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sunboki · 4 months

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⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

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batfleshh · 4 months

Text

Taking the time

Captain Price X M!Reader

MERRY CHRISTMAS since this will probably be done by then‼️💖🎄

Warnings: ur a virgin but not a stupid one that doesn’t know how a penis works AHEM f!reader fics AHEM :3 faggot, He says he loves you so idk L bombs or whatever they’re called, soft sex, crying during sex, use of condoms, hand holding, frotting but only for a lil bit, did I mention soft sex?, this is long, this is a bit of a self projection kind of thing cause idk what else to write about and yeah, I love price, comfort and mostly js fluffy smut, not proof read, men are dicks, gay sex! :3

“And you’re sure about it?”, the older man in front of you asks as he has you sat on your shared bed, your ear pressed against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. You nod, his hand absentmindedly making its way into your hair to stroke at it gently. You both were getting used to your sexual life, that wasn’t really that sexual at all. Sure, you knew how to give a good handjob, and the many times he had fucked your thighs was probably uncountable, but he had yet to fully be inside you. To be honest, you were kind of scared. Sure, you love John, and John loved you maybe a thousand times more, but something inside of you just wasn’t sure. You weren’t stupid. You knew how sex worked, and how a dick was supposed to go in. But something about it happening to you made it such a strange feeling to think about. You wanted to be taken by someone you could trust, not just some man that you knew wouldn’t care all that much about it.

You felt dumb thinking that much about it, but you couldn’t figure out why. But something about Price made you sure you wanted it to be him. He was gentle with you, but stern when he needed to be. He didn’t have a problem with how you were, almost always on board with how you felt. You learned to love yourself as much as you loved him. The bearded man making you find some value in yourself that you couldn’t find on your own. Of course, you did have self independence, even helping him through tough times of his own every once in a while. You took care of each other, and you knew he wasn’t gonna be another man that would run off on you again.

You were aware of your bad experiences, how every past man you met was more worried about chasing his own pleasure rather than you both getting what you wanted. That’s what made you back out last minute, the noises of disappointment leaving their lips made you want to hide in a hole. You didn’t want your inexperience to be a big problem, it wasn’t like you hadn’t done other things with other men before Price. A lot of trust had to be built up with this moment, and you were finally ready to let it happen. That night, you had just finished showering, Price going in after you had stepped out with a towel around you. You sit at the edge of your bed, picking at a loose thread on the towel. You take a few deep breaths as you stare at a few items resting on your bedside dresser. A condom rests there, as does a bottle of a liquid. You sigh to yourself and shiver as cold air hits your bare back, continuing to pick at the fabric of the towel.

Price returns a decent amount of time later, a content sigh leaving your lips as you stare at his chest, eyes tracing up to his face and down to his towel. He makes his way over to you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You let out a bubbly giggle at the action, feeling sickly in love with the man in front of you. “You ready, sweetheart?”, he asks you, his voice as soft as it can be. After receiving an eager nod from you, he chuckles before gesturing for you to remove your own towel. As you do, you feel heat rush over you as he stares down at your body. His rough hand moves to trace your skin, cooing at how your body reacts to his touch.

You begin to grow ever so needy, moving your face closer to his as if to ask him for a different favor. He presses his lips to yours eagerly, smirking against your lips as small noises begin to slip past them. After a few moments of this repeated make out, you hear him drop his towel. You glance down quickly, your breath practically rushing out of you as stare at his cock. He notices how your eyes dart down at him, chuckling once more as he reaches his hand to hold your chin in up higher as he continues to kiss you. You allow him to move your face, somehow ending up with your back on the soft bed moments later. Soft noises leave you as he finally pulls away from your face, gently moving you onto your stomach. You begin to take in air a little faster, trying not to get worked up as you listen to him shuffle behind you. You feel him move off of the bed to grab something, before feeling it dip again when he returns. He pushes your lower back down gently, your body complying easily as you wait patiently in this new position he’s put you in.

You hear a pop of a cap from behind you, trying not to focus too much on any background noise that might make you shy away from the situation. Your mind was hazy as you feel something at your entrance, tilting your head to attempt to look back at Price. He attempts to reassure you in a soft voice, his hand stroking at your hip gently. You don’t pay attention to where the other had gone until you feel him slowly push his lubed up finger inside of you after giving you a brief warning. You let out a noise of surprise at the action, hands curling into the soft sheet on the bed. You attempt to get used to the feeling, whining as you feel small tears prickle in your eyes. A small grunt leaves Price, attempting to keep you calm as his free hand wanders over to yours, resting on top of it. He strokes the top of it with his thumb, your breath beginning to slow as you try to ease up a bit. “That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well.”, he praises you, pushing his other finger in after a while. You let out soft moans and noises of slight discomfort as he pumps his fingers in and out. This new step into this territory is making your head spin, the feeling of it slowly getting to you.

His fingers are pulled out of you after a while of him stretching you open for him, praising you once more as you only nod absentmindedly, your voice quiet as a “thank you” leaves your lips. You hear him tear open the condom you noticed earlier, your eyes closing slightly as you wait patiently for him. John roll the condom onto his cock slowly, grabbing at your hips and lining his cock up with you. He groans as he slowly pushes the tip in, a drawn out moan leaving you as your eyes are blown open from the feeling. His bigger hands rub against your skin, attempt to comfort you as you whine at the feeling of him entering you, more moans being pulled out of you as he slowly moves himself into you. More tears begin to form in your eyes again, wanting him to slow down more than he’s already attempting to. You begin to squirm, small whines and noises of discomfort leaving your lips as he looks down at you with a concerned expression.

He immediately catches onto what’s wrong with you, his hand reaching to take yours in his gently. The small action makes the tears that had formed spill over, his lips forming a small frown as he watches your face. His rough hand rubs small shapes into the back of yours with his thumb, not pushing any more of his length into you. “You alright there, pretty?”, he asks as he attempts to coax an answer out of you, his other open hand rubbing small circles into your hip. You nod, a small noise of agreement leaving you as you do so. He asks again, just to be sure as he squeezes your hand ever so slightly. You let out an audible “yes”, pushing your hips back eagerly as you whine at the feeling of him inside of you. When you finally start to get used to things, your head slowly rests against the bed, drooling leaving past your lips as you moan out in pleasure.

“That’s a good boy. Such a good boy for me, baby.” he grunts out as he begins to pick up the pace of his hips, leaning forward as you begin to see stars. It’s a lot to handle, almost making you second guess your decision. It was strange, tiny noises leaving you and falling in between your moans as your mind begins to wander, wondering what could make Price want this from you so much. You feel warm tears well up in your eyes, small sniffles leaving you as you begin to squirm under John. It wasn’t like he forced you into doing it, you were the one who gave him permission to do it. You feel Price begin to slow his pace as he notices the shuddering of your shoulders, a frown on his face as he takes a glance at the tears rolling down yours. You whine out of embarrassment, feeling him pull his cock out of you slowly. You slowly lay yourself down onto the bed, thoughts of insecurity and sadness immediately plaguing your mind. You feel his body weight be lifted from the bed, only to feel it dip once more as he sits next to you. He gently pulls you up into his lap, more tears leaving you as you begin to sob. You hear Price coo at your sounds, his larger hands moving to rub at your body soothingly, trying his best to calm you down. After a little while, you finally get yourself back down emotionally, face pressed into his neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?,” he asks you gently, hand rubbing up and down your back as you let out soft noises into his skin. You shrug, not entirely sure yourself about where the thoughts sprouted from. “Just was thinking, didn’t mean to start crying,” you say quietly, a slight tremble apparent in your movements. You hear him let out a noise of acknowledgment at your words, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your face. You let out a tiny laugh at the feeling of his lips, feeling him smile against your skin. You stare longingly at nothing in particular as you begin to calm down more and more, starting to attempt to explain to him why you reacted the way you did.

He listened to you, his hand on your back never stopping it movements. “I see,” he says, kissing along your face more when you’re done speaking. “I’m sorry you feel like that, baby.”, he says to you gently, trying his best to understand. Even if he couldn’t take the feeling away, he sure would try. You mumble a few more words, the both of you sitting in comfortable silence for a little while after that. You whine as you slowly realize you’re both still naked, glancing down as you move your head from his neck. You whimper at the sight, his cock inches away from yours. He hums as he follows your gaze, his hand moving to lift your chin up. You pout when you meet his eyes, his lips pushing up to form a smile. He places a soft kiss to yours, a content sign escaping you as you accept it.

You feel him move a hand down to your cock, giving it a few strokes, a smirk forming on his face when he hears your small noises of pleasure. He pulls his lips away from yours, chuckling as you whine and try to follow after them. His rough hand still continues to pump your dick, small moans and whimpers slowly picking up in volume. He moves his hand back slowly to grab his own cock, stroking both of them together in his hand. The action makes you lose your mind, whines escaping your throat at the feeling. Price shushes you gently and moves down to kiss at your neck, whispering soft praises into your ear. Your hands begin to explore his chest, not knowing where to keep them. “You still want me inside you baby?”, he asks in a whisper in your ear, smirking and placing another kiss to your face when you eagerly say yes.

He removes his hand from your cocks, a small whine of disappointment leaving you at the loss. Price moves his hands down to your hips, lining his cock up with your hole as you whimper impatiently. He lifts you up slowly before thrusting into you, a moan tumbling from your lips. His hands guide you up and down on his cock, staying planted reassuringly on your body as he kisses you softly. His soft movements make tears well in your eyes again; not out of sadness, but out of appreciation. You appreciate John, fuck, even love him. You move yourself faster on his cock, small tears rolling down your face. He quickly asks if you’re okay, humming when you give him a firm nod. One of his hands moves up to stroke your face, more kisses being left on your body. You begin to cry once more, but this time, he kisses your tears away gently, the feeling of his prickly beard making you let out a small giggle. You feel your orgasm begin to build up, whining a little louder than before. Price just gently hushes you once more, repeated “shh”s leaving him once you begin to grow louder. You attempt to apologize, only for it to be broken apart once you feel yourself grow closer. You look at Price for approval, only for him to push his cock into you further. You gasp, your breath leaving you as you shoot your load onto his chest. He follows suit, releasing into the condom he had made sure to keep on.

You whine at the feeling, slumping against his chest, his cock still inside you. You let out small noises as his hands go to mess with your hair, a soft kiss pressed against your skin once more. “I love you, pretty.”, he whispers into your ear, chuckling at the noise that leaves you. You mumble back an “I love you too”, pushing your face into his chest slowly. You knew you had made a great choice that night, sighing contently as you rest against him.

