, wiggling around a little as he tells you, “For the record, you weren’t being that rude. Well, maybe a little, but… I don’t mind. Suits you better than the bullshit customer service thing you do.”

You blink at him, biting your tongue, then return to cutting your food and making small talk, “Well, I hope you didn’t have any big plans for the holidays. Traveling might be tough the next couple days.”

He shakes his head, “Not doing it this year.”

“Not doing Christmas?”

“Nope. What about you? Do you celebrate Christmas? Any plans?”

“You’re looking at ‘em,” you gesture around the room with your wine glass and take a sip.

“No shit, you have to work?”

“I’ll be working until the storm passes. Tuesday at the earliest, by the sounds of it.”

“Yuck. You guys have a staff bedroom, or do you get to stay in a suite?”

“I have my pick of the empty suites.”

He pokes the food on his plate with his fork, “Which one are you picking?”

You chuckle a little before answering. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you detect a certain vibe coming from him. Not only that, but he’s attractive in a way you’re not entirely immune to.

“I think I’m gonna try a new one each night,” you tell him, “101 for sure, maybe 301 and 203. Not 201–“

“Oh well obviously, fuck 201.”

“Obviously,” you laugh, shaking your head.

He smiles at you, sparking heat at your center, then both return your attention to your food. The rest of the meal passes in a much more comfortable silence. Not wanting to overstay your welcome around a guest or veer further into unprofessionalism, you rise as soon as you finish.

“I’ll get out of your hair, but if you need anything, ring the bell. I’ll be around.”

“Sure,” he studies you over his sunglasses as you gather your dirty dishes, his jaw ticking back and forth, then he says, “Hey, thanks for keeping me company. It was nice.”

You want to tell him you thought it was nice, too. Or maybe say something about how it felt like a mildly off-putting but not entirely unsuccessful first date. Not at all what you assumed it would be like.

Instead, you give him a polite smile and nod, “Of course.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:00 PM

DING

You look up from the cribbage game on your phone at him, just a few strides away but apparently oblivious to your presence. He fidgets with the sleeve of his high-drama fuzzy jacket, shifting his weight from side-to-side. Waiting.

“Hi—”

“Holy shit!” He startles, gripping his chest, “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Before you can stop it, you snort out a laugh, then cover your face reflexively, “I’m so sorry Mr.—”

“Dieter.”

“Dieter,” you nod as you rise to your feet, stuffing your wide grin into a neat smile, “How can I help you, sir?”

“Call me a fucking ambulance for the heart attack you just gave me,” he jokes, shaking his head, then takes a step towards you, “No, uhh… I was gonna step out to smoke, do you wanna join me?”

“Oh—umm,” you chuckle a little, briefly considering the offer before politely telling him, “No, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” you glance down at his feet, clad in mismatched socks and crocs, “But here, let me clear off the back patio so you don’t have to stand in the snow.”

He shrugs and follows you through the parlor into the dining room, where you tell him, “Just give me a minute, I’ll put my stuff on.”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, going over to the sideboard, “Is this fair game?”

“Help yourself.”

“Do you want one?”

He flips over a lowball glass on display and sifts through the decanters of liquor, plucking out a bottle of finely aged whiskey. A drink sounds good. But the prospect of this virtual stranger fixing you a drink makes you uneasy.

Does he know that it’s just you and him under this roof for probably the next few days? Between the offer to smoke you up and pour you a drink, is he intentionally trying to intoxicate you? Or is he just being cordial?

You realize he’s staring at you, waiting for a response. Heat rises to your face. Shaking your head, you tell him, “I’m fine, thanks.”

He uncorks the decanter and turns to pour whiskey into his glass, so you dismiss yourself to the back office.

After bundling up in winter gear, you grab a shovel, then start towards the dining room. You stop short in the kitchen. The motherfucker walked right past the STAFF ONLY sign and started rummaging through the fridge.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

He glances back over his shoulder at you, “Why not?”

“Because—well, because—”

“Can you make me grilled cheese?”

He straightens and closes the fridge door, turning to face you. You, clad in your coat and boots and hat and all that shit, holding a shovel, just blinking at him, mouth agape.

“Right now?”

His jaw shifts to one side as he genuinely considers the question.

“Can I shovel first?”

“Sure,” he shrugs.

“Thanks,” you mutter, then trudge past him into the dining room.

He follows along behind you, through the hall to the back door, asking, “Do you have tomato soup?”

“Probably. Want some with your grilled cheese?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When you twist the door handle and yank it open, a knee-high snow drift topples over at your feet.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss and flip on the outdoor light switch to peek outside. A strong gust of wind knocks you back a step, carrying a flurry of shimmering, swirling snowflakes. Your cheeks sting at the icy cold sharpness of it, eyes watering in protest.

What a fucking nightmare.

“Forget it,” you huff, slamming the door closed. You prop the shovel against it and turn to Dieter, pulling your gloves off, “I don’t care, can you just use the doob-tube and turn on the fan in the bathroom?”

“The fan doesn’t work.”

You release a big sigh, tugging off your hat as you lean on the wall and kick off your boots, “Of course it doesn’t. Alright, plan C.”

—

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 23RD, 8:45 PM

The range hood’s fan roars to life.

“Have at it,” you tell him as you walk over to the sink and unlock the window, pulling it up a few inches.

Dieter pulls a palm-sized wooden container from his coat pocket and leans back against the stove, twisting the top open. A one-hitter pops up from one of the two barrels of the container. He takes it and stuffs it into the dugout, “So, what, we’re all trapped here until the storm passes?”

You cross your arms in front of your chest and shrug, “Theoretically.”

“Figures,” he mutters, then pinches the pipe between his lips. He pulls a pink lighter from the pocket of his fuzzy coat and brings the flame to the other end. The tip brightens to a glowing ember as he inhales.

“I thought you didn’t have any plans.”

He holds the smoke in his lungs and croaks out, “I don’t,” before turning to blow the smoke into the fan intake.

“Are you upset that you’re snowed in with me?”

“It has nothing to do with you, sweetheart” he glances at you, then takes another hit.

“Ok, let me rephrase,” you shift, casting your gaze to the floor, trying to conceal the warmth blooming beneath your skin, “Are you upset that you’re snowed in?”

He shrugs, “I don’t like being stuck places. Especially another fucking hotel.”

“Whadda you mean?” you frown.

Your question hangs in the air while he takes another hit. He grimaces and steps over to the sink beside you, tapping ash from the little metal pipe with his lighter, then returns to his place at the stove and packs another onie.

“Did you ever watch the documentary Beasts of the Bubble?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t, it’s dogshit,” he snorts and takes another hit. On the exhale, he asks, “You know that I’m an actor, though, right?”

You nod.

“Right, well, long story short… Early COVID days, I was out in England shooting a movie and they wouldn’t let us leave the hotel.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, sensing heavy dramatics on the horizon.

“They wouldn’t let you leave the hotel?”

“My friend—well,” he wrinkles his nose, “Yeah, my friend. She tried to escape, got her fuckin’ hand shot off.”

“Holy shit, seriously?!”

“Yeah, Lauren Van Chance. Pow! Shot right off. Fucking brutal,” he shakes his head and takes another hit. As he blows the smoke into the fan, he coughs a little, then shakes his head, “Anyway—wait, why am I talking about this?”

“Because we’re snowed in.”

“Oh—yeah. I dunno, feeling like I can’t leave… my therapist said it’s a trigger, I guess.”

“I get that,” you search his face, watching him frown at the one-hitter. Apparently satisfied with how stoned he is, Dieter releases a relaxed sigh and sets the onie down on the counter.

“If it’s any consolation, I promise I won’t shoot you if you try to leave. Like… I don’t know, you might need some snow shoes or whatever, but you could—”

He waves you off, “Eh, it’s fine. It’s just a thing, you know? Makes me feel all fuckin’ cagey and on-edge. Restless.”

You lick your lips and nod, glancing at the floor before you look at him, “Anything I can do to help?”

“Bud helps,” he shrugs, “Talking helps.”

“Does grilled cheese help?”

It takes him a moment to understand what you’re asking, but when he does, he chuckles, “Grilled cheese is basically a fucking Xanax.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then let’s get you a grilled cheese.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 10:00 AM

“The Department of Transportation has declared a state of emergency, and urges people to shelter in place as snow will continue to fall in the Twin Cities and across most of central and southern Minnesota through tomorrow. Overnight, some places received as much as 10 inches, with 40 mile-an-hour winds creating drifts—”

DING

Regrettably, your heart skips a beat.

You tuck your phone into the back pocket of your slacks and cross the kitchen, pushing through the swinging door into the dining room. When you get to the parlor, you find Dieter fiddling around with priceless antiques displayed on the shelves of an ornate built-in bookshelf. He glances over at you, “Hey.”

“Good morning, did you sleep ok?”

Nodding, he pulls his attention away from the bookshelf and takes a step towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, “Did I miss breakfast?”

“No, what can I get for you?”

“Denver Omelet?”

“Sure,” you clasp your hands together behind your back, “Hashbrowns? Fruit? Anything to drink?”

“Yes, yes, and yes—coffee, water, orange juice with pulp.”

“Down here or in your room?”

“Here is fine.”

“You got it,” you smile, walking back to the kitchen. The creak of his footsteps mimic yours on the old hardwood floor, so you think he’s going to sit at the dining room table, but the duo whine of the swinging kitchen door takes you by surprise.

You turn to face him, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“May I?” He holds up the wooden onie box.

“Sure,” you nod, clicking the range hood on, then go to crack the window open.

The soft murmur of the radio fills the silence while you prep his breakfast and he smokes. You absentmindedly hum along to the Christmas music, dicing a green pepper, an onion, and some ham. By the time you approach the stove to start cooking, he’s tucking the paraphernalia away in the pocket of his pajama pants.

“Have any big plans for the day?” He asks as he goes over to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.

“Ahhh, well… I think I’m gonna knock out some tasks that are hard to do when we’re busy. Inventory and deep cleaning, things like that. What about you?”

He shrugs, leaning back against the counter, “Gonna try to keep plugging away at painting ideas.”

“Oh yeah? What’re you painting?”

“It’s uhhh… it’s part of a series I’m working on, capturing the essence of interesting hotels across the country.”

“Really? That’s—that’s actually really cool. I love that. And you chose Blue Moon Manor?”

“Well yeah,” he sighs, looking around, “It’s gorgeous. The original features are well-preserved, all the intricate woodwork and craftsmanship. It’s unique, I like it.”

“I agree, it’s a special place.”

“I’m just… I don’t know, I’m stuck at the starting line, not sure what to paint. I haven’t found anything here that feels right yet.”

You look between him and the menagerie of omelet fillings sizzling in the pan, “Have you seen any of the other suites?”

“In pictures.”

“If you want, I can show you around today? All the vacancies are made up pretty. You can poke around and see if you find any… I don’t know, inspiration, or whatever.”

“Yeah?” He grins, “That would be… yeah, fuck yeah, that would be amazing.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 2:00 PM

You may be in trouble.

Not the kind of trouble punishable by anyone but yourself, but still.

What you mean is that you think you might have a crush on Dieter. Or, more honestly, what you mean is that you know you have a crush on Dieter.

This revelation occurred to you about halfway through your impromptu tour of Blue Moon Manor.

You were standing in the sunroom of Suite 203 while he wandered around, jotting down notes and taking pictures on his phone. The snow fell heavy outside, coming down in thick wet clumps that made it difficult to see beyond the border of the property. Everything blanketed in a pristine, shimmering white.

A deep sense of isolation plummeted your heart to your feet. Christmas Eve, when people all across the world gathered with loved ones, and you were working. Not that your empty one bedroom apartment missed you much. At least if you were there, you could lay in bed eating raw cookie dough while watching your comfort tv show. Throw yourself a proper pity party.

So, there you were, wallowing in your circular loneliness, going around and around the drain of self-pity, when Dieter approached you.

“Hey, you alright?”

You snapped out of your trance and looked at him, finding something very earnest and knowing in his eyes. It surprised you. He didn’t strike you as the kind of person who generally cared about what others were feeling.

“Yeah, just… thinking about how much I’m gonna have to shovel,” you chuckled, brushing off his concern.

“Sorry, you just looked… I don’t know, kind of sad.”

“I’m fine,” you assured him with all the sincerity of someone whose pants were on fire.

“Uh huh,” he studied you for a moment, then looked down at his phone and shook his head, releasing a big sigh, “I think I’m ready to move on.”

“Alright, follow me,” you pushed off the window and walked past him. As you did so, you misjudged your space and brushed up against him.

Pure negligence or subconscious desire, you’re still not sure, but the contact was a static shock. This quick jolt of heat that made you gasp and jump away from him, stammering, “Oh shit. Sorry, I, um—”

He chuckled, a handsome, dimpled smile stretching across his face, “It’s fine.”

“I’m embarrassed,” you blurted out. As if it wasn’t obvious enough.

“Don’t be,” he shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged, “Accidents happen.”

“Ok,” you laughed and buried your heated face in your hands, then regained your composure and said, “Ok, let’s see Suite 201.”

“Is that the shitty one?”

“It’s not shitty,” you snorted, starting towards the door, “It’s perfectly fine, just not as glamorous as the rest of them.”

“Uh huh. Like the ugliest Miss America contestant.”

“Sure—”

“Or the uhh… the smallest blue whale.”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Suite 201 is to this hotel what Def Leppard is to glam rock.”

“Wow, ok,” you laughed, ushering him through the doorway into the hall, “Yeah, I think you got it.”

The whole dumb interaction is all you can think about. It plays over and over again. That look, the accident, Def fucking Leppard. The rush of excitement you feel when you see him or even just think about seeing him.

It is undeniable.

You have a big fat crush.

So fucking professional.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you lose count. You toss your clipboard down on the stack of fluffy white towels in defeat, scrubbing your hands over your face.

Maybe a cleaning project would be more productive. The first floor common rooms need dusting, or you could scrub the floors, or prep dinner, or blah blah blah… god, it all sounds so fucking boring.

Curiosity prods your heart.

You tiptoe through the laundry room, out into the third floor hallway, and linger there for an indecisive moment, listening to the low bass of his humming to himself and the thick pulse behind your ears. A few cautious steps towards Suite 302 reveals a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging from the doorknob.

Rejection takes the shape of a stone in your mouth, heavy and hard and cold as you swallow it down. It settles uneasy in your gut.

Dusting it is.

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 6:59 PM

Every minute that drags on feels like an eternity.

The grandfather clock in between the library bookshelves mocks you.

Tick-tock-tick-tock

Begins to sound more like:

He-doesn’t-like-you

You glare at it, then down at your phone, swiping away a low battery warning to continue playing cribbage.

Outside, the wind snarls. Blue Moon Manor groans in resistance, and you wriggle deeper into the sofa cushions, telling yourself: Five more minutes then I’ll check on him.

It’s so dumb.

Really, you know how it sounds.

But not once has he put out the DO NOT DISTURB sign. For two weeks, he has been consistently demanding, never letting more than three daylight hours go by without asking for something.

As soon as you let yourself feel some affection for him?

Can’t get far enough away from you.

He-doesn’t-like-you-DING! DING! DING! DING!—

You sigh at the clock.

—DING! DING! DING!

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter.

The lights die.

All white noise drops except the crackle of the fireplace, howling wind, and ticking clock.

“Fuck.”

Two floors up, something clatters to the ground, then Dieter hollers something unintelligible.

Well, he seems chipper.

You climb off the couch while googling power outages in the area.

Footsteps thud down the steps onto the first floor landing.

“Hello?”

“I’m in the library,” you call, not looking up from your phone as you text your boss.

His steps draw closer, then there’s a light in the doorway.

“This place is so fucking creepy in the dark, Jesus Christ,” Dieter hisses, “What’s the deal?”

You squint up at his dim figure, “Storm took out the power. I texted the manager to see if there’s a genny.”

“Genny?”

“Backup generator,” you turn on your phone’s flashlight, “Sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go see if I can find some lighting if you wanna wait here—”

“I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, sir—”

He gestures for you to lead the way, so you start towards the back office with Dieter hot on your heels. Once inside, you go over to the desk and pull open a drawer, fish out a headlamp, and slide it around your head. When you press the on button, a beam of light shoots from your forehead onto the desk.

“Cute,” he teases.

You look at him, unintentionally shining the light in his face.

He steps back and shields his eyes, “Jesus!”

“Ope. Sorry sir,” you stifle a laugh, grab a second headlamp from the drawer, and hold it out to him, “Do you want one?”

Grumbling under his breath, he takes it from you and slides it over his fluffy hair, then turns the light on.

“Ok, this is pretty sweet,” he admits as he starts wandering around the room, “I feel like a miner or something.”

“There should be a tote in here somewhere that has a bunch of candles,” you tell him as you start rifling through cupboards. When the search comes up empty, you try the closet, where you find a big purple tote labeled CANDLES.

“Here we go,” you pull the heavy container out into the room.

“Want me to carry that?”

The offer holds about as much conviction as a drain holds water. He leans back against the desk, plucks a pen from the pencil cup, and starts doodling on your daily checklist. Barely interested.

“No, I got it.”

You lift it and shuffle past him, slightly demoralized, then immediately bump into the doorway, “Oop.”

His headlamp blinds you, making you wince, then he chuckles, “Here.”

Dieter pushes off the desk and steps towards you, laying a gentle touch to your shoulder.

When you forfeit the tote, you notice the dark smudges dried onto his hands and forearms.

“Were you painting?”

“Yeah,” he awkwardly adjusts his grip, then starts back the way you came. You follow behind him, trying to aim your light at the ground by his feet.

In the kitchen, he says, “It smells good in here.”

“Probably the roast I made for dinner,” you pause for him to maneuver through the swinging door into the dining room, “I can get some for you after we get the candles going.”

He holds the door open with his foot and waits for you to pass through the threshold before setting the bin down on the dining room table.

“Thanks,” you say as he steps aside.

The white candles come in three shapes: pillar, votive, and stick. All of them unscented, so when you pop off the lid to the tote bin, the only thing you can smell is wax and dust and old flames.

You grab a half-melted pillar and ask, “Hey, do you have a lighter?”

He rummages through his pockets and pulls one out, then takes the candle from you. The flint sparks into a tiny flame that he holds up to the wick until it ignites, casting a warm golden glow onto the walls and ceiling. You pass him another pillar. The pads of his fingers brush against your hand when he takes it, sending your heart racing.

“Hopefully this isn’t a uhhh… weird or alarming thing to ask—”

“Oh god, what?”

“Is there anyone else here?” He lights the pillar and hands it to you, “You’re the only other person I’ve seen around.”

You take the lit pillar and set it down shrugging, “There, aren’t umm… no, it’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Where hyper vigilance should be, that old warning to not take candy from strangers, or not to turn your back on a man you don’t trust, something hungry and loud starts to grow. A devastating need for him to creep closer. For him to cross the boundary of what might be considered moral or right in such a situation. To touch you in ways that inspire heat between your thighs.

He doesn’t, though.

He just helps you light candles and strategically place them around the common rooms on the first floor, uncharacteristically reserved. You both remain quiet while you go about doing this, but the silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable. It’s the kind of silence that feels more like a peace treaty than a punishment.

Your phone buzzes with a notification, and you pull it out, reading the text message out loud, “We don’t have a backup generator.”

“Shit.”

“And power might be out until Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? Are you fucking serious?”

“I apologize, sir—”

“Don’t do that,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “That whole… hospitality voice thing.”

The words come out sharp and bitter.

Your blood pulses hot, and you hear yourself say, “I’m a hospitality worker, exactly what tone of voice do you expect I use?”

“Like I’m a person, not a fucking client or whatever. I’m so sick of that shit, everywhere I go people kissing my ass,” he goes to the sideboard and flips over a glass, pouring whiskey while attuning his voice to a feminine, mocking tone, “Oh, Mr. Bravo, sir yes sir, do you need anything? Do you want a snack or a nap, do you need to be swaddled, do you want your dick sucked?”

He pauses to take a swig of the liquor.

Meanwhile, steam might as well be coming out of your ears. Just fucking boiling with rage, needling the red danger zone.

“I hate it. You all talk to me like I’m a goddamn toddler, it’s so fucking annoying—”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m annoying?”

He leans back on the sideboard and blinks at you, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

Stomping over to the liquor display, you pour a drink and seethe, “Ever think that maybe if you didn’t act like a fucking toddler, people wouldn’t treat you like one? I mean, for Christ’s sake, dude. You literally take a nap every afternoon and demand we cut the crust off your sandwiches. Last week you threw a temper tantrum because we put tap water in your sippy cup.”

“Ok, first of all that was a water bottle. And, have you ever tasted the water here? It’s disgusting. Not to mention the fucking—”

“The fluoride, I know,” you roll your eyes, “I know I know I know. It’s gross and contains fluoride and tastes like blood or whatever the fuck—”

“I did not say it tasted like blood,” he quips, pauses to take a sip, which you mimic, then he adds, “It does, though, for the record.”

“My point is that… If everywhere you go smells like shit, maybe you should look under your own shoe. You dig?”

For a moment, you can’t read him. He stares down into his glass, twisting his wrist around in a way that draws attention to the thick-banded rings on his fingers. Then he glances up at you, a smirk playing on his lips, “That’s perfect. Can you just talk to me like that from now on?”

Your head jerks back, and you let out a little scoff, “What, like a bitch?”

“No,” he chuckles, “Like… I don’t know. Real. Real-er, anyway. You seem cool. You, though. Not your toothless, sanitized worksona.”

“Jesus,” you scoff into your glass, shaking your head, “I’m not sure what to say to that.”

“Anyway. I just mean… talk to me like I’m a person, not a fucking guest or whatever.” When you look up at him, he shifts a little and adds, “Please.”

You hold his gaze long enough for your stomach to flip, then chicken out, dropping your eyes to your glass, “Sir yes sir.”

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head, “Uh-huh.”

You appraise the remaining whiskey in your glass, then tip it back, wincing at the burn as you set the glass down.

“Do you want me to bring some candles up to your room, or will you be dining down here?”

“Will you be joining me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, of course,” he shrugs, “If you’re not busy.”

“I think I can squeeze you in,” you tease.

His tongue pokes out to wet the seam of his lips, then his smirk breaks out into a big, boyish smile, “You think so, huh?”

The innuendo makes itself clear. Your face heats up and you snort, “Shut up.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he raises his hands defensively, following you as you start towards the kitchen, “Is it cool if I smoke?”

You push through the swinging door, holding it open for him, “I can’t turn the fan on.”

“Uh-huh,” he ambles over to the counter beside the sink and casually hops up onto it, “Is that a yes or a no?”

After taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons, you sigh, “Just… blow it out the window, ok?”

So he smokes while you pull the roasting pan from the oven and prepare two plates, piling on potato wedges and green beans and hearty slices of roast beef. You wrap up your activities simultaneously, then move back to the dining room.

While you set the table, he goes over to the wine cabinet and asks, “Wine?”

You hesitate, once again contemplating the pros and cons of answering in the affirmative. If the wine goes to your head, you could make a mistake. On the other hand, maybe it would help untangle your knotted stomach. Make it easier to converse with him.

“Don’t feel like you have to say yes,” he adds when he notices your trepidation.

“Fuck it, why not?”

So fucking professional.

With his back turned to you, he surveys the bottles displayed in the wine cabinet, “Pinot? Cab?”

“Actually, I was thinking of breaking out the 2016 Cos d'Estournel.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, “The what?”

“Left side, second row from the bottom,” you point to it from across the room, “Dark bottle, white label.”

Once he finds it, he lifts it from the rack and studies it, “Cos d'Estournel. Ritzy stuff,” he sets it on the table between your seats, “What’s the occasion?”

“What is this, a role reversal?”

He grins at this. Then, as if committing to the bit, he strides over to pull out your chair. When you raise your eyebrows at him, he smirks, “Humor me.”

You roll your eyes a little as you sit down, but truthfully, your heart stutters.

Dieter walks back to the cabinet and picks out two wine glasses, “So? The occasion?”

“I don’t know,” you frown, “Well, I mean, I do know, but it’s hard to explain.”

He doesn’t say anything as he twists a corkscrew into the wine bottle and yanks out the cork, then pours the rich red wine into one glass, and the other.

“It’s just… I don’t think I’ve been in a situation like this before. It’s strange. The storm, the holiday, the manor, the-the you.” He smirks, sliding a wine glass over to you, and you give him a nod of thanks, “I feel like anything could happen or nothing at all and I wouldn’t be surprised either way.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, but a thoughtful expression creases his face as he takes the seat across from you. Not sure what to make of it, you ask, “Does that make sense?”

“I know what you mean, yeah,” he leans back in his chair and swirls the wine around in his glass, meeting your eyes from across the table, “The possibilities within the confines of these walls are endless.”

The way he looks at you conjures impure thoughts. Hand between your thighs, nails digging into his back. Bending you over the table and pulling your hair.

You raise your glass in the air, “To the possibilities.”

“To the possibilities.”

—

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 24TH, 9:30 PM

You sit at either side of the lush Victorian sofa in the library, cashmere blankets draped over each of your legs. Illuminated by the warm glow of candelabras and the crackling fireplace, you flip through a book on palm reading while Dieter draws in a sketchpad.

For a while, he seemed quite engrossed in the project. Brow furrowed, hunched over the pad of paper as he scribbled. But with each monotonous tick-tock-tick-tock from the grandfather clock, he starts to stir more and more.

He finally tosses the sketchpad down beside him, leaning back and letting out a long groan, “I’m so boooorreeeeed.”

“Drama,” you tease, peeking over your book at him, “Can I do anything to help?”

“Can I open another bottle?”

“Go for it.”

Dieter jumps to his feet and clicks on his headlamp. The dancing beam of light fades out of sight as he walks into the hallway.

With a sigh, you look down at the book and try to continue reading, but keep losing your spot. Your attention instead is drawn to the fireplace. Its flickering flames seem to pull you into some kind of a trance, coaxing out bite-sized daydreams and nightmares, trying to predict what will happen when you and your fresh new crush start drinking in the dark.

What happens if we get drunk? Would we fuck? Would we fight? Would he be mean? Or pushy? Would I make a fool of myself?

You sit here for a while, letting these tiny fires burn out in your brain, so engrossed that you barely notice Dieter mosey back into the room.

“Hope wine is ok,” he says as he clicks the headlamp off, then he sets out two wine glasses and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the coffee table.

“Of course, sir.”

He snorts and shakes his head while leaning over to twist a corkscrew into the bottle.

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetheart,” he yanks the cork from the bottle, then pours out two servings, “What’ve you there?”

“Hmm?”

“The book.”

“Oh,” you hold it up to show him the cover, “Cheiro’s Palmistry for All.”

He holds out a glass to you. You set the book aside and take it from him, crossing your legs to get more comfortable.

“Palm reading?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, “I don’t know, it seemed interesting.“

“Have you ever been to a palm reader?”

Shaking your head, you take a sip of wine. Then another. A warm buzz tingles on your tongue and you ask, “Have you?”

He nods, “Yeah. Well, kind of. I dated this girl who dabbled in divination,” he takes a big gulp of wine, then sets his glass on the coffee table and moves closer, gesturing for your hand, “Here.”

“You know how?”

“I picked up on some stuff,” he shrugs.

Leaning forward, you place your glass next to his and bring yourself closer, extending your hand to him.

He holds it like a fragile thing, gentle but steady, “Is this your dominant hand?”

You nod.

Smoothing a thumb over your palm, he coaxes you to unfurl your fingers. His skin is warm and soft on yours as he examines you, thick fingers tracing the creases of your palm.

It feels nice. Intimate, almost. No thanks to the wine and ambient lighting.

“This side shows your conscious mind. Your life right now,” he clears his throat and says, “You’re perceptive, intuitive, a little moody. Emotions tend to run the show, but you’re also a realist. You have a passion for life and adventure, but often find yourself paralyzed by the reality of your situation, leaving you in a constant state of dissatisfaction. Logical, hard-working. You’re independent. You’ve had financial and emotional hardships. Not many serious romantic relationships, mostly flings. But this doesn’t mean you don’t get attached easily. You do, but tend to put up walls to protect yourself and disconnect before it gets too serious.”

Static vibrates through your skin. An eerie, frantic feeling of being seen too close for comfort. You swallow hard and study his face, too afraid to confirm or deny its accuracy.

“Cup your hand,” he instructs, guiding your hand to do so. Furrowing his brow, he examines the soft fleshy bits on your palm, poking and prodding them, “You have a temper, but you’re shy. You’re cynical. Closed-off. Reliable, because you have to be, but you wish you could just say fuck it and run away sometimes. That’s umm… that’s who you are in practice. Other hand.”

You give him your non-dominant hand. It’s shaky and sweaty and as he takes it you chuckle, “Sorry, I’m… nervous.”

Grinning, he glances up at you, “So I’m doing well, then?”

“Yeah,” you gulp, heat rising to your face, “It’s… yeah. Hang on, can I…?”

You take your hand back and wipe it on your pant leg, then reach over to grab your wine glass, swallowing the remainder of your wine. He does the same, then refills them.

While this is happening, you can’t help but notice the thick current of electricity pulsing between you.

You take turns stealing fleeting glances, and when you return to face each other, legs crossed, you’re much closer than you were before. Your knees meet his, maybe probably definitely crossing the line of what is considered appropriate distance for you to have with a hotel guest. Neither of you seem to mind, though.

In fact, it seems like quite the opposite.

As you extend your non-dominant hand to him, he huddles even closer, so close you can smell the Bordeaux on his breath, and cradles your hand in his.

“This side shows your natural tendencies. Who you are in theory, who you will be if you follow your intuition,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to yours, then back to your palm as he slides his index finger along a deep, diagonal crease, “First of all, your fate line is strong. If you follow your intuition, you’ll succumb to it.”

“Ominous.”

He frowns and shakes his head, reverentially tracing the sensitive map of your palm, “No, actually. You’ll have a crisis or two. One big one, at least, some kind of a revelation that causes you to upend your life. But it sets you on a path of vitality and happiness and strength. A few smaller ones, not as momentous, but still significant. The hopeless romantic you are, you’ll fall in love hard and fast, but that’s the one that sticks. You freely express your emotions and feelings. It’s… I mean, it seems good. Who wouldn’t want that? Cup your hand for me, sweetheart.”

You do.

He smooths his thumb over the mounts and divots, tilting his head at them, “You’re stubborn and you have a strong sense of self. Hedonistic. Imaginative. You daydream a lot. I don’t think you’re as reserved and shy as you let on. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism you learned along the way.”

You look up at him, finding his eyes locked on yours. A deep longing bubbles up your spine and you feel yourself lean in a little closer. He continues caressing your hand, dropping his gaze to your mouth, and asks, “Do you want my advice?”

“Sure.”

“I think you should follow your intuition. See where it takes you. I think… you need to let go of whatever reservations you have from the past, because it’s holding you back from a beautiful life.”

There’s a part of you that boils red and hot with denial. It screams from the back of your head that this is all bullshit, he’s just trying to fuck you, to use because he’s bored and tipsy.

But really, you know he’s right.

You know you’re dissatisfied with your white-knuckle, fake smile existence. You ignore your desires and inner-most knowing in favor of security. You attribute more weight to the negatives than the positives in every aspect of your life.

“You’re saying I should follow my gut?” you ask, studying his face.

He brushes your palm with his thumbs, “Yeah. I think so.”

You look down at his touch, hesitantly bringing your unoccupied hand to his forearm, allowing yourself to feel his warmth, “But what if it’s wrong? What if I make a mistake?”

“But what if it’s right?”

Meeting his eyes, you recognize the longing in his heavy-lidded gaze. You bring your hand to his cheek, sliding your thumb across his patchy facial hair, heart pounding, nerves buzzing as you close your eyes and lean in.

His soft lips meet yours. A gentle, questioning kiss that flips your stomach upside down. You pull back to make sure it’s ok. He seems to do the same, dark eyes flicking around your face before slipping a hand behind your head and pulling you back in.

The second kiss holds more conviction. A spark that ignites you both, quickly leading to the third and fourth kiss, at which point they start to blend together, a mess of tongues and spit and gasps.

You climb onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your body onto his. Through the fabric of his pajama pants, you feel his hardened excitement and use it to your advantage, rolling against him to gain friction. He grabs your hips and rocks them in sync with your movements, groaning into your mouth.

Heat builds steady at your core, tingling and gushing through your veins, screaming for more more more. Aching to feel the warmth of his skin on yours, you slip your hands under the hem of his shirt and slide your palms up his back, pulling him closer.

He parts from your lips to take off his shirt. You do the same, unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it aside, then reach back and claw at your bra clasp.

“Let me,” he signals for you to turn around. You do, climbing onto your knees with your back facing him. His fingers ghost along your spine, leaving a trail of twitching, hungry nerves in their wake.

“That feels good,” you tell him, arching your back with a whine.

“Good,” he murmurs, continuing the tedious touch, “I wanna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

When he unclasps the bra, you slip it off while he slides a hand around your belly and pulls you back into his lap.

He leaves a trail of kisses from your shoulder to the nape of your neck, where he stops to massage his tongue against you. A moan erupts from your throat at the tingling, hot sensation it cultivates. His hands roam around your body, over your breasts and ribs and abdomen, activating all those often-neglected nerves, but never staying long enough to bring relief.

“Fuck, Dieter,” you whine, “You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe,” he chuckles, smoothing a palm up your sternum and urging you to lay back onto his chest. You follow the suggestion and recline against him, head resting on his shoulder. Your skin buzzes where it meets his, the warmth of him flooding your brain with feel-good chemicals. He drags his fingers along the soft skin of your belly, making you whimper.

“But it feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nod.

“Don’t you want to savor it?” He cups your breasts and rolls your nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sending a rush of pleasure to your head, “Don’t you want me to show you how good it feels when you finally let go?”

“Yes,” you gasp, nodding, eyelids fluttering closed, “I want it, I want it—”

“Good,” he coos, pinching your nipples harder, “I want it too. Wanna see you fall apart in my hands. Will you let me do that for you, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

He releases your tits and tugs at the waistband of your pants, “Take these off for me, will you?”

You roll off the couch onto your feet, facing him as you slowly tug at your waistband, teasing every inch of skin you reveal. He watches you with lust-blown eyes, palming himself as he drinks in the spectacle.

“Underwear too?”

He nods.

You hook your thumbs under the soft fabric of your bikini, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I wanna see it.”

“You wanna see it,” he mutters, chuckling a little, “Ask and you shall receive, Princess.”

He shimmies out of his pajama pants, keeping his eyes on yours as you slide the underwear down your thighs. His thick, hard cock bobs out and waves hello.

“Fuck,” he sits up and rests his warm palms on your hips, glancing between you and your cunt, “Look at this pretty pussy, holy shit. Come here, baby. Come sit on my lap again.”

“If I sit on your lap, will my Christmas wish come true?”

“Maybe,” he smirks and leans back onto the sofa, tugging on your hand to follow. You turn around and carefully lower yourself onto his thighs, his knees between yours. Guiding you closer, he murmurs in your ear, “Tell me what you want, sweetheart, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

You lay back on his chest, once again letting your head rest on his shoulder, and stroke his cheek as you tell him, “I want you to touch me.”

“I can do that,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead as his hands begin to wander, sliding down your sides to your hips and thighs, between your legs to pry them apart, “There we go, baby.”

When he touches your entrance, you both groan. His cock twitches against your back. He drags his fingers up and down your seam, spreading your slick, hissing in your ear, “Fucking soaked for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh,” you whimper, nodding, watching him pet your swollen clit so soft and slow it sends sparks of need up your spine, “That feels so fucking good holy shit—”

“Yeah? You like the way I play with your sweet little cunt?”

“Oh my god—I do, Dieter, I do.”

A feral noise rumbles in his chest, and his fingers pick up speed, working in quick, tight circles as he pants in your ear, “I love it when you say my name. Sounds so fucking good on your lips. Say it again for me, baby.”

“I love the way you touch me, Dieter, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good, make you feel so fucking good—”

You moan when he sinks one thick digit inside you, making your body buzz with pleasure. Your eyes flutter shut and you reach back, blindly carding your fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek, his neck, tugging on his earlobe, anything you can do to ground yourself and somehow repay the ecstasy accumulating thick and hot inside your belly.

He kisses your palm and asks, “Do you want more?”

A sort of strangled noise comes out of you, but you nod in the affirmative, and he obliges, sliding another finger inside you. They rut in and out at a steady pace, keeping tempo with his undulating touch on your clit. Heat branches out at the center of you, coursing through your veins, making your heart race.

You gasp and nod, “Keep doing that, Dieter, don’t stop please don’t stop holy shit—”

“You gonna cum for me, baby, hmm? Cum all over my fucking fingers?”

“Yes yes yes yes yes—”

Your whole body clenches as the feeling grows and grows, reaching a precipice.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it go,” he pants in your ear, and when you plummet over the edge, whole body twitching with blinding pleasure, he coos, “Theeere we go—”

You whimper and clamp your legs shut, letting out a series of gasping breaths as the waves of your orgasm pulse, then start to peter out. Your tensed muscles go limp, and you open your eyes to look up at Dieter, “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah?”

He gives you a boyish grin that makes your chest swell with desire. You sit up and turn around to face him, straddling his lap with his cock pressed hard against your wet, throbbing pussy.

Tracing the curve of his lips, you purr, “I have another Christmas wish.”

“What’s that?”

You roll your hips, gasping at the pressure of him against you, “I want you to fuck me.”

He moans, eyelids fluttering and lips parting, head falling back against the sofa as he grabs your hips and silently urges you to keep going. You whimper and start to move to the rhythm of his suggestion, sliding up and down his length.

“Wanna feel your cock inside me,” you breathe, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, meeting his dark, wanting eyes, “Want you to stretch me out and make me yours—”

“Holy fucking shit—”

“Do you want that?” you coo, searching his face.

“God yes, please, baby.”

You situate the tip of him at your entrance and hook your hands behind his head, then lower yourself down.

The stretch of him is exquisite. He activates every nerve ending he touches with an aching, hungry need. Your mouth falls open with gasping breaths and pathetic little whimpers, and you hear Dieter groan, “So fucking tight, Jesus Christ—”

“Feels so goooood,” you croak, closing your fists in his hair.

He sucks in air through clenched teeth, digging his fingers into the meat of your ass, and rocks you back and forth, each thrust rubbing along something absolutely devastating. You blink your eyes open to meet his, all lust-blown and wide with awe, searching your face. His hand slides up to your face, cupping your cheek, brushing his thumb against your heated, damp skin.

“Kiss me,” he pants, reeling you in.

You fold over on top of him, meeting his lips with desperate urgency, a frantic exchange of messy kisses marked with gasps and moans. As the heat in your belly grows, you roll your hips faster, and he thrusts up into you, parting from your lips to growl, “You take my dick so well, sweetheart—that sweet pussy feels so fucking good wrapped around me, oh my fucking god—”

“Feels so fucking good, Dieter, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, pressing your forehead against his, nodding in approval as he grabs your hips and fucks up into you hard and fast, “Oh my god, just like that baby yes yes yes—”

He captures your lips in his and you both moan into the heated, needy kiss, static building and building, spreading hot from your center. It feels so fucking good your eyes start to tingle and swim with tears, and you cry, “I’m gonna fucking cum, don’t stop—”

“That’s it baby, just let go, let it go, let me feel you—”

“So fucking good—Ffffuck—”

The force of your climax steals your breath, ecstasy pulsing liquid static through you, then yanks you down from the clouds and sends you crashing into the earth. Your body convulses and you let out a choked sob.

“Oh my god—oh my god, fuck,” his hips stutter and he pulls out, stroking his cock to completion, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your bodies with a moan.

Both of you remain rigid for a few moments, chests heaving, silently reveling the sweet rush of release before going slack. You collapse on top of him, eyes closed, and release a content sigh as you play with the damp curls at the nape of his neck.

He hums and wraps his arms around your middle, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, “How do you feel?”

“Amazing,” you chuckle, “Wow.”

“Wow is right,” he snorts, then pets your hair and asks, “Any other Christmas wishes?”

After thinking about it for a few seconds, your lips part with an answer, but you chicken out and close them.

“Hmm?”

“It’s dumb.”

“Uh-huh,” he pulls back to meet your eyes, “Tell me anyway.”

You chuckle a little, tracing his jawline, “It’s ok.”

He just blinks at you, waiting, so you swallow and shrug, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He hums, pressing a kiss into your forehead, then your cheek, “Do you wanna spend the night with me?”

“Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so. Do you?”

You shake your head.

His gaze drops to your mouth, and you lean in to kiss him. It’s warm and soft and sparks hopeful optimism in your chest, like this is something and not nothing.

When he pulls back, a sly smile spreads across his face, “Your place or mine?”

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 8:00AM

When you wake in Suite 203, it takes a moment for the events of the previous night to catch up to you.

The power going out, the candlelit dinner, the palm reading, the best fucking sex you’ve had in your life.

Was it a dream? Did that actually fucking happen?

But when you hear rustling from the other side of the bed, and feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, reality punches you in the gut.

You stay still and wait for Dieter’s breath to fall back into a pattern of soft snoring, then slip out of bed and take a shower. With the power still out and the blizzard still raging outside, it takes a bit of guesswork to navigate the process in the dim bathroom, but you emerge successful.

When you tiptoe back into the bedroom, Dieter is still sleeping. You get dressed and go downstairs to make some coffee and think about your decisions.

For an hour or so, you pace around the kitchen island, ruminating over the things he said to you, the things you said to him, the way he made you feel, and the reality of your position in life versus his.

What felt good and right last night takes a different appearance in the harsh light of day. He could hurt you in so many ways if he wanted to. He could get you fired. He could be using you. He probably doesn’t actually care about you, he was just bored and horny and you were wrong this isn’t something, it’s nothing and you’re no one—

“Hey.”

You freeze and look up at Dieter, standing by the fridge in a soft chartreuse bathrobe.

“Hey,” you flash a nervous smile and wave, “How’d you sleep? Can I get you some coffee, anything to eat?”

He frowns, squinting at you, “Why’re you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

For a few seconds, he just stares at you, letting tension twist your guts to shreds, then he drops his gaze to the floor and nods, “Ok. Ok sure.”

Your whole body turns to cement. Cold and heavy and unmoving.

He walks over to the French press and pours a cup of coffee, “So… you’re having some regrets, and you’re gonna go back to this now? Miss hospitality?”

You swallow down a feeling like fire, avoiding eye contact as your vision blurs with tears, “I don’t know, I’m just… I’m just kind of freaking out, I guess?”

“What’re you freaking out about?”

“I guess it’s just that you were right,” you shrug, wiping at your eyes, “You know, with your palm reading. I get attached easily and, I don’t know… I don’t wanna scare you away because, umm… yeah.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you glance up at him, finding a warm smile on his face. Surprised at the expression, you sniffle, “What?”

He approaches you, still smiling, “Because you like me?”

Heat rises to your face. You hold his gaze, watching him lean back on the counter beside you, and you mumble, “Maybe.”

His smile grows wider, digging out dimples in his cheeks, “Yeah? Maybe a little bit?”

You shrug.

“And you think that’s gonna freak me out?”

Again, you shrug.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging on your hand. A fresh wave of tears floods your eyes when he wraps his arms around you, stroking your back as he assures you, “I like you too.”

“You do?”

“Cross my heart.”

“You’re not gonna get me fired and ruin my life?”

“What? No—I mean, I hope not. Unless your boss somehow finds out you got dicked down in the library—”

You laugh through the tears, “Oh my god, that would be a fucking nightmare.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look at you. You hook your hands behind his head, and the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds, humor fading from your faces, then you whisper, “This is… this is something, though, right? I’m not crazy?”

“I think it’s something,” his eyes flit around your face, and he shrugs, “You know, I’m a lot like you. I, umm… I tend to keep people at a distance, because I fall easy and hard and yeah… it’s scary. But, I don’t know. I have a good feeling about you.”

You nod, glancing down at his mouth, “Intuition?”

“Yeah,” he smirks, leaning in closer. His lips press against yours, giving you a slow, tender kiss that blossoms in your heart.

When you pull back, he tells you, “I do have one immediate problem, though.”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to ask you to make me breakfast without sounding like an asshole.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you before.”

“Wow. That’s it, I’m docking a star from my review.”

“Uh-huh,” you grin, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I cannot imagine what your review of this place would be.”

He takes a deep breath, then puts on an infomercial voice and says, “Four out of five stars. Gorgeous building, the food is amazing. Truly unique place. One of the employees let me eat her pussy for breakfast—”

You snort with laughter.

“—could not recommend enough. Deducted a star because she said I was an asshole.”

“Lovely, but you did not eat my pussy for breakfast. I’m sure I would’ve remembered that.”

“Not yet I didn’t,” he waggles his eyebrows at you, sneaking a few kisses as he herds you backwards onto the kitchen counter.

—

MONDAY, DECEMBER 25TH, 6:00PM

After breakfast—real breakfast, not oral sex in the kitchen, which was a treat in itself—Dieter went up to Suite 302 to finish the painting he wasn’t able to finish yesterday.

On paper, you had a very busy day. Your daily checklist gives you credit for every single item and some extras.

In reality, you cleaned up the messes made yesterday, which mostly involved washing dishes and following a wiki-how on getting cum out of velvet, and put together a charcuterie board for whenever dinner would happen.

With the remaining daylight hours, you laid on the chaise in the parlor, then the bed in Suite 203, and flipped through books of poems, and successfully resisted your many urges to disrupt Dieter’s work.

The snow stopped overnight, but the blizzard continued to howl all day. Strong gusts whirled the freshly-fallen snow through the air like some kid shaking up a snow globe. But when sunlight started to fade, so did the wind. Everything settled in its place, and the thick blanket of white finally became distinguishable from the nighttime sky.

Inside Blue Moon Manor, Dieter completed his painting, then crawled into bed with you. Apparently it had been just as difficult for him not to disrupt his own work.

He said he thought about you all day. He said he wanted to say fuck it and put the painting on pause to spend time with you, but felt he needed to finish it. He wanted to show it to you after dinner.

Naturally, your nerves have been buzzing since.

You insisted on an earlier dinner, blaming the lack of a lunchtime meal, but the look on his face when you made the argument made it clear he could see right through you. He didn’t mind, though. He helped you pour out glasses of wine to pair with the charcuterie board, then the two of you set everything up beside the fireplace in the parlor and fucking demolished it.

Afterwards, you washed the dishes while he smoked pot by the window. You didn’t even care if your boss smelled it anymore. It seemed trivial.

As Dieter tucks away his onie-box in his pocket, you recount the thought to him. He hops down off the counter and scoffs, “I mean really, what would he do? Fire you?”

“I don’t think he even can. There are three people that work here, and I am by far the most reliable.”

“I believe it,” he takes your hand, leading you from the kitchen to the dining room, “Tell you what, if my smoking gets you fired, you get to stay here with me and make his life hell.”

You laugh at this, shaking your head, “Yeah, ok.”

He turns around, “What, you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I just think it’s the kind of bet someone knows they’ll win.”

“And winning in this case would be, what? You keep working this dead-end job while I drive myself crazy thinking about you?”

“Hey—it’s a good job,” you release his hand and cross your arms in front of your body.

“No, that’s not—” he sighs, glancing around as he shifts his weight from side-to-side, “It’s a fine job, I just mean… I don’t know what I mean. I mean I wouldn’t mind it, you staying with me. That’s all.”

Searching his face, you deadpan, “That’s so romantic.”

“God, I can’t wait for you to see this,” he chuckles, then takes your hand and pulls you along, “Come on.”

You follow him through the dining room into the dark hallway, where you pause to turn on your headlamps, then climb the service stairs to the third floor, coming to a stop in front of Suite 302.

“Alright, lights out,” he clicks the off button on both your headlamps and leads you through the doorway, then the pitch black room.

“Ok, it’s probably gonna look weird in the lighting, but,” he turns your headlamps on, and you gasp.

The canvas shows a sunroom with windows of blinding white light. Suite 203. And there you are, staring out the window, shadows falling over your face.

“Dieter—”

From behind you, he slips his hands around your waist and kisses your cheek, then tells you, “I was taking pictures, you know, on the tour you gave me. And… I don’t know, I saw you there and took a picture because you just looked so…”

“Sad? Lonely?”

“Kind of. More like a, uhh… a palpable kind of longing. Sorrow and isolation. Like you’re looking for something or someone, but you don’t know what.”

You reach back and cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his patchy facial hair.

“I wanted to capture that because it is… exactly how I’ve been feeling for years. Just so fucking lost and alone.”

Butterflies flutter around in your stomach, and you whisper, “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

“Neither do you,” he murmurs, “Better yet, people all over the country will see you and know they’re not alone, either.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod, your light bouncing around the canvas, then say, “It’s fucking beautiful, Dieter. What’s it called?”

“Once in a Blue Moon.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader

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redroomreflections · 3 months

Text

Something with Yachts

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

The Loud House available on ao3

Drabble - Sleepy R and Natasha late at night

"Are you sleepy, love?" Natasha asked as she massaged the temple of your head. You hadn't realized you'd begun to drift off until she spoke. You felt so comfortable here with your head in her lap. The TV is playing some random reality show that neither of you is paying attention to. You shake your head despite yawning. You feel at peace in her arms.

"I just want to be near you." You look up at her. "I feel like we haven't had any time alone."

"Is that so?" She says in a teasing tone. "This morning we scrubbed Lucas's puke shirt. That counts for something right?" You nod and laugh. It's not a lie. When he'd woken you both up early in the morning, he was crying and screaming for her. She told you it was teething.

"We need a vacation," You sigh. "I want you all to myself. No little grabby hands or puke shirts. Call me a bad mom or something but I need it. I might sit in silence the whole time."

"You're a wonderful mother, but I agree. A getaway sounds wonderful."

"And no diaper changing. No toys in the house. No noise-"

"You want a break from me too? Sounds like you need alone time." She says with a small smile.

"Never. You're my favorite noise." You lean up and kiss her lips. Your eyes are heavy and you can feel yourself start to drift. She rubs her thumb along your bottom lip. "Can we stay here for a bit? "

"I'm not going anywhere," Natasha nods. "Besides, I quite like you falling asleep on me. Even if you deny it."

"M' not sleepin'," you say, already drifting. "I'm just... resting my eyes.."

"Alright," Natasha laughs. "I'll make sure no one bothers you."

"Seriously, we need that vacation," You mumble again. "I want you in Greece, with a thong... on a yacht."

"I don't wear thongs so that's interesting," Natasha sipped from her wine glass. "And I'm sure that'll cost a pretty penny."

"I can afford it," You say with your eyes closed. "Just wanna lay with you, in the sand."

"You're starting to talk nonsense, baby," She laughed, but you're not listening.

"And when we're laying there you can just let me slip my fingers under your top," You continue. "Nothing dramatic."

"What happens then?" She asks. You can hear the smile in her voice.

"It's a surprise," You tell her.

"I hate surprises."

"Oh, you'll like that one," You snuggle into her further. "I know how sensitive you get and with the piercings, it can be even more fun."

"For me or for you?"

"Both. It's like a present to myself." You're mumbling now.

"I thought you didn't want anything for Christmas." She reminds you.

"Oh, I want something," You yawn.

"Since you're so compliant Cara wants a car for her birthday. Told me to use my sex powers to butter you up."

"She did not?" You gasp. "We raised that kid to be too open with us. Sex powers?" You chuckle.

"Oh, she's open alright," Natasha agrees. "You'd be surprised."

"I'm sure I would be."

"I was joking by the way," She clarifies. "She said something way worse."

"Yeah, I figured," You laugh. "But I wouldn't mind a car. She's sixteen."

"She's still a child," She argues.

"She'll always be a child. But she's responsible enough despite the tattoo and sneaking out with Avery last week."

"You knew about that?"Natasha poked you.

"Oh, I knew. I wasn't going to do anything because she wasn't out that late, but you better believe I talked with her."

"You're supposed to tell me things like that," She huffs.

"Well, it was in my imaginary list right there with Paige telling me she had a baby in her belly and Charlie telling me she has a girlfriend. " You inform her.

"She's 7!"

"It's important, Tasha." You shrug. "She and Savvanah are the best of friends. I think it's cute."

"It is," She agrees.

"Anyway, back to earlier, you on a thong, in a yacht," You say. "It's all I want for Christmas."

"So we're doing a Christmas present thing now? I thought I had 12 days."

"No, that was for the kids," You tell her. "Though I think nothing can top last year's present." You nuzzle her breasts alluding to the piercings she'd gotten there as a gift to you and herself of course. You can feel yourself falling into the dream world. "I can't believe I got you to get your nipples pierced."

"Believe it," She smirks.

"The most expensive, most sexy thing you've ever done."

"Wasn't that expensive but I guess," Natasha set her glass on the table. "For someone that was asleep a few minutes ago you sure are talkative."

"I'm not asleep. Just thinking. " You tell her.

"Right," She nods. "about me in a thong on a yacht."

"And you fingering me, while we watch the sunset," You tell her. "Maybe we get a hotel, get a spa day, and get drunk. We can fuck on every surface in the room. Even the balcony."

"Sleep," Natasha says pointedly. "And no drunk fucking. I'm not getting us arrested again."

"Again? The cops barely looked our way."

"So you say," She nods. "Don't worry, we won't have to get drunk for that. You can't handle your liquor anyway. So just relax and get some rest. We'll plan a trip."

"Sounds perfect."

"Go to sleep, любимая (darling)," Natasha kisses your head.

"Okay," You rest against her again. You'd think about chartering a yacht tomorrow.

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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alotofpockets · 9 months

Text

Stay the night | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: "The weather is getting worse. Why don't you stay the night?"

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 1.7k

When Wanda moved into the neighborhood with her two sons a couple years ago, you had quickly befriended your new neighbor. Since then Wanda had become a good friend of yours and you’ve watched the boys a lot over the years, you often worked from home, so you offered to watch them whenever you could. Recently you and Wanda had started dating, everything was still rather new, and you hadn’t told Billy and Tommy yet, though Wanda was convinced they wouldn’t mind it since she knew that they already loved you.

It was Christmas Eve, you had just come back from the store, deciding that you could spoil yourself for Christmas. You bought yourself a PS5 after enjoying your PS4 for a long time. While you were installing the new Playstation, an idea popped into your head, so you reached for your phone to send Wanda a message. Y/n: Hi Wands, I just installed the new playstation, and I was wondering if maybe I could gift my PS4 to the boys. I know they always love playing on it when they are here. I wanted to run it by you first though, what do you think?

Wanda: You got it! I know you’ve been wanting it for a while, so I’m so happy for you :) I think the boys would absolutely love that but after all these Christmas expenses, I don’t think I have the money to buy it from you..

Y/n: Oh no, don’t be silly, a gift is free of charge x

You smile at your phone, Wanda was such a good person, and such a good mom.

Wanda: Are you sure? Y/n: Yeah, of course, 100%. I can bring it by tonight after the boys go to bed, that way you can put it under the tree. Does that work for you?”

Wanda: Thank you so much, you are the best. The boys are going to love it. I’ll text you when you can come over. See you tonight x

You pocket your phone and continue installing your new Playstation. The rest of the day goes by quickly, and you light up when you receive Wanda’s text. It had started raining a bit, so you grab your coat and an umbrella, before you make your way over to the Maximoff’s. You text Wanda to let her know that you’re at her door, not wanting to wake the kids. You smile when you hear Wanda’s footsteps reach the door, but your smile falters when you notice how stressed she looks. “Hey, sorry, I still have a lot of wrapping and preparing to do. Vision just dropped off some stuff for the boys, and left them all unwrapped, so I have to do double the wrapping tonight.” You reach out for her and bring her into a hug. “It’s going to be alright, I can help you wrap the gifts.”

Together you work on wrapping the gifts, making fast progress as a pile of red and green presents filled the bottom of the Christmas tree. Wanda was getting visibly less stressed now that you were there helping her out. Outside it started to rain harder, and the wind was picking up, neither one of you was paying much attention to it though, as your focus was on the presents and each other.

When you were done wrapping all the presents you took a little break before you would have to clean up the mess you had created in the living room. Wanda makes her way over to the couch, you follow her and pull her down with you. “You are an amazing mom, you know that right?” She leans her head on your shoulder. “Thank you, darling. You know that you are an amazing girlfriend, right?” You smile and kiss her head. “Yeah, we’re both pretty great.”

After sitting down for a moment, Wanda notices the weather outside, and turns to you. "The weather is getting worse. Why don't you stay the night?" Your brows furrow slightly. “Are you sure?” You had stayed the night before, but never when the boys were also home. “Yes, I know your house is closeby, but I’d rather not have you walk outside in this. Plus, I would love it if you spend Christmas with us, and I think the boys would too.” After placing another kiss onto her head, you tell her that you would love to spend Christmas with them as well.

Together you clean up the makeshift wrapping station that was the floor, as well as some final touches on the present placement, before heading to the kitchen where the boys left out some cookies and a glass of milk for Santa. The two of you share a look before both grabbing a cookie, and eating it, making sure to leave a lot of crumbs on the plate. Wanda takes a final look around the living room, “Ready?” You hold your hand out for her to take. She nods, “Yes, it looks beautiful. Thank you for all of your help.” She takes your hand, and you head to her room. “Any time.” You say with a soft squeeze to her hand.

Christmas morning started by the boys knocking loudly on Wanda’s door, “Mom, wake up! We want to see if Santa came.” Even though it was a rough wake up call, you smile at the eagerness of the twins. “Why don’t you go to the kitchen and check if he found the cookies and milk, and I will be right down to check out the tree with you boys.” After you hear them walk downstairs Wanda turns to you. “How do you want to do this?” She asks you. You place your hand on hers, “However you want to, I’ll follow your lead.” You share a quick kiss, before you both make your way downstairs in your Christmas pajamas.

“Mom, he ate the cookies!” Billy said as soon as Wanda reached the kitchen. The boys both run to hug her, not having noticed you yet. “That’s so exciting! I bet that means he left some presents for you as well.” The boys jump up and down excitedly. “Boys, before we head to the living room, I wanted to check with you both if it’s okay if y/n joins us for Christmas this year.” Both of their eyes widened, “Yes, please mommy, that would be so much fun.” Tommy shares. Their excitement warms your heart. “Merry Christmas!” You say walking down the rest of the stairs, they both come running into your arms. “You’re already here!”

You eat a quick bite before you check out the living room, a tradition Wanda created because she knew how much the boys would be into their toys later. As you are cleaning up the plates, Billy turns to Wanda. “Mom, we know that you and y/n are together, you don’t have to hide it from us. We just want to see you happy, and y/n makes you happy.” Wanda looks between her kids, they know? “You two sure are smart and observant, boys. So, you’re both okay with that?” They both nod, “Can we go check if there’s presents now?” Wanda smiles, “Yes, we can.”