~ 🎄

#bat bite #male reader #x male reader #gay #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x male reader #captian price x male reader #cod price #captain john price #captian price #captain price smut #price x male reader #price x reader #price mw2 #john price #merry Christmas fags

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awooghan · 4 months

Text

fall in love with me (this christmas) ✧.* h.hj

➳ PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, hyunjin is tipsy in one part (he and reader are ‘00 or ‘01 tho so they’re legal), UNEDITED (will be fully edited by new years) UPDATE: fully edited as of jan. 19, 2024

➳ WORD COUNT: 22.9k (final wc after editing)

➳ SUMMARY: hyunjin has one last chance to have a college christmas romance and he’ll do anything to have it—even if it means fake-dating his best friend. (inspired by "cold december night" by michael buble)

➳ NOTES: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! 🎄❄️ i hope you have/had an amazing day with love ones and good food! this fic is my christmas collab with my bestie @ujimoo :3 some parts r kind of rough bc we didn't fully edit yet but i hope y'all enjoy <3

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld

prologue.

– halloween.

You didn’t think the night could get any worse.

The night started from the moment you caught a whiff of beer, sweat, and Dior Sauvage as Hyunjin dragged you by the hand to ‘Jackson’s 2023 Annual Hallo-Wang Party’. You could think of a thousand other ways you wanted to spend your Halloween that didn’t involve being stuck here, but you lost a bet with Chan, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

So here you are, sitting in the kitchen with your now-ruined costume sticking to your skin, thanks to someone (Jeongin) spilling his tequila on you when you were playing beer pong. Now, not only is your head throbbing from the smell of frat party, but you have an ugly pink blotch on the costume you took weeks to put together.

You nurse whatever the concoction of alcohol is the punch when Hyunjin, too tipsy for his own good, slides up next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Y/NNN~…” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “There you are!”

Fighting against his hold on you, you’re finally able to get his hands away from your waist, only for him to wrap his arms around your arm like a lost child.

“Why don’t you love me?” he mumbles, hiccuping at the end of his sentence. “Do you hate me?”

A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look at your best friend. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares at you. “Of course.”

His nose scrunches in disgust and he shakes his head as your laughter surrounds him. It somehow makes him feel lighter than all of the alcohol he’s drunk combined.

“You’re so mean, why would you say that?” he whines. He grabs your arm tighter and shoves his head on your shoulder.

Exhaling, you pat his head lightly before resting your head on his. It’s like the world goes silent for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.

You’re both like that for an uncertain amount of time before Hyunjin jumps back up, his arms still around your arm. A large tipsy smile creeps on his face and he suddenly begins to giggle. The way his eyes light up almost makes you do the same.

“I think Jisoo is going to ask me out~” He sighs dreamily. “I feel the vibes, you can feel it too, right?”

You catch the way two of your friends, Changbin and Jisung, are watching you from the kitchen door. Sticking your tongue out at them, they return it with winks, eyeing up both you and Hyunjin.

You turn back to the giggly blond clinging to your arm and shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see her around campus.”

You’re not trying to sound like you’re completely disinterested in what Hyunjin’s saying, but when you already know where it’s heading, you can’t help it. You’re not really sure Hyunjin is even listening though when he sighs to himself and tugs on your arm again.

“This is—” tug. “My chance—” tug. “For my Christmas romance, Y/Nie.” A harder tug. “I can feel it in the air!” Aggressive shaking.

Breaking your arm away from him, you huff. Can’t you have one night before Hyunjin’s constant babbling about Christmas and Christmas romances?

“Can we wait till after Halloween to talk about Christmas, please?” you groan, causing Hyunjin to sneer at you.

“Why do you have to be such a Grinch?” he attempts to whisper—but his intoxicated brain has other ideas.

You attempt to ignore the feeling of his arms sneakily slipping around your waist again and the way his head seems to fit into the dip of your shoulder as you sigh.

“Ask me about it again tomorrow.”

…

You really didn’t think the night could get any worse. But after corralling Hyunjin, who could barely stand on his own, back to his dorm, you were proven wrong. So, so wrong.

When you finally untangle yourself from his hold and hand him off to his poor roommate, Felix, it’s 11:58pm. Normally, you wouldn’t care to watch the clock for something so mundane, but you had a feeling he was going to text you the minute you look away.

And sure enough, the second you leave Hyunjin’s dorm building, you feel your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket.

Hyunnie : it’s november 1st Hyunnie : it’s christmas time bitch!! Hyunnie : ah Hyunnie : sorry for calling you a bitch… Hyunnie : i got excited TT

You can only roll your eyes fondly. At least it’s November now.

one.

– november 1st.

Hyunjin feels sticky.

Every year he rejoices at the start of the Christmas season, but every year he also forgets that the start is the one part he hates. The morning is so nice and icy-cold, everything sweater weather should be. But by midday… the sweater has to come off. Then he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t be, he’s itching all over, and he’s all grumpy and gross and he just wants to shower twenty times to try and rid himself of the feeling of his clothes clinging to his skin.

He can see his breath just past his nose as he tries to rid his shoes of the mush that is the remains of fallen leaves. He knows he shouldn’t have worn his pristine white sneakers that you had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year (ones that he, not to mention, cleans frantically after every use). But they go so well with his dark grey jeans that he had to! The things he does for his passion for fashion…

When Jisoo first messaged him asking to meet up by the trees, it felt like a dream come true, one he’s been waiting for for so long. But now that he’s here, he’s not sure how long he’s been waiting, but he feels like he’s a Sim with stink lines coming off of him and he wants to scream. His controller must hate him because nothing is going as he planned.

So when he finally sees Jisoo in the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief. He sees her try and keep her bag on her shoulder as she rushes over. When she’s finally in front of him, with strands of hair stuck to her face, her mouth slightly open as she tries to catch her breath… all Hyunjin does is blink.

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have found this adorable. He would have screamed in her face and pinched her cheeks, before running to his dorm and spamming your texts about how Jisoo is the cutest girl he’s ever seen and how his heart has never beaten as fast as it does around her.

But now he’s standing there, with the love of his life right in front of him, and he feels… wrong. There’s murky puddles and soggy leaves surrounding his and Jisoo’s feet, an angry draft blows past his ears as he tries to read Jisoo’s lips, and a stifling blanket that’s the same dirty shade of grey as his dryer lint trap smothers him from overhead. Nothing feels right, he feels icky, and his heart is fluttering for all the wrong reasons. All he wants to do is run off into the sunset, and not with her.

He barely even hears her as the whole world moves in fast forward while he stands there completely still. And he doesn’t even remember what he says before he walks away, his shoulder brushing against Jisoo’s in the process. He doesn’t even turn back when he hears her call out to him multiple times.

He’s sure that when he tells you his over-dramatised version of what he assumes was Jisoo’s confession, you’ll do your exaggerated laugh that makes you snort and then complain that you snorted. You’ll look at him in a way that screams ‘I told you so,’ and he hates it so much that he considers not telling you at all.

But even he knows he’s a blabbermouth and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, the words will fall out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think.

So he goes to the nearest pizza place by your dorm, and he orders your usual: half cheese, half pepperoni. You’re too indecisive to pick just one, so you get both. He orders his own pizza too and he sits and waits, stripping himself of his scarf and his hat before shoving it into his backpack and playing around with his hair, trying to get it to look right before his order is called.

When he’s finally outside your door, he doesn’t bother to knock—he walks straight in and calls out for you. You rush out of your room, an oversized hoodie covering your frame with your hood up.

“Damn it, Hyun, can’t you call before you show up uninvited?” you huff, instantly eyeing up the pizzas. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”

Hyunjin shrugs. He knows there’s no way you’d be anywhere else. Your friends are his friends and they’re all in class or with their own significant others… not that that matters…

He hands you your own pizza and smiles at the way you smile when you fall onto the couch and stuff the first slice into your mouth. A muffled ‘thank you’ somehow escapes your lips. Gulping it down, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, causing Hyunjin to curl his lip in disgust.

“Why are you here, anyway?” you ask before tearing off another bite of pizza.

“No reason.” He’s trying his best to do a Mary-Kate and Ashley and keep his lips sealed, but it’s no use.

You just blink at him until the dam finally bursts.

“Jisoo confessed to me and I turned her down.”

Still blinking, you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him in confusion. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?”

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on the pizza slice he’s playing with aimlessly instead of actually eating. He can’t even explain how he’s feeling. He wanted, no, dreamed of the perfect confession, and he blew his chance. Because of… bad vibes? How do you even explain that?

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles. He sighs, dropping the pizza box on his lap as he throws his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. “It just…” He pauses. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.”

“Is a confession ever going to be perfect, though?”

Hyunjin sits up instantly at the question. The way he moves so suddenly makes you jump, but he doesn’t mean to scare you. He’s just very… passionate… about the subject. ‘Passionate’ may not be enough to describe it.

“Of course it can be!” He has to stop himself from blabbing too much. He’s sure you’re tired of hearing his speeches about this, so he just gives you the short version. “It’s the biggest moment of any relationship! With the right person, it’s always going to be perfect. Like, you know in your heart when it’s right, and…” he sighs, “I didn’t feel that.”

He looks at you, and you nod. “Then… maybe you didn’t like her as much as you thought you did?”

Hyunjin falls against the couch again. His voice comes out as a whine this time, “But that was my last chance at a Christmas romance!”

Is he being dramatic? Maybe a little, Hyunjin figures. He’s just lucky it’s you he’s ranting to, because the most you do in response to this is huff and give him a look. If it was one of mutual friends, they would have slapped some sense into him by now. Metaphorically, at least… hopefully.

“This isn’t your last chance at a Christmas romance, you know that right?” you say. “You’re acting like this is your last Christmas, period.”

He sinks somehow further into the couch. “Okay, fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My last college Christmas romance.”

“You didn’t have one last year? Why does it matter now?” you ask, reaching once more for your pizza.

“Because it’s our final year!! That’s kind of the point of it being the final chance, Y/N.”

Hyunjin knows you mean well, but you rolling your eyes at him as you shove another bite into your mouth isn’t helping his plight. He can’t help but frown at you, though, not only because of your reaction, but now because you’re talking with your mouth full.

“Here’s an idea,” you gulp down some of the pizza stuffed in your cheeks, “just fake it till you make it. Get someone to fake date you.”

It takes a second for Hyunjin to process what you say. But when he does, he gasps loudly and sits up even faster than last time. He turns and grabs hold of your shoulders so fast that it takes all of your force not to fall backwards.

“You’re a genius!”

You smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I know. No need to remind me.”

The look of disgust returns and Hyunjin slowly moves his hands away from your shoulders like you just infected him with something. “Don’t make me regret saying that.”

“We both know it’s true, though.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate me too.”

He ignores your self-degrading comment and sighs. His arms find their way to cross themselves over his chest once more and he thinks to himself for a minute. He has a world of possibilities at his fingertips, but he knows exactly what he wants to do. Just… he doesn’t know how to say it. Might as well just rip the bandaid.

“So when’s our first fake date?”

You cough out whatever pizza you had left in your mouth and it takes you a moment to catch your breath again. When you finally have a moment to breathe, you look at Hyunjin. “Our what?!”

Hyunjin simply blinks at you. He just asked the most obvious question in the world, and you’re looking at him like you just asked him to solve a derivative. He doesn’t even remember what that is.

You motion for him to continue, but he’s still blinking. “What?” he says.

“When I suggested fake dating someone, I didn’t mean me!”

“Of course it has to be you!” he frantically tries to explain. “I-I can’t just ask a random person to fake date me when I have no idea who they are!”

“So you just assume I’d say ‘yes’?!”

“Oh, come on, please!” he begs, actually getting down on the floor in front of you. He links his hands together as he whips out his best puppy dog eyes.

He waits and goes still and keeps giving you that cartoonish pleading stare. Then, you sigh.

“I feel like I get nothing out of this. You get your fake Christmas romance and what do I get? A fake boyfriend I didn’t ask for?”

He goes still again. He thinks hard about anything that will get you to agree. He’ll pull out the big guns, if he has to. And that’s what he does, and based on the terrified look on your face, he’s sure he has a crazed gleam in his eyes when he says it.

“I’ll never complain about not having or finding a Christmas romance again!”

Hyunjin can’t believe he said that. You stare at him, he’s staring at you. He’s sure you don’t believe him.

“Come on!” he huffs. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You can’t keep anything to yourself, you really believe you’d be able to keep that?”

Hyunjin nods frantically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he hears you mutter before looking him in the eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Hyunjin’s up in another flash, pushing you with all his weight against the couch as he hugs you even tighter.

“THANK YOU!! You’re the best!!”

And in the next moment, he’s standing, his hand out for you to take. “Let's go!” A confident beam is plastered on his face. He can’t say the same for you.

“Huh?”

You just keep staring at his outstretched hand. Knowing you’re not going to move, Hyunjin just huffs and grabs your hand, pulling you to the front door.

“On our first date, decorating your dorm!!”

“HUH?!”

—

As you walk through the store, Hyunjin has his fingers entwined with yours so tightly that you almost think he’s cutting off blood flow. It’s almost as if he was afraid you’d change your mind and disappear if he let go.

He beelines towards the Christmas decorations. You don’t know why he insisted on buying more when you still have the stuff that he made you get last year—you just forgot where you put it. But you live in a tiny college dorm, so it’s not like you had many places to look.

It’s whatever, you guess. You don't bother to question what’s going through his mind right now. It won’t end well if you do.

Hyunjin’s other hand is pushing an extra large cart you're sure you don’t need, but he got it anyway. He can’t possibly be thinking of filling up the whole cart, can he? You live in a college dormitory. Only so much can fit.

After what seems like a lifetime, you’re both in front of the Christmas decorations. With his hand still stuck to yours like glue, he starts to examine each set of decorations with his other hand, holding it up close to his eyes as if he doesn’t have perfect vision.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Checking,” he mutters, placing a box of lights back down on the shelf before picking up another one.

“Checking for…?”

He huffs, drops his shoulders, and stares at you with nothing behind his eyes. “The perfect lights. They shouldn’t be broken and we need to know they’ll shine bright enough.”

“They’re lights, Hyun,” you respond simply. “It doesn’t matter if they’re perfect or not.”

Pushing your lips into a line, you stare at each other in silence for a moment or two—honestly, you’re not too sure how long the moment actually is. Hyunjin just looks away, placing the box of lights back onto the shelf.

“You’re relying too much on everything being perfect.”

You feel the way his grip tightens around your hand. He stays silent, picking up another box of lights before placing them in the shopping cart. “These are perfect,” he says, ignoring your words. “We should get these.”

He pushes the cart further down whilst dragging you along in the process. Picks up another set of lights, checks them, and puts them down, before repeating this a few times before he’s happy with the one he’s decided on. He does this for many of the tinsel, for some random ornaments, and for random chocolates and candy canes to hang on the tree.

You’re fiddling on your phone when he tugs on your hand, causing you to look up at him. In his free hand are two mini stuffed animal ornaments. He’s gazing at them with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“It’s us.” His eyes find yours. There’s a softness to his voice that compliments the warm smile he gives you. “We should get them… they’re perfect.”

This time, you squeeze his hand back. His smile infects you, and you’re unable to do anything but return it. Nodding, you return your gaze back to the two little stuffed ornaments. “They are perfect… like us.”

“There’s that smile I missed so much!” he says sarcastically.

“Aaaand moment ruined.”

You tug at his hand, trying to get them to finally unlink. The sweat forming in between them is getting a bit much.

“You can’t escape from me that easily,” Hyunjin says with a smoulder.

“Ew,” you fake gag. “You’ve been hanging out with Jisung too much. Only he makes the fuckboy thing work, bestie.”

“Bestie- zoned?” Hyunjin gasps, his over-dramatic look you’re so accustomed to taking over his features. “I thought I was your boyfriend?”

Your smile drops and you want to smack him and his teasing into next week. “FAKE boyfriend.”

He turns from you as he hisses to you or himself—you’re not really sure which—before he pulls you further down the aisle.

“You’re no fun.”

two.

– november 3rd.

Looking around your dorm makes you want to throw up.

After Hyunjin took you (read: dragged you) shopping the other day, the boy immediately took the bags of stuff to your dorm and started plastering the stuff everywhere. Now, the room is filled to the brim with golden lights and colourful tinsel, and your little desk tree was just as flashy. Considering that your space is a tiny college dorm, it makes the space feel a bit suffocating, but not unenjoyable.

You fear Hyunjin took “deck the halls” a little too far and that your dorm will catch on fire because of it, not just because of the three separate Christmas candles Hyunjin insisted on buying, but also because of how dangerously close they were to the tinsel. You wonder what your roommate, Yeri, would say about this. Actually, you’re not entirely sure when you last saw her.

You aren’t able to dwell much longer on the thought as a knock followed by a crash and yelp pulls you out of your own head. You hurry to the door and open it to find none other than your Christmas menace, Hyunjin, sprawled on his butt in front of you. Bags with what appear to be baking ingredients are spread all over the ground around him.

“Hey~” is the only thing he says, a sheepish smile on his face, as you stare at him incredulously.

“What’s all this?”

“It’s…” he starts as you help him up, then trails off once he’s upright. He bends down to pick up a bag of chocolate chips by his feet, then he looks at you and holds them out proudly. “…Our next date!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the boy. Of course, he already thought up a second date idea so soon. Knowing him, he’s probably been planning this since he got home after the first date.

But still, you can’t help but crack a smile. Baking cookies seems like a fun little fake date—after all, it’s hard to make Christmas cookies into some sappy Hallmark scene. Plus, you get to keep half the batch at the end.

What could go wrong?

As you help pick up the rest of the ingredients off the floor, you notice a neatly folded piece of paper fall out of Hyunjin’s pocket. You stick it in your pocket before placing a milk carton and a brown sugar pack on the kitchen island, then you take out and unfold the paper, squinting as you read it.

“Is this… Felix’s recipe?” you say. The distinct way he loops his ‘Y’s gives it away for you.

“N… No…” Hyunjin tries to convince you, but his statement comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.

You give him another incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, it is!” he huffs, throwing his head back dramatically. “I begged him for the recipe so we could try to make it together. His cookies always come out great, so it can’t be that hard!” He grins confidently, but that facade quickly fades. “…Right?”

A smile returns to your lips. “Right! Yeah!” You’re afraid your smile looks more nervous than confident, though. “Totally…”

“We can do it! I think…”

Hyunjin laughs a little, and you follow too, even if it feels somewhat forced.

“And if we fail, we’ll just get the store-bought ones!” he adds. “Easy as pie.” A small smile dances on his lips. “Anything for my favourite girlfriend~” he sings, winking at you playfully.

Any hint of your smile, real or not, drops at the sentence.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Potayto, potahto. Now help me with the batter.”

…

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?” you say.

Instead of jumping into baking right away, you and Hyunjin have spent the past ten minutes overwhelmed over the instructions Felix provided. It’s not that they’re difficult or anything—fifteen steps to make some cookies just feels like a lot.

Especially to two beginners, one of which is struggling to cut a one-pound stick of butter in half with a cleaver. You’re left to watch Hyunjin nearly slice his fingers as he tries, a near-grimace twisted on your face.

“I got it, I got it!” Hyunjin grunts as he tries to push the cleaver down. “Almost… there…”

The way his fingers are so dangerously close to the blade makes you wince. After another moment, you can’t take watching him anymore.

“Oh my god, give me the knife.”

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to shoo Hyunjin away from the cleaver while he’s holding it for dear life. Knowing him, he could’ve found a way to cut himself even after he let go. Luckily, you both remain unscathed and you successfully cut the butter in half.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asks as he watches you cut one of the halves. He peeks at the recipe over your shoulder.

You scan the paper for the next step, moving it quickly so he can see, too. “Looks like the… dry ingredients? We can start with the flour, I guess.”

“Flour…”

Hyunjin hums along with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande as he digs through the ingredient pile on the island. You glance up and find yourself giggling at the silly hand gestures he makes.

“Flour coming right…” he announces, letting out a grunt as he lifts the giant bag, “…up!”

You set the cleaver aside and rush to help him carry the bag. “Why’d you buy the ten kilogram bag?!”

“I didn’t know how much we needed!” He lets out a dramatic huff once you both get the bag on a stool.

“I’m pretty sure a normal-sized bag would have been enough, Hyun.”

“Look,” Hyunjin huffs again and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve learned from Felix, alright? This is serious cookie and movie date business and we can’t make mistakes.”

Fake cookie date.

“But there’s going to be mistakes, that’s just how it is.” You shrug, carefully opening the bag, then letting out a sigh as a lump of flour falls out onto the floor. “Just think, Felix’s recipes weren’t perfect straight away—”

Hyunjin cuts you off with a gasp. A hand flies over his heart as he stares at you with betrayal. “Excuse you, they’ve always been great. You’re lucky I wouldn’t tell him you said that.”