Wanda shares a happy look with you before following the boys into the living room. The boys were ecstatic, looking at all the presents under the tree, pointing out the ones that had their names on them. You loved seeing the family so happy, and took a lot of pictures of the boys unwrapping the gifts, knowing that Wanda was too busy with living in the moment with her kids to do so.

“Mom, Santa left a present for you too!” Billy exclaimed, as he handed his mom a small box. Wanda was confused since she didn’t buy herself anything, wanting the focus to be on the boys. She unwraps the box and finds a jewelry case, filled with a beautiful necklace. She shows her kids and then also shows you, even though she knew that this was your doing, as it was the necklace that you saw her looking at last week when you were walking around the mall. “Thank you Santa!” She says, just like the boys do after opening their presents. “Help me put it on?” She asks you. You take the necklace from her hands and gently hang it around her neck. The boys had gone to find their next presents, so Wanda quickly thanked you for the gift. “It’s beautiful, thank you so much. I feel bad that I didn’t get you anything yet, I swear it was on my list, but I must’ve forgotten about it.” You shake your head and place a soft kiss on her shoulder, “You gave me the best gift, spending Christmas with you and the boys.”

After the boys are done unwrapping all of their presents, and have played with a few of them, you quietly ask Wanda if it’s okay to give your present to them now. She nods and you get their attention. “Hey boys, I know Santa has given you a lot of amazing presents, do you think you have room for one more present?” They both nod their heads like their life depends on it. You grab the present from the cupboard, “This is a gift from me.” You say as you place the present down on the coffee table. Both kids stand up to hug you and thank you, before even knowing what the gift was. They work quickly on opening the gift, eyes widening upon realization. “You’re giving us your PS4?” Tommy exclaims. “I am indeed. I think you will have a lot more fun with it here.”

You promise the boys to set up the Playstation tomorrow, wanting the boys to spend the day playing with the toys that their parents got them. While they are busy playing with their new toys, Wanda takes you to the kitchen. “Merry Christmas, darling. Thank you so much, I’m so happy you joined us for Christmas.” You step into her open arms and wrap your arms around her waist. “Merry Christmas.” You say back and kiss her lips softly.

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#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel imagine #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #tommy and billy #billy and tommy #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #wanda maximov

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imagine-that-100 · 8 months

Text

Will We Talk? | Part 4 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 18.2k

A/N: It's finally here oh my lord. Once again so sorry my writing takes so long these days but I'm so excited about this chapter. Thank you for the suggestions I got after I dropped the teaser, really appreciate all the help and it got my mind back into writing mode again. After this there's only one part left, but its going to be fun so don't fret. Really hope you enjoy this part, please let me know what you think. Thank you so so much for reading. Enjoy x

| My Masterlist |

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

The run up to Christmas was fun. Fucking Alex every other day of the week had been a surprisingly needed stress relief that a month ago you would have never foreseen. Usually the run up to Christmas had you stressed for no reason in particular but this year with your stresses finally being relieved every other night it was so much better than other Christmas breaks you’ve had in a long time.

Alex had certainly been making the most of your arrangement. It was him texting or calling you asking, “Are you free tonight?” Which may as well be directly translated to ‘Do you want to fuck me tonight?’. Every single time you said yes, not depriving yourself of such simple pleasures and it led to you having a very relaxed holiday season.

And now Christmas is over and done with, you were excited for tonight’s New Year’s party. So much so that you couldn’t sit at home and just wait to get ready, you ended up texting Katie and asking her if you could help her set up and thankfully she said yes.

For the past hour you’ve been listening to music and hearing the Cook's Christmas stories of Forest getting all excited when he opened each present. She showed you a couple of videos before Jamie took the little man out for the afternoon while you both got the house ready for tonight.

Your catch ups are the best and you adore your best friend so much. The gossiping and the giggling never ceases and you’re forever finding new things to talk about, it’s a miracle you’ve not discovered everything there is to know about each other after a decade of being best friends.

But it turns out there are some things you are yet to discover. Like a certain holiday that was being planned.

“You’re coming on the impromptu trip away with us, right?” Katie asks, a little out of the blue as if she’s just remembering as she unpeels the Happy New Year banners from each other and handing one to you.

“Depends, when?” You tell her, knowing the dates of this trip will be the deal breaker if you can go, “I’m back in work on the ninth, remember?”

You’ve joined the Cooks on impromptu trips away before, both with their family and their friends. You’re always invited, which you find thoughtful of Katie and knowing that these trips tend to be very random, you’d started saving money for such events so you didn’t find yourself missing out. The only time you denied yourself was when the trips clashed with work which you hope isn’t the case this time.

“Oh, we come back on the seventh.” Katie grins, very pleased with what you’ve just said, “You’re coming.”

“Yeah,” You find yourself giggling at her, knowing she probably wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway. You continue putting up the party decorations as you tell her, “Just let me know how much it is and I’ll scramble it together.”

“Oh no, Alex is paying for us all,” She tells you, as she seems to be having a hard time stretching the balloons out to start blowing them up, “You just need spending money.”

You immediately frown hearing that, bluetacking the banner on the wall and turning towards your best friend to ask, “What?”

“Alex is paying.” She tells you, “It’s for his birthday. Has he not told you about it yet?”

“No, he’s not mentioned it.” You tell her.

You figure it’s best to neglect mentioning how the singer only talks to ask how you are before he ends up saying the filthiest things into your ear as he fucks you senseless. Holidays and other things normal friends would talk about are not on the cards.

He comes over. You fuck. He leaves. Interaction complete.

“Oh well, he probably expected me to ask you.” Katie shrugs, not thinking much of it, “But yeah don’t worry about the money, he’s paying.”

You’ll see about that, you think as you continue helping your best friend decorate, putting the singer out of your head for the time being.

~*~*~*~

I need to speak to you

You text the singer as you’re walking home from Katie’s. You thought about just leaving it but you know if you keep what you're feeling bottled in it will just make you go back into your shell when you’re around him, and that’s the last thing either of you want.

Thankfully those thoughts don’t have enough time to fester because about 2 minutes later Alex texts you back.

Christ

Am I in trouble? x

His response makes you roll your eyes as you can practically hear him asking you. You know for a fact he will have snorted when he got the message through and when he typed that one back to you. So you keep him in limbo for a bit.

You’re not funny

Phone me when you’re free.

Thankfully you’re not waiting for ages for the call. Your phone starts ringing as you turn the corner and head down your road. It’s a little embarrassing how excited you are to get back in your house for a bit and just relax until the party later.

After greeting him, Alex gets straight to the point, “What’s up Y/N?”

“About this holiday,” You start, “Katie told me she wants me to come and I want to know how you feel about that before I start to spiral.”

You can already sense the panic in your chest as you feel like you’re at a bit of a stalemate. You don’t want to let Katie down but you’re also definitely not going to go if Alex wants a break from you. You don’t want to intrude on his holiday. Especially one that’s for his birthday.

“Don’t spiral.” Alex begs, and you swear he’s also outside as you can almost hear the way he takes a drag of a cigarette before he says, “The last thing we need is you spiralling and questioning everything again.”

You can picture the smile tugging at his lips as he says that. So much so that him finding your panic amusing means that you silently want to scorn him.

“I’m well aware of that.” You say a little bit too bluntly, so you attempt to soften the blow when you follow up with a rhetorical, “Why do you think I asked you to call me?”

Alex definitely mutes a laugh, covering it by him pretending to clear his throat. To make sure he doesn’t get himself into trouble he distracts you by asking, “What’s panicking you now?”

“The holiday.” You take a deep breath before you start to vent your worries, “Apparently it’s for your birthday, I don’t know if you want me there with what’s going on with us. The fact that you’re apparently paying... I don’t want you paying for me if I come.”

“I did tell Katie to invite you if she wanted to.” Alex reveals.

“That’s not the point. Do you want me there?” You ask him directly, “I don’t want to intrude on a holiday that’s for your birthday.”

Alex takes a second to answer that, not because it’s a difficult answer but mostly because he wants to know, “If we weren’t sleeping together would you come?”

You think about it for a second and realise that you probably would, but not without speaking to him and asking Katie at least 30 times if you were actually welcome. Not to mention trying not to interact with him much when you were out there. And you certainly would not be allowing him to pay for you.

“I still would have double checked with you first, or got Katie to. But that doesn’t matter, it’s different now,” You start talking about your reality again, “The dynamic has changed.”

“Y/N, we were friends anyway,” Alex sighs and you’re glad he can’t see the way your face contorted in disagreement. “The only thing that’s different this time is that we’ve seen each other naked.”

You almost scoff.

You’ve done a lot more than see me naked, sir.

Feeling flustered at the memories of him fucking you flooding back to your mind, you just get back to the point, “So, do you want me there or not?”

And you listen to his response as you unlock your front door and get into your house. Feeling the absence of the chill from outside makes the singers answer all the more bearable.

“I just want you to do whatever you want to. You can come and have a holiday. I don’t expect anything from you if that’s what you’re worried about.” Alex says sincerely, before adding, “And I am paying.”

“I don’t want you to pay Alex,” You whine like a child not getting their own way. But you add honestly, “It makes me uncomfortable.”

And it’s not even just because you’re fucking him, although that is your main concern. It’s the fact that you’ve barely known him properly before now (and you still wouldn’t say you were all that close in any way but physically), you can’t in your right mind let him spend thousands on a skiing holiday for you.

“Y/N, I didn’t invite you to make you feel uncomfortable.” The singer sighs, feeling like you should know this already.

He’s not ever excluded you from something before and he’s certainly not about to start doing so now. And he’s not letting you pay for yourself when everyone else who is coming is paid for already. Christ, he doesn’t really know why this is even a conversation when everything has already been sorted and paid for in advance.

You feel like you’re whining when you again admit, “I know that’s not the intention but I still feel it Alex.”

“Well, it’s up to you.” Alex shrugs, hoping to convey how much he’s unbothered by the fact he’s paying for a holiday, but he doesn’t want to pressure you. “You’re very welcome to come and I’m paying for everyone, not just you.”

“But-“ You start but then stop yourself.

Alex immediately questions, “But what?”

He would rather know what’s going on in your head rather than be left guessing. He needs to know how best to reassure you otherwise you both will just regress. And he doesn’t think that wanting for your honesty is too much to ask.

You can’t bring yourself to say it. So you just leave him with silence.

But that silence speaks volumes.

“You worried that if I pay for you to come I’m expecting you to shag me?” A few beats of silence pass and as you don’t dismiss him entirely, he already knows it to be true. His question is entirely rhetorical, “That’s it, isn’t it?”

You can’t even confirm it for him. It’s embarrassing to admit, but that is a worry of yours.

“Y/N.” Alex sighs, knowing he’s right because of your silence. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know that right? You can come away with us and we don’t have to do anything.”

“It’s not compulsory, even when we’re home. Y/N/N, you’re Katie’s best friend, you’ve been around for ten years.” He backs up his point some more, “You came on the last holiday we went on, this is going to be no different to that. My birthday just happens to fall on a day whilst we’re there.”

“You didn’t pay for me last time Al.” You argue in a slight huff, already feeling like you’re fighting a losing battle.

“Hey, listen to me.” Alex persists, “I’m paying for everyone to come, not just you, and I’m not expecting a huge orgy all week.”

You can help the laugh that escapes your lips at that. It’s a full giggle that the singer can’t help but grin at as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“There’s that laugh.” He hums, enjoying the sound even more purely because it’s him that’s caused it.

Only after your laughter subsides, do you ask, a lot calmer now, “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yes, sweet.” Alex assures you. And just to convince you some more, he adds, “I need someone to entertain Mrs Cook when I pull Jamie away for a pint anyway. Think you fit the brief.”

“Ah yeah, I think I could do that for you.” You chuckle a little, but then you’re serious in a soft tone, “I still feel bad that you’re paying though Alex. Skiing holidays are a lot of money.”

“I have a lot of money that I’ll never need.” The singer tells you, and you try not to think about the way anxiety in your chest dissipates when he says, “I’d rather treat my friends to a week away.”

You're his friend. Something so simple shouldn’t make your heart swell. Especially when the other night he tongue fucked you until you came, twice.

“Well I’m buying you food and drinks whilst we’re away then.” You counter, finally readying yourself to admit defeat.

“We’re going all inclusive but thanks.” You can almost hear Alex’s smirk.

You sigh, dropping down onto your settee and leaning back to try and get comfy, “Well I’m assuming we won’t be staying in the hotel for your birthday. They’ll be pubs and cafes I’m sure.”

He counters, “I’ll take a drink at the airport before we go.”

“Okay deal.” You accept but know you’ll find ways to do more than just that, “Thank you Alex. You really don’t have to do this.”

“Well I want to.” Alex smiles, and his tone is full of amusement as he says, “And I can’t have you spiralling.”

You hum in a silent laugh at that and let your eyes close as you take a deep breath. You’re about to tell him that it’s just how you are but you’re okay now you’ve spoken about it. But he takes your attention again.

“You know that this goes both ways right, Y/N/N?” You’re about to ask him what he’s on about until he continues, “If I text you asking to come over, you can say no and I’m not going to be offended by it. I understand that it’s not going to happen every time.”

He’s talking about fucking you. And trying to make you feel more at ease about your situationship.

Alex finishes off by saying, “I just ask on the off chance that you’re up for it.”

“I am always up for it.” Are the words that slip from your lips, and when you realise what you’ve said, your eyes shoot open.

Oh my god woman, you sound so needy. Backtrack now. Now!

You sit up as you begin to pathetically backtrack, “Well. I mean, I- when you say you are, I, I- usually am too.”

“Good to know you’re always up for me, sweet,” You can hear Alex's smirk then, but thankfully he doesn’t tease you more for it he just carries on to say, “It seems like I’m texting you all the time asking to come over but you can text me. You’re allowed to get horny too.”

You try and fail not to flush at hearing him say that. Especially when you can feel the ghost of his touch as you’re sitting on the settee he had you ride him on a week ago.

“Alex, you’re over twice a week, if not more... It’s not like I’m without relief for long.” To drive the point home you say, “It’s not a ten month wait again.”

In your little meetings you’d discussed when you’d both last been with someone else. Yours was a guy you were seeing at the beginning of the year who turned out to just not do it for you after you dated him for a few months.

Alex’s last fling was another rebound of his after the French girl he cheated on Taylor with. Turns out Alex hadn’t been with anyone in the last 5 months which did surprise you a little. But who are you to presume he’d just become a slag after his break up?

“Still. We started this for a reason.” Alex drives the point home, wanting you to fully understand, “You can say no and you can call me whenever you want too.”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “I know.”

“Maybe this holiday can just be the friends you’re so persistent we’re not.”

You frown, confused, “What?”

“Your rule, ‘no sex while we’re away’.” Alex smirks, but he’s sincere when he says, “To make you feel more comfortable.

“I don’t wanna seem like a prude Alex I just don’t…” You fail to continue your sentence, Wanna seem like a prostitute.

“I think of all people, I’m not the one who’s going to think of you as a prude, sweet.” The singer can't help but tease, finding himself funny.

You take a deep breath, trying not to let your amusement or embarrassment show, “So where are we going?”

“The Alps.” The singer tells you almost smugly, “Where else?”

You decide that you may as well ask him for the details if he’s sorting everything out, “When do we go?”

“Early morning of the second, we need to be at the airport for like four.” He tells you after a moment of thought.

You hum, finally letting the excitement for a holiday bubble in your stomach, “Okay.”

Alex is smiling already hearing you finally sound at ease about the holiday, but he can’t help but push his luck a little more, “You free tonight, sweet?”

“No and neither are you,” You almost laugh, the amusement clear in your voice, “We’ve got Katie’s New Year’s party.”

Alex is grinning as he comes back with, “I mean at like three in the morning.”

“You’re a horny fuck.” You can’t help but tell him as you shake your head.

You’re entirely unable to stop your face from flushing, making you very grateful he can’t see you. All you hope is he’s picturing you with a completely unbothered yet

“You’re the one that just said you’re always up for me.” Alex counters and you have to bite your tongue.

Idiot Y/N.

“See you later Alex.” You immediately dismiss him, not wanting his teasing right now.

Alex laughs loudly, “See you later sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 2nd 2019 ~*~*~*~

The Alps are absolutely mesmerising and you could stare at the snow covered mountains for days. The trip was certainly worth every single ounce of effort and you know you’ll be eternally grateful to Alex for him bringing you all here.

You’re sure when you first got here you looked like a child in a toyshop. The views are absolutely stunning and you know for a fact that your jaw was agape as you took in the breathtaking scenery around you.

So much so that Alex turned you towards him at one point and pushed your jaw back up and quietly teased, “Don’t let anyone else see those pretty lips parted like that, don’t want people getting ideas.”

Needless to say, you flushed hearing that and Alex wasn’t subtle about the way he let his smirk take over his face. And then he left you hanging, sauntering off to join Miles, Nick, and Jamie walking just in front of you, leaving you to catch up with Katie, Kristen, and Flo who all joined you for the holiday.

Alex leaving you like this hadn’t been the only time since you’d woken up early today though. He’d been a tease since he picked you up to take you to the airport, asking if you’d recovered from the previous nights activities where he all but folded you into a pretzel and fucked you until you came on his cock.

That wasn’t the beginning or end of your antics after the party, he’d teased you at Katie’s party, getting you in the mood and ready for him when he pulled you to a quieter bit of the party and pushed you against the wall to kiss you, taking away any sense but him. And he did it every time to leave you wanting more only for him to pull away and leave you to your own devices for a while.

So you were desperate when it got to 3am and he was practically pulling you down the road so you could get back to your house. And he certainly did show you a good time until you practically passed out from the exhaustion.

You woke up late the next morning to a glass of water and some painkillers on your bedside table along with a note that read, Hope you’re not too sore sweet x

It wasn’t hard to guess he probably felt a hint of guilt how far you’d both gone the night before. In the heat of the moment he said somethings about him wanting you to remember him, the feel of him inside you, over the week that you were both away.

He kept making you regret the no sex on holiday rule. Alex kept saying how you'd be begging him to take you when you got back home, how you’d not be able to walk properly by the time he’d finished with you after a week of not touching him the way he knows your filthy mind craves him.

You're ashamed to admit that your thoughts about him are sometimes so dirty they belong down the gutter. He’d certainly made a good job of having you long for him.

You try not to admit to yourself that you crave him. That when he decided that he was the one that was going to be sitting next to you on the plane and not Flo, you were happy. Not because you had any issue with Flo, no she was such an amazing friend to you, but because it was Alex. And he wanted to sit beside you.

The little shit that he was though teased you the whole journey. You were still tired so when you sighed and closed your eyes once you’d relaxed after the take off, Alex whispered into your ear, “Did I work you too hard sweet?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You say as you feel yourself flush knowing he was to do with your fatigue.

You slept in a little on New Year’s Day after you’d taken the painkillers he’d left out for you, but then your day was spent packing for this trip, figuring out what you’d need and calling Katie to double checking on if you’d need going out clothes and doing a checklist of the skiing things you actually own.

By the time you went to bed it was 11pm and that was far later than you should have been going to sleep because you had to be up at 3am to get ready. So it was do to Alex fucking you hard and long enough on New Years and the fact you had so little sleep last night that you were tired on the plane.

Next, he’s disturbing your attempt at sleep by him putting his hand on your thigh and leisurely trailing his hand up and down, mixed with him occasionally squeezing. He keeps an eye on your reaction to him, you going stiff for a few seconds and him taking great pleasure in saying, “I’ve done worse than putting my hand on your thigh, sweet.”

“Not in public or daylight.” You huff and try to get yourself comfy enough to get sleepy.

Looking out of the window just has you mesmerised so after a few minutes you just end up looking around the plane. It's just you and Alex sitting beside each other and for some reason you’re not all that close to your friends.

Katie, Kirsten, and Flo are all on one row, about 4 seats ahead of you, and Miles, Jamie, and Nick are on the row behind them. You’ve got no idea why you’re so far away from them with the gap of strangers in front of you, but you guess things could be worse. You could be sitting alone or worse, you could be at home feeling like you’re missing out.

There’s a stranger beside Alex so you’re glad you took the window seat and the views of sun rising through the clouds were amazing. You genuinely wish you weren’t as tired as you were so you could appreciate them fully.

Instead you’re feeling uncomfortable and whichever way you lean your head isn’t helping you relax. If it's against the wall of the plane you can feel the vibrations, just leaning back does nothing to help and if you do fall asleep like that you’re not risking possibly snoring because your jaw is hanging open, and if you let your head fall forward that’s not good for your posture, not to mention painful.

Maybe it’s you wriggling in your seat that gives you away, considering his hand is still on your thigh, but Alex seems to pick up on your discomfort easily.

“You can lean on me to go to sleep, you know?” Alex tells you with a smile, nodding down to his shoulder just beside you.

“What,” You hold back your sigh but let him know that you’re not all that impressed with his offer after his previous antics, “So you can just try to wake me up even more?”

“Come on sweet.” Alex chuckles, rubbing your thigh again before squeezing it. “Not my fault you’re not finding it relaxing.”

Pretending that him gripping your thigh didn’t give you flashbacks to the other night, you keep your voice quiet as you raise your eyebrows accusingly, “Because you’re trying to be a tease.”

“And it’s working.” Alex smirks, clearly knowing whatever your tells are by now, he gestures to the back of the plane, “Wanna go to the bathroom?”

Its a mixture of shock and being entirely unimpressed that has you asking, “Are you kidding?”

“Absolutely not.” Alex grins, holding his chuckle as he asks, “We’re not on holiday yet, technically. We could go again if you're not feeling satisfied enough before we land?”

You don’t dignify him with an answer, you just shake your head and look away from the tease. While the thought of him fucking you and you having to be quiet because others are around seems like quite the thrill, the mere thought of doing so in a public aeroplane has you wanting gag.

“What?” Alex fakes his hurt, nonchalantly following up with, “I know you can get horny just after you’ve woken up.”

Your head whips back to him, narrowing your eyes as you scold, “You’re being loud.”

He wasn’t. His voice was just above a whisper. But the mere fact you were on a plane with the possibility of anyone around you eavesdropping has you getting all embarrassed and flustered in an instant.

“Sorry,” Alex barely holds back his grin. “I’ll be subtle about it when I take you in the bathroom.”

Instead of scowling, you lean your head back on the seat, close your eyes, and take a deep breath so you don’t end up smacking him. Taking a few seconds to calm your anxiousness down and try not to let his joking get you too embarrassed when you know he isn’t trying to be malicious, you just stay like that silently.

But Alex disturbs your peace, “You don’t have to think about it so intently Y/N/N, we can just do it.”

“No.” You look at him again, and say even quietly to try and further your point, “Not to mention everyone would see.”

Alex can’t help but take that though as you just don’t want to right now. In such a public setting. That’s not you saying that you’d never be ready to join the mile high club.

“Oh okay, remind me to take you on a private jet.” Alex squeezes your thigh again, before winking, “They mind their business on those.”

You’re lost for words for a brief moment. Taking in exactly what that means, and you end up half frowning.

“Way to persuade me.” You scoff, “Telling me you’re already in the mile high club.”

Sarcasm is thick in your voice as you say, “Such a turn on.”

The singer can’t help but smirk though, “Don’t be jealous now, sweet.”

After that, Alex seems to give you a break from his endless torment. He takes his hand from your thigh as he reaches down to his bag by his feet and takes out the word search book he bought himself in WHSmiths at the airport. Finally you feel like you can relax and sleep for the remainder of the 2 hour flight.

Or you hoped so anyway, but it seems the vibrations of the plane's wall just wanted you conscious. So it was with a huff you leant back against the headrest once more.

“Just,” Alex sighs and he picks his hand up to cup the side of your face to gently push your head on his shoulder.

Instant comfort was an understatement compared to the wall and the seat. But you still felt weird about it.

You tell him with a sigh, “I don’t want to annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me at all, Y/N/N.” He dismisses immediately, paying you no more attention after saying, “Go to sleep.”

And so you did. You got a good hour’s sleep and you think it was only when the plane started to make a steady descent that your body woke you up as a result of the decrease in altitude. But you woke up gently and slowly, and you realised you were still on Alex’s shoulder long before you opened your eyes.

You found yourself not wanting to move. The woody scent of his aftershave leaves you in a little trance all the time and you never want to bring yourself out of it. So you just blinked your eyes open slowly and told your body not to even twitch to give away that you were awake.

And Alex didn’t notice because you now see he’s entirely too engrossed in his book. Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre.

A true classic, you can’t help but tiredly smile as you see he’s about to get to one of your favourite bits of the book. You following pretty easily for a few pages because he’s holding the book open practically as far as it can go (you’re so tired you can find it in yourself to shudder at the fact the book will definitely have a cracked spine) in one hand, and you only noticed when he turned the pages that his other had gone back to gently resting on your thigh.

Everything is good for about 5 minutes, but then the singer started reading too fast for you at one of your favourite bits, so you end up having to say a quiet, “Go back,”

“What?” You feel Alex turn his head towards you a little, his jaw gently nudging your head but you don’t make a single effort to move.

“Hadn’t finished the page,” You tell him and Alex can’t help but smile as he turns the page back for you.

His only indication that you’re ready to move on is the slight nod of your head and Alex even angles the book towards your direction a little more so you can both read. He smiles at the way you haven’t attempted to move from his shoulder at all, seemingly quite comfy.

You both continue reading together for the next few pages until the same thing happens again where Alex turns the page too soon. This time you whine a little as you whisper, “Too fast.”

“Not had you complain about my speed before.” Alex can’t help but tease when the opportunity is right there for the taking, but all it earns him is a poke in his side which makes him jump and he just about peers down at you seeing you smiling victoriously.

After this you fall into a rhythm of you nodding slightly when you're ready for him to turn the page. It doesn’t bother Alex at all, no it's the opposite, he finds you endearing that you’re both enjoying his book and reading it at the same time.

The both of you become entirely engrossed in Jane Eyre’s world that you barely even acknowledge that the plane is just about ready to land. It’s only when the air hostess’ voice fills the plane as they announce over the tannoy that you’d be landing shortly, does Alex close the book.

At the same time you reluctantly pick your head up from his shoulder, Alex offers as he taps the book, “Can borrow it after me if you want?”

“I’ve already read it, I just love that part you’re on.” You hum, smiling at him in earnest, “Thank you though.”

And both of you know you’re not just saying thank you for that offer, but thank you for allowing you to fall asleep on him.

The transfer to the resort even had you in awe. But when you got to the hotel and you entered your room, you were blown away by your view.

The white mountains are stunning and you were so glad you brought your camera. This was something you definitely didn’t want to ever forget.

The air felt like ice on your skin as you took your pictures, the bitter cold making you want to jump into the private hot tub you have on your balcony.

You restrain yourself, saving that for later, you opt for a hot shower to settle you after that flight and you end up falling asleep in the warmest queen sized bed.

You all meet downstairs a few hours later where you get some food and decide that you’re going to all get ready to hit the slopes, you all opting for the red runs for today. They were so much fun and with you skiing, you just find yourself in awe of Flo on her snowboard flying past you all.

It’s a fun few hours, with you all stopping half way down the slope at one of the cafes on the mountain where you all have a hot coffee, and the lads follow it up with a beer. The lads head off before the rest of you, wanting to be speed demons and race down the rest of the way which you’re all fine with.

You know Flo will inevitably end up beating them down anyway. Which she of course did.

Before you set off though, you girls decide that after dinner you’re all going to have a little hot tub party. So that’s how you’re now sinking in the hot tub on your balcony, Katie already in after beating you to being the first.

You just laugh at her rushing in there to beat you, as you take off your hotel dressing gown to reveal your dark green bikini. Katie says she loves the colour of yours as you glance back around at her and tell her you adore her maroon one.

But it’s when you step into the tub that Katie gasps, loud enough for you to pause as you stand in the pool of bubbling water.

“What are they?” Katie points to your thighs with wide eyes.

Your bruised beyond belief thighs. Dark, almost purple bruises that litter the tops of your thighs which were left by the mouth of the singer next door.

“Y/N!” Katie yells, her jaw dropped as she looks at the assault on your skin, “What the fuck?”

“Katie, stop looking at me.” You get all flustered and embarrassed so you're about to sit down, but your best friend grabs your hips to stop you so she can look at the dark marks for longer.

“Oh my fucking god.” She shakes her head, too shocked by the sheer amount of them. “It’s hard not to when you have those on your thighs Y/N!”

“Please stop, can we just pretend you didn’t see them.” You pry yourself out of her grip and finally immerse yourself into the hot water, loving the chill dissipating from your body.

“No, I want the gossip.” Katie grabs her glass of prosecco you’d poured her and left on the side of the tub along with yours and the other girls that were meant to be coming shortly. “How’s it been going between you two?”

“Fine.” You nod with a coy smile as you reach for your glass.

Your best friend shakes her head, “I’m not settling with fine.”

“It’s good.” You take a long sip of your drink, knowing you’ll need it if you’re having this conversation, “I guess he keeps me on my toes.”

“In what way?” She prys.

You think about how to word your feelings for a second. The sound of the jets humming in the cold air fills the brief silence until you end on, “I’m still not used to having a booty call or being one. I still get a text off him and it throws me... He still makes me nervous.”

“That’s good though.” Katie hums and nods, “He’d be boring if he didn’t make you nervous.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You nod in agreement.

But your best friend enquires, “He’s not making you nervous in general now, right? Just when he comes on to you?”

“No, it's a lot better.” You explain honestly, sinking into the water a little more. “But I’m still not at ease if that makes any sense. I still find him difficult to read.”

“That just comes with time.” Katie nods, understanding you entirely, “When you start spending more time with him, you’ll figure it out.”