You decide not to say anything else, but get the flour ready to sieve into the mixture. “Do you want to do this or I?”

Even though he still has too much energy, he gently pushes you out of the way and takes the sieve from your hands. “Me, me, me.”

Without bothering to do anything else, he takes a handful of flour and dumps it into a sieve and starts tapping at the side of it.

“Hyunjin!” you gasp, “We could at least measure it first!”

“Live a little, Y/N!” Hyunjin sways to the music. “You said nothing has to be perfect right away! I’m trying to follow your advice.”

You blink, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “I didn’t mean to not follow the recipe! We still have to, you know.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anymore, he just continues to sieve the flour into the bowl. However, by the bridge of the song, he’s so into it that he’s nearly forgotten what he’s doing. While he goes on autopilot, the flour soon enough misses the bowl entirely and lands on the kitchen counter and over his shoes.

“Oops,” he giggles.

“I’m baking with a child,” you mutter to yourself, arms crossed over your chest.

He picks up another handful of the flour and looks down at the mixture before looking over at you. He stares at you, you stare at him. It’s like a silent battle.

“Don’t you dare.”

He does dare. However, instead of throwing it at you, he throws it up; and instead of landing on you directly, it falls lightly to the floor, just barely falling into your socks. He grins and a giggle escapes his lips.

Whatever self-control you have leaves you at that moment and you grab your own handful of flour. As you step forward, he steps back, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“You’re not scared… are you?” you question.

He scoffs. “Me? Scared?” He fakes a cackle. “Never!”

You take another step forward. He takes another back.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I—”

Rushing forward, you push your hand into his cheek, letting the flour fall from your hand and over him. Some of the remnants left on his cheek fall as he huffs.

“That’s it.” He grabs another scoop. “You’re on.”

You have exactly two seconds to decide what to do before Hyunjin stalks toward you, a mischievous grin on his face and handful of flour held high. You turn and start to scramble away from him right as he pounces, trying to grab you so he can dump the flour on your head.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He giggles tauntingly. “Don’t you want a hug from your loving boyfriend~?”

“Fake boyfriend!” you call over your shoulder.

Trying desperately not to trip, you make a mad dash for the living room, Hyunjin’s cackles ring in your ears as he bounds closer. You get two more big steps in and just as you’re about to leap for the couch, a strong arm wraps itself around your middle and pulls you back.

“Got you~” Hyunjin’s voice is right next to your ear and you can practically hear him smirking in victory. You wriggle around, trying to free yourself but it’s to no avail.

You’re able to turn just enough to face him and send him the glare he deserves. He just faces you, narrowing his eyes for a second, then that look falls to a more disapproving one.

“Are you ready to follow the recipe now?” the boy asks sassily.

You want to smack his pretty face so bad.

“I hate you.”

…

Surprisingly, Hyunjin keeps his word and actually follows Felix’s recipe, word-for-word. You’re happy with how the balls of cookie dough turned out, even though you just placed them in the oven—and don’t tell Hyunjin, but you ate a bit of the dough. It’s too good.

“And now we wait twelve minutes,” you declare as you start a timer on your phone. You leave it on the island and head over to the living room.

You watch, baffled, as Hyunjin spreads out tattered-looking physical copies of a bunch of Christmas movies over your coffee table. Once they’ve landed in a heap, he turns back and looks at you, the same way a dog does when it thinks it's done something incredible.

To say you’re confused as to why he brought over DVDs when you could just rent the movies online is an understatement. Especially when he knew full well that you somehow had access to Chan’s Netflix account—you hacked it, but is it really hacking when his password is ilovefelix143?

Hyunjin’s eyebrows basically merge. Instead of being a little happy puppy, he’s now like a puppy with his tail stuck between his legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes shift from him to the movies and back.

“You…” sigh. “You know we have Netflix, right?”

“That’s not the same thing,” he whines. “And you know it! The vibe will be totally off if we watch them all on Netflix!”

You might as well be a fan of BlackPink because all you can do is blink. “And it won’t be if we watch them on DVD?”

Rising his fist, Hyunjin grabs your shoulder to shake you lightly. As you attempt to push him away, his grip somehow gets tighter.

“Just pick,” shake. “one to,” he tugs your arm. “ start with!”

“Alright!” You huff, flailing your arms around to finally get him to drop his grip. You point in a random direction. “That one!”

It’s his turn to blink. “You’re not pointing at shit and you know it.”

…

With a movie finally picked out, the title screen theme of The Muppets’ Christmas Carol begins to repeat as Hyunjin is in the kitchen getting the cookies out of the oven. However, after the fifth repeat, you’re ready to pull your hair strand by strand from your head.

“Are you almost ready?!” you call out to him. “This music is driving me insane!”

Part of you wants to complain more, but you bite your tongue. It could’ve been worse—it could’ve been the theme of When Harry Met Sally on repeat.

Hyunjin appears at the door, tray in hand. “You can’t really go mad if you’re already there.”

If it wasn’t a threat to the precious cookies currently residing in the tray in his hands, you would have thrown every pillow on this couch at him.

“You say I’m mean to you, but then this is how you treat me!” You gasp, watching as he rolls his eyes.

You catch the way his lip turns up into a smirk when he sets down the tray of cookies on the coffee table.

“I’m so sorry my precious girlfriend, whom I care so deeply about, how can I ever repay you?”

It’s go time. Grabbing the pillow, you aim and whack him over and over as he falls onto the couch, his arms up in protest, but his laughter is still loud enough to seep into your ears. “Not the face! I’m too beautiful to die this young!”

“I,” whack. “hate,” you huff and raise the pillow above your head. “you,” whack. “so much!”

He somehow grabs the pillow, pulling it towards him. But with his strength, he accidentally pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto his chest. Like on instinct, his arms wrap around you tightly to stop you from falling off of the couch.

You feel his breath on your ear as he lets out a chuckle and it makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I know you love me.”

You’re up in a flash, using all of your strength to push him off of the couch and onto the floor.

“AHH!!!”

You snicker at the loud shriek Hyunjin makes. Plopping your bum on the couch, you shoot your fake boyfriend a petty stare as you reach for a cookie and, very slowly, take a huge bite.

Holy shit. You’ve never tasted a cookie so good before. The way the gooey, melty goodness dances in your mouth is so addictive, you barely notice Hyunjin giving you a death glare from the floor.

“What?” you say with your mouth full, reaching for the remote.

“That’s supposed to be our batch,” he sneers nasally, as if he’s Squidward himself. You try not to spit out the food in your mouth.

“Not anymore.” You point the remote at the TV and hit ‘play’. “You can get the next batch.”

three.

– november 10th.

“Can we let go for a bit?” you mumble, causing Hyunjin to look at you. “My hand is getting sweaty.”

“Oh, sorry,” Hyjnjin gasps, looking down at your hands. He lets go and rubs his palm against his jeans to wipe off the stickiness that has formed.

“Why are we holding hands so early, anyway?” you ask. “I know we’re telling the guys we’re ‘dating’ today, but they’re not even here yet.”

Hyunjin blinks at you, takes your hand again, and entwines your fingers. “Because we have to make it look believable from a distance.”

You try not to laugh. “You think they’ll even notice if we’re holding hands?”

He shrugs, locking eyes with the student worker that’s staring in your general direction. He attempts to follow their gaze. It seems like they’re looking at his and your hands. They could also just be waiting for the microwave oven to ding so they can serve someone their bagel. You never know, though.

“I mean,” he gestures to the cafe worker, “if that person notices, then our friends probably will.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that person cares.”

“For Hyunjin?” another cafe worker calls.

With your hand still in his, Hyunjin gently pulls you with him to pick up a freshly-made sandwich for you, and bagel for him. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before grabbing some napkins and heading for the seating area, scooting past students to the table for four he set his backpack on to call dibs. When the college cafe is always packed for lunch, claiming a table was more than necessary.

Hyunjin presses a finger to his chin as he thinks of where to sit, which chair will allow him optimal coupley vibes. After a moment of contemplation, he chooses one of the seats right by the window.

This prompts you to move to the one opposite of him. But before you can sit down, Hyunjin reaches across the table to grab your wrist.

“No! Sit on this side,” he says, gently tugging your arm.

“Why?”

“I told you, we have to make it believable! Remember?”

It’s a perfect plan. If Hyunjin acts as utterly sappy as possible, his and your friends will surely fall for it. What better way to scream ‘lovesick college couple’ than to sit on the same side of the table together?

Also, how do you hold hands with someone who’s sitting across from you? Spoiler: you don’t.

But for now, you both eat. You plop down on the chair next to Hyunjin, albeit begrudgingly at first, and you end up finishing your sandwich fairly quickly. Hyunjin, however, takes his time. Not because he’s not hungry—he’s starving. But having half a bagel to work his way through is good in case things get awkward later on.

See? Perfect.

Soon enough, Hyunjin catches two familiar heads enter the cafe. He reaches for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours when you take his hand with a sigh. He even considers subtly scooting his chair over to be even closer to you. Something in the dark crevices of his mind keeps begging him to do it. He’s not even sure why, but he scolds at that voice to wait a moment.

His eyes carefully follow Changbin and Jisung as they get out of line. They both wave at him, and he awkwardly waves back before they turn to each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Changbin steps up to the counter to grab two bagels. Then he follows Jisung to your table.

“What’s up, sweetcheeks?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin glances at you and when you look back, you make an expression as if to tell him ‘go on then’. Hyunjin however, decides against that, turning his attention back to the two boys sitting across from them.

Changbin’s already stuck half of the bagel in his mouth to the point he’s struggling to chew. It’s disgusting, but for some reason it keeps Hyunjin in a trance. When that trance is broken by you swiftly jabbing him in the rib, he winces, glares at you, and looks back over the table.

“About that,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly. If he wasn’t already holding your hand, he would have gone for it to try and calm his nerves.

“What is it?” Jisung asks, ripping a piece of his bagel off and chucking it into his mouth. “You two finally shacking up?”

Hyunjin sits there stunned, only listening as you groan in disgust.

“What is wrong with you?” you say.

Jisung smiles and sends a wink to you before leaning back in his seat. “It’s just my talent, baby.”

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on his bag. This is fake, he repeats in his mind after the word ‘baby’ is uttered from Jisung’s lips. Why does it bother him so much? It shouldn’t bother him—it never has before. This isn’t real. It’s just a simple word Jisung has used to refer to literally everyone in your friend group. Hyunjin’s heard worse come from the boy’s mouth. ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘’bubby wubby’, schmoopy poopy poo’... all Jisung said this time was ‘baby.’

This is fake.

Hyunjin feels you squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back as he finally looks up. You’re looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed, silently asking him what’s wrong.

This isn’t real…

Now his heart burns. He decides to blame it on too much cream cheese on his bagel.

“What did you want to tell us?” Changbin tries to say as he gulps down his bagel before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Hyunjin glances over at you, and then back to his friends. He raises your enjoined hands.

“So… we’re dating!”

Changbin nearly chokes on his bagel at Hyunjin’s words. He looks up slowly, following your and Hyunjin’s arms up to where your hands meet, and he nods once. “Oh. Well, damn.”

Jisung, on the other hand, takes a moment longer to process the news. But when he does, his jaw slowly drops and he takes in a sharp breath. “Oh. My. GO—”

“Yah, shut up!” Hyunjin leans over across the table to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth.

“…God,” the younger boy finishes his sentence quietly, his voice muffled.

Hyunjin maintains his stare at the younger boy as he slowly begins to pull back. No more screaming, he begs. He’s had enough of it for the rest of the year.

A tension hangs in the air around the four of them. Changbin goes back to carelessly munching on his bagel, and Jisung is gazing at Hyunjin and you, his very fake girlfriend, with an almost-maniacal smile.

“Soooo…” Jisung starts after a minute. Hyunjin can literally feel him gleefully kicking his legs under the table. “Who confessed first?”

Hyunjin pales at the question. He forgot to go over a cover story with you.

Luckily, before he can struggle to give an answer, Changbin swoops in and unknowingly buys him some time.

“Why are you the one who’s happy?” he questions. “I’m the one who won the bet!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “You guys bet on us?!”

“We all did,” Changbin says. “Now Jisung owes half our group ten dollars each.”

“Wait, but we still don’t know who confessed first!” Jisung says.

“Why is that important?” Hyunjin says.

“‘Cause it was part of the bet, too!”

Hyunjin stills again and looks at you helplessly. He squeezes your hand as if to signal that he needs you to come up with something, and fast. Something about how he had the most magical confession to end all confessions during the first snow that didn’t even happen yet this year.

“I-It was me,” you finally say.

Hyunjin has to stop himself from looking at you in surprise.

Jisung gasps loudly again. He’s so wholly entranced, Hyunjin doesn’t know how lucky he should consider himself for it. “Really?”

Hyunjin watches as you clear your throat before nodding. You smile in a way that he swears he’s never seen before. You tilt your head and break your eye contact with Jisung to look over at him, then you look back at Jisung.

“You expect him to confess?” You giggle lightly, gesturing to Hyunjin. “All he talks about is how he wants someone to confess to him.”

The two boys across from them are just nodding in agreement. That is true, Hyunjin thinks. He’s probably been talking about that since he started college, maybe even before. He can’t really describe the feelings that come from somebody confessing their feelings to you.

“And…” you continue, “after the failed confession with Jisoo, I realised I should take it as a sign to confess.”

You’re smiling to yourself as you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes down on the table. Hyunjin has never seen you act—and act this well. Jisung and Changbin are totally hooked, nodding along to everything you’re saying. They’re like two little children listening to a bedtime story doing everything they can to stay awake. You’ve got them wrapped around your pinky finger.

Hyunjin’s gaze focuses on your hand in his. He brings them to his lap and begins to play with your fingers, letting your words between the boys fade into the background. His mind is still lingering around the thoughts of Jisoo and the failed confession.

He still isn’t completely sure what happened there. Why his crush, whom he was sure he was in love with, faded so quickly and so suddenly. He never thought falling out of like—or love—with someone could be that easy… but if he thought about it too much, he’d probably worry about the possibility of love. He decides that’s not a thought for now.

“Woah,” Jisung says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s crazy.”

“That means you owe us another five dollars, genius,” Changbin says.

Jisung quickly turns to Changbin. “Let me grieve for my wallet first!” Hyunjin watches as Jisung rests his head in his hands in despair.

“Why would you even bet on Hyunjin confessing first?” You can’t help but laugh. “You set yourself up for failure.”

“Because maybe I had faith in him!!” Jisung exclaims, looking up at you. “I thought he’d have it in him!”

You glance at Hyunjin, smile sheepishly, and look back at the two boys that sit across the table from you.

“Well you should have known him better.”

“Ooookay,” Hyunjin says, suddenly moving to stand. “We, um, we gotta get going.” He turns to you, hoping you get the message. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod quickly and stand up too. “Yeah, we were gonna have a study date together,” you say as you gather your things.

“Okay, have fun,” Changbin says coolly.

“But we were just getting started!” Jisung counters.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh. “We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow, okay?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he raises an eyebrow. The way he’s staring Hyunjin down is making him want to shrink up and hide.

After a moment of awkwardness on Hyunjin’s part, Jisung opens his mouth to speak.

“Tell us everything?”

“Define ‘everything’, Ji,” you respond before Hyunjin has the chance to.

“Everything means everything,” Jisung drawls out. “Like, come on guys, give us the details! The nitty gritty of it all!” He’s now leaning over the table as he pleads. “I just wanna know all about my two best friends’ relationship! Is that so weird?!”

You share a look with Hyunjin. You’re giggling, rolling your eyes as you look back over at the boy. “Find your own girlfriend, Ji, don’t live through our relationship.”

Jisung huffs, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. “You guys are no fun.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, and you both wave at the two boys. Changbin happily responds and Jisung, still grumpy, begrudgingly waves back.

Luckily, this seems to be enough for you and Hyunjin to leave. Hyunjin swings your hands lightly, fingers still entwined, as the cafe door shuts behind you with a small squeak.

There is no study date. There wasn’t really any regular ‘date’ planned—not unless the confessing? lying? to your friends counts.

Regardless, you and Hyunjin look at each other and silently agree. You both deserve a sweet treat after that.

four.

– november 17th.

You wouldn’t dare tell Hyunjin, but once he told you about his “fantastical Friday date idea” earlier this afternoon, you’ve been feeling like a bottle of Coke about to explode.

Sure, he’s been a little crazy about hitting all the stereotypical Christmas romance activities, but this is ice skating! It’s fun and it’s romantic enough to scratch Hyunjin’s itch, but not too romantic. You’re only fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, after all.

“Y/N?”

Hyunjin waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you out of your daze. You must have been staring at the fake icicles for too long.

“Huh? Yeah?” you say, blinking a few times.

He holds up two pairs of rental ice skates, one for you and one for him. “I already paid, let’s go put these on.”

You wander over to the benches where other skaters are lacing up. They make it look so effortless, but you and Hyunjin keep getting your fingers tangled in the long laces. And every time you attempt to stand up, your ankles feel so wobbly that you have to sit back down and tighten them.

Eventually, your skates feel secure enough that you don’t wobble too much when you do make it to your feet. You look over at Hyunjin, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better than you.

“Do you think you can get up?” you ask. You’re starting to figure out how to balance, but you hold on to the edge of a table just in case.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums confidently. However, the deer-in-headlights look on his face as he slowly lifts his bum off the bench says otherwise. You’d laugh at him more than you already are if you didn’t do the same.

“Are you sure you can get up?”

“Totally!”

As if to prove you wrong, Hyunjin slowly begins to stand up. When he’s upright, he lifts one hand off the bench, then the other. Then he slowly shuffles one foot after the other in the direction of the rink, until he loses balance and nearly falls into the splits.

You try not to snort at his cry that echoes throughout the rink. Of course, you do the same as you try to follow him and your dear best friend returns the favour.

“HAH! Karma!” Hyunjin points and laughs at you before slipping and falling on his back.

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, shuffling over to help him up.

“I’m fine!” he tries to reassure you once he’s upright again. He reaches for your hand as he waddles his way to the rink, this time successfully, and with you in tow.

You let out the breath you’re holding once your other hand finds the edge of the wall. Maybe you came into the rink too cocky, or maybe the old couple doing laps around you and Hyunjin made this look easy.

After you recenter yourself—well, after trying to—you look at Hyunjin, who has a death grip on your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” The boy smiles. “Very fine!” He slowly lets go of your hand, attempting to get away from the wall. He’s successful for a few seconds, then he finds himself wobbling again and he quickly grabs onto your arm.

Giggling, you try to shake him off. “Hyun, you’re gonna make me fall, too!”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. When you turn to look back at him, his legs are shaking, but he’s got a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Even when he’s visibly struggling, of course he has to do this.

“Oh, am I?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

You try to free your hand again. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter, and he manages to slide his hand down your arm and thread his fingers with yours.

“You’re gonna be wishing you’re holding my hand soon enough,” Hyunjin muses.

“Whatever you say, fake boyfriend,” you sigh sarcastically.

The old couple passes you by again; they seem to be out-skating every couple on the ice by this point. As they go in circles together, they show off their best disco moves as if they were on roller skates instead. The old man, as he swings past you two a second time, makes a heart with his hands behind the old woman, pumping it in the air to the beat of “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber as his wife continues to dance.

You don’t look back at Hyunjin, but you can imagine the stars in his eyes as he watches them. Instead, you pay attention to the way they move their feet. Push out with your right foot, then with your left. Right, left, right, left. With Hyunjin still gripping on tightly to your hand, you attempt to copy it.

“H-Hey!” Hyunjin squeaks from behind you. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get off the wall!” you say. You turn your head to look at him briefly. “You want to be a cute fake couple like those two,” you gesture to the old couple, “right?”

He stumbles over a ‘maybe’, but there’s no denying the way he wistfully watches the old man carefully spin the old woman.

You smile fondly. “Then come on. Watch how they move and try to do the same.”

It takes several laps and several more minutes to get into a rhythm. You can’t say that you’re gliding across the ice, but you’re holding your own without clinging to the wall. Barely. Hyunjin, on the other hand, suddenly seems like a natural. His graceful strides make you question if he was feigning clumsiness half an hour ago, or if he was just that good.

You try to catch up to him as you both make a turn and he looks back to check on you. He smiles at you and holds up a peace sign, flashing you a wink—and you freeze. You were already using all your brainpower to remember to keep moving your feet, and just like that, you forget everything you’re doing.

By the time you snap out of your daze, you’re about to crash into Hyunjin. You yelp, flailing as you try to brake. Hyunjin tries to catch you before you fall flat on your face, but you end up pulling him down with you and falling backwards.