“Well that doesn’t really happen,” You mumble a little but seeing as she heard you and noting that sparkle in her eye for the gossip, you explain, “He sort of just shows up and we fuck and then he leaves.”

Katie frowns a little at that though, “Thought he took you out?”

“That was just until I felt more comfortable around him. We’ve not carried that on.” You almost cringe when you say, “We’re just shagging now.”

“And how’s that going?” Your best friend smirks, “The bruises seem like a good sign.”

You sigh, “Yeahhh.” taking another sip of your drink.

“What was that sigh for?” She calls you out.

You try to pass it off immediately, “Nothing.”

But she’s not having any of it, “S’not nothing, come on.”

“He was just a tease on the plane but he’s doing it on purpose.” Your cheeks heat up a bit as you tell her.

“Getting you ready for later.” She grins and gives you some teasing suggestive eyes herself.

You gently shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” Katie raises her eyebrows, “What does that mean?”

Oh fuck.

“Don’t make me explain Katie.” You pout.

She pushes you, “Come onnnn.”

You just sigh in defeat and say, “We’re not doing that right now.”

“Excuse me?” Your best friend is now even more confused.

“You heard me Kate.” You sigh, closing your eyes not wanting to explain yet another of your stupid thoughts to her.

For clarity’s sake she has to ask, “Weren’t you with him twice last week?”

“We shagged on Boxing Day and then the 28th and New Years.” You tell her.

And it occurs to you that you’ve probably not been this active on a regular basis since you were in your late teens. Either you or Alex clearly has the sex drive of a teenager and with the state of your thighs, you think it’s more likely Alex.

Glancing at the bruises again you can almost feel the ghost of his mouth there. You fall into the daze of remembering the way his lips attacked the tops of your thighs as he fingered you to edge you, not letting you finish until you were begging to have his tongue instead.

He toyed with you, saying his mouth was already on you, sucking your thighs that bit more before biting them making you whine. But you were desperate to have him eat you out. Have his tongue tease and flick your clit in the way he knows makes you lose your mind.

And he wouldn’t give in. Not until you were on the edge for the third time, right on the verge of getting bratty with him and making the right decision he compensated by eating you out until you came twice on his tongue. And the way he fucked you afterwards, god, you wish-

“And he’s not touched you since?” Katie’s question shocks you back to reality.

You blink a few times, and shake your head, “No.”

She smirks, almost trying to hide it behind her glass, “I bet you’re losing your mind.”

“I feel like it.” You hum, nodding.

Katie asks, fully ready to big you up to go and knock on his door after your girls prosecco party, “Don’t you want him to touch you?”

“I want nothing more at the minute.” You tell her honestly, “But we’re not doing it until after the holiday.”

She frowns, completely confused, “Why?”

Surely on holiday is on of the best places to fuck? Why wouldn’t you be doing that? Katie can’t help but think.

“Because he knew I felt uncomfortable about him paying for me to come and I was worried he’d expect something from me.”

“Y/N.” Her face falls and then she gently scorns you, “He’s not like that.”

“I know he isn’t Katie. But you know how my mind works. It worries me.” You shrug, not really being able to help it.

“Well I thi-“ Katie starts but is interrupted by Florence appearing at the door of your balcony.

“Hey,” You grin, very thankful for the conversation being cut short.

Hopefully never to be brought up again.

“Flo,” Katie smiles and waves her over, “Come in.”

The gorgeous woman walks out and hangs her dressing gown up before running to the tub to escape the chilly air. After commenting on how much both you and Katie like her black, glittery bikini, the artist asks you both, “What were we talking about?”

You try to think of something quickly to change the subject entirely but your best friend gets in there first and grins, “Just how Y/N/N is sleeping with Alex now and she’s seeing if she can go the holiday without.”

You might drown yourself in this hot tub. Can you get any more embarrassed today?

Flo’s smile is huge as her head whips around to you in shock. You can tell she’s happy for you, presumably for Alex too, but she shocks you when she tells you, “Don’t deny yourself the pleasure.”

You’re so beyond confused by that statement until Katie’s eyes go wide as she gasps, “Fuck, I always forget about you two.”

You blink a few times as you hear her tell Katie that it’s understandable she’d forget because it was before her and Jamie got together. But you’re still in shock, you have to get the clarification, “You and Alex?”

You hope it doesn't sound like you’re annoyed because you’re not, no one even Alex has to tell you anything about this and clearly Flo just found out about yours and her ex’s rendezvous. You’re just confused, clearly Katie forgot but you’ve not even heard any jokes about it or any mention of it before now.

“Yeah, a long time ago.” Flo nods and is quick to explain as she grabs her glass of prosecco. “Lost our virginities to each other back in college, but started seeing him years later.”

She continues to explain with a roll of her eyes, “But the idiot was seeing me at the same time as Alexa back on their Favourite Worst Nightmare tour so I held my tongue for about a week until I blew up and called him out in front of all the lads…” She adds quickly, “It got ugly.”

It makes your chest go tight. He did that to one of his best friends years ago, and he did to his girlfriend of three years last year.

You're sincere when you say, “I’m so sorry.”

You feel almost embarrassed to be sleeping with him now. Especially when you’d consider Flo a friend of yours, even before this trip, when you spoke to her about her artwork that she creates at various parties you’ve both attended. She’d always been lovely to you and made you feel entirely at ease.

And now you’re sleeping with her ex. You need the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“Don’t be, it worked out well in the end.” It seems that the artist can’t keep the smile off her face as she finishes her story, “I went to Manchester and Matty and my cousin, Adam, got me through it. And when the time was right and I was healed, Matty asked me out and now we’ve been together for a decade.” Her grin is huge as she proudly tells you, “Married for three and a half years.”

It’s impossible to not be happy for her, her love for her husband shining through so brightly. But you can’t help but ask her, “Why are you still friends with him? Alex, I mean.”

You can’t imagine anyone betraying your trust that much and being close friends with them years later.

“Oh, it took a long while and a lot of grovelling on his part. But after two years of barely speaking to him, and with how happy I was with Matty, I forgave Al and now we get on like nothing ever happened.” Flo explains, “I see the other lads too often to let it continue for a lifetime of awkwardness.”

She’s a better person than you. You could never.

You think out loud. “The lads didn’t know he was two timing you?”

“No,” She shakes her head, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “They were as shocked as me when Alexa showed up. Only Miles knew, and covered for him.”

You shake your head, seeing Miles in a completely different light now. But you guess if you’re judging Alex by how he’s only been with you, you have to do the same with Miles.

“You’re too good. I would never forgive either of them for that.” Katie gives her two cents on the situation.

“I’ve been told that a lot. By Alex himself too... But despite last year's shit show, he has changed.” Flo assures you, but then smirks, “So enjoy him, queen.”

You sink into the water a bit more, entirely awkward about the way both women are smirking at you.

“Don’t be embarrassed. He’s good.” Flo giggles, “God only knows that if I didn’t call him out to everyone I would have a hard time choosing between him and Matty.”

You’re glad she’s such a lovely person and she eases you entirely.

“Good job you’re married then.” You joke, which makes Katie also spit out her drink laughing and Flo giggles before clinking her prosecco glass with yours.

“You should see her thighs.” Your best friend laughs.

You shoot her the dirtiest look, “Katie!”

~*~*~*~

Thankfully by the time Kristen arrived the subject of you and Alex had long since been dropped.

Flo saw your thighs and she told you about how she thinks the man will never truly grow up because he left lots of love bites on her boobs when they lost their virginities, and mercifully after that, the subject moved away and the four of you are now just chilling and listening to your a playlist that’s blaring through your phone.

You were all giggling at nothing in particular when you got startled by two men at the balcony door. Alex and Jamie come outside in their trunks and Jamie is the one to scoff, “You all thought you could have a party without us.”

Jamie practically jumps in and sits himself down between Flo and Katie, but your attention is drawn to Alex who sinks in beside you and you half find yourself wanting to scurry over to Katie.

He looks too good. Last time you’d seen him shirtless you were drunk and your memory hazy, but he looks so fucking good and his toned abdomen and his trunks low enough for you to clearly see that V line down to- Stop.

Stop.

Thankfully Alex doesn’t seem to notice the way you get a little bit more tense with him beside you. Instead he immediately asks Flo, “How’s Matty, angel?”

“Yeah he’s good, thanks Shakespeare.” Flo smiles, and despite not understanding her nickname for him, you happily listen in to distract yourself.

Maybe it’s to do with the Macbeth reference in If You Were There, Beware? You can’t help but wonder. Maybe you’ll ask her later.

The singer can’t help but ask curiously, “Why didn’t he join us again?”

“Tour rehearsals.” The artist informs him, “His UK tour starts on the ninth.”

“Fair enough,” Alex nods, clearly completely understanding the situation Flo’s husband finds himself in. “I’m glad we aren’t back on the road till late Feb now.”

“Bet you are.” Flo smiles at him but when he tunes into Jamie’s conversation, her eyes flick to you and she smirks.

You sink even further into the water.

Despite Alex now being beside you, you try not to let your nervous energy take over. No, instead you carry on as normal and have some of the funniest conversations with the people around you. You’re only thrown off when you realise that an old Arctic Monkeys song comes on through your phone and your eyes go wide when Jamie sighs, “I haven’t heard this song in so long.”

Immediately, you tense hearing the guitar and drums at the start of Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts. Fuck, this is why you don’t normally have your music on around Katie, so you don’t have this awkward interaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was in this playlist.” You say, immediately turning to reach for your phone.

Liar. You feel Alex’s eyes screaming at you, as he looks amused at the fact you like his music, as if he already didn’t know.

“Keep it on.” Jamie tells you, and you hesitate for a split second feeling Alex’s eyes on you until his friend continues to say, “Complete nostalgia of playing it at yours Al.”

“Yeah, it’s a gooden.” Alex smiles.

“Who was this one even about Al?” Flo asks, entirely amused, thankfully stealing the singer's attention away from you so he doesn’t see you starting to fidget, really not wanting the song to stay on.

Your knee is twitching, your foot tapping on the floor of the jacuzzi like you can’t sit still at all. Thankfully the water and the bubbles will be enough to stop you from being noticed though.

“Just that girl I fancied back in Year 11.” Alex explains, “She was in your English lessons, I think she was called-“

If you were to tell the story again, you wouldn’t have been able to name the girl at all. Just that Alex really liked her in school and never got the courage to ask her out and then some guy who was in the year above them in school ended up going out with her.

The conversation moved on and easily past that and your awkwardness about the man you’re sleeping with catching you having his song on your playlist eases off. But then, about 10 minutes later, it happens again.

“Fuck my life,” You whisper immediately reaching to grab your phone this time.

Because this is so much worse.

It’s not just that Piledriver Waltz has started to play. It’s even more embarrassing that it's the Submarine soundtrack version of the song, it’s just Alex. Not even Arctic Monkeys.

“Didn’t know you enjoyed my music this much, sweet.” Alex can’t help but once again tease you. Finding your reactions too entertaining not to.

The panic in your eyes when the first Monkey's song came on, but the way you swore under your breath at this one just made him want to burst out laughing. You look absolutely mortified, and clearly not wanting to get any extra teasing from himself or your friends which you were likely expecting.

But Alex isn’t one to disappoint. So of course he teased you.

You can’t help but narrow your eyes at him, “In the nicest possible way, fuck off.” Before you quickly look for a playlist that is safe and doesn’t have any of his songs on there.

“It’s all good Y/N.” Alex smirks, “It’s good to know I’m doing something right.”

His hand comes to rest on your thigh to stop your leg from tapping. You swallow, stopping your movements and taking a deep breath to not let it get to you that the others could see his hand on your thigh. Although you’d rather them see his hand there than the bruises he’s left.

Thankfully the bubbles disguise it from everyone else and no one comments, but just as you ask, “What album do you want to listen to?” Miles and Nick turn up at your door with more alcohol in their hands and everyone beckons them in.

Which is an issue for you because the hot tub is probably only meant to have 4 people in it at the most and now there’s 8 of you. So you’re unsure why it’s you and Kirsten that have drawn the short straws, but you’ve both been pulled into the laps of who you’re sleeping with. But one second you were seated closely beside Alex, and now you’re sitting on his lap, your arm having to go over his shoulder so you don't slip off as you lean into him a little.

Kirsten and Nick, you understand, they are married. Flo not sitting in Miles’ lap, you again understand because they aren’t together. What you don’t understand is why Katie isn’t on her husband's lap when they are married and have a child. But you, who has been sleeping with this man for less than a month, has been pulled onto his lap to make more room for everyone.

All of a sudden you feel like you’re holding your breath and can’t relax. After being submerged in the warm water for so long, most of your top half being exposed to the crisp air makes you chilly and your thighs feel far too close to the surface of the water so you feel your hands in your lap to try and disguise the bruises.

Thankfully one of Alex’s arms comes to rest across your thighs too and he holds your thighs again. And you can’t help slipping back into that little daydream of yours.

Of the way he pried your thighs open, as if you weren’t already willing and dripping for him. As if you weren’t begging him to eat you out anyway. And when he finally gave into your demands his fingers only dug into your skin more, holding you open entirely at his mercy.

And when he worked you up and up until he had your back arching and his name caught in your throat as you pulled harshly on his hair. He kept going, eating up everything you had to give him until you were writhing beneath him entirely overstimulated.

After he blissfully tortured you like that, he kissed his way up your body until you could taste yourself on his tongue. And that only lead to him fucking you till you could barely move. His cock made you see stars when he hooked his arms under your legs and moved them closer to your chest.

The pleasure he drove into you over and over was blinding, you saw white when you came. The only thing you can remember is the way Alex groaned into your ear when you clenched around him and the way he moaned when you tugged on his sweaty hair. And the way he bit your shoulder when he got his release not a minute later.

Not to mention the way he flipped you over when you both caught your breaths and he fu-

“I can feel you.” Alex's whisper startles you out of your memory and your eyes snap to the man you were daydreaming about.

You all but jump off his lap, your heart racing ten to the dozen feeling like you’ve been caught red handed. But you keep calm, not letting your cheeks heat up to give you away.

“Feel what?” You ask him, the shock slowly disappearing from your face.

“Your pulse,” Alex tells you in a low voice, his grip on you tightening, “On my thigh.”

And it dawns on you what he means. You’re fucking throbbing, completely aching at the thought of him. And he can fucking feel you.

Fuck offfffffff. Men can actually feel that?!

No. No. No.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You play dumb, having to because you don’t think you’ll be able to look at him again if not.

Not that you can right now, you just look at Flo and start listening to her, Miles, and Kirsten’s conversation. Meanwhile praying to every god that there is that you calm the fuck down and you stop being horny immediately.

“Course you don’t, sweet.” Alex kisses your shoulder and his lips linger on your skin as he smirks, “Just like you can’t feel me.”

You’re about to ask him what he means until he shifts you against him more and you can feel his erection pressed against your thigh. He’s hard. Really hard. You have to hold in the sound you want to make.

Why the fuck did you want this ‘no fucking’ shit. You can’t stop thinking about him. The way you want to kiss him. The way you want him in your mouth. The way you want him to fill you up and fuck you like it’s the last time you’re ever going to be able to.

You don’t even realise what you’re doing until Alex grunts in your ear, “I’d stop wriggling unless you want me to fuck you in front of these lot.”

Your thighs press against each other and you pray Alex didn’t feel that too. Despite him definitely noticing, Alex didn’t say anything, didn’t tease you any more and you just about managed to have a conversation with Flo about how she’s joining her husband on his tour and how she’s going to stay in Sheffield for a while after to see her best friend.

But it’s not long after that, the alcohol runs dry and everyone notices the time. Nick and Kirsten are the first to leave, followed by Katie and Jamie, and when you don’t move from Alex’s lap (because he won’t let you, his hands clutching you tightly after you tried to move when the first couple left. Clearly doesn’t think the bubbles will hide his hard on) Flo and Miles are the last to get out.

Miles gives you both a cheeky smile and he helps the artist out of the tub and hands her the dressing gown. Both of them say bye to you and Alex but Florence gives you a teasing look as she leaves, seeming to scream at the both of you, have funnn.

Your jaw locks and you very subtly shake your head at her, trying your absolute best to keep the smile off your face and show your strength. And you’d say you do well, you shout an unbothered bye to the direction they went and only when you hear your bedroom door thud shut does Alex’s hold on you go slack.

And finally you release the breath you were holding and grab the side of the tub to stand up, needing off this man's lap before you do something you’ll regret. Abandoning your empty prosecco glass you just get yourself stood up when the singer stops you.

“Where are you going?” Alex gently grabs your wrist and pulls you back to him, the water sloshing as you fall back towards him.

“Alex,” You sigh as he moves you so you’re straddling him, but before you can even protest his mouth finds yours.

His kiss takes your breath away, and he doesn’t give you time to think. He just wants you to feel.

Alex attacks you with long kisses, three of them that have you forgetting that you were even trying to get away. It’s as if something ignites in you both, the mere connection of your lips has your skin erupting in goosebumps, and they aren’t from the contrast with the hot water and the cold air.

But you seem to get some perspective and much to Alex’s disappointment, you pull back from the kiss. But he doesn’t let you go far at all, his hand on the back of your neck keeps you close enough your foreheads are resting against each others.

“It’s just a kiss.” Whispers the man who’s got your heart racing, his hand pulling your neck that bit closer hoping you’ll kiss him again.

“It’s never just a kiss with you,” You breathlessly reply, gently shaking your head, your nose rubbing against his.

When he pulls you back for another kiss you can’t deny yourself the simple pleasure. Because it is never just a kiss.

And it isn’t, because you’re not sure what this one is laced with, but you’re addicted. You don’t want to stop for a single second, especially not when he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you against him properly.

Your back arches, your chest against his now and he can feel your peaked nipples through your bikini top. He can’t help but groan, he’s been wanting to feel them against him in some capacity since he saw them through your bikini top when he lifted you onto his lap and you got cold and his head filled with filth about you.

About how he wanted to pinch them between his fingers so you’d make that noise he loves. About how he couldn’t stop thinking about his head being back between your thighs when he spotted the bruises he’d left there. About how he wanted nothing more than to tease you in front of his friends, to see how far he could push you out of your comfort zone. And after he could feel you throbbing on his thigh he wanted nothing more than to make you cum over and over again.

This kiss turns hard and hungry and it takes you enough by surprise that if you were standing you’d have stumbled back with the force of it. As you’re on his lap though, you can’t escape and you don’t for a second want to. Alex’s hands move your hips so you start grinding on him and both of you moan at the friction.

You hope that the rumble of the jets hides them from anyone other than the two of you, and you pray to every god that Katie and Jamie haven’t decided to go into their hot tub as they are the room beside yours. Despite the wooden panelling hiding the balconies completely from potential neighbours, you need to keep quiet. But it’s so difficult when he’s making you feel so good.

The more you grind against him, the more you can feel your stomach tighten with need. The way Alex is dragging you against his cock just makes you worse, your clit finally getting the friction it’s been aching for.

Minutes pass of your whining, gasping, and mewling as he encourages you, taking handfuls of your arse to pull you towards him as he bucks his hips up into yours. His moans motivate you more, your hips now erratic in search for relief as he kisses you.

Alex licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough of the way you taste. His groans spur you on, and his hand moving up to the middle of your waist has you arching into his chest again, and he can’t help but move his hips in time with yours, loving the little whines that escape your pretty lips.

But he needs to hear more, so when you tug on his hair, and he bucks up into you, he bites your bottom lip when you moan so he can muffle it with his own lips. He smirks when he pulls away and he grabs your face, his thumb and index finger pressing your cheeks together as he grinds you against him again, his fingers digging into your hip ensuring it.

The moan you let out for him then, you can’t suppress, and by the way Alex’s eyes seem to sparkle with delight shows you just how satisfied the sound makes him. Like it was intent all along to have you be loud for him.

“Do I feel good, sweet?” His voice a low whisper that has your throat bobbing.

The singer kisses his way up your jaw before biting your earlobe, and he clearly wants an answer, “Well?” His hand falling from your cheeks to your neck and the slightest pressure has your head in pieces.

“Mmm.” You hum in agreement pulling back enough to grab his jaw and bring his lips back up to yours.

You refuse to let him mark your neck up again, no matter how good his lips feel on your throat. And at this point you know he’d do it just to get the both of you caught to see if you could withstand your friends teasing.

This between you carries on for longer than it should. But that pull, that spark, between you, now ignited neither of you can get enough.

“You like knowing you get me this hard, just from seeing the bruises I left on your thighs?” Alex rasps, as he kisses slowly down your neck.

At this point, you think you’d do just about anything to have his lips on you or on your skin somehow. It’s addicting. So much so that you don’t remember the silly rule that you agreed upon, especially when Alex moves his hand

“From seeing these,” Alex hums against your neck as his thumbs circling both your nipples through your bikini. “I can still feel them on my chest from the other night.”

His lips trail down your neck and the top of your chest and he kisses over your skin and his hands grab at you that bit tighter as he says, “I want my mouth all over you, sweet.”

His thumbs hook into your bikini top and he pulls both cups to the side, leaving you bare for him. His lips are on your breast in a second and the other he kneads in his calloused hand.

Your head falls back, a moan falling freely from your lips as you grind yourself onto his cock as he sucks your nipple. Needing as much friction as you can get because you could easily finish like this if he carried on. But god, you want him inside you instead.

Picking your head up, your fingers tug in his hair encouraging him as his right hand now grabs your arse again making you move on him. Fuck, you could cum just from this, easily if he carries on.

He swaps to your other tit, lapping at it and savouring the sweetness of your skin and he can’t help but moan when you rut against him again. God, he just wants to have you like this forever, just free of inhibitions and completely giving into your desire.

“Well, sweet? You like knowing what you do to me?” He teases, but he takes it a step further and he reaches between you and he presses circles onto your clit through your clothes, “That I like feeling this greedy thing throbbing on my lap for me?”

The sound you let out is guttural and completely obscene. To mute it you harshly pull his hair so you can press your lips against his to quieten yourself. But fuck knows if he even helps.

His sweet torture continues and you feel the tension forming in your lower stomach, flames scorching your limbs, all caused by the man who’s name falls from your lips in desparate pleas, “Alex.”

His kiss is hot and heavy like a man starved, like he could never get enough of you. His hands claiming you is something promise you’ll never deny yourself the pleasure of again, those magic fucking fingers have you seeing stars. Each swipe of them against your clothed clit pushes you closer towards that delightful edge.

“I- Al, oh.” Fuck. You’re going to finish, this is it and it’s going to shatter you entirely.

His warm hands on you, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your own, his body heat making your nipples perk from the stimulation. And his fucking cock that you’re aching to have inside you, he’s so hard all you can think about is reaching down and moving your costume to the side so you can line him up and fill you to the br-

So consumed with your thoughts and your erratic hips chasing the orgasm you're on the verge of having you miss the singer mumble against your lips, “Okay, that’s enough.”

You only register when Alex’s hand now holds your hip to stop you from moving and you hear him say, “Stop, sweet.”

“No,” You helplessly whine, entirely cockdrunk at this point, wanting him too badly and you kiss him deeply again.

But Alex only entertains the kiss for another second, before he pulls away and to stop your lips from following his again, he holds your jaw, “If you keep kissing me, we’re not going to make it another minute.”

You’re so breathless you barely understand what he means. But as you take a minute to get some oxygen back into your system you realise what you’ve done and god you want to lock yourself up and throw away the key.

“I’m sorry.” You swallow, looking away from his gaze.

“Don’t apologise.” Alex shakes his head, and you note he’s just as out of breath as you. And he gently readjusts your bikini so it’s covering your modesty again as he says, “We agreed on your rule, sweet, don’t wanna break it on day one now, do we?”

It’s his smirk that he gives you as he says the end of that which makes you say, “You’re a bully.”

Because he’s got you all hot and bothered, only to completely edge you and use ‘your rule’ as an excuse to leave you right on the brink. God you could absolutely throttle him. But knowing Alex, he’d enjoy it, so you keep your hands to yourself.

The singer just laughs, “You love it.” And he taps your arse under the water to prompt you to stand up so he can too.

Jesus Christ it’s only now that you realise how perishing the cold is, you practically jump out of the tub and run for your dressing gown before heading to the door. And you’re kind enough to hold the door open for Alex as he wraps his towel around his shoulders.

It’s only now that you gulp seeing just how little the swim shorts disguise his erection. Standing at attention is an understatement, and there’s a little spark of pride that scorches your blood knowing you’ve caused that.

You don’t let your eyes linger, but you know from the smug smirk on his face as he walks through the door that he’s caught you looking. And the prick opens his mouth, probably to bully you once more but you beat him to it as you close and lock the balcony door.

“You don’t care about the rule, why’d you stop when I was clearly enjoying myself?” You ask as you follow him to the door to your room.

“Because you were dead set about not wanting to before we came.” Alex tells you sincerely, and you can’t help your heart from warming that little bit as he looks you in the eye and says, “I don’t want you regretting anything between us.”

Swallowing down the smile you want to plaster all over your face, you tell him, “I don’t regret what just happened, for the record.”

“Good.” Alex smiles, walking the last few steps to your door. And the singer is about to open it before he pauses, turns back and tells you, “Oh, and don’t get yourself off.”

Immediately you frown a little. It’s a miracle your words don’t come out as a scoff, “Don’t think you have that authority.”

The smirk that comes to those pretty swollen lips and the way his eyes darken is something that needs capturing in a museum. Fucking hell it’s definitely banked away in a certain area of your mind.

“I could just fuck you now if you’re going to do that.” Alex raises his eyebrows, and you can tell he’so putting the offer out there.

But after him saying it’s only day one, you’re definitely not giving in now. A week without fucking him. You can do it. You just can’t fucking slip up again. How embarrassing of you to have given in to your temptations only mere hours after your holiday began.

Alex seems to understand your thoughts entirely so he quickly saves himself from a scolding, “Think of it as being edged instead, don’t touch yourself. It’ll make next week more fun.”

Your still fucking throbbing for him, aching isn’t even the right word for the need for relief you’re feeling. It looks like your bullet won’t be being used while you’re away after all. But if you’re showing restraint, you certainly won’t be the only one.

You nod, the corner of your lips tugging up a little seeing Alex smile down at you and as he reaches from the door handle to let himself out, you surprise him by saying, “Don’t touch yourself either then.”

He looks at you again, his eyes entirely full of surprise that you’ve given him an order. But he’ll do it for you. He won’t be a double standard, so he agrees.

Although when he opens the door and takes a step out, and you tell him, “Go get a cold shower.” He loves your brattiness.

“Could share one of those?” Alex offers as he takes a step back towards you, his eyes bright and full of mischief as he smirks down at you.

All you can think is, And end up having a repeat of the first time you were in the shower with him? No chance.

“See you tomorrow, Alex.” You smile, placing a hand on his bare chest and pushing him towards the door perpendicular to yours.

Alex chuckles, blowing you a teasing kiss, “Goodnight, sweet.”

~*~*~*~ January 4th 2019 ~*~*~*~

To say that the next couple of days were positively torturous would be a massive understatement. The cold shower you had after Alex left your room that first night didn’t do much to calm you down, the ache between your thighs didn’t disappear until well into the night of you tossing and turning in bed.

At one point you were ready to march into his room and tell him how unfair it is to leave you on edge like that, and that it was unfair because you’d be so pent up that you’d have a miserable holiday. But then you’d realise you’d see the singer's smug smirk and he’d say something along the lines of, ‘You’re so greedy that you come begging me to get you off, is that it? You can’t go even a few hours without me, can you not? You poor sweet thing.’

So you chose to stay warm in bed, following his direction of not getting yourself off and you eventually fall asleep. You swear though that if he got himself off and didn’t stick through this with you, you’d be absolutely fuming.

And you can’t help but be pleased when Alex eventually joins you all for breakfast the next morning, and he made a thunderstorm look appealing. ‘In a mood’ would be an understatement. The singer looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, he hadn't even bothered with his hair, it was still dishevelled, and his glum, tired face had a smile tugging on your lips.

Good. You like knowing you’re not the only one who felt absolutely tortured.

You had to hide your smirk by taking a drink of your orange juice, sipping it through the straw as your eyes linger on the singer who looks like he could commit a murder if his breakfast was served wrong. Clearly though, you’re not being as slick as you thought you were hiding your amusement by taking a drink because when Alex’s eyes lock with yours he sees the knowing in them.

Instead of shying away from him though, you stare straight into his eyes and let your smirk show when you pull your drink out. You even raise your eyebrows at him entirely enthralled that he looks so much worse than you this morning. Looks like it’ll be cold showers for him for the foreseeable future.

Alex couldn’t help but find you equally as amusing that morning at breakfast. The smile stayed on your face for the entirety of your meal and he could tell that seeing him so affected by the lack of your company had somehow boosted your confidence. So, pent up he may be, but he’d suffer in silence for as long as he needed to see that smug look on your face once more.

Alex made sure his teasing continued throughout that day and the next. His flirting and lingering looks had you more on edge than usual thanks to the fact you felt entirely touch-starved, but you couldn’t deny that he had your heart racing.

On the slopes he would sometimes wait for you if he wasn’t racing the boys or Flo down the mountain, to make sure you got down alright and there would be flirting when you’d stopped at the cafe’s that were half way down the slope. And he had you buy him the promised drinks that made you come on this holiday in the first place so you were happy keeping your end of that bargain.

He really made you smile today when you had a bit of a fall on the slope. He watched you fall but he stopped right beside you and made sure you were okay before getting you back to your feet and he went down the slope as by your side as he could get. And when you both reached the bottom, he played into checking you over, being cheeky and saying he’d have to get the layers off you to make a complete and thorough check. Something which of course you rolled your eyes at but you couldn’t keep the smile from your face.