Then you realise the position you’re both in. You’re on your back, and Hyunjin is half on top of you. You’re trying to catch your breath, but the way he tries to prop himself up with his elbows somehow sucks the air out of your lungs all over again.

“Hyun, slow down,” you say as he almost slips again. You catch his arms in yours and lose your breath for a third time. “One foot at a time, okay?”

You swear Hyunjin spaces out as you speak—there’s a gleam in his eyes you can’t quite place. But the gleam goes away just as quickly as it came, and he begins to regain his balance enough to stand up.

He holds out his hands for you and you grab on. He then slowly pulls, allowing you to find a way to get up with a pair of blades on your feet.

When you’re nearly upright, you take a wrong step and feel yourself flying backwards. You flail your arms as you try to prepare to land, but you feel Hyunjin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you in just in time.

For a second, you feel like you’re in a cheesy Disney movie. The moment happened so fast, but feels so slow in hindsight. Now you’re here, your jaw dropped open in surprise, as your hands find their way to Hyunjin’s shoulders. Is this how Cinderella or something felt—

Wait, what the fuck?

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin says. His eyes search yours for any sign of hurt.

You take a beat to respond, nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Hyunjin nods once. “Oookay. Do you wanna keep going?”

Right there, you contemplate just packing up and going back to your dorm. Even though the only one staring at you is Hyunjin, it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are boring into your soul.

However, something in your heart, or maybe your brain, begs you to stay. So you nod.

five.

– november 20th.

Hyunjin stands and leans against the stairrail by the front of the university library. He’s too busy fiddling with his perfectly curated Christmas playlist, fall in love with me (this christmas), to even notice you pull up in your car. So when you honk the horn, he yelps and falls on his butt, then down a couple stairs, before sending daggers your way.

He watches as your passenger side window rolls down slowly and your shit-eating grin becomes clear from behind it.

“You ready to go?” you ask.

Hyunjin, still glaring at you, slowly nods his head in response.

“Then get off your ass!” you say. “You’re the one that wanted to go to this!”

He gets up with a dramatic huff and drags himself to the passenger seat of the car. The second he hops in, he leans forward and grabs your aux cord, plugging it into his phone and unlocks his phone, once again showing the Christmas playlist.

Meanwhile, you watch him in amusement. “You want aux?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. But he answers regardless, too excited about the idea of a Christmas tree farm date. Another thing from his bucket list of Christmas dates to check off.

“Of course I want aux!”

Clicking shuffle, he cheers to himself when the mystical violin intro of “Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift begins to play. Clicking twice to make the song repeat, he locks his phone before placing it in one of the free cup holders.

“This is perfect!” He claps to himself, swaying the best he can to the music as he fastens his seat belt. “🎶And I’m somewhere else… just like magic… 🎶” he sings along.

He looks over at you and you’re watching him again. This time he can’t tell if it’s in amusement or bafflement. “Can we go now?”

Hyunjin nods, leaning back into his seat with a content smile. “You could’ve started when I got into the car.”

He lets his gaze linger on you for a second. When you look at him, he quickly looks away. Maybe he’s too impatient, but when he looks back at you a moment later to see if you have finally turned your focus to the road in front of you, you’re still staring right at him.

His cheeks begin to feel warm. Your gaze is practically peering into his soul, and you have your heater on full blast—it feels like a sauna in here. It’s not his fault you get cold so easily. It’s also not his fault a little voice in his head is telling him to use it as an excuse to be near you…

No. Bad Hyunjin.

He quickly shoves the thought away into a neat little box, something future Hyunjin will have to deal with. Right now, all present-day Hyunjin cares about is Miss Swift playing through the speakers.

And so he starts humming, which soon turns to quiet singing. Soon enough, the quiet singing soon turns into full-blown yelling of the lyrics. He’s here for the vibe, and the vibe is immaculate.

“🎶AND YOU WOULD BE THERE TOOOO~!!🎶”

Good Hyunjin!

“Hyun, shut up! I can’t see the road!” you shout, your voice carrying over the music.

Hyunjin throws his head back in feigned agony. “Okayyy, okay!” he groans before bringing it down to quiet singing for the rest of the song.

When the music fades out, it’s silent for a moment. Hyunjin feels his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling. When it starts again, he bounces in his seat.

“Again?” you question, bringing his attention back to you. “Can’t we go to the next song?”

He gasps and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! It’s for the vibe, Y/N!” He nods slowly to emphasise his point. “The vibe!”

You nod, your face full of confusion. “And the vibe is…?”

“That we’re literally going to a Christmas tree farm! Do you know how exciting that is?!” Hyunjin turns right to you as you pull up to a stop sign. He almost gets lost in your eyes when you look back at him. “It’s one of the key Christmas dates in the movies! And there’s a whole song about it!” He lets himself ramble on for a minute, trying not to get too lost in his fantasies. Despite his efforts, he soon feels himself about to spiral…

Then you look away.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh as he glances over at you. You’re focused on the road, your eyes flickering around as you wait for a good time to merge lanes. He knows that you only looked away to continue driving, but deep down, he fears that he pushed you away with his babbling.

He just looks down at his lap before he speaks, his voice trembling slightly. “Look, I… I know you hate Christmas, but—”

“I don’t hate Christmas…”

Hyunjin is surprised he can hear you with how quietly you’re talking.

“I…” You sigh. “I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ‘Christmas romance’ thing. Like, what makes it more special than a romance-romance?”

“Because…” He takes a breath before releasing it. “Christmas is magical.”

The song ends. He reaches for his phone and his finger hovers over the pause button.

“Hyunnie, you don’t need to stop the—”

He stops the music, ignoring the sigh you let out when you do.

“It’s just…” he starts, then trails off. “I…”

A beat of silence.

“You…?”

Hyunjin looks at you, trying to read your reaction. It’s hard to tell if your furrowed brow is from concentration or confusion.

“Like…” he starts again, then he sighs.

How would he even begin to explain that the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets from Christmas, is one he’s only ever experienced secondhand? How is he supposed to tell you that he hopelessly projects onto an array of chiselled brunet men in cheesy holiday movies without sounding insane? That he dreams of taking walks in the snow and under the Christmas lights and in Christmas tree farms with someone, like all the male leads on the Hallmark channel seem to do? Will it seem naive? Or childish?

At the same time, though, if all these ordinary guys can find love without even trying… who’s to say he can’t, too?

“It’s… like… why wouldn’t you want that, you know?”

But of course, Hyunjin’s feelings are so grand that he can’t find the words to explain it.

You let out a sigh again, a more sympathetic one this time. “I… I guess? I…”

Hyunjin watches you carefully as you find your words. He realises, a few moments later, that he’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath? It’s as if this is a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just you.

You shrug, and something in him twists. “I– I don’t know. I just… I can’t see it for myself.”

A thick silence hangs in the air. It seems to taunt Hyunjin, pointing and laughing at him like the playground bully for even daring to open his mouth. He bites his tongue for another moment or two, thinking of a way to lessen the tension. But after that, he can’t bear the silence anymore.

The song begins again. Maybe he was right to feel like a child.

…

By the time you park, the mood inside the car is much colder than the weather outside it. Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and lets it slam, even though he knows you’ll be annoyed about it. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets and hides himself the best he can in the collar of his coat.

In a moment, you’re next to him. Your own hands in your pockets as you silently glaze over the mass of trees that seem to go on for miles. You both stand there for an uncertain amount of time, just utterly blown away by the amount of Christmas trees.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin notices you hold out your hand in front of him and leave it there. He stares at it wordlessly, and after a moment or two of nothing, you make grabby hand motions at him like a small child.

“What?” he questions quietly. When he finally looks over at you, you’re too busy staring at the lights beyond the entrance to look back.

“Just come on. We’ve got a date to enjoy…” You pause and take a breath. “Boyfriend.”

A breath hitches in the back of his throat. You merely mumbled that last word, but Hyunjin heard it loud and clear. You begin to bring your hand closer to his again, motioning silently for him to take it, and he mentally curses at himself for how quickly his lips twitch up into a small smile.

Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, linking your fingers together. He uses every fibre of his being not to beam like an idiot.

“Where do we start?” you say, not really aiming the question at anyone.

Hyunjin shrugs. “I mean, we can start with the Christmas trees…”

His comment earns a chuckle from you, then a light punch to the arm. It’s a pity chuckle, but he’ll take what he can get. “No shit.”

Chuckling too, he gently tugs at your hand. “Come on, the Christmas tree farm awaits.”

Hyunjin squeezes your hand lightly as he leads you to the counter. He slips a five-dollar bill in the donation jar before walking in the farm with you. The golden lights of the welcome arch surround him with warmth, just like the feeling of your hand in his, as he makes a beeline for the rows of Christmas trees.

To Hyunjin, you seem content with him guiding you around all of the large Christmas trees, even when he takes longer than necessary to take in the waft of fresh pine coming from a few of them. He tries to hold back at first, but eventually he stops at a tree and comments on how much prettier it would look with a string of colourful lights and candy canes lining its needles. Then you two stop at the next tree, and he babbles about how fun it would be to have a real tree one year.

He’s sure he has stars in his eyes much brighter than the one he’d put on top of a real Christmas tree. And he’s lucky that it’s just you with him and you allow him to ramble on, nodding along as he does so. Every once in a while, he looks at you for your reaction to something he said, and he catches the small smile on your face. Whether it’s at him or the children who chase each other through the gaps between the trees, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy that you’re happy, and indulging in his silly fantasies.

There’s a relaxing aura about being at a Christmas tree farm that Hyunjin never expected. Well, maybe he should’ve expected this from the movies he’s watched, but experiencing the warm atmosphere himself is different than seeing it on a screen. The trees around you two seem to lift the tension from the car off your shoulders. He feels lighter, more at peace. And, more importantly, so do you.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, making way for strings of lights towards the centre of the farm. Lines of a purple hue dip upward to a point that stands taller than all the pine trees that seem to go on for miles. Maybe there’s something there that Hyunjin missed.

The light glow catches your attention, too, and you start walking closer to it, keeping a hold on his hand. You two weave through the rows of Christmas trees until you happen to pass the last row, and you find a spectacle of sparkling lights. Lines of red and white make a tent shape and meet the purple lights at the top. Beneath them, two reindeer made of wire and golden lights greet you. They almost look like they’re cuddling under the tent of red and white—something about it makes Hyunjin’s heart sing.

“Wow…” he whispers to himself.