When you walked out of your room each night dressed to go for dinner he told you how gorgeous you looked in your dress when he saw you, whether that be him stepping out of his room at the same time coincidentally or when you walked down with Katie and he was waiting for you with the other lads. Tonight was the latter and the way he looked you up and down made you feel all tingly inside.

And this evening at dinner he sat beside you and when you were waiting between courses, Alex rested his hand on your thigh, and it wasn’t at all to try and rile you, he seemed to just want to be affectionate. And Flo is right, why would you deny yourself that pleasure.

You know you’re nowhere near a relationship, or possibly even heading into that direction. But this fun you’re having with him, it doesn’t mean you can’t take comfort from the small meaningful gestures that you’ve found that you’ve missed since your last relationship.

So yes, you’ve adored the flirting, and matched his energy entirely by giving him back as much as good as you’ve got which grants you access to that cheeky smirk you’re starting to love being the cause of. You pretend like your heart doesn’t do something stupid when he’s affectionate and you’ll continue to act like you aren’t dying for him to touch you and kiss you and fuck you until you’re back home.

And all of this is the reason why right now, you’re absolutely seething at yourself. Why you’re now at this bar, side-eyeing the man who’s had you at whit's end for the past few days wanting god to do you a favour and stop what you’re seeing.

You hate it, you absolutely hate it. Seeing Alex’s hand on her hip, the way he smiles at her as she’s talking, and the way he’s making this random girl laugh.

It’s been at least 15 minutes now since he went up to the bar to get himself another drink and left your group at the few standing tables in the corner which you’d all claimed. And when you looked over after 5 minutes of him disappearing, you saw him at the bar talking away with possibly the most gorgeous woman you’d ever seen.

Intimidated isn’t even the word you could use to compare yourself to the stunning woman. She’s just everything you’re not. Clearly she's confident to speak to a stranger normally and not at 100 miles per hour because she’s nervous. She’s absolutely gorgeous with the complete opposite hair colour and style to yours, and her dress accentuates all of her features perfectly, leaving little to everyone’s imagination but she’s so gorgeous and fearlessly self assured, there’s no way you could possibly compete with a woman like her.

Your chest sinks because it’s so easy for you to realise just how jealous of this woman you are. Not just because she holds Alex’s attention and you want that back for yourself, you’re just hit with that intimidatingly jealous feeling you’ve not experienced for such a long time. And it’s such a dirty feeling, you really judge yourself for it.

Because you’re well aware you’re not in a relationship with the singer. Yes you’re fucking each other but he could easily call that off at any point, especially on holiday when you’ve established you’re not sleeping with each other and that will make your self esteem plummet and not to be dramatic but you’ll more than likely never put yourself out there again, and you think that is valid enough if that’s how this night ended.

To make it worse, the ladies you’re with, your close friends can clearly see that you’re slipping into a foul mood. A few times you’ve been asked what’s wrong, and you’d have to tune back into conversations and plaster a fake smile on your face because you’ve got so stupidly in your head about all of this.

It was only when Katie followed your gaze to the bar did she realise what was making you slip into a bad mood. On the down low, when Kirsten and Flo were having their own conversation, Katie said, “Y/N/N?”

“Hmm?” You hum, tearing your eyes away from a laughing Alex and the stunning woman.

You look at your best friend as she seriously asks, “What are you waiting for?”

Immediately, you’re confused, “What?”

Katie can’t help but laugh to herself a little as you’re being so blatantly obvious to her. And she can’t lie, she secretly loves seeing you jealous, because she’s never witnessed it before. And the mere fact you’re being silently possessive over Alex is all the more amusing to her.

“Just go and get him.” She encourages you, seeing that you’re holding your glass of wine that little bit too tight.

She understands that you’re probably that bit more jealous too because you are bordering on being a little bit drunk. Your tolerance is slightly better than hers and she knows that you’ve drank near enough the same amount so she’s very aware how your thoughts are probably being manipulated by the alcohol.

“No, if he wants to play he can,” You tell her and put on a brave face, turning away from him now in an attempt to not shoot daggers at him with your eyes, “He just won’t be getting me again afterwards.”

And you mean it. You won’t get caught up in that STD mess waiting to happen. Condoms or not. It’s a no from you.

You drink with the girls a bit more then, the other lads make you laugh too but after a few minutes you become all too aware again that there’s a missing piece. And it’s like a wound to the chest when you see he’s still there talking to that woman and they seem to be standing that little bit closer, smiles still on both of their faces.

Something about it hurts, and not due to the fact he’s being flirted with. It mostly gets to you because he’s being so kind to someone he’s just met and you only got that side of him after a ten years and only when you called him out for his behaviour. It makes your heart sink a little, you just don’t know why he wasn’t ever this friendly toward you when you were first introduced, yet he can be so kind, smiley, and flirty to a complete stranger.

Up until 6 months ago, Alex would barely hold a conversation with you and something about that always hurt. The effort you’d make only for it to go unreciprocated when he probably knew how much it took for you to not be socially awkward around him. It’s a blow to your chest and to your ego.

And to make it worst, he’s flirting with this girl as if you haven’t been fucking each other for a month and he didn’t almost fuck you in the hot tub the other night. As if the bruises he left on your thighs aren’t still very prominent and he didn’t edge you, leaving you craving every little bit of him for the last two days. And now he’s flirting with someone that isn’t you.

And you can’t even blame the woman for flirting with him. He looks impeccable this evening. He’s in a black suit with a black shirt and he looks incredible. Like you’d do just about anything for him to pull you aside in this darkened bar and for him to whisper filthy promises in your ear before his lips find yours and he takes your breath away all over again.

But you’re not so lucky. And your mood worsens when you see the bartender come back with two drinks in his hands and he places them in front of the pair. But it’s when Alex gets his card out and seemingly pays for both does your heart drop.

Has he just fucking bought her a drink?

You blink a few times and force yourself to look away. The feeling that’s settled in your stomach not being one that you want to ever be feeling. Jealousy is such an ugly emotion and you wish it wasn’t running through your veins right now so you try and breath through it, letting the thoughts pass you by as quickly as they come.

The people that know you best though, can see you’ve sort of checked out from the conversations surrounding you, and you’re staring out of the window at the snow that’s beginning to gently fall. Your best friend knows it’s not the same zoned out as you were awestruck when you first arrived on this holiday though, it’s due to you being in your head because of the man at the bar.

And it seems Katie isn’t the only one, because Flo asks Mrs Cook quietly, “Should I go tell him?”

Katie notes that she nods over towards the bar, but your best friend immediately shakes her head.

“No,” She tells her, “Let him dig his own grave.”

Because after everything last year, she wants Alex to prove himself worthy of having her best friend. She knows you deserve something good, and despite being 99% sure that Alex is just being polite to a fan at the bar, she wants him to prove that he wouldn’t ruin this good thing that you both have going for the sake of another woman who could pass as a model.

So Katie distracts you, getting another glass of wine down you is easy to do and she has you giggling with her and Flo again.

While you adore your friends for their distraction tactics, Alex and the stunning woman linger in your mind, and you feel like you need a second to quieten those intrusive thoughts. So you head to the toilet in hopes to clear your head but when you hold the sink and look at your reflection the clarity that hits you is that you’re drunk and probably (most definitely) overreacting, and you just find yourself wanting to close your eyes.

So that’s why when you make your way back to your friends, who Alex is still not with, you decide your night is done.

“Guys, I’m going to head back.” You tell all of them, “The wine has gone to my head and I’m so tired after today.”

Each and every one of their faces fall and they all start a little bit of a commotion, shaking their heads and shout over each other drunkenly pleading with you not to go. But it’s a singer who is the one that complains the loudest.

“Noooo come on, Y/N/N.” Miles throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as he says, “Party with us.”

You smile at him but there’s no way you’ll be giving in. You need your bed. And to get away from Alex and the stunning woman taking all of his attention at the bar.

“Miles, you saw the fall I had earlier today,” You almost wince at the memory, “I’m knackered and just wanna get in bed so I’m good again tomorrow.”

“I’ll walk you back.” Jamie offers but immediately you shake your head, having none of it.

“No, you’re having a great time, stay out. Have fun.” You smile, giving him a look to say ‘do not put on your coat’ as you put on your own.

You’ll be perfectly fine getting back by yourself, everywhere is lit well enough to make the 5 minute walk back feel safe. And you could certainly use the time to clear your head.

So you just smirk, wrapping your coat around you and downing the last of your white wine. And you grin, “I'll see you all hungover for breakfast in the morning.”

They all laugh at your little joke, knowing it’ll more than likely come to fruition, before they pull you into hugs goodbye. Flo, you realise, gives the best hugs out in the group, and she holds you tightly as she whispers in your ear, “Are you sure?”

You don’t hesitate to nod, “Positive.”

She pouts a little as you pull away from the hug but you give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her to have another drink for you which makes her giggle and she promises she will. And then the only person left over here you have to hug is your very drunk best friend, and Katie all but smothers you with her bear hug.

God you adore your best friend so much. Or you do until she easily reads between the lines and questions your actions.

“This isn’t to do with Alex, is it?” She asks, pouting like she’s both angry and upset, “Because you can’t let him spoil your fun.”

You hate that she knows you so well, but wanting to go back to your hotel room is only marginally to do with Alex at this point. You know if you drank anymore tonight you’d be worse for wear tomorrow and you don’t want to ruin this precious holiday by staying in your room wanting to throw up.

“No, I'm just tired.” You lie, trying not to even think about the fact that Alex not really giving you any attention and flirting with another girl was what triggered your bad mood in the first place. You tell her, “I just wanna get some sleep.”

“Okay queen.” Katie nods before she pulls back and she looks into your eyes to seriously tell you, “Text me as soon as you get back to the hotel, okay?”

“I will.” You promise her and after she gives you another hug, you turn to leave.

You avoid looking anywhere near the bar even though you have to pass it to leave, but you’re quick and you leave out of the side doors and make it down the stairs fairly quickly. The automatic doors expose you to the cold air quickly and you’re so thankful you chose your long, navy dress this evening, even if you were regretting the slit in it that comes up to just above your knee when the wind hits you.

Thankfully, your ‘going out coat’ is a long one, coming down to just past your knees, and would retain most of your body heat, so as you walk towards the doors you start to slowly button it up. But your buttons aren’t cooperating, they won't go through the bloody buttonhole. Clearly nothing wants to go right for you this evening.

And you end up not paying attention to where you’re going as you walk out of the bar, you don’t realise that the smoking areas out front has gotten busier so you end up turning to head back to your hotel and you bump into someone at quite a little bit of force. Immediately, you end up almost slipping too, not realising that the ground has become slippy too thanks to the fresh snow landing and melting. But before you fall arse over tit, you're saved by your own victim. The poor man you bumped into.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” You say as you grab onto his tattooed arm that stabled you.

And it’s only when you’re sure you’re steady on your feet do you look at the exquisite man. A gasp almost leaves your mouth at just how attractive he is. The strong jawline, the short black hair, the sun kissed skin, and possibly the most stunning eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. They are such a gorgeous shade of blue they almost look purple, and God, you half wish you could stare into them all night.

“No worries,” The man holding your arm says, and once he’s satisfied you can stand properly again, his eyes drop to take you in.

It makes you feel like your heart is in your throat for the two seconds he checks you out, but under the stare of those gorgeous eyes, it feels like it lasts an age. You can’t help watching as a small smirk forms on his lips, clearly pleased with what he sees and when his eyes meet yours again, you feel like your knees could fall from under you again if he wasn’t still holding you up. He’s dream worthy.

His fingers move down your wrist and he gently comes to squeeze your hand as he smirks but endearingly says, “Careful darling.”

Immediately, the pet name makes you flush, and under his gaze you feel like you’re vibrating somehow, and you realise just how badly you need to get yourself back to your hotel. So to not make a fool out of yourself again, you cut the situation short.

“Thank you.” You give him a gracious smile and a small nod of your head before turning towards your hotel and safely begin to rush off.

In your peripherals, you see the two other men that the stunning man was accompanied by and you’re glad you didn’t interact with them too, because they look just as attractive as their friend. You’d surely crumble under their gazes and start awkwardly chatting their ears off so you’re pleased to get away from both them and that bar.

At least this gives your drunk mind a quick distraction from wondering what Alex and that girl are currently up to. You try not to think about how cosy they might have got or if either of them have made a move. No, you’d rather think about your embarrassing encounter with a model worthy guy who then checked you out and you said thank you to him.

Thank you? God, you’re so fucking stupid for saying thank you Y/N/N, that doesn’t even make sense. Thank you for me bumping into you and being so kind about it? What was the thank you for? Silly bitch.

God you really need to get to sleep. Your brain is absolutely spinning.

Instead you find yourself focussing on the crunch of snow under your boots, how you can see your breath in front of you. And the gentle light coming from the lampposts illuminates the snow that’s slowly falling from the sky and you can’t help but think that it’s so beautiful despite it being so cold.

Finally you manage to do up the buttons of your coat and your hands are stuffed in your pockets as you carry on walking. But it’s only a few seconds later, you hear your name being shouted behind you. You think you’re hearing things so you don’t stop walking, but then you hear someone running behind you and a gentle call of, “Sweet.” As he begins to slow down.

Alex is out of breath by the time he’s beside you, and a gentle hand on your arm stops you from walking. A mixture of emotions runs through you in that moment, happy that he’s not with that girl anymore is certainly one of them, but annoyance at him for him even flirting with someone else hits you all over again.

And it just makes your mood worse, because you absolutely despise being jealous. You hate it. You hate the tightness in your chest and you hate the way you start to second guess everything. And you don’t think you should be second guessing if you’re good enough.

But you keep all of that to yourself, not wanting to annoy Alex or appear jealous or be overbearing. You’re just drunk and you need to get over yourself.

“Sweet.” Alex says a little out of breath, “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You say more flatly than you meant to and turn to carry on walking to the hotel.

You’d scorn yourself for it, but you’re glad Alex doesn’t pick up on your tone. He just follows after you, falling into step as he asks, “Why are you leaving so early?”

“It’s almost one Alex,” You tell him, “I’m tired.”

You’re certainly not telling him that he’s a part of the reason you’re leaving. Even if he has finally given someone else the time of day for a brief minute tonight.

Trying not to focus on the mixed emotions cursing through you, you end up telling the singer, “You don’t have to walk me back, go back to the bar.”

“And let you walk back on your own at one in the morning?” Alex frowns down at you, “I don’t think so.”

You shake your head slightly at that, knowing he’s just doing that because of the story you told him about how you don’t like to walk alone at night. But you don’t want him here solely because of that. “I don’t need your pity.”

“There’s no pity, I’m just not a dickhead, sweet.” Alex’s smile then turns into a smirk as he throws his arm around your shoulders and he pulls you against him, “Now let me keep you warm.”

Your chest feels lighter somehow at his actions, and it makes you feel all gooey and smiley inside. But your brain is telling you to keep a hard exterior after what you witnessed tonight, so you try and brush him off, “Al, I’m fine.”

But the singer is having none of it. He just holds you tighter teases, “You’re moody.”

“I’m tired.” You correct him, even though you’re lying through your teeth.

“With your little rule, I thought you would have been reserving more energy.” Alex smirks, not being able to pass on the opportunity to torture you that little bit more.

You don’t mute your scoff at that, and decide that silence is what he deserves after that comment and him flirting with someone else all evening. And it hits you all over again how up until a few months ago you’d only get silence and sneers from him, but that woman at the bar instantly got smiles and flirting. It makes you want to push his arm off your shoulder and you fall silent again.

It’s confusing. Wanting to scold him but then also lean into him and accept the joy the simple pleasure of him hugging you brings you. And you’re feeling it all at once. You don’t understand it and don’t really know how to process it.

Sleep. You need sleep.

With his free hand, Alex digs into his coat pocket and pulls out his gloves, noticing you’re shivering, “Here take these.”

“Thank you.” You accept them quietly and graciously and don’t waste much time putting them on, even if they are too big for you.

Alex smiles once you have them on, and he squeezes your shoulder that bit tighter as he grins, “They suit you.”

“Bit big, but I'll take it.” You shrug a little, and give him a bit of a smile so you don’t look like a colossal bitch. It was a kind gesture after all.

Alex grins back down, his eyes bright as he says with a knowing look, “Well, you know what they say about big hands, sweet.”

Holding your own smile back, you fake a roll of your eyes and look away from him, “You’re not funny.”

“What?” Alex asks, faking innocence but smirking, “Just big gloves, nothing untoward.”

You share an amused look then, both looking into each other's eyes and knowing for certain that was not what he was meaning. In those few seconds though, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous he looks, with the snow falling down around him, a few flakes having found home in his hair and he just looks so pretty and happy.

You always want to look at him and see that cheeky smile looking back down at you. It makes you feel all warm inside.

But then that crude sense of humour has to go and ruin the moment.

“Anyway,” He smirks, “You already know how big I am. I don't think I need to remind you just yet.”

The way your cheeks heat up immediately is almost as embarrassing as the way your gaze snaps away from his. You just try to act nonchalant about it, shaking your head, “Way to lower the tone.”

“I think it was your dirty mind that lowered the tone, sweet.” Alex laughs and he has you giggling along with him.

It doesn’t take long to get back to the hotel, and you walk in a comfortable silence with your head finally not filled with everything to do with the bar. You just enjoy having his attention back, and that he keeps pulling you back into him, and rubbing the top of your arm in an effort to keep you warm.

You expect the singer to walk you into the lobby and bid you goodnight there before he heads back out to your other friends. But he surprises you, stepping into the lift with you and even when you’re going up to your floor he keeps his arm around you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Thank you for walking me back, you really didn’t have to.” You tell him after he walks you to your door and you get your keycard out of your pocket.

Only when you look at him again does he tell you, “Stop thanking me for being a decent human being.”

You smile at him for a second there, and it is a truly grateful one. Despite everything tonight, you really are thankful he came back with you. If not for your safety, but then at least for your peace of mind about what he was up to when you left. Your chest fills with the hatred of the jealousy you’re feeling once more.

But it’s like the man looking at you can somehow read your emotions. Because he once again flips them on their head when he takes you in again and sees how gorgeous you look in that navy dress and the way it hugs you.

He seems a little breathless as he says, “You really do look incredible tonight by the way.”

You look down at yourself, really not thinking you looked anything more than presentable tonight. But two men have checked you out this evening and seemed pleased with what they saw, and you know Alex well enough now to know that he doesn’t just say these things, he actually means them.

“I- Thank you.” You stumble for a second, but gladly take the compliment.

As you turn to open your door, Alex takes a step towards his, which makes you frown. He’s going to bed?

“You can go back out, you know?” You say before he even takes another step.

You don’t really understand why he’d be going to his room when he could go back out and have a good time with either your friends or the stunning woman he was chatting to. Surely he didn’t just leave because you did?

Alex shrugs, and takes a step back towards you, “Don’t want to.”

“Why?” You can’t help but question, “Looked like you were having a good time.”

“Not that good, I wasn’t spending it with you.” Alex shamelessly flirts as he comes to stand right beside you again, hoping to see you get all flustered.

He adores being the cause of it, and he even likes when you run your mouth back at him and flirt with him too. It makes him happier than he should admit to himself at this point in your little arrangement. But you shock him completely and don’t do either of those things.

No, instead Alex watches as you tense slightly and you become ridged. The smile falling from your face entirely.

“You knew where I was.” You shrug, not knowing what more you could have done. It’s not like you could go up to him and demand his attention, or steal him away and he figures out why and he teases you for it.

You just turn back towards your door and mumble under your breath as you put the card in, “Besides, it seems that you found her quite interesting.”

This has Alex smirking, possibly the biggest he ever has. Not that you can see that smirk as you’re still fumbling about with your keycard and putting it in the door the wrong way. So it gives him a little time to compose himself enough that you won’t hate him when he gets you to look at him again.

You’re jealous. Hence the mood, short replies, and the pout that was just seeping onto your face… It all makes perfect sense now.

Alex tones his smirk down into a slight grin before he get your attention again, “Sweet?”

“What?” You ask, just about managing to open your door before you turn back to him.

And it’s only when you do, you see the way he’s looking at you. His amusement is clear to see, but he doesn’t say anything. He just takes a step close to you, and before you really know it his lips are on yours and he gently eases you backwards until your back is against the heavy door you’ve not opened more than an inch.

It’s a sweet kiss, full of longing and care and words you’ve both yet to say. And the way he gently holds your waist, pulling you against him now, his arm running inside your coat and around your back so he can press you fully against him as his lips move in sync with yours. His hand on your jaw moves that bit higher, so his thumb can caress your cheek and you think this might be the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared.

It’s gentle and full of emotion, even when his tongue finds home with yours. It makes the both of you hot despite both of your lips softly moving together. Something about it runs deeper, like he’s trying to tell you something without explicitly coming out with it.

His hold on your waist gets that bit tighter which has you melting into him. Unable to stop yourself, you also let out a tiny hum of bliss against his lips and you hold his coat in your fist that bit tighter. This is what you’ve been after all night. This is what you’ve been craving. Him and every last bit of him.

Even when the kiss comes to its natural end, you wish it wasn’t finished. And you’re glad that it doesn’t seem to be. But the man who makes your heart skip a beat says something you really aren’t expecting.

“I’m only interested in sleeping with you.” Alex tells you, before he leaves you with one last breathless kiss.

~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N: What did you think?!?!? NRIACC bestiesssss!! How was it seeing Wheels again?! She's my multiverse I had to hahaha! But how bloody cute are Sweet and Alex, god I adore them so so much. Until next time besties x

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igotanidea · 9 months

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Bodies : Hotch x reader (part 2 to cold weather)

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You would think that the end of the year would be a nice, peaceful time filled with joy and reflection about the passing year, and probably somewhere in the world it was like that. However, when you are a DA in one of the busiest cities in America, you can only quote some comic heroes while saying: the crime never sleeps.

To put it bluntly, Christmas and New Year’s Eve were nothing less, but a perfect opportunity for both petty criminals and organized crime groups to commit atrocities. Theft and assaults were – well – as tragic as it may sound – normal - but in the crowd of people at the city events there were always a risk of something bigger and worse.

Killing.

Shooting

Bombing.

You live and you learn.

And Y/N had seen enough of it, both in her career and in her private live to behave cautiously even though it was not her job to secure the place or make sure everyone was safe. But hey, here comes a surprise – being DA is not only about inspecting dead bodies and prosecuting killers.

For her – it was about people and serving justice.

Truly. Not only in theory.

And given her experience she knew something big was coming making her dread.

***

“JJ. I’m being serious.” She was sitting in her office, talking through the phone with her friend from the BAU, who also happened to be the only person who could get the whole team of agents to come. “this whole situation is serious. I can’t let it accure.”

“I can only do as much as present it at the briefing.” JJ responded though it was clear in her voice that she was struggling between her professionalism and sympathy for the young DA.

“Right. Sorry.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose swirling in the chair nervously while looking at the street below her. Full of police officers, CSIs, reporters and very characteristic yellow tape. “Didn’t mean to be demanding. I’m just – “ the words barely got through her throat but Y/N was pretty sure if there was anyone trustable in the whole wide world it was definitely JJ “ I’m kind of desperate. This is way beyond my pay grade.”

“I promise I’ll do my best Y/N, but it’s not my call.”

“Yeah, I know….”

Oh yes, she did.

There was too much to risk and Y/N could not sit in her chair doing nothing. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain.

***

“Y/N!”

“Get out of my way Morgan I’m here on business.”

“Oh wow! Slow down Katrina.” Morgan chuckled and Y/N raised an eyebrow at him “The hurricane.”

“I understood the reference.”

“What’s with the stormy attitude then?”

“Where is he?” she swiftly avoided the answer getting straight to her point.

“Can’t you at least say hello first?”

“Hello Morgan. Now where is he?”

“Who?”

“Stop playing with me.” She warned throwing daggers at him. It was the first time anyone at the BAU saw her act like a force of nature and even Emily couldn’t hide the amused smirk of approval. Y/N was finally showing her true side as driven and strong DA and not the withdrawn public prosecutor’s trainee they met her as. And it was both admirable and terrifying, especially to Reid who was so taken aback that his mouth hung open for a moment. The girl woman, who saved him from drowning some time ago was a lioness and after the initial shock, he was the one to point her to the direction were the reason of her visit has been currently sojourning.

***

“The local authorities-“

“For god’s sake Hotch I am the local authority!”

“The mayor-“

“The mayor is a knucklehead who can’t speak publicly without having the speech written by ghostwriter. He has no idea what’s happening in his own backyard. And frankly I don’t think he cares.”

“You’re forgetting yourself.” Deep, calm and cold voice of the BAU chief was an evident contrast to his smirk and watchful eyes. Y/N was definitely a view when she walked into his office with a face expression so stern it could match his own.

“Oh I am?” she spun around, loosening the collar of her shirt, since the situation was making her blood boil. A little gesture that did not slip by the agent, even if he didn’t let it show at all. “Okay then. I’ll calm down and resort to your way of understanding.”

“Which is?”

“Logic, obviously. You have no imagination whatsoever. Everything must always make sense to you and form a perfect whole. Let me present it to you then.”

“Please.” Hotch responded, still calm and collected pointing the chair to her. “You know the rules.” He added when she finally took the place instead of walking around his office like a caged animal.

“I got a killer on the loose.”

“Yes. Like many other states and cities.”

“A very specific kind of killer.”

“You’re wasting my time.”

“And mine apparently.” She muttered

“If you excuse me I got-“

“No.”

“Sorry?”

“I won’t excuse you. I’m here for something and believe me I won’t leave until I get what I want.”

“You’re being-“

“Unreasonable? Crazy?” she leaned slightly forward, almost leaning on his desk “Go ahead. Think what you want, I’d rather consider myself driven and concerned about my people. It’s part of my job to make sure no more families cries at night because some psycho is on a killing rampage. And you’re the fucking BAU supposed to –“

“I know my duties.” Hotch cut her off getting a bit agitated by her behavior.

“Do you now?”

“Leave L/N.”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

“You have no authority here.”

The sudden slap of a paper file on his desk didn’t make as much dramatic effect as she expected, but got his attention regardless.

“Come on Hotch. Don’t be shy, open it.”

The ruffling of the pages was the only answer she got as Hotch’s eyes were moving though the file and the photos attached, scanning through every detail and blood mark on the bodies of the killed. Every line, every cut and wound inflicted on the flesh had a meaning. They both could sense in their bones even if didn’t make any sense at the point.

“Bet they didn’t show you that, did they?” she whispered taking in his seemingly unfazed expression.

“This is-“

“Yeah, I know.“ she bit her lip hard enough to make it turn red from the pressure.

“Try to not bleed on my papers L/N.” his eyes flickered to her mouth for a split second.

“Look Hotch, I know we have our differences, many differences, but please.” She noticed, but decided to drop it due to the more urgent matter than his gaze and the sudden wave of heat. “Please work with me on this.”

She sighed hating the fact she was forced to plead with him. But it was all for the greater good and if that was what it took to ensure safety and peace in town – so be it.

“Why?” his dark eyes landed on her, piercing right through and it made her shiver in the same way she did when he grabbed her hand at the lake when they were working together before Christmas.

God, she hated her feelings. It was job, for crying out loud, and she didn’t need any exposure. Aaron could read her like a magazine, and it was very uncomfortable, to think he knew her better then she knew herself, while hiding his own motivations and emotions at the same time. Treating her like a mouse he could play with.

“What do you mean why? Why do I want you to come?”

“Why are you pleading with me? You’re proud. You’re hot tempered. You do what you believe is right even if it violates someone else’s rules and patterns of behaviors.”

“And procedures.” She smirked

“Yes.” He nodded “So why?”

“You really want me to say it, don’t you? Some ego-feeding agent Hotchner?”

He looked at her in predatory, warning way even if his whole posture was revealing he was the lion falling for a lamb.

“Fine. Fine! You’re my last hope. I need you.”

Hotch’s face expression didn’t change even in the slightest when he stood up and opened the door motioning her to walk out.

“Aaron I –“

“Y/N.” He shook his head and waited patiently till she finally moved from the chair, defeated.

So she fought and lost and now the stupid mayor, who was only caring about the pretenses and appearances would be on top.

Over her dead body. She would catch that killer freak herself even if it meant –

“We’re going to Washington.“

Wait, what?

Hotch’s voice got through to her brain, but his words made no sense to her.

Did he just say -?

She frowned and looked at him in a bit of confusion.

“why does your action and your words never match?”

“Better get yourself on the plane L/N.”

“Since when do you take additional passengers?”

“Since I need to keep an eye on a rowdy DA, who wants to pursue a dangerous criminal on her own.”

“I did not-“

“You did.” He muttered handing her the coat in a very telling gesture

Um. Thank you?

“Are you concerned about my safety or something now?”

“You’re reckless and tend to put yourself in danger. I’m always concerned about your safety. Who would be my partner in investigating the bodies if something happened to you?”

Sure.

It was all about the bodies.

Not necessarily the dead ones though.

And very natural human instincts, even if forced to stay in hiding.

@somest1 @taygrls

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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youcouldmakealife · 6 months

Text

SOTM: Lourdes Family, David; family traditons

For the prompt: Jake's sisters slowly warming up to David

The problem with Nat and David, Allie decides early on, is that they’re too alike. Not in most ways, really — she doesn’t think they’d agree on much when it comes to their taste in media, or hobbies, or any of that, and she’s sure they’d both be surprised if she said they were similar at all.