And somehow, without realising it, words leave your lips softly. Hyunjin is so in awe of the lights, he barely notices. “🎶Under the mistletoe…🎶”

He almost doesn’t feel your head lightly rest against his shoulder. The reindeer… why is it reminding him of you two?

“🎶Watching the fire glow…🎶”

The faint melody makes Hyunjin’s ear perk up, causing him to turn and gaze at you. You’re too immersed in the trees and the occasional giggling child running through to even notice you’re quietly singing “Christmas Tree Farm'' to yourself.

It makes Hyunjin’s heart race just like it did back in the car. However, now, he doesn’t have the car heaters to blame his red cheeks on. He’s thankful you're too absorbed in your own little world to even notice anything going on around you.

“🎶And telling me, ‘I love you’ …🎶”

It’s like whatever is above is blessing him, letting him in on a little secret, in the form of light snowdrops falling from the sky. They land so delicately on your hair and shoulders and there’s a little flicker in your eyes that Hyunjin can’t ignore.

Never once in his life did he think he would see the first snow with someone. But now that he is, the hopeless romantic in him is screaming at him what he should have known all along.

“🎶Just being in your arms…🎶”

There is no big realisation. There is no big freak-out. There’s nothing to unpack or be scared about when his heart swells just that little bit more than usual. As he’s looking at you—still too oblivious to notice—everything just makes sense. There is no need for perfect, there is no need for the unattainable.

All he needs is you.

“🎶Takes me back to that little farm…🎶”

He doesn’t need to second guess himself, or try to convince himself of anything. He just knows. All the stories he was told by his parents, the ones he watched in the movies, every little fairytale that he’s held onto his whole life is true.

Maybe it’s not childish, and maybe he didn’t need to chase his fairytale moment at all.

He already has it.

“🎶Where every wish comes true…🎶”

As you continue to mumble the lyrics to yourself, Hyunjin squeezes your hand, finally bringing your attention back to him.

“Thank you for being here with me.” He smiles sweetly.

Your returning smile makes his heart do laps. “No, thank you.”

He squeezes your hand again. You squeeze his back.

six.

– november 23rd.

It’s only when the mass of people leaving your class dissipates that you notice Hyunjin standing out in the hallway waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the wall, focused on his phone. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile grows and he pockets his phone, holding a hand out to you.

You raise your eyebrow and glance at his hand for a second too long before he makes grabby hands at you. A giggle escapes your lips. “Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?” You take his hand before he can answer.

“Because my dearest and best girlfriend in the world, it’s time for another date,” he muses, skipping slightly and rocking your entwined hands in a more exaggerated fashion.

Humming and nodding your head, you lean into him slightly. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking we go to the park close to campus? Since the snow has settled and everything, we can just walk around for a couple hours until I have to go to class.”

It’s then that you register that Hyunjin called you his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend, just his girlfriend. You don’t do anything to correct him right now.

Instead, you look up at him, a pout gracing your lips. “But I was going to studyyyy.”

Hyunjin just shoots you a doubtful look back. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” you whine. The professor of the class you just got out of kept hinting at a pop quiz next session—considering that you failed the last pop quiz, you really didn’t want to fail a second one.

Nodding slowly, Hyunjin still looks sceptical. “Riiiight, okay.”

“I’m serious! We’re graduating soon, I can’t flunk out now!”

Hyunjin nods again. “Okaaaay, but you have…” he counts with his fingers on his free hand, “five days until then!” He stops in the middle of the walkway, stepping in front of you and taking not one, but both your hands in his. “Come onnnn, please? It’s just one day! And it snowed! It’s the perfect day to not study!”

When you respond with a blank stare, it seems like Hyunjin is forced to take drastic measures. So he tries one more very convincing line. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate when we get home! I know how much you love hot chocolate. Pleeeease?”

Something about the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes twinkle with hope makes you want to cup his cheeks in your hands and… punch him. Yes, exactly, punch him right in the face. Hit him where it hurts.

But alas, despite your growing urge to lovingly ki…ck him off the fifth floor of the university library, you know even that won’t stop him begging you to ditch studying. So you sigh.

“Make it with milk, not water; whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. Don’t forget the marshmallows.” That quiz will have to wait another day, but seeing the wave of happiness and relief wash over Hyunjin’s face right before he crushes you in a hug makes it worth it.

“Deal!”

…

The park is less crowded than you thought it would be. In your experience as a college student, you thought more of you would use the snow as a way to escape the stress of upcoming deadlines. Yes, you had to be bribed with hot chocolate to be here, but still. If you know, you know.

Regardless, you’re not complaining that you and Hyunjin basically have the whole park to yourselves.

“We should sit under there,” Hyunjin says, pointing to a cedar tree. Never mind the blanket of snow covering its needles that could fall on your heads.

You look up at him, your face sour. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Oh… right,” he says sheepishly, then points to a bench several feet away from it. “How about there?”

You nod and let him drag you there, ignoring the pathways and cutting through the grass. You take it as an excuse to hear the snow crunch underneath your shoes.

As you both approach the bench, Hyunjin slowly lets go of your hand to scurry ahead of you and wipe the thin layer of snow from its surface. It earns a cry from him at how cold it is, causing you to shake your head fondly.

“Why not get your gloves out?” you ask.

“I forgot I had them!” He plops down on the bench with a frown and pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You take a seat, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto your lap. Reaching in the front pocket, you blindly search for his and your gloves. When your fingers graze the soft fabric, you pull both pairs out and hand Hyunjin’s pair to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hurrying to slip his gloves on his hands. Once you do the same, he holds his hand out to you.

You furrow your brow at him. “We just held hands earlier?”

Hyunjin pouts. “But my hands are cold.”

“Is that not what the gloves are for?”

“Y/N…” he pulls out the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes again. Oh no…

Your eyes guiltily flicker between his outstretched hand and his face. His stupid, pouty face that is making your heart feel things you don’t want to think about. God..

“It’s coooold,” Hyunjin whines. “And it’s a coupley thing to snuggle when it’s cold, right?”

Fake couple. But you don’t correct him out loud.

“Okay, okay,” you huff, taking his hand in yours. He smiles and entwines your fingers together.

You and Hyunjin sit in silence for a while hand-in-hand as you take in the serenity. Sounds of children giggling faintly ring from the other side of the small park, and the blanket of powdery snow in front of you is still fresh and untouched. You feel so at peace here, you don’t notice you’re scooting closer to Hyunjin.

Wait. You’re scooting closer to Hyunjin. And you’re leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s because it’s cold. Yeah. Your bum is freezing and you could use the body heat of a fellow human. It’s like how penguins huddle for warmth in the winter, except you’re not in Antarctica; you’re in a quaint little park on a snowy day with your best friend—fake boyfriend.

And as a good fake boyfriend does, Hyunjin lets go of your hand in response and slips his arm around your shoulders. You feel his cheek gently rest on top of your head. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist—instinctively? How did you know to do that? What are you doing?

Right, you’re snuggling. Snuggling like any ordinary couple would do. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fake couple; this is how you fake it till you make it, as they say. So you just stay like this for a few minutes. Hyunjin’s making for a great cuddler, anyway. Is he worried about not being as good as the guys in whatever movies he watches? He shouldn’t. Because he’s gentle and warm and sweet and now he’s kissing the top of your head.

Wait, what are you doing?

Your eyes fly wide open. You don’t move, but suddenly Hyunjin’s too warm and you feel suffocated in his arms. Now, all you can think of is any excuse to get up.

As if the universe was answering your prayers, a small tennis ball rolls by your feet. You look at the light green ball, then the dog leaping through the snow to chase it, then a kid you assume is its owner, far away but visibly out of breath. Letting go of Hyunjin, you bend down to grab the ball, running a few feet away before chucking the ball in the kid’s direction.

After watching the dog dash after the ball for a moment, you feel something cold splat against your back. You gasp in surprise and turn to see a frowning Hyunjin.

“You left me for a dog!” he whines childishly. He tries not to smile, but lets out a giggle at the end of his sentence.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “He’s cuter than you!”

He gasps loudly in offence and chucks another snowball at you.

“Who’s cuter now?!”

You scoop up some snow and toss it at his chest. “Still the dog!”

He gets up and runs straight for you. You squeak and run away, looping around the cedar tree close to the bench to try and slow him down. He quickly catches up with you, and you soon feel his arms wrap around you and pull you back. You let out a squeal at the move.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?!” he says in between giggles. You’re just as giggly.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you say I’m cuter than that dog!”

He looks at you and you look up at him. He’s trying to pout at you, but you’re both laughing too much to take him seriously. But there’s something in his eyes, or maybe in his silly back-hug, that feels different… but you don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead, you smile and poke his cheek with one finger.

“Okay, fine. But only just a little.”

seven.

– december 1st.

Hyunjin feels himself buzzing from excitement as he guides you, hand-in-hand, through the busy streets of downtown. He would never admit it outright, but ever since you came up with the idea of fake Christmas dates, watching the switching on of the Christmas lights was high on his list. He’s dreamt of counting down the seconds until holiday lights illuminate the city, and has watched them alone. Just… not with someone. Not with someone who means as much to him as you do.

He can’t tell what’s louder: his heart thumping when your hand squeezes his as you both tuck and swerve through the busy crowd, or the crowd itself. After his realisation a few weeks prior, there’s something new and addicting about how your hand feels in his—like they were pieces of a puzzle, like they were destined to fit each other. He can’t get enough of it. He wonders if Christmas romance movie characters feel their heart beating as fast as his when he’s around you. And he wonders if it makes your heart race just as much, if there’s even a slight possibility that you look at him the same way he’s grown to look at you.

A slight tug on his hand pulls him out of his daze for just a moment. He looks back at you, who points excitedly at the giant Christmas tree in the heart of the plaza you two had just walked past. Smiling fondly, he follows you to get a closer look.

Hyunjin stops next to you, looking up at the huge, sparkling tree in front of you. He takes a moment to marvel at the bright lights strung across the expanse of the tree, the tinsel hanging from each branch, and red and gold ornaments sprinkled throughout. The tree stands at such a great height, Hyunjin can barely see the shining gold star perched atop it.

As his gaze drifts downward, across the tree again, his eyes fall on you standing by his side. In that moment, under the glittering lights bouncing off the small ornaments, Hyunjin thinks you’ve never looked prettier. You’re looking up at the tree in wonder, twinkles in your eyes as you take in the sights. You’re unaware of the way Hyunjin beholds you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. All the glowing lights surrounding you go dim in comparison every time you smile.