But Allie knows Nat better than she knows herself, probably, and she’s made an attempt at getting to know David, because she knows how important it is to Jake, and some of the things that make Natalie Nat to her seem to be pretty similar to the things that make David David.

They’re both quiet, but it’s not shyness with either of them, though it can seem like it unless you know them. As often as not, Nat’s quiet because silently dismantling whatever’s being said in her head, about to spring it on whatever poor unsuspecting person just claimed they ‘could care less’ or called a pterodactyl a dinosaur or something that matters to nobody but Nat.

Though mostly she doesn’t actually say it to them — unless they’re family, she corrects Allie all the time, and poor Jakey doesn’t stand a chance — she’s saying it as an aside to Allie, or recalling it later ,‘my co-worker thought Babylon was a mythological place, and when I said 'oh yeah, like Bethlehem?' he said 'yeah, exactly!'’ or ‘If I hear someone use literally when they mean figuratively one more time, Allie, I swear I'm going to snap’.

She’s quiet, and sometimes she seems checked out, but she’s always paying attention to what everyone else is saying. Allie’s learned it’s the same with David — she’ll mention something and then nine months later David will have gotten her a Christmas present based on her offhand comment. Or he’ll ask if she wants the same drink as last time, last time being like, six months ago. Allie doesn’t know if he’s got that kind of memory for everybody, or if it’s just because she’s Jake’s sister, and he’s still trying to impress all of them, but, well — consider her impressed, she guesses.

But also, she’s pretty sure he’s also picking up on the mistakes everybody else makes, except instead of ‘Allie, let me tell you the misspelled bumper sticker I saw today’, she isn’t hearing shit from him. She doesn’t think Jake is either, at least if the people making mistakes are them. And they probably are. Allie has no illusions that she makes no mistakes: if she did, Nat would have beaten that belief out of her by now.

“He thinks he’s better than us,” Nat complained once, and Allie pressed her lips together very tightly, and she didn’t say a thing, and frankly, she thinks she deserves a medal for that.

As similar as David can be to Nat, he’s absolutely nothing like Jake. If Allie was asked to list their similarities, it’d be like — ‘very athletic white dudes around the same age’, and then a bunch of hockey specific things. Beyond that, she’s got nothing. It isn’t just their personalities — they have completely different taste in everything. Different priorities, outside of similar career ones. Some overlapping friends, but Allie just attributes that to Jake being able to make friends with a table leg if he wants to. They could not be less alike.

Allie’s never been a big believer in the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing, but honestly, maybe she should be: mom and dad are a pretty good example of it, and Jake and David seem to bring out the best in each other.

It took Allie a little while to come to terms with them getting back together, but she can’t deny that Jake seems to grow when he’s around David. Maturity wise, but he also just seems to stand up straighter, like just being around David makes him more alert, or aware, or maybe even self-confident, though that’s never been something he's lacked.

It probably isn’t just David he’s like that with — Allie hasn’t seen him around the Panthers too much, but he is the captain, after all — but either way, it’s a nice thing to see Jake grown up.

He’s still the baby to her, will probably always be the baby to her — anyone she put in pigtails and pulled around in a little red wagon while telling everyone to look at her pretty little dolly is going to be a baby to her forever, let’s face it — but for all that he’s been taller than her since he was twelve, he felt like a kid to her the whole way to the show, and for awhile after. He doesn’t feel like a kid anymore. Baby, sure, he's always going to be that, but not a kid.

If anything, David feels more like one. Not that he’s childish, or immature, or whatever, because Allie suspects he wasn’t even childish when he was an actual child. Maybe more someone suddenly immersed in a foreign culture — he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be, what he’s supposed to do, what the hell is up with the wishbone thing.

She’s seen Jake explain things to him, the traditions she thought everyone did, and the traditions that are very Lourdes specific, the way mom gives extra mashed potatoes if you're a suck up, and how if people don’t take turns opening presents it turns into a free-for-all, and how nobody actually eats the cranberry sauce.

When Jake isn’t there to do it — rare, but the dude does need bathroom breaks — Allie figures it’s no skin off her nose to do it instead, and she even overhears Nat doing it once, though she might have just been venting about someone saying dumb shit again. She does love to do that.

The important thing is that he keeps showing up, even though he’s uncomfortable every single time — though maybe Allie’s imagining it, but she thinks he’s reached the ‘almost comfortable’ stage this Christmas, like, maybe feeling a little awkward, but no more than anyone else would, spending Christmas with his boyfriend’s family. Maybe more than someone typically would if they’ve been doing it every year, but Allie knows they can be a lot, that most people have trouble keeping up with the rapid back and forth — even Jake gets left behind sometimes, then pouty when they start tease him about it.

David was a wide-eyed spectator, the first few times he saw that. Jake told Allie later that he didn’t hear the fondness in it, just the mockery, got defensive on Jake’s behalf. Allie doesn’t know how he’s survived locker rooms for so long — their love language is basically just mockery and punching each other in sensitive places, at least judging by Jake and his teammates back in the day. Probably now too. She’s met Cody Gallagher, unfortunately.

He takes it better now though, even joined in yesterday when everyone was shit-talking Jake’s recent stab at growing facial hair, while Jake tried and failed to defend himself through giggles. On the one hand, Allie’s just glad it isn’t a mustache, but on the other hand, maybe he’d do a better job with that. This morning, Jake comes down to breakfast clean-shaven. Allie isn’t delusional: he didn’t shave it because his sisters gave him shit. That was all David.

“High five,” Allie says when David joins them downstairs, and she’s half expecting a quizzical look, maybe even the ‘what the hell are the Lourdes talking about now’ one that surfaces sometimes, but instead she gets a tiny smile and a high five.

“I’m sitting right here, guys,” Jake says, but once again, he’s laughing.

#fic snippet #SOTM #david chapman #jake lourdes #allie lourdes #nat lourdes

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honeybadgercomeback · 2 years

Text

Spotter

Summary: An overheard phone call leads to an invitation to spend the holidays with your gym buddy and usual spotter, Lance. But when he tells you just who he is and what his life is like, you decide that spending Hanukkah with people who like each other is so much better than anything else with your family.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of a semi toxic family situation, mentions of past relationships ending, mentions of cheating.

AN: Just as a warning, I’m not Jewish. I’ve done a lot of research to write this accurately, and if I made any mistakes please do let me know so I can fix it! For those who celebrate, Chag Sameach!

—

“Yeah, Mom, I get it. I understand what you’re saying. Exactly, I wouldn’t want to look sad in the back of the photos. Just let me know when they’re sending RSVPs out. I’ll talk to you soon.” You stabbed at the red end call button, throwing your head back against the wall of the gym. This was great. Just great. Because three weeks before the holidays was exactly when you wanted to be uninvited from your family Christmas.

“You ok?” You turned to see Lance, the guy who shared your gym and spotted for you when you were doing weights standing down the hallway. The Canadian had become a friend since you’d started paying too much money for the gym in Monaco because your trainer worked out of there now.

“I’ll be fine. Just holiday planning.”

“I don’t know what Christmas is like, but from the movies and what friends have said it sounds stressful.” You raised an eyebrow and he elaborated. “I’m Jewish. I get the minor holiday that people compare to Christmas because of the time of year when the only real similarities are giving presents and eating chocolate.” You laughed and he smiled at your reaction.

“That sounds about right. I was on the phone to my mom, she politely advised that I skip Christmas at home this year. My sister’s bringing her fiance home for engagement photos. Apparently I’d be a ‘distraction’ because he was my college boyfriend.” You mimicked your mother’s accent, making Lance smile this time.

“So what’s your plan? Staying here for it?”

“At home in Nice, yeah. I’m going to get some wine, some cheese, and stay at home watching crappy movies. Are you doing anything nice? Heading home yourself?”

“Yeah, I’m going to Montreal. I’ll spend Hanukkah and New Years with my dad and sister. It’ll be fun, I think Chloe’s bringing her fiance who thankfully I have never dated because that would be awkward.”

“Want to get back to work?” He grinned and followed you to the free weights as you used your frustration to hit a personal best.

Three days later you were getting off the elliptical as a hand touched your shoulder. It made you jump as you turned to yell but Lance stood there in surprise, hands up apologetically.

“I called you, I’m sorry! I thought you’d heard me.” You pulled out your earbuds and he cringed at his mistake.

“It’s fine, it’s only you. What’s going on?”

“Come home with me for the holidays.”

You stared at him in shock, watching his expression closely. It felt like a joke.

“Doesn’t Hanukkah start in like a week? Plus flights to Canada? I can’t…” You trailed off and swallowed deeply as surprise and embarrassment took over your expression. “I really appreciate it, but I don’t think I can do it.”

“Look. When we finish working out can we get a coffee and talk? Please?”

Usually you’d say no, but you’d gotten to know and trust Lance over the past year. You couldn’t help but agree with him.

Once you’d changed and tied up your hair the two of you sat in a cafe people watching. The Christmas lights glowed on the dark night and it was beautiful to see the buildings lit in white. The two of you had ordered but Lance got his credit card to the cashier before you could, insisting he’d invited you out so he was paying.

“Offering means a lot but I’ll be fine, really. I know exactly what I’m going to do for the time I’m off.” You said after taking a sip. Lance shook his head and you realised it’d be a harder battle than you expected.

“I didn’t say anything because I figured you knew. It’s rare for me to be able to go anywhere, especially here, and people not know who I am. But you don’t. Remember how I told you I drive for a living?”

“Of course I do. What, do you drive horses or something instead of a car?”

“Try Formula One cars. Lance Stroll, driver for Aston Martin Formula One team at your table.” He held out his hand for a handshake as you looked at him.

“Seriously?”

“Completely.”

You listened as he explained what he did for a job, about who his family were and how it worked. You didn’t know a huge amount about that world and listened to everything.

“So you want me to come to Montreal with you for the holidays? Seriously? I…why?” You couldn’t understand why he wanted to spend time with you.

“You don’t treat me like other people do. You treat me like a person. I figure we’re friends, and I don’t want my friend to be home alone. It’s not fair on you to spend it by yourself.”

“Are you really sure?” He took your hand and squeezed once.

“I’m positive. I already told my dad I was inviting a friend to come with me. Chloe’ll be there with her fiance. It’ll be really nice to have someone there whose life doesn’t revolve around sports you need to wear protective equipment for. Scotty’s a snowboarder.” He quickly added the last sentence when you raised your eyebrow.

“I guess I’m going with you.”

You organised to work from home for the week before Christmas so you could go, and the morning of your flight you were packed and ready to go. Lance arrived at your apartment building in an SUV with a grin, taking your suitcase to put in the car before you could do it yourself. Instead of the usual terminal you flew out of he pulled up to a smaller building. The two of you went through quickly and got your passports checked before being directed to a tiny plane. It took a few moments for everything to hit you that you weren’t getting a flight to Paris and a connection.

“Lance. Seriously?” He smiled at your exasperated tone and pulled you to the quickly opening door.

“It was easier than trying to organise connections that worked. C’mon.”

You settled into the plush leather seat with a bottle of water in front of you as the pilot left the cockpit to fill you in on the flight plan and times. There’d be a stop off in Gander to clear passport control, but otherwise it was an easy flight. You let the news wash over you as you pulled out your work laptop to check the models you were working on.

“What’re you doing?” Lance asked once the plane was airborne, pulling out his own tablet to work.

“Carbon fibre designs. I work on aviation design and fuel burn, we’re looking at how it degrades over time and how long it can go without extra maintenance.”

“Want to see it snap at ridiculous speeds?” You smiled and he turned the tablet to show you a video of two cars colliding. One went up on its rear wheels and landed hard on the ground before continuing, but the other spun multiple times as the wheel rolled away. It was badly damaged and you stared at the debris on the roadway.

“That’s normal for Formula One?” You asked but Lance shook his head.

“It was my fault, I shouldn’t have over out the way I did. I was in the green car.”

It hit you what he did for a living and you shook your head, staring at the way so many cars had weaved around him to avoid hitting him.

“You’re crazy. Actually crazy.” He laughed and the two of you split an overly large sandwich, settling into doing your own work while you flew.

Landing in Gander was freezing. You were in a thick coat as the two of you ran off the plane through the snow flurries into the customs building. Your details were checked and everything was confirmed before they stamped your passport to let you through. While you were waiting to get back to the plane Lance’s name was called, two people running up to join you.

“We got a flight up here, figured we could hitch a ride the rest of the way? Scotty just finished his competition so we’re only getting in now.” The woman spoke, holding her hand out to you. “I’m Chloe, Lance’s sister. This is my fiance, Scotty. I heard the two of you are gym buddies? Please tell me you have gossip on Lance.”

The rest of the flight was fun, the four of you laughing and joking as Scotty showed you and Lance videos from his snowboarding contest. He was clearly talented and you both clapped at the podium video. But once you landed in Montreal your nerves started to get the best of you while you all made your way to a car. Lance again insisted on putting your case in and you sat on the back seat with Scotty as the heater ran for you.

Lance and Chloe had the front seats and you spent the drive looking out the window at the snowy vista surrounding you. Scotty squeezed your arm and you turned to him.

“It’ll be fine. Lawrence is really nice, I was terrified my first time here,” he murmured so the siblings couldn’t hear. You squeezed his arm in thanks without saying anything.

The house you arrived to was large, and Lance took your case in one of his hands as you all made it up the shovelled out drive. A tall man appeared as you made it inside, wrapping Lance and Chloe in a hug. He shook Scotty’s hand before holding it out for you to take.

“I’m Lawrence, Lance’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.” You shook it firmly while introducing yourself to him and getting a smile.

“Lance mentioned that you were coming with him, nobody should be alone at this time of year. We’re glad you could be here.”

It didn’t take long for you to be shown to a guest room and you put your bag away. Once you came downstairs it was almost dark, everyone gathered in the kitchen. You watched as the menorah in the middle of the table was lit and three prayers were said, nodding along the same way Scotty did. It was sweet to see and you felt included in it despite not understanding the words.

Once it was lit the five of you stayed in the kitchen, watching Chloe and Lawrence fry latkes and everyone shared stories about the year that had been. Lance taught you how to play dreidel with his arm around your shoulder as you spun the wooden toy. When it landed on gimel the table pushed the pile of chocolate over to you, making you laugh. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had so much fun at any kind of family event, or even if it had happened before. The days had work in the mornings before you and Lance exercised in the gym and in the evenings the menorah was lit and the five of you spent the evening together. You had been worried that it would be fussy and you’d be unwelcome, but instead it was calm and relaxing.

The morning of day four you were curled up in the living room with your laptop on your thighs as Lawrence came in.

“Busy day?” He asked and you smiled with a shrug.

“Just trying to work some aerodynamics out. We’re looking at making small changes to winglets for fifty to seventy seater planes to increase fuel efficiency and decrease emissions. But the financial gains are so minimal compared to the installation cost that a lot of companies aren’t interested.

“What exactly is it that you do?”

You went through the work you did on moulding carbon fibre for small passenger planes to improve how they flew and reduce emissions. Your job was to make sure that whatever you did was aerodynamically sound, and the most recent prototype you’d worked on had just been approved by the FAA and EASA for use in two of your biggest markets.

“You presented it to the regulators?” Lawrence fixed you with his gaze, interested in everything you were saying.

“I didn’t really have a choice, someone had to present and I know it best. But I enjoy the work and explaining it to people. There’s a lot that we can do to make little changes to improve the world.”

“That makes sense. Have you always worked on planes?”

“I used to work on trains too. My bachelors is in applied physics, and my masters is in aerodynamic engineering. I like working out how to make things work more efficiently and use less energy. Hence this, it’s the final slide I have to check for the year.”

“Then I should let you get back to it. I was going to order some pizzas for dinner tonight, does that work for you?” He smiled as he stood up and you smiled back in acceptance, your attention returning to if the mock up could be sent to the 3D printer so you could have a design prototype ready when you were back in January.

Things between you and Lance were shifting. It was strange, but it was good. At least you thought so. When the four of you sat and watched a movie he sat beside you on one couch as Chloe and Scotty sat on the other curled up together. The two of you moved closer to each other as the days went by until his arm started going around you to pull you to him. The first night it happened he held you tight as Die Hard played. You and Scotty had the argument about if it was a Christmas film while the Stroll siblings looked on and laughed at your antics. It was fun and there was near constant flirtation and you were terrified that if anything happened you’d have to leave early. But things were good and you wanted them to stay that way.

Which meant you should have known that everything would come careening down around you.

It was the morning of day six of Hanukkah and you stood outside with a coffee firmly clasped in your hands. The other three were having a snowball fight as you laughed but once Chloe threw one at you staying away was a lost cause as you jumped in. The four of you ran and laughed like kids until the loud tone of your cell ringing interrupted the shouts. You pulled it out and frowned, trudging back to the porch to answer it.

“Hey Mom.”

“Honey, when is your flight getting in? We’re at the airport and the one you’re usually on came and went but you didn’t arrive. Did you need to change to a later one?”

You checked your watch and shook your head, taking a sip of now cold coffee before you spoke.

“I’m not coming home. It’s like you asked, you didn’t want me interrupting the engagement photos and making a scene because my sister is marrying my ex boyfriend.”

“You should have known that wasn’t what we meant for you to do! It was that you should leave early instead of waiting until January. That was all.”

Your anger was rising and you just wanted to hang up, but you didn’t want to disturb everyone else. You didn’t realise that Lance had been listening in, and as soon as you said “mom” he was on his way over to you.

“Well you didn’t make that clear. I’m spending the holidays with friends and I’m happy. Your presents are in the mail, I paid extra so they should arrive on time. I’ll fly home in January to see people then.”

“What will people say? You need to be here or someone will make a comment about you not being here for family. You can’t—“

“Can’t what? Can’t tell my mother that I’m doing what she said I should do? Can’t come home for Christmas because you’re afraid I’m going to make a scene? Have to be invited to spend time with people so they don’t think I’m totally alone? Can’t see my childhood friends because I’m going to hear the “oh you poor thing” crap again and again? I’m doing what I need to do for myself. It’s not fair to act like I’m the one at fault here when I’m the one who brought someone home for Christmas one year and found him in bed with my sister! So if I can’t be there because you don’t want the stories or discussion then let me be where I can at least pretend I’m happy with people who like me for me.”

“Baby, are you coming back?” Lance called loudly from beside you which made you turn and look. Chloe and Scotty were just beside him and it was clear that they’d heard your mini rant. Lance winked and you decided to play along.

“Yeah, just let me finish this call!”

“Who’s there? Who are you with?” It was clear the unfamiliar accent had confused her.

“I’m with people I care about and who care about me. That’s what matters. I’ll call you Christmas Day.” You hung up the phone and leaned back before Lance put his arm around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Everything ok?” He asked and you took a deep breath before shaking your head.

“She thought I was coming home after the last time we spoke. Because definitely, of course I’m coming home to see them. Of course.”

His arms tightened around you to hold you close as you leaned against him for a few moments. You felt his hand move your hair so he could whisper into your ear.

“I let them know the basics of what happened. I didn’t want to say everything, that’s your business, but they were worried.”

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, his brown eyes sparkling and comforting. When the two of you separated Chloe and Scotty insisted on a hug before shepherding you inside out of the cold. Chloe began melting chocolate to make luscious hot chocolates for you all, laughing as Scotty and Lance both started worrying about what it would do to their meal plans. Everyone made you smile and you told stupid jokes as Lance showed some of what he called his stupidest race moments on YouTube to make you laugh.

That night the five of you were back in the kitchen to light another candle. Lance was the one who took control of lighting it and saying the prayer, the words washing over you again. Instead of just the menorah there was more prayers for the Sabbath and another candle lit. Lance murmured that they were mostly doing it because of Hanukkah but you just smiled and leaned in. There was more fun and laughter, playing games as everyone sat and enjoyed. Lance was glued to your side for the entire evening, his arm on your waist pulling you close. The dark blue sweater he wore was soft against you as you stayed glued to him, his hand on your hip as you said goodnight. The two of you ambled up to the bedrooms, Lance still holding onto you.

“This has been a lot of fun. Thanks for inviting me, Stroll.” You smiled up and watched the crinkles around his eyes deepen as he grinned back at you.

“Thanks for agreeing to come. You deserve some fun holidays, not just sitting around alone in your apartment.” The words were said so earnestly and the couple of glasses of wine you drank over the evening had lowered your inhibitions. After a few seconds of looking at him you reached up and pressed a kiss against his smile. But Lance didn’t respond so you stepped back, terrified you’d misread the signs.

You hadn’t and he pulled your body against his as he moved to kiss you properly. One of his hands cupped your cheek, holding you still as the two of you separated.”

“That isn’t why I asked you here at all, but I’m really glad we did that.”

You spent the night together, curled up in Lance’s bed as he explained each of the trophies that lined his childhood bedroom from his early years of carting. He explained what each one was from, giggling at the way you congratulated him for long ago victories. The night passed while you were talking and joking in a blanket cocoon you created together.

The final two days of Hanukkah were spent with the friends you’d made. Chloe taught you how to ski, giving you a spare pair of ski boots and helping you strap into the cross country torture devices. You took selfies and she took a video to send to Lance of you making your way across the frozen land. You looked utterly ridiculous but had a lot of fun. The biggest benefit was Lance massaging your sore calves that evening on the couch as Chloe stuck her feet in Scotty’s face encouraging him to do the same. Neither of you could stop giggling.

The last day was also Christmas Day, but you didn’t really care. Christmas had only ever been a seeing family holiday for you rather than a religious event, and you were more than happy to get to spend time with people who actually wanted to spend time with you. Now that the first kiss barrier had been broken Lance kept pulling you in for hugs and pushing kisses to the top of your head that you returned to his cheek. It was clear you were more than friends and Lawrence gave an approving nod.

That morning you were the first one up, calling your family for a thirty second call before making breakfast. Lawrence was the first one down as you pulled a waffle off the maker, surprising you when you turned around to see him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you, thank you for cooking. You didn’t need to.”

“It’s one of the traditions I always do at this time of year, a big breakfast for everyone. I hope you don’t mind.” You felt self conscious about it, it was his kitchen after all. Lance had told you it would be fine but you still weren’t sure.

“How can I mind coming down to food here for us? I heard movement as I was leaving my bedroom so everyone else will down soon. Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as you whisked eggs in a pan until Lawrence spoke again.

“You’ve worked on planes and trains, how do you feel about working with automobiles?” Your forehead crinkled as you turned to look at him while still stirring the scrambled eggs.”

“I like things that go really fast. Working on a car seems like it’d be boring after working on planes.”

“What about a Formula One car?” You could have heard a pin drop before he continued. “We need a new head of aerodynamics for the team, I’ve been interviewing candidates trying to find someone. Our previous head went to a different team. Ever since you explained what you do I’ve done some research and I think you’d be the perfect fit. It’s not an easy job, there’s a lot of travel and you’ll be working with some hardheaded engineers and regulations that have millimetre wide restrictions. But if you’re interested I can have a full job offer later today.”

You’d stopped stirring at this point, barely having the presence of mind to pull the pan away from the hot burner. You hadn’t been looking for a new job, especially not in Formula One or in an industry where you’d never worked before. It didnt feel real.

“Is this because of Lance and I?” You hated asking the question but you had to. To his credit Lawrence shook his head immediately.

“Never. As soon as you told me that you deal with strict regulations regularly I wanted you for this. I do understand if you need to think about it.”

“Will you send me the offer? I’m not saying I’ll take the job, but I need to see all of the details. An email’s the best way to do it.” You recited your email and he took it down quickly to send you the information. Once he had everyone else started coming downstairs so you served up the cinnamon rolls and everything else you’d made.

That afternoon you were curled up on the couch with Lance, watching the snowstorm blowing outside. Your phone buzzed with an email from Lawrence containing your offer. While scanning the details your eyes widened.

It was more than you’d expected. Financially it was a big jump from what you were being paid and the benefits were fantastic. Working from the UK and travelling to every race, paid work travel, lots of paid days off, health insurance and more. You stiffened while reading it which made Lance run his hand down your arm.

“Everything ok? Was it your mom?” His voice was roughened with sleep and you smiled softly, leaning over to kiss him.

“It’s good. I have a question for you though. How would you feel about seeing me at least twenty four weekends next year?” You could see the moment that the significance of your question hit him.

“Seriously? How?”

You explained the offer, how his dad had walked in while you were working and you were seriously considering it. You wanted to say yes, but a budding relationship and so much travelling felt worrying.

“If you want to take this, do it. I’ll support you no matter what.” He took a breath before continuing. “But I need to tell you that once people find out we’re dating they’ll say you got this job because of nepotism. Which we both know isn’t true, that you deserve this, but its what they say about my seat. I don’t want you to have to deal with any of the crap.”

“I’d deal with it anyway. Any partner of someone well known gets it. But this way we can at least work together and see each other. I don’t mind the worry and the randomness talking crap. We know the truth.” You pulled his face to yours to kiss him, Lance pulling you onto him and holding you close.

“This is more than just for right now, isn’t it?” He asked, his voice barely audible against your ear.

“It is for me.” You linked your hands together, feeling him squeeze it tightly before wrapping his arms securely around you.

That evening he posted a rare photo on his Instagram story, the five of you with a fully lit menorah in the foreground. There were matching grins and arms around shoulders, two couples clearly defined. You knew comments were made online, and even more when your appointment as Head of Aerodynamic Engineering was announced and you did an interview with the social media team, but you ignored every one of them while your research spoke for itself. And the morning when you arrived to the track for preseason testing in Bahrain holding Lance’s hand made the shouts louder than ever, but watching your work begin to pay off meant it was all entirely worth it.

#lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll fluff #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll reader insert #f1 x reader

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seriesxwriting · 2 years

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It’s you I want for Christmas

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

W stiles stilinski

Warnings- kissing, swearing.

Series- teen wolf

Summary- you and stiles are best friends but Christmas time brings around love. And stiles is tired of hiding the love he has for you.

Requests are open🫶

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

————————————————————————

“Hey! stiles over here, what are you doing in town” I laughed running over and hugging him. “Y/n, What a coincidence” he giggled hugging me back. “How?” I pulled a funny face while being a bit confused.

“It’s nothing ignore me- I’m just doing some last minute Christmas shopping” he wiggled his eye brows. “Cutting it close huh, it’s Christmas Eve” “yeah well I have no clue what to get the person” stiles shrugged looking around at some of the shops.

“Well, Maybe i can lend you a hand I’m just about done here” I shrugged making my bags known. Stiles looked at me deeply and grinned. “I’d like that” he told me nodding his head. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from him, something about my best friend just drew me in. More than I could ever admit.

“Perfect- who’s the gift for” I shook my head subtly breaking the mesmerising spark that we had between us. “Uhhh well it’s a secret but it’s for a girl” “bit vague” I giggled nudging him as we began to walk through town. “I can’t give away much” he twinkled at me.

“Is she part of the pack?” I questioned but stiles just tapped his nose “all I’m saying is she’s very special to me- I want to ask her out and I want to get her something to show her how I feel” stiles told me. I tried to push down the feeling of pain twisting in my stomach. I tried to ignore the lump in my throat the want to cry. I tried my best to ignore the feelings I had for my best friend while we shopped for the girl who owned his heart.

“You alright y/n?” Stiles laughed shaking me slightly “yeah- of course I am it’s Christmas” i nodded forcing a smile. Stiles took my arm cheerfully “so where are we off to?” “Well what girls don’t like jewellery” I pointed to one of the shops close by. It was painted a dark green with golden curly writing at the top on a wooden frame. Stiles pushed the door open and the bell rang out.

He turned to me after shaking the snow off his face and coat. Stiles then put a gloved hand out and wiped the snow off my coat and out of my hair. We both giggled together flicking snow at one another. “Ugh I love the snow but I don’t love looking like a wet mess” I sighed removing my Beanie and my knitted cream mittens. “You never look a mess y/n, I don’t know how you do it” stiles shrugged with a cheeky smirk.

“Ooo that one’s pretty” I breezed past the compliment pointing at a necklace behind the glass. I appreciated it I did, but i couldn’t look past the fact we were in this shop for another girl. “Do you like that one?” He questioned coming behind me staring at it. Slowly I turned and looked up at him. Stiles was so handsome from his baby brown eyes to his soft skin. He was truly all I wanted for Christmas.

“It’s super pretty, but that’s just my opinion- what type of jewellery dose she wear” I asked softly, stiles looked down at me now. Our faces were inches away from another’s. “Do you actually know” I raised an eyebrow at him. Men don’t really pay attention to that stuff. “She wears a lot of gold jewellery and she has a lot of colourful stones” stiles told me while looking around the store.

My mouth hung slightly open “you- pay attention to detail” I announced walking around the little shop. “Well she takes a lot of time and effort to present her self- and she’s beautiful how could I not notice”. I turned around to look at him but he was already staring at me. My heart was pounding against my chest. I couldn’t listen to this anymore. “Well it sounds like we have similar taste so- this shouldn’t be too hard”

I sighed snapping the eye contact we were holding and looking through the shelves. Until my eyes laid upon something I couldn’t turn away from. While side eyeing it I noticed the price of the ring. “What are you looking at?” Stiles questioned trying to figure it out. “That ring but it’s-.” “-it’s beautiful” stiles cut in walking over. “It’s a lot of money sti” I joined him but I was completely mesmerised by it. “Trust me y/n she’s worth every penny and so is her happiness”

“This ring was once worn by a princess from England” one of the ladies that owned the shop walked by us. “It’s stunning” I batted my eye. “Is this the one?” Stiles turned to me smiling. “She will love it- I’m happy for you two” I rubbed his arm putting my feeling aside. “She hasn’t agreed to a date yet” stiles smirked side hugging me.

He brought the gold ring with a beautiful shiny square emerald in the middle of it. It had carved out gold swirls around the Center piece with tiny diamonds engraved. I waited outside for stiles to come out again. And he did so with a huge grin. “I’m glad your happy” I clasped my hands together.

“What time are you and your family coming round tomorrow for Christmas?” Stiles asked me with his hands in his pockets. “Um- quite early I think around twelve” “perfect, I promise this Christmas will be better than last years there won’t be any fires this time” stiles laughed leading me towards the car park.

“Well it was entertaining watching your dad try and work the fire extinguisher” I held my stomach remembering. “What about when we were ten and your sister smashed your kitchen window trying to throw you a fork” stiles sniggered “oh my mum was so angry”. I stopped in front of my car looking up at him. “It really wouldn’t be Christmas with out you y/n” he hugged me tightly.

“Considering we’ve spent Christmas together since before we could walk- it really wouldn’t be the same with out you either sti” “thanks for all your help y/n” he pulled away fluffing my hair out. “So will your mystery girl- be coming tomorrow?” I wondered holding my breath for the answer. “Yes, she will be” he twinkled, I solemnly nodded “cant- wait to um meet her” I wiggled my eye brows. “I’ll see you tomorrow beautiful” stiles patted my arm before walking through the snow to his famous jeep.

——————————

Christmas Day

*knock knock*

“HEY! Oh my god merry Christmas!” Stiles dad smiled opening the door welcoming us in. My mum and dad and two sister walked into the house singing Christmas songs and greeting the rest of stiles family. I walked in last with a bright smile. “Hey Noah thanks for having us this year” I hugged him “oh y/n Christmas isn’t Christmas with out the y/l/n’s here” “me and stiles said the same thing yesterday” I laughed softly while he closed the door.

“He’s in his room if you want to go up” Noah nodded in the direction of the stairs. “Thanks” I beamed making my way up to my best friend. I knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Yes come in” he laughed though it was too late. “H-hey” I stood awkwardly as stiles stood with his top in his arms. “Merry Christmas” he smiled softly “yes- yes merry Christmas” “what did you ask Santa for” stiles joked throwing on his top.

My heart beat slowed down now. “I asked him for… this Christmas to be just as entertaining as all the rest of ours” I jumped onto his bed laying down. “You look lovely anyway” he winked at me “not too bad your self stilinski” “so when’s the lucky girl arriving” i propped myself on my elbow. But again stiles just tapped his nose. “Sti Why are you being so weird about this? You tell me everything”

“because I value your opinion y/n- your the most important person to me so I need to- handle this right”. I was quite shocked that that’s what stiles came out with but- it was kind of nice. “Stiles! Y/n! We’re opening presents!” My mother yelled up to us. “We’re being summoned” he laughed picking up his phone and sliding it into his pocket. He put his arm out for me “m lady” “your such a joker” i sniggered shaking my head and walking past him.

Me and stiles had seats saved for us on the sofa. Everything went so fast wrapping paper flew everywhere. Laughter and chatter filled the air with everyone in the room loving Christmas together. Eventually all the younger kids went to play with there toys and all the adults went to talk in the kitchen about how drunk they plan on getting. Me and stiles stayed sitting on the couch.

“That was eventful” he laughed falling backwards getting comfortable. “Yeah but it’s not enough for me, something always goes funnily wrong, I need the entertainment” I widened my eyes with a grin. “Well I can’t say I disagree with you” he rubbed my knee. “Uh- your girl missed the presents, I wanted to her reaction”. Stiles laughed shaking his head “well technically all the presents haven’t been opened yet” stiles rolled his head over to look at me.

I pinched my eyebrows together and he jumped up and reached into the Christmas tree. “This is for you” he gave me a little present wrapped in sliver paper. “Sti are you serious- we made a pact when we were twelve that we wouldn’t buy each other presents” I sighed melting into the sofa. “Exactly we were twelve y/n” he laughed sitting down next to me. “Will you just open it” “if you promise me this is a one time thing because I feel so awful right now”

“One times thing” he put his hands up laughing. I sighed again but with a little smile now. I peeled open the neatly suck tape and out came a box. It was so pretty but when i opened up the lid my eyes expanded. “No- sti you gave me the wrong one” I shook my head but he was staring into my eyes. “No- y/n I didn’t” he admitted sitting up now.

“I don’t- understand you said there was a girl coming and that- you wanted to ask her out you can’t give this to me” I shook my head “you are the girl y/n” stiles started playing with his fingers. I didn’t know what to say to him. I was so confused and excited at the same time. “Y/n- say something” stiles half laughed. “So I’m the girl- you want to ask out?” I looked into his hypnotising brown eyes with a grin. Stiles nodded slowly. “Ask me out then”.

Stiles laughed, I couldn’t turn away from the boy. “Well, y/n y/l/n I happened to have fallen in love with my best friend and I’m really hoping I haven’t ruined anything with you by hoping that you- feel what I feel too” “I do” I blurted out jumping into a hug. “Fucking hell I thought you were in love with some random girl and you were bringing her round for Christmas” I pushed him gently pulling away. “I’m sorry I’m so sorry” stiles laughed his head off but grabbed onto my waist.

“I apologise, I am sorry but- your the only girl I’ve ever wanted” “I can’t believe you planned this whole thing I- your just- I’m in love with you too sti I have been for years” “i know how you feel I do” he smiled rubbing my hand. “I also planned this” stiles giggled pointing upwards to a Christmas mistletoe. “fuck it- I’ve wanted to do this for so long” I pulled our faces together. I could have sworn I heard fireworks go off in the background. The spark me and stiles had was so strong.

I really did love this boy and I wanted to bawl my eyes out when he told me there was another girl. But to find out all this planning was all for me made me feel so special. “Stiles! Y/n- Noah left his gun and your father y/n has just shot it through a window shattered it and then shattered Noah’s car windscreen” my mother came in laughing her head off. Just as she was rambling she caught us kissing.

“Are you two- are you- was that what I think it was?” She stuttered smiling a wide smile. “We uh…” I trailed off with a smirk of my own. “Yeah we have something to tell you” stiles nodded with a little shrug. “And- everyone else” I added in sliding the ring on my left hand. My mother just continued smiling while bobbling her head at us holding hands.

“Guys! It finally happened” she yelled out into the house walking away.

————————————————————————

My masterlist for more like this!��

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earthtooz · 2 years

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𝗕𝗘𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗙𝗧 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥

in which: oikawa surprises you with the best christmas present you could ask for.

warnings: 2.1k words, fluff !!!, reader is called 'beautiful', gn!reader, established relationship, lmk if there are other warnings!

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing this one <3 by far the cutest i've written :(

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

When Iwaizumi invited you to a Christmas party with fellow Aoba Johsai graduates, you thought nothing of it. It was going to be on two nights before Christmas, just a small thing amongst your closest friends and an invite that you accepted pretty readily.

It would be a good distraction from missing Oikawa too much considering how four days after would mark six years of dating since third year. Although you wish he could be in Japan to celebrate the holidays with you as he’s done every year since leaving, he seems to be busier this time around because he’s got a match to play on Christmas to celebrate some sort of ‘tradition’. At least he’s given you the livestream link to watch, promising to wink at the camera with each service ace he gets.

“Hi, pretty,” Oikawa’s voice rings out from your phone which was currently propped up against the wall of your kitchen. You’re scrambling around, trying to find the appropriate ingredients needed to make dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” you reply, not paying much attention to your phone screen that your boyfriend was currently dominating in all of his drowsy glory, having just woken up from a good night’s rest.

“What are you doing?”

“Making dinner.”

“Without me?” You can hear the pout in his voice as he peers at you with his tired eyes that were still slightly swollen.

Brushing aside the obvious that he was in another country, you place your chopping board in front of your phone so he can hear your response clearly. “Yes because you should be asleep instead of waking up to call me at 6:50am.”

That earns you a whine. “But I love spending time with you! I can’t do that whilst asleep.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you don’t dream of me,” you set out to cutting up some carrots, decidedly making a curry for tonight’s dinner.

“I do! But when I’m not dreaming of you I wake up so I can spend some time with actual you,” Oikawa points out, his confession making your insides gush with adoration and warmth. You wish he was here so you could actually kiss him for it. “Don’t you dream of me too?”

“All the time. Even when I’m not asleep, you’re always on my mind, Tooru.”

His lips become wobbly and a sudden shine glosses over his eyes, was he about to cry from that small of a comment? A sniffle that he let escape answers the question for you. “You’re so perfect, I love you so much,” he mumbles, slightly muffled when he wipes his eyes. There’s urgency in his next demand, instructing you to ‘tell me you love me too.’

“I love you too, Tooru,” you reassure. “I really hate that you’re not coming home these holidays.”

“I know, love, I hate it too, I even tried crying in front of my manager but she wouldn’t budge!”

“Good. Someone has to keep you in check when I’m not there. Send her my best wishes.”

“Not you too! Even the love of my life is cruel to me.”

“Only when you deserve it.”

He humphs, watching you work in silence. No matter how much you berate him for waking early, you will always appreciate his company, even if it’s over a phone screen that leaves you constantly yearning for a physical version of him, but at least the emptiness can be mended with video calls, messages that update you about his day, and selfies to match.

Although the feeling of an empty bed, unused mugs, and untouched books that weren’t yours will always haunt you, no matter how hard Oikawa can try to mend it, it just isn’t the same without your other half by your side. You could be selfish- well, you already are, it’s just that you’re not inclined to act on your selfishness because watching him soar and flourish in Argentina was a real blessing. If he’s happy, then you are too.

“You’re not mad that I’m not coming back, are you?” He asked, voice suddenly a lot softer and timid.

Pouring some water into a pot, you huff with contempt. “I’m not, I promise, it’s just- I really miss you. It’s been a while since your last visit to Japan as well and it feels a little empty in our apartment without you. My life feels a little empty, too.”

“You’re gonna make me actually cry, I hate it when you’re sad,” he mutters, hugging his pillow tighter to his chest as his frown deepens. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not your fault at all, Tooru. I don’t want you apologising for things like this because I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.”

“I’m apologising because you’re too good for me. You could’ve left me whenever you wanted to find a ‘better’ man- if he exists, but he doesn’t because I’m already the best! Yet you’ve decided to stay with me only for me to put you through all this.”

You scoff. “You also could’ve left me to find a ‘better’ partner-”

“-no such thing,” he says with a wink, but the mischief doesn’t really reach his eyes.

“Yet you’ve decided to stay with me as well, Tooru. You put so much into our relationship that I don’t have anything to complain about, which is good because otherwise Iwaizumi would throttle you on my behalf.”

“Of course I’m gonna stay with you, you’re the one for me. I figured that out before I even left for Argentina.”

“You’re the one for me too, Tooru,” you confess timidly, making a ‘heart’ shape for him with your hands. Although this is far from your first time being vulnerable with one another, it’s always going to be a little cringey expressing your feelings for one another, no matter how comfortable Oikawa may get with you.

The conversation dwindles a little as you transfer your phone near the stovetop, waiting for the vegetables to boil whilst preparing the curry roux you purchased earlier. Under the kitchen lights with the sound of appliances in the background, you’re content to just exist with your lover through the familiarity of your device.

As the vegetables soften and the rice cooker is operating the background, Tooru has gotten up and done his morning routine- shirtless because he was generous enough to keep you in mind, before showing you the beautiful landscape of Argentina from his apartment. It’s outside on his balcony that you continue the conversation.

“Iwaizumi actually invited me to a Christmas party with our Seijoh friends,” you tell him once you leave the pot to boil.

His eyes widen a little in curiosity, leaning closer to the phone in interest. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, I am. I thought it might be fun.” Tapping your fingers on the kitchen bench, you raise your phone closer to your face so you can see his pretty face clearer. “I’m excited to catch up with the friends I haven’t seen in a while which is easier because I won’t have your annoying ass around me all the time.”

Putting his hand over his chest and clenching it, he acts as though he’s been fatally wounded and you can’t help but roll your eyes at how dramatic he is.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” you relent.

Oh what a miracle, Oikawa has been healed. “Can I help you find an outfit?” He asks, a sheepish smile on his face. When you nod in agreement, he continues. “You should wear that one outfit you love that I got for you. You haven’t worn it at all and I think you’d look really nice in it,” he mutters with a small pout, putting his chin on his hand.

“You’re not even gonna be there to see it!”

He raises his hands in defence. “You can always send photos! It’ll be like I’m with you through the dress because I bought it and so technically, that’s me showing off how beautiful my partner is.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand, denying his compliment with a shy expression. Your humbleness pisses Oikawa off.

“Don’t be like that. You know how pretty you are,” he reaffirms. “I hate that I’m not there in person to remind you.”

You soften a little, trying not to let sadness plague your expression again. You truly are miserable without Oikawa, feeling incomplete unless he’s here with you but that’s how you know you’re soulmates, you suppose. Such a painful way of realising something so beautiful.

The call ends twenty or so minutes later because he needed to go on his morning run, but this routine is performed daily. He calls, asks you about your day, you tell him then ask him about how he is, and what he has to do later. It’s a nice routine and one you’ve been sticking to very frequently, a balm to the burn of longing.

But when you’re preparing for the Seijoh Christmas party, you’re about to call Oikawa to show him how you look, only for him to not answer your call which was very unusual. Maybe he was still asleep? He did mention how training was draining him and that it hurt to walk so you chalk it to that explanation and let him rest for a little longer. He deserves it for how much he gives towards being a volleyball player.

Leaving the house at exactly 7:30, the address to the place you were told is only twenty-five minutes away. Although you find it weird that even though it’s a friend-organised party, the venue was a professional and proper hall for celebrations. Looking on the website, there were even full-length windows acting as walls that gazed at the scenery outside but you brushed it off, thinking nothing of it before going on with your day.

But now that you’ve arrived, managing to find a spot in the relatively filled parking lot, you can feel your gut brewing in scepticism and uncertainty. Were you at the right place? Surely, the fairy lights are on and beautiful, there’s cars so there must be people, but why was there no music? No Mariah Carey to tell you that you were in the right place?

Then, the familiar face of Iwaizumi stepping outside calms the turbulence of anxiety you previously drowned under. He waves at you with an excited grin, helping you up the small stairs with a gentle hand.

“You look nice,” he compliments upon exchanging greetings. You smile gratefully at him, thanking him for his company and for his compliment.

“Thank you, Oikawa actually picked this out for me, it suits me quite well!” You gushed. “You look nice tonight as well, Iwa.”

“Thank you. Should we go inside? A few people are already here.”

Nodding, the dark-haired quickly leads the way, ushering you inside through the halls which were much nicer than you expected. The reception is beautiful, there is so much art decorating the walls but it gave a refined and sophisticated vibe, and the gentle lighting only pulled it all together.

Whoever is hosting this party must have gotten a raise. No, maybe a promotion instead.

As your shoes clink against the marble floor, Iwaizumi opens the door for you and you thank him with a grateful nod before abruptly stopping.

The room is enchanting. The decor is beyond comprehension, the lighting is subtle but glamorous, and the windows indeed gave a beautiful view of snow coated trees, gently lit up by fairy lights.

But, the most marvellous sight of all was Oikawa Tooru himself, looking as dashing as ever whilst standing in the midst of an empty room.

Your feet take you to him without thinking and you don’t have time to think before you’re embracing him in a bone crushing hug, a gesture he returns with just as much fervour and passion as he places a lingering kiss on your temple. Melting into each other’s embrace, there’s a shared feeling of relief, warmth, and content as you breathe him in.

“My love,” you whisper into the crisp fabric of his button-down. You’re too overwhelmed with happiness to be confused on the logistics of how and why he was in Japan. “You’re here.”

“I am,” he responds, separating from you to cup your cheeks, looking at you with so much love and adoration, eyes going down to admire the outfit you’re wearing. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, my beautiful, beautiful Y/N.”

You hide away from him slightly, shying away at his boldness.

“I’m finally home. But, there’s something I need to do first.” Oikawa then sinks to the floor on one knee, pulling out a velvet box with a stunning ring as he looks up at you with doe eyes that brim with hope.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa fluff #oikawa drabble #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabble #oikawa fic #tooru oikawa x reader #tooru x reader

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harrysmimi · 2 years

Text

Best Boyfriend

Synopsis: One where Harry finds his girl having a break down

More of my work

Harry was going over to see his girlfriend at her flat as he'd returned back in London just last night.

It was a Saturday morning and he has been planning to surprise her with a weekend away. Maybe a little trip to somewhere near or day out in London itself. He picked up breakfast on his way to her flat.

His heart sunk to his stomach the moment he entered her flat with the help of the spare key she gave him last Christmas, it was his present she said so he can come over whenever he pleased. There he found his girl layed on her bed in her studio flat with text books and printed notes every spread over the mattress, the place was a mess, pillows and blankets thrown on the floor to make room for her stuff. She was layed there with her laptop on her tummy watching some cartoon crying her eyes out. By the sounds of the show playing on her computer it seemed it was something funny and not something to cry over.

"Hey, love what's wrong?" He rushed towards her dropping the bag pf breakfast on the coffee table. "Are you watching a sad movie, baby?"

"No, I'm watching Noddy and Friends that's not fucking sad!" She cried. "I'm sorry!"

"What's wrong, my love?" He moved her notes away carefully to make himself room to and proceeded to close her laptop shut to pull her in his arms.

"I can't do this!" She exclaimed, sobbing, "I understand nothing."

"What can you not do baby?" He was confused, "it's okay, do you wanna talk about it?"

"This stupid project. I don't know where to get the information from. My professor thinks just because he's been teaching this subject for thirty years that we know everything. This sucks! I wanna drop out." She on ranting, "but I can't because my mum will be mad. This is so draining."

"Why don't you ask your professor do give you some tips?" He suggested.

"I did, he said I'll get everything online and in the notes. I have no fucking idea where to find a fucking Balance sheet of a random company online."

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's all okay." He assured her, "let's do one thing, you're up for it?"

"What?" She whined, "I don't want to go anywhere. Just lemme be here."

"No, listen to me. I got us breakfast, I'm sure you didn't even had your breakfast yet. Then we're gonna go on a little walk." His hand ran in soothing strokes on her spine. "It's just a project, I'll help you with it." Now that made her loft her head up, he had tried helping her once before but gave up because he did not understood a thing he read. "No, I am gonna help you this time. I promise you. Now come on let's eat."

"I don't want to." She started crying all over again. "I am sorry I'm crying."

"No it's alright lovie." He pressed a kiss on her forehead, "it's alright. Getting out will help clear your mind. I see watching something to do that isn't helping you now. Let's eat and go out, yeah? We can go get your favourite frozen yogurt."

Her fave turned of something of embarrassment when he mentioned of them going out. Her eyes pooled up with tears all over again, her cheeks glistening with the tears.

"I don't get paid till tomorrow!" And there she was sobbing again.

"Who said you've to pay? I'm taking you out on a date, now come on." He urged her, "I'll pick this all up for you." She finally agreed got out of bed to go wash up her face.

It's been little over eight months YN and Harry started seeing each other, and out of three months he was away for filming for Dunkirk and getting his album all finished up. He is sure she is still not quite over her little awkward and shy phase, but he doesn't blame her. She's got a lot going anyway. She's in the last year of college and it's been stressful for her. And living miles and miles away from home wasn't doing anything to help her either, last year she couldn't even go to see her family over her winter break. Harry took it upon himself to be with him.

He's most amazing boyfriend!

It was the best Christmas he's spent in a long, long time though. Though she couldn't buy him presents like he did (and went a little overboard) she made him a few little DIY ones. Like jar of little notes to read when he's feeling: low, anxious or just need a little motivation, a pearl necklace (though he broke it on accident soon after), gave him a free manicure.

She's a keeper, Mitch said seeing the little glass jar at Harry's place.

Meanwhile Harry gathered up her notes spread all over her bed, and took everything out of the little take out boxes onto dishes. Put back her bed together for her even though he knows she's gonna be pissed for doing her work. She needs a break.

"Come on," he grabbed her hand in a gentle hold before she could even say a word and walk to the coffee table where he'd set up their breakfast.

"Thank you!" She cooed noticing he's got all her favourite food. Like he really woke up early and went to the restaurant and waited in line to get the food which she likes. It warmed her heart.

"Of course my love," he leaned in to get his long awaited kiss from her with puckered lips. She finally smiled and leaned in too press a kiss on the full on his lips. "That's my girl!" He grinned peppering her face with more sloppy and wet kisses which made her let out a line of soft giggles.

They went out like he promised her. They got the Frozen yogurt from her favourite place, he even surprised her with an impromptu visit to the London Eye.

Later that day he actually sat down and started on with the project with her. It was a difficult one so they're going to have to spend the sunday in to get it done as it was due on Monday, midnight. Two days seemed enough.

He actually helped her and not be his naughty self and annoy her like her enjoys to some times.

N O T E :

I wrote this in one sitting. 😭 Please tell me if there are any mistakes on here.

Please do leave tell me if you're liking my work so far. And leave a like and reblog if you wish. 🤗🥰

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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canirove · 9 months

Text

In The Name of Love | Chapter 10

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"This has been the best Christmas present ever, Val. Seriously."

"You're welcome" I smile.

"Barça won, we watched it from some of the best seats, and Pedri scored! It had been a while, you know?"

"I don't keep up with what they do."

Which is a lie, because whether I like it or not, this season I am paying attention to what Barça does.

"Did you see Pedri's celebration? Today it was different."

"How so?" I ask.

"He started doing it this season, and the first time it was towards the stands. Then he started doing it towards the camera, and today again to the stands. We believe it is dedicated to someone."

"We?"

"His fans, of course."

"Of course" I chuckle.

"Some people say he does it for a friend, but many think it is for a girl, because he sends a kiss and then does a peace sign. But it can also be a V for Victoria or Verónica for example."

Or Valeria, I say to myself.

"Oh my God, Val! I just realized something!" Marina says, squeezing my arm. "He did the celebration looking at where we were! What if we were sitting next to whoever that person is?"

"Could be a possibility, I guess."

"Oh… my God" she says. "And it's my turn to go into the bathroom. Don't leave, ok?"

"I won't, don't worry."

Once she goes in, my phone pings.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

Where are you?

Bathroom

I'm done in 5 minutes. Do you know where to go?

Yep

Do you have your passes with you?

Yep

Are you going to use more than one word on your replies? 😂

Maybe 🤷‍♀️

🙄

Did you like my goal? 🥰

Meh

I'm gonna stop dedicating them to you if you don't appreciate them 🙄

I liked it. Though I would have liked it a lot more if it hadn't been the winning one

🙄

😚

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Who are you texting?"

"Fuck, Marina! You scared me!" I say, quickly hiding my phone.

"Was it your boyfriend?"

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Then your no boyfriend. You were smiling like an idiot."

"I wasn't… Whatever. There is somewhere where we need to go. Here" I say, giving him one of the passes.

"What does this mean?" she says, inspecting it.

"That you are a very lucky girl. Let's go."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Oh my God, Val. I can't believe we are in the lounge area! It is so fancy…"

"It is just a room full of people, Marina."

"Yes, but that's Anna Lewandowska over there. And Coral is over there too. We are surrounded by wags!"

"Yeah…" I say, looking around. Could I see myself hanging out with these people?

"How did you manage all this?"

"I told you I know someone" I shrug.

"Is it your no boyfriend? Does he work for Barça?"

"No."

"Val, are you dating Ferran?"

"What?" I laugh.

"I know he follows you on Instagram."

"He doesn't."

"He does. The other day I was checking who had liked that photo of us together that you posted on Christmas, and I saw him. He follows you with his private account."

"I didn't know."

"Oh, c'mon Val. Your account is private too, you know who follows you and who doesn't. And your cheeks are so red right now…" Marina chuckles. "It's fine if he's the one you are shagging, he's hot."

"I'm not…"

"Val, hey!" Ferran says behind us.

"Shit" I whisper. "Hello."

"How are you, did you enjoy the game?"

"You won, so no" I shrug.

"Always so honest… Is this your cousin?"

"Yep."

"Marina, right? Nice to meet you" he says with his best smile before kissing her cheeks.

"Hi" she giggles. "Are you Val's no boyfriend?"

"Marina!"

"If I am what?" Ferran laughs.

"Nothing, ignore her."

"Val got the tickets for today's game and these passes through someone who definitely works for Barça, this isn't available for everyone. You two follow each other on Instagram, and you clearly behave as friends, so…" she shrugs.

"Sadly, it isn't me" he says.

"But I am right about her dating someone who works for Barça, am I not?"

"Maybe" Ferran shrugs.

"Eric! You are dating Eric García! Of course! He is so your type with the beard and the hair… and when he wears his glasses he looks very posh. Totally your type!"

"He isn't my…"

"Oh my God, that's Gavi!" Marina says, grabbing my arm and squeezing it once again. "And that… Val, it's him" she gasps.

"Who?"

"Him, Val. Him! And he's coming this way with Gavi. Ok, ok… Deep breaths. How do I look?"

"Beautiful" Ferran says, making her giggle again.

"Hello, Val. And company" Pedri smiles.

"Hi" both Marina and I say at the same time and using the same silly tone. My teenage self is back, great.

"You are Marina, right?" he asks. "Nice to meet you."

"Oh my God, Val. He knows my name! Did her boyfriend tell you about me?"

"Her boyfriend?" Gavi says, his eyes wide.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Val?" Pedri asks, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't."

"They aren't official yet, but she is seeing Eric García" Marina smiles.

"What?" Gavi says, his eyes now even wider.

"He apparently is her type" Ferran chuckles.

"Is he?" Pedri asks with a teasing smile.

"He isn't. Marina is talking nonsense, don't listen to her."

"Maybe being at the Camp Nou also affects her like happens to you" he says, still smiling. "How is it going, by the way? Feeling itchy?"

"Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit itchy, yes."

"I can help and scratch you where you don't reach" Pedri smirks.

"Marina, why don't we take some photos, uh?" Ferran suddenly says.

"Oh, yes! Please!" she smiles.

"The light is really good next to those windows. Gavi, why don't you accompany her?"

"Sure…" he says, looking at everyone with a confused look before walking away with Marina.

"You're welcome" Ferran says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What for?" Pedri asks.

"What for? Really?" he replies, rolling his eyes. "You were shamelessly flirting in front of her. I don't know how she didn't notice."

"We weren't flirting" I snort.

"I'm feeling itchy. I can help you where you don't reach" Ferran says with a funny voice. "You were flirting and giving each other sex eyes."

"What?" Pedri a I say at the same time.

"I get it, you haven't fucked in a while and are horny for each other. But try to tone it down in front of the kids, ok?"

"In front of the kids" I laugh. "As if you were much older."

"Whatever. Let's go take those photos with your cousin, Gavi is already asking for help" Ferran says, walking away.

"You heard him, Val. Tone it down" Pedri smirks.

"Me? You were the one who started it all!"

"But you were the one who started with sex eyes."

"I wasn't."

"You were, Val. But if you are so needy, we can meet tomorrow."

"I am not needy." Well, maybe I am a bit needy. But just a bit.

"Lunch at my place?"

"Fine" I sigh. "Now let's go meet the others."

"Don't you want to go say hello to your boyfriend? He just walked in" he says, nodding behind him and towards where Eric is.

"Fuck you, Pedro."

"Tomorrow, Val. We are fucking tomorrow" he grins, making me roll my eyes before walking away while he just smiles like an idiot.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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dozing-marshmallow · 9 months

Text

CHRISTMAS WITH TOTAL DRAMA CHARACTERS(CHRIS, DUNCAN, HEATHER) SCENARIOS

Merry Christmas everyone! So sorry I couldn’t post something Christmas themed sooner, I hope everyone’s been having a wonderful day with family and friends whether you celebrate or not!🎄❤️

CHRIS

Despite the Christmas events he hosted for many networks, Chris didn’t feel he was really celebrating it until he went over to Newfoundland.

Before dinner, you joined him on this tradition that his homeland calls “Mummering” where it was basically Guess Who and Trick or Treat combined.

Needless to say, every neighbour you visited guessed who he was correctly.

He was reluctant to complete the family secret Santa. Originally, you sucked your teeth, thinking he was just being arrogant. However, from that event, you got an insight on the nature of a lot of his relatives- opportunistic.

“Could you lend me a few thousand dollars? What’s a guy like you to lose?", "Could you be the best nephew in the world and pay for the wedding of my best friend’s daughter?", "Could you help me pay off my mortgage?"

No wonder why your husband was barely enjoying himself at the dinner table! These people didn’t see him as a human; they saw him as a big shot wallet.

“Tell me, Chris... Is this how every Christmas goes for you?” you asked when it was just you and him, sitting next to him on the guest bed.

He was as sombre as ever. Sombre!,“Yeah. Told you the rest of the family weren’t important. I only bother to put up with them for my mom. I wish they all drop dead soon though.”

Not on Christmas Day... You couldn’t end the evening like this,“Okay... Is there anything you want to do together to cheer you up before we go to bed?”

“Hm...” the exhaustion shifts in his eyes as he smugly commands,“Tell me how good I look.”

You sigh in annoyance. That, you could do any day,“Really, Chris?”

“Fiiiiiine.” his moping tone of voice settled back,“I suppose raiding the leftover desserts wouldn’t hurt.”

“That...” is an oddly simple request coming from him,“Yet you’re implying you never did it?”

His attention is caught by the room’s door,“I didn’t have anyone I wanted to do it with.”

And unlike the fall of snow, his festive misery had vanished all at once.

“ᴬˡˡ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᶜʰʳⁱˢᵗᵐᵃˢ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘ!”

DUNCAN

Duncan’s dad was very pushy about Church this time around.

And he always found in his best interest to not go anyway.

This time though, you were there with him. So he decided, he’ll go this year.

He was also forced to join the local youth choir that would sing on the streets to raise money for those in need.

As long as he got to wear a mask...

“Not happening.” his dad sneered.

Okay, it wasn’t actually as bad as he thought it’d go.

Though he didn’t want to give his dad that satisfaction so he played sour about coming home. His main motivation was to steal some plates worth of food, give his mother her Christmas present and stuff the stockings of his cousins with bars of coal.

If anyone asks, you didn’t see anything.

His mom knitted him a Christmas sweater in return so obviously he wore it.

He visited his friends back in juvie with you.

It was quite heartwarming, seeing these teens who had done wrong in the past still have tenderness to friends and family, making you wish them a good future post leaving prison.

Besides, if they were Duncan’s friends, they had to have some morals.

Walking back, it was clear that he had room left for mischief and wanted to fill that space by stalling so you would be in front of him and turn around in confusion to not be met with Duncan, but his snowball.

“Hahaha! Nice makeup!”

You brush the snow off your face and feel your own devil inspire.

Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine.

You bent down and rolled up a snowball. Let the fight begin!

“ ᴼ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ, ᵃˡˡ ʸᵉ ᶠᵃⁱᵗʰᶠᵘˡ, ʲᵒʸᶠᵘˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳⁱᵘᵐᵖʰᵃⁿᵗ!”

HEATHER

She scrunches her nose at the arrival of Christmas, that season that’s “nothing but noise and shallow junk.”

"I got you a present." you held it out for her.

“Buying my favour when it’s not my birthday, huh?” she looked inside the bag with no anticipation until she saw designer clothes neatly folded. She raised a smile and an eyebrow as she glanced back at you,“Okay, I guess it’s not that bad.”

Seeing her house made you wonder why she auditioned to come on the show.

To her displeasure, you were having fun cutting snowflakes, painting ornaments and decorating gingerbread men with her younger brothers and sisters.

Even more so when you helped her parents prepare the meal.

“We could never dream of Heather helping us out in the kitchen!” her mother claimed, wearing gloves over her manicured hands and a long apron over her expensive attire,“This is a nice change!”

“For sure! (Y/N) should come every year! Maybe our Heather Feather could learn a thing or two from you!” her father would then add on, with a hopeful smile.

With that, she dragged you out of the kitchen by the ear lobe.

“Let’s get out of here. I want something to drink.” she demanded, all ready in her outside winter gear.

Why come home if you’re not going to enjoy yourself?

You’re about to pay for the cozy drinks, but Heather interrupts you.

“I’ll do it.”

After an opening sip and staring at all this pure white showering from the sky, you smirk at Total Drama’s first villain,“So she does have a giving heart!”

Her answer was as cold, but her face was soft,“Don’t make me spill this on you.” the steam from her cup should be the only thing your eyes made contact with,“I just felt nice today. Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Something about that clarification made her tighten her grip on her cup for a small moment.

Seems like she wanted to give home a chance to fix her a reason for being...this. Generous.

A reason to like Christmas.

However, being with you, peacefully drinking with her, not disgusted or intimidated, was a reason on its own.

“ᵀʰⁱˢ ʸᵉᵃʳ, ᵗᵒ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗᵉᵃʳˢ, ᴵ’ˡˡ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡ,”

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potchi-fics · 11 months

Text

Cold night

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

cold night you don't notice how cold it gets, sometimes. you're too warped in your own world that is full of problems; trust me, you have so many problem. but one thing comes into mind when you do notice the change in the temperature. christmas starts tonight.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

you sigh as you step out of the library you were just in, the chilly air swiftly wrapping your entire body.

you have a routine consists of wake up, go to work, clock out, and spend the rest of your free time in a library, though one may see it as a hassle--you think otherwise.

you've been doing that same routine for years, it's been practically imbedded into your being.

but what you don't tell people is what you see when you come out of the library, and that is seeing the person who gives you warmth despite the harsh cold air surrounding you two.

your sight goes down to look at the watch on your wrist when you hear her voice, "y/n!"

"bada.."

now, who is Bada? she's been your best friend since high school. you two were inseparable since then, not drifting apart even when you both were in college. now, she's famous dancer and you're just a simple woman with a simple life-- and frankly, you're okay with that.

she happily skips to you, "how is my favourite person?"

without saying anything, she reaches for your bag and you let her, used to this considering it's what she always do whenever you two were together.

"hmm, i'm a little tired." you laugh out loud, finding her excitement adorable. "you wanna buy some food before going home?"

truth is you like her. so so much, and for years now. you fell for her because just by being near her makes you feel so calm and collected, you fell for her because of how soft she is towards you, you fell for her because of how she gives you the skin of her fried chicken, you fell for her because she sacrifices her sleeping hours just to talk to you when it's late.

you love how she rants about her day sometimes, how her eyes shine so bright when she talks about her passion, how she seems to make the world a better place for you.

you also love how strong she is, how she holds herself up, how she tries her best to overcome what she's facing.

so how did you fall for her? you just did, and you continue falling for her day by day.

but you never had the courage to say your feelings to her, fear of rejection and losing your friendship takes over.

you were walking ahead of Bada, letting the sound of footsteps and comfortable silence take over your bubble.

"y/n," you hear her tired but soothing voice from behind.

you hum out in reply.

"can we eat something spicy?"

you giggle at her tone of voice, like a kid scared of their parents.

"yeah, sure," you tease her, "but you're gonna be paying for it, even my own order."

a playful scoff reaches your ears, making you smile.

you're content with things just like this. even if it means that you can't have her like you desperately want, you're more than okay to be just like this. to be near her, to be around her, to be her friend, you'll take it.

however, you don't see her looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes. a twinkle that only appears when she talks about her passions. you don't see how a soft smile breaks into her face when you get excited because she gives you the skin on her fried chicken, you don't see how her tiredness and exhaustion disappears into thin air when she sees you.

you don't see how madly in love she is with you, and she's gonna change it tonight.

minutes later, you both reach a store and Bada looks at you so fondly, like you're the most precious thing in the world. she feels her airways tighten when she sees you laughing along with the vendor.

moments like these, moments how the world-- her world seems to just revolve around you, moments how the cold wispy air turns warm because you're with her.

when you present the food you bought to her, a smile so big that it looks like it hurts your cheek, a smile so wide that it radiates so much.. warmth and homeliness.

she has, no, scratch that, she needs to say it.

from your perspective, you can't help but grin so big-- the sight of Bada carrying your things, looking at you with that strange look in her eyes, you're both so happy, god. you're so comfortable with her, you just can't help but let your heart beat so fast, you just can't help but blurt it out.

"i'm in love with you."

"i'm in love with you, y/n."

"oh."

✮⋆˙♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🦭✧˖°

hehe its currenty 3 am here, and i cant sleep so im writing again, mind you guys that these are all gonna be on the spot because i cant plan for shit pls send requests huhu ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

#fanfic #imagines #oneshots #writing #bada lee #bada x reader #female reader #swf 2 #swf2 x reader #street woman fighter 2 #wlw

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alwaysshallow · 11 months

Text

coffee at midnight, part 6

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

Pure domesticity with Soap, and meeting old friends. Your feelings are less clearer. (4,9k)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

READ ON AO3

A/N: i lied. i couldn't wait any longer lmao

Everything changes – you knew it too well, but when snow appeared on your apartment's balcony, for straight five minutes you were looking at it funny, like it was something unusual. It wasn't, you knew it was going to snow in the night from TV, yet, you couldn't stop looking.

Being on medical leave had you observing things around with your whole attention. Not even kidding; you couldn't somehow recall when you paid attention like this in the past. Field? Of course, but it was your job. You had to do it, and in your home, you usually just wanted some sleep, food, and you were onto another mission.

You were at home, though, so it had you paying attention to little details; how petals and leaves were no longer present, how green got more ashy, how days got shorter and nights longer. How dim lights around your apartment were light up quicker than usual, with orange light blinking on the street.

Most of it all, you even became friends with your neighbours. Not like you had any other way with Soap blabbing about your health and helping you, but you happened to visit some ladies to eat a pie with them. Most of them were simply lonely, so that's where the gesture was coming from, but so were you and Johnny, so discarding their proposition would be considered rude.

Besides, these pies were really, really good. Not to mention that they always packed some of it for you later, a win-win situation.

So yeah, everything was changing in a way.

What didn't change though? Soap being right by your side. Being on leave had a good influence on him apparently, even if he was addicted to military just like you were; he learned how to cook, it was wild waking up to not burned eggs one day. Maybe he wasn't the best in spices, giving too much or too little, but that was the gesture that counts. You definitely appreciated his tries to give you a healthy, non-ordered meal, especially when he didn't let you cook still.

You opened your balcony door slowly; you stepped right into the snow, barefoot, looking at the view outside. Whole city looked magical – unreal in the way because you swore that you haven't seen something like this for so long. Deployment, changing location every now and then, it was just... impossible to notice that little things that were constantly changing. Sometimes you didn't even were in your home for winter times.

Standing in snow though, on shorts and a simple t-shirt that was way too big for you, you realized that you like winter probably more than other season. It was so peaceful, so... simple, yet the simplicity of it all was warming enough; spending time under warm blankets, drinking cocoa, watching Christmas movies, baking. So many things to do, so many things to be happy about in winter. You could probably ramble about it on and on.

"Ain't ya cold? Thought I'm the stupid one" Johnny scoffed, taking your cold hand in his. Warm one, contrasting so much to yours; you looked at him with one brow raised. "Barefoot. On winter. In snow. You're askin' for a cold" he explained, pulling you inside.

He closed balcony door after him. "You talk exactly like my mom. Literally." you rolled your eyes, laughing, when he looked at you absolutely dazed with what you said. "Seriously! I hear her in your words. Rosalie, you're gonna be sick, come home, now."

"Okay, that's" he pointed at you "not what I thought 'm gonna hear. 'st taking care of you, aye? You need it."

"Need?"

"To be back in the field. Not taking chances with cold." he ruffled your hair, taking a few steps back, when you almost punched him in the arm.

"It wasn't even five minutes."

"Doesn't change a thing, bonnie." he shrugged, walking up to the door. "Coffee on the table, 'm gonna take a shower, just came from the run and..."

"...you were running?" you asked, your eyebrow a bit arched in question. "Willingly? On weather like this?"

"Yeah. Gotta keep myself in shape, eh? Next time, yer comin' with me." he winked, grinning even more when you shook your head. "What? Good for buildin' yer stamina!"

"Mmm, let's say, I will prefer a run in the gym, than on streets like this." you laughed, following him to the kitchen; a hot cup automatically warmed your hands, at which you sighed, relieved.

You automatically thought of Christmas market happening in your town, when you looked out of the window to see busy people and snow surrounding them so beautifully. Balconies decorated with trees, candycanes, snowmans, lights that were literally blinding you by their brightness.

Everything screamed winter, and when you looked around your apartament, it was a complete... well, a complete nothing. Nothing screamed Christmas, nor winter, it was just an apartment that had literally no spirit whatsoever.

"Hey, Johnny?" you called out, when the idea striked you. A quick "yeah?" coming from the bathroom, followed by him turning off the water, confirmed that he's listening, so you've decided to continue. "Thought about... well, buying something for Christmas, you know? Lights and shit like this."

"Oh. We can do somethin' like this, if ya want this badly. We need to do shopping anyway for our apartment, so."

"Badly, I need Christmas spirit here! Besides, you know it's my apartment, yeah? And you have yours?"

Not even a second after you said that, water turned on again in the bathroom; with higher pressure this time. "Can't hear ya, lass! Make us a breakfast!"

You let out a laugh, as you shook your head; he acted like he was there from the beggining and he didn't actually just stayed one day, deciding that he's gonna help you with everything. What was even funnier, but respectful in a way, he transferred money to your bank account, when you paid rent. It was hard to forget a smirk on his lips, when he handed you a cup of tea, telling you that now it's not one lady apartment, but two people apartment. When you asked him what does it mean, he just quickly said "you know", and he disappeared into the kitchen.

Most people, when they felt lonely in their space, adopted something. A cat, dog, perhaps something smaller, like a turtle or a fish, just to add something into their miserable lives; to make a difference.

You adopted Johnny.

What was even funnier, you didn't pay attention to his presence anymore – he wasn't a intruder when you felt bad and wanted to be alone again, he was like a monstera in your bedroom. Something that was just there, something that you wanted to be around, just because your vision of this apartment wouldn't be the same. You really couldn't imagine not watching a movie before sleeping, drinking coffee in the morning without him, nor gossiping with him about your neighbours dramas that happened way too often for your liking.

A certain routine, in your life. The domestic routine that you learned to like, but that routine had to include him – otherwise, you wouldn't be interested in it the same.

Hour later, you actually left your apartment with Soap, after a quick breakfast and after listing in your notes what exactly you need. Important as fuck, considering that your attention could be easily distracted in that environment; full of decorations for winter time, and you were just a sucker for them, it was embarrassing. You couldn't count how many times you bought something completely useless, just because a big, woody deer right in front of your door seemed like a good idea.

Spoiler, it wasn't a good idea. Mostly because that deer lived maybe a week or two, before some people completely destroyed him – and that was when you were deployed, so you didn't know who exactly.

The bitterness stayed, though.

"Bloody hell" MacTavish grunted; you were walking with him so peacefully around the Christmas market – with pavement that was covered practically with pure ice. He almost slipped a few times, and every time, you couldn't help but chuckle. "Whit's sae funny?"

"Nothing, Johnny" you grinned. "Just, you know. You could listen sometimes, I told you that sneakers aren't really for that weather."

He rolled his eyes. "See, I thought it wasn't that motherfuckin' bad. They could, like, get rid of it."

"Yeah, surely" you looked at him with amusement. "Just listen to me, sometimes."

"Mhm." he sneaked his arm around yours, bringing you closer. "For now, yer gonna be my support, aye?"

"And when you're gonna fall, I'm gonna fall with you. Not so smart, MacTavish."

"Oh, it is smart. You're gonna fall at me, so it's pretty rewarding after my fall."

"Won't stop teasing, hm?"

"Mmm, never."

The number of little shops around was enormous – lights, Christmas ornaments, snacks with weird combinations that you wanted to try, even if it was roasted beef and candy cane. You could swore that the amount of colorful lights would leave you completely blind with every step that you took; didn't stopped you from being adored by the view, though. Old ladies had all of your heart, and you just couldn't say no to them when they wanted to chit-chat with you for second or two.

Legend says that Soap had something against it – only a legend because he was even more of a sucker for them. They almost gave him every freebie from the food that they had, stuffing him with that stuff, while you just looked at your best friend, amused how adored everyone was. Good thing you had benefits too, with multiple discounts on their products, your fridge most certainly was gonna be full after this.

Old cute ladies weren't the only ones stopping you in your tracks; so were the men that talked with you, smiling widely. Market thing, you thought, it was bright as the sun they wanted to sell more, tactics worked like this, but Johnny was beyond disgusted with that, you noticed. Getting so touchy, wrapping his arm around you and being so close, when you were picking out things. Discussing about hanging things in "our home" – and he awfully tried to emphasize that every time. You got more time alone when he gone somewhere to get that cheese he wanted.

"No fucking way."

A voice you could never forget, and a voice that automatically got you grinning like idiot, when you walked closer to one of the little shops; with lights, this time.

"A way, I'm afraid." you said, glancing at your old friend behind the cash register. Cody went to highschool with you – worst and best times of your life, but your ways splitted after you decided to go for a military route.

You two were always close, though; your moms liked him enough to let him be around you, even joked a few times about you getting together. What they didn't know though, it was a few kisses between you and him, even more, but it wasn't the right time for starting something deeper. Not when you were so excited about your career.

"Gets tough at military, huh?" his gaze went to your arm for a second.

"Sometimes. Mostly, a job of my dreams."

He nodded, like he got exactly what you said. Probably he didn't even thought of things that you've done to get the mission done, but the less he knew, the better for him. "Looking for any specific lights?"

"Mm, no. I want to hang them on tree, so nothing too extreme. Maybe white?" you shrugged, giving him a little smile when he started looking. "I've picked white and blue ornaments, mostly. A bit of gold too, if that helps?"

Cody placed right in front of you lights in different shapes; classical ones, snowflakes, hearts, eve little trees. "If I were you, I'd pick white and blue ones. To make it more fancy." he winked, tilting his head.

"Fancy? You think I like fancy?" you raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Or it's like, a marketing tactics on your old friend?"

"Does it work? The tactic?"

"To make me buy more lights than I need? Yeah, like, I'm literally gonna insane with those snowflakes ones and-"

"-well, not only that, but your number, perhaps? To catch up."

You coughed, a bit startled – guy was definitely not wasting any time. "See, after another month I'm probably back into the field, and time after that is... limited." you explained; tried doing that at least because catching up with Cody could mean one of two things in your mind.

"...Rosalie." Cody laughed, shaking his head. "Let's focus on today, yeah? You don't have to give me that, but..."

"Don't need to give him what, bonnie?" you didn't need to look behind you, when you felt a protective arm around. Not only that, Soap managed to sneak one of his hands in the front pocket of your jeans. His tensed muscles brought to you a lot of questions, but you've decided to ignore them for a while.

"Cody is old friend of mine." you swiftly avoided the question. "Cody, it's John. We know each other from military. Johnny, it's Cody, we went together to the same highschool."

Cody smiled awkwardly, extending his arm. "Nice to meet you, Johnny."

"John. Nice to meet you." he murmured, totally ignoring the proposition of handshake. The level of tension could be cut with a knife, and you just wished that Soap wouldn't interrupted you two. Hell, you wished that he wouldn't know that Cody existed in your life somehow, his tone wasn't pleasant at all.

That awkward silence had to be broken. "I'll take white snowflakes and blue classics." you said after a while; your eyes met with your best friend's, who hummed in agreement, giving you a little squeeze. "And as for phone number..."

"1-800-985-5990" Soap interrupted you, with fake smile on his lips; Cody almost dropped his pen while he was writing. It was definitely not your phone number, but you had no heart to tell him that and humiliate yourself like that.

"Thanks."

"'s alright. Gotta help a fellow brother, hm? We'll get goin' now." he waved to him, as you two walked.

"Hands to yourself, will you?" you murmured to him, right after that guy was out of sight. You honestly couldn't believe his behavior; the audacity, his snarkiness, sudden disapproval and tensing muscles. It wasn't a competition, yet, it felt like one.

"Cannot do, hen. Pricks are eatin' you up, none of them worth ya time, gotta protect you somehow" he shook his head, looking at you with shit-eating grin. "Besides. Thought you like when I'm a bit handsy, eh?"

"Pricks? Come on, they're not that bad." you rolled your eyes. His hand still caressed your waist, and you barely managed to keep yourself together – his touch always was comforting for you, calming, but in that moment... it was such a contrast. Such a contrast, because you could swore that his touch was burning something in you.

Something that you thought you're not gonna ever feel. Yet, here you were, conflicted.

"'st sayin'. You deserve someone worthy." his nose nuzzled against the top of your head, which caused your cheeks to heat up a bit; Soap acted like he was absolutely smitten. "Should we go to apartment? Drop these things off, or there's somethin' else you want to do?"

"We can go, I think. After we buy that jam, though, from that old lady in the beggining. I promised her."

"Yes, ma'am."

Oh, how you wished that wouldn't get you so much.

Three hours after you arrived to your apartment, pretty sure that you wouldn't go anywhere, you had to put your winter shoes and jacket again.

Why?

Well, there was this festival of lights Soap thought was a good idea to go to – and he couldn't tell you sooner, no, cause you were "romancing too much" with Cody-guy. You thought it would be better to remain silent on this topic, so you just coughed awkwardly, asking him details, which he happily told you.

It was supposed to be a light show on the building mostly, with releasing lanterns when it's gonna be a little bit darker outside. Releasing them had to be apparently with certain "intention" in mind; something like a wish, a dream that you wanted to come true, which was cute enough for you to agree on his idea.

"Gonna wish you a better arm" he joked, nudging your hip with his. A quick eyeroll from you caught his attention enough to trap you between his arms. "What? Am I wrong, lass? You need somethin' a bit better to put up with my arse."

"Alcohol will do good enough." you mumbled, which made him laugh – and it wasn't even your intention. Urge to give him another eyeroll was high.

"Like it would save ya." he winked, as he continued his walk to your couch, where he sat comfortably, patting the seat next to him. "C'mere. We can watch the end of the game, then go. Gaz won't be here for like... a hour top."

"Mm, right. I want him to take that lady he texts with" you sat beside Soap, opening up the chat with Garrick. "I have to remind him again."

Gaz also happened to be interested in that festival of lights, or whatever it was called; as he'd text you, "bonding with friends" were more important than ever, considering that the three of you were the only one on leave. It was only fair to take him with you two – he had to arrive first, right, but the feeling of having him by your side was warming enough. You missed your friend and texts weren't enough like a real conversation; hell, you even wanted at some point to meet with him eye to eye and get drunk, to talk with him about everything that happened over the days.

Maybe including how confused Soap made you over the days, but that's for maybe. Hard enough that he was also Johnny's best friend, wingman, and a partner in crime that everyone wished to have. Kyle was lovely, of course, but his tongue was a bit loose if it came to telling things to members of Task Force.

And you respected your privacy enough. Not like you didn't trust him, no, but you didn't need to complicate things more than they already had been.

"Told you I'm gonna always win, yeah?" you showed the screen of your phone to Soap, so he could easily read the conversation between you and Gaz, where he agreed to your plan of taking that "friend" of his.

Friend, which he talked to daily on base when he could – you teased him about it one time or two, to only meet with him being frustrated all over again. On morning run, before you got shot, he admitted that he indeed was flirting with someone; a civilian, and it caught your attention enough to be a bit of a matchmaker for him.

That boy deserved nothing but happiness. And if you could help your friend? You would do anything.

"We're goin' on real matchmaker mode, ain't we?" Johnny quipped; you rolled your eyes with a small smile, while you fastened your seatbelts.

"He needs a little help. Who knows, might be his love for life" tease coming from your mouth made your friend laugh a bit, while he was retreating his car, one hand on the wheel, another in the back of your seat. For the better view – you knew it, but you couldn't help to think that was something attractive to do.

"'s gonna be pure dead brilliant to see the moment they're not getting along."

"Soap!" you smacked him in his arm, giving him a bit scolding look because you were amused at this thought too – just a little, though.

"Ow! Seems like yer hand is pretty good right now, eh?"

"You have to support your friend." you pointed out, when his car left the parking under your apartment. He gave you amused look.

"Aye, but his taste is..." he took a minute to think "...questionable. You'll see what I'm talkin' about, Ros."

"Oh, like your taste isn't questionable" you rolled your eyes; a bit of snarkiness in your voice immediately drew Soap's attention to you, his eyes on you.

"Somethin' particular on your pretty mind?"

That blonde chick was on your mind, of course. But would you confess to something like that? Not in the million years, considering that not only he wouldn't let you live through it, you would also possibly give him a clue that you were jealous.

You weren't jealous. Slightly pissed off that he was flirty at work, but that was all, not really other reason, yeah? At least you liked to think that way, not dig deeper into this because it would cause something like snow avalanche, and for that you weren't ready.

Especially when you lived with Soap. If he would stay in his apartment, it'd be easier to be blunt because you could hide in your place and ignore him.

In this case... you had no other option that be silent and brush everything off, like it was nothing.

"Generally speaking" you lied swiftly, shrugging. It wasn't the place to tell him things like that; you weren't bold enough, too. Probably after alcohol you could brought it up easier.

"Uh-huh. You have advice for me, then? To be a bit better in my choices, eh? Yer a specialist, after all." his tone was challening; he knew what he was doing. Trying to lure you into telling him your thoughts.

You were best friends for over a year, you know these tricks a bit too well to fall in. "Don't think only with your dick, for starters?" you raised an eyebrow.

"Hen" he started, looking at you when he stopped at the red light "if I'd think only with my dick, trust me. It would'a been a bit different, things here."

And that single comment, even if you weren't hundred percent sure what he's thinking about, made you blush; you didn't answer this. Instead, you just switched the radio station and looked outside, paying attention to the snow that still was falling on the street, adding to the piles that were already there.

One point for Johnny, zero for you. Not a good score, but you eventually would manage.

It took you more than twenty minutes to go on that stupid festival, and more than ten minutes to find the right spot with Soap driving around like a madman. Apparently, finding somewhere to park was hard, people loved lights more than you've assumed – thank God for Gaz that appeared out of nowhere to lead you to right spot.

"Lookin' good, Ros." Kyle grinned, nudging your side, when you finally stepped out of the vehicle; he went automatically for a hug, and you did too.

"Everyone would look good after a break from Task Force."

Kyle theathrically put his hand on his chest, close to heart. "Very rude, considering you have Soap around."

"Hey!"

"Well, he's at least helpful. Sometimes." you poked out your tongue playfully, looking at almost offended Johnny, who walked with you side by side. His hands were close to your waist, but he wasn't touching it.

"Sometimes..."

"What about yer lass, eh? She's here, or she bailed already?" MacTavish asked immediately, which made your friend a bit confused. He scratched the back of his neck to say something, but a scoff from Scot got him off-guard. "Saw that comin'."

"She's gonna be here any minute now, quit it" he barked.

"Whatever ya say."

"Any minute" turned into an hour. Show was about to begin, you already ate some of the candies that local sellers offered, and you could just see the nervousness on Gaz's face, which was sad at some point. Your friend deserved so much, and yet the girl that he wanted to introduce to you two, finally admitting she's a real person, not some imagination of his (as boys claimed), wasn't even there.

Very upsetting turn of events to look at – at least for you because Soap was living his life with seeing Garrick like this, telling him some crap how people can't believe in love and how it's better to just drink and forget.

Apparently, it was suiting for him because he went to find warm wine that he read about before the festival.

"You really could quit on supporting his alcoholism" you chuckled, looking at the man next to you; even if it sounded like a joke, it was partially it. Everyone around knew that Gaz liked to drown his sadness into various beverages, and you liked to prevent something happening.

"It's not supporting alcoholism." he rolled his eyes with a little smile. "I know Gaz, trust me. It's not the lady he wants."

You raised an eyebrow, shivering a bit from the cold outside. "Not the lady he wants" was a statement that got you a bit shocked, considering that Soap didn't look like the one who talks about stuff like this. "You know what he wants? You don't even know what you want."

"Sometimes." he shrugged, casually. Noticing that you're cold, he wrapped his arms around you from the back. "And sometimes I do."

That gesture got you off-guard; arm around you so casually wrapped, like it was nothing for him; like he was doing it all the time.

You looked back at him, wanting to say something, but the words were stuck in your throat the moment your eyes crossed with his; sapphire ones, sparkling so beautifully in this dim, orange light. Snow was falling at his hair, and you couldn't help but notice that he looks even better with slightly wet, messy hairstyle – your stomach did a little flip when you realized how close you are. Your back, pressed to his chest, his arms around you, it felt...

It felt right, it felt like home.

"I told you to bring a hat" you whispered; not even fully understanding why are you whispering though, but it felt right in the moment, even if you were talking about something else before. Scot scoffed at that, shaking his head slowly.

"Not really thinkin' about that right now." he muttered, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear with such a gentleness to it.

You tilted your head a bit, letting the top of your head to rest against his shoulder; just to have a bit better look at him. "What occupies your mind, then?"

"Oh, wouldn't ya want to know." he chuckled; for a split second his eyes dropped to your lips. You didn't notice it since it was so quick; what you've noticed though, was Soap's muscles tensing a little bit. Probably he was thinking about it – if you're gonna call him out on that, and if so, what excuse would he give? Observing?

He wasn't even sure what made him look at your lips, but they looked pretty soft for him. Plump. Ideal to...

"I would, yeah. Tell me."

"Mostly, 'm pretty interested" he whispered right to your ear, causing your body to shiver at the feeling of his warm breath "in keeping you warm 'n cozy. Is it workin', bonnie?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat slowly; it was such a stupid question from him. Of course it was working – you were a mess when he was only touching you and despite many times that you tried to deny it, he had more impact than you liked it. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm warm. Since you know what you want, Soap" you bit your lip "what other things could you be..."

"Hey! Found that wine y'all were talkin' 'about. Not for you Soap since you're driving, but" Gaz waved to you two; probably interrupting the most intimate contact that you had with Johnny, and the contact that...

You didn't even want to think about it, it's not like you had time for it– instinct told you to back off before Garrick would notice how close you were. It could be more than awkward, so you tried to do the right thing and free yourself from that grasp that Soap had on you.

"Tried" was a really good word, though. His grasp became iron; if that was possible, his arms tightened around you even more, and he, with a smile on his face, nodded at Gaz with silent greeting. You tried to lure him into looking at you, so he would at least try to explain himself, why he wouldn't let you go, but it was unsuccessful. He wanted to prove something to you or what?

You could only wonder.

"Thanks, Gaz." you nodded too, smiling awkwardly when you got the cup, taking a bigger sip from it. You needed it, considering the situation and the look Garrick gave you two when he got closer, and you barely managed to hold that wine; thanks to Soap's arms that were snaked around you, like you were his precious prey, not an actual person.

Maybe something was in it, though; the way he held you, close to himself, like he was actually afraid to lose you, his earlier behavior...

Hell only knew with this man; he was driving you insane with this sudden mood changes, flirting, being possessive when you were taking your chances. In your mind, you tried to tell yourself it's because he cares, but that argument was faltering when he was closer, looking at you like you were his only treasure.

And it was like that – maybe you didn't know that, but you really were his treasure. No one else's.

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