To Hyunjin, you’re the sun, and he’s just a star in your orbit, circling around you and living for every moment your warm light shines on him. Without you, his world would be cold and dark, just as it was before you came into his life.

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from you, focusing once again on the tree. Between the strings of bulbs, he sees flashes of a future he can picture with you: your first kiss, waking up to you in the morning every day, your wedding day and carrying you over the threshold of your home when you’re back from your honeymoon. He can see it all. Three kids, two dogs, and a hamster, family vacations, their friends being honorary uncles.

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but when he’s with you, he can’t help it. You are his forever and a day.

Every time he steals a glance at you, you’re in a world of your own. You’re so focused on looking up at the pre-hanging lights that you let him drag you along without much thought. Not that he minds much, himself. The little sparkle in your eyes as you look around in awe is utterly adorable. Not to mention that you’re willingly out with him in matching Christmas sweaters—maybe reluctantly at first, but willingly nonetheless. He never thought he’d get you to agree, but now that you did, the oversized tacky sweater somehow makes you look even cuter than he imagined.

He can’t decide whether or not to scream to the world about how precious you are, or if he wants to wrap you up in a blanket and keep you all to himself. He thoroughly believes the world deserves to see your brightness, but at the same time, he only wants you to smile at him. He wants to be the reason you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, he wants to be the reason to laugh so hard you fall off your seat.

Hyunjin’s focus returns to in front of him, a small content smile playing at his lips. Not because of you (mostly), but because he already knows the perfect place to watch the switch on. He’s had this planned for weeks now—another thing he will never admit.

Ever since the announcement of the light switch on came on social media a few weeks back, Hyunjin has been on a special mission. Every weekend since then, he’s sneaked off to the city to find the best spot possible to see the lights in all their glory. (He had told you that he had been helping Changbin with some stuff; whether or not you believed him was another story). Somewhere not too crowded, somewhere not too far away. Something perfect—something you deserve.

That’s when he discovered a small cafe, its entrance hidden in a small alleyway wedged between two buildings. He was surprised at first that it was open since there were no signs on the street to indicate its existence, apart from the small menu board at the bottom of the metal staircase.

As he guides you into the alleyway, he hears you hum in confusion. Feeling your hand tense up slightly in his, he stops and turns around.

You’re looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, concern drawn all over your face. With a light squeeze of his hand, Hyunjin sends you a smile.

“Do you trust me?” he says barely above a whisper, squeezing your hand once more.

Hyunjin’s smile widens as you don’t even hesitate to nod your head at him.

“Always.”

Before you get the chance to speak, you’re already up on the roof of the small coffee shop. It’s surprisingly empty with how busy the streets are down below. It makes Hyunjin wonder why there aren’t more people up there, not that he’s complaining.

Even though you’re both out of the crowd, Hyunjin still doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. He’s too content in the way it feels right now, and he wants to soak up every moment of it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to again. He could play the clingy card to buy himself more time—it’s something he’s done before when he was sick, and it’s worked—but it doesn’t feel quite right this time. This was different from his usual antics somehow. It feels natural, it feels right. But at the same time, he wants to jump around and do some somersaults, much like his heart in his chest is.

He quickly hides the way his smile drops when you let go of his hand and runs over to the metal railings, gasping at the better view of the hung-up lights.

When you turn back to him, it’s like everything has disappeared around him and all he can see is you and your smile. He forgets how to breathe, he feels faint, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and to kiss you all over your pretty face. He can’t do that, of course, but will he do it in his dreams later that night? Probably. Most definitely.

He almost misses it when you speak to him, your smile growing by the second.

“This is great Hyun!” You’re bouncing in place. “How did you find this place?”

He shrugs and looks everywhere except in your eyes to try and calm his heating cheeks.

“Oh you know, I just stumbled upon it.”

He can’t help himself when you hold your hand out to him. “Let’s watch the lights together.”

So he takes it, letting your warmth dance around his hand in a mix of comfort and giddiness. He’s sure you haven’t noticed the new effect you’ve had on him, too oblivious to the world around you to know when someone is falling head over heels for you.

There’s a part of Hyunjin’s brain that tries to remind him of the deal. A reminder that all of these events are not real, just as he wanted. However, Hyunjin decides to push these thoughts down into a little box, lock them up with a lock and key, and bury it in his mind.

The countdown is like a faint blur in his ears, the chanting taking a backseat to the person right in front of him. All he can hear is your soft counting, all he can feel is his pulse racing in his fingertips.

“Five, four, three,” Hyunjin squeezes your hand. “Two…” You squeeze it back. “One.”

At the flip of a switch, a blaze of colourful lights brighten up the town. But to Hyunjin, even they don’t compare to the awestruck sparkle in your eyes that sets his heart aflame.

eight.

– december 7th.

Since it’s the week before finals, Hyunjin insisted this past weekend that you two have dates every day this week. One, you suggested to stop the dates so you could study and he said no. That’s an understatement, actually—he practically got on his knees and begged you not to do that. Like, shook-you-by-the-shoulders, one-step-away-from-giving-up-his-americano begged.

It’s funnier now that it’s over, but you’ve never seen him more desperate for anything. Weird. Maybe he ate too many of Felix’s brownies that day.

When Hyunjin arrives at your dorm for your daily date today, the first thing he tells you is, and you quote, “Sit your ass down and wait until I finish setting up.” So, not wanting to deal with his whining today, you do exactly as you’re told for once.

You let yourself sink into your couch as your eyes lazily follow Hyunjin around. He goes in and out of your kitchen, places his laptop on the coffee table in front of you, and opens it. The screen lights up, prompting him to input his password, but instead of doing so, he heads straight back into the kitchen without a word.

Huffing silently, you lean forward and type in his password: the month and day of both of your birthdays. It takes a second, but when the screen loads into an already-opened, paused, full-screen video of a fireplace, you furrow your brows.

“Hyun? What's this?” you call out to him.

Almost instantly, you hear him groan in response. Then he appears at the kitchen door and stares at you with his arms crossed. “I told you to sit down.”

“Oops?” You smile at him sheepishly. “I’m a rule-breaker.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen. “A freak is what you are,” he grumbles.

You gasp. “HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” he yells back from the kitchen.

Getting up from your seat, you make your way over to the kitchen, shivering slightly from the light chill in the air. You stay at the doorway, not wanting to sacrifice your feet to the cold tiles of your kitchen floor. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s frame faster than you’d like to admit, and he’s standing over two mugs as he places tiny marshmallows into each of them.

“I thought I said sit down,” he says, not looking in your direction. You don’t want to know how he knows you’re there; you didn’t even move from the doorway. Maybe he saw you staring, maybe he just knows you that well… you hope it’s the second one.

“I couldn’t sit still,” you huff, bringing your arms across your chest.

He picks up the two mugs, takes a few steps towards you, and gestures to them with his head.

“Take these,” Hyunjin says as he hands them over. “Go sit back down, I’ll get some blankets.”

“M’kay.” Your voice comes out higher than usual. Praying he doesn’t notice, you quickly cover it up with a cough. “I mean, yep. Mhm.”

You hold your breath as you shuffle back over to the couch, exhaling deeply as you place the two mugs on the coffee table next to Hyunjin’s laptop. It’s when you sit down that you notice the whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate syrup he added to top both of your drinks. As your gaze follows the steam lightly swirling out of the mugs, you can’t help but smile. He remembered your favourite.

Not even a minute later, he’s back, your duvet in his arms. Before you can ask why, he throws it down on top of you.

“ACK!” you shriek. “I thought—” you attempt to speak as you wrestle your way out the duvet, “you were getting blankets!”

“I got a blanket, didn’t I?”

“But why the big one?!”

You feel the couch dip as Hyunjin sits down beside you. He helps free you from the duvet before he straightens it out, waving it once and letting it drape down across your laps.

“So we can do this.”

You just keep your eyes down on the duvet for a moment. It’s more than enough to cover both your and his legs, which you guess a throw blanket wouldn’t have been able to accomplish.

When you finally look up, though, Hyunjin is smiling at you tenderly. You catch yourself holding your breath again as his soft gaze finds yours. For a second, the brown hue in his eyes reminds you of the chocolate drizzle in your hot chocolate—comforting, sweet—maybe too sweet for some, but just the right amount for you. Has the brown in his eyes always sparkled like it is now?

Wait… what are you doing?

“Oh, u-um…” You blink a few times to try to bring yourself back down to earth. “Then this works, thanks, Hyun.” You take a mug from Hyunjin when he hands one over to you. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re going to cuddle and drink hot cocoa by the fireplace,” Hyunjin hums, nodding proudly before taking a long sip of his drink.

You take a second to process his words, then you glance at Hyunjin’s laptop screen. “But that’s YouTube?”

He turns to look at you and blinks. If you could reverse time, this would be the perfect time to do it.

“Well, I know that, but we don’t have a fireplace.” He sighs. “This is the best we got.”

He leans over, clicks ‘play’ on the video, and the delicate crackling of fire emanating from his laptop begins to fill the room. Maybe it’s not a real fireplace, but the heat you’re feeling from him sitting so close and the comforting sounds make you feel plenty warm.

Hyunjin settles back into his spot on the couch, picking up his mug with one hand. You lift up your mug, too, and softly clink it with his, taking a sip together as well. You’re so engrossed in the sweet, creamy drink melting in your mouth, that you don’t notice Hyunjin has casually slipped his arm around your shoulders until another few sips later. You lean your head against him and do nothing to shake his arm off, even though a tiny part of your brain screams at you to make it stop.

You’ve lost track of how much time has passed, but when the hot chocolates are finished, the crackling has faded into the background and the sound of Hyunjin’s faint snoring fills your ears. It’s enough time and space to let your brain wander. Iit wanders to the way Hyunjin’s cologne is a constant in your life, the way you always know where he is and where he’s been. It wanders to how every piece of clothing you own, and your whole life, is in some way infused with the essence of Hyunjin.

Moving your head ever-so-slightly so you don’t wake him, you let your eyes gaze at the blond-headed boy for a moment too long. You can’t understand why he tries so hard to chase after perfection, when that’s already what he is. The way his eyelashes lay across his cheeks and the way his nose scrunches up at something in his dream—you can’t help but smile at the boy who has you wrapped up in his arms.

It made you wonder when the feeling of his arms around you began to feel different. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your best friend and nothing more than that. This fake dating thing is just that—fake. It’s a made-up relationship, a scheme to give Hyunjin what he’s always wanted: a college Christmas romance. One that started to feel a little too real to you.

There shouldn’t be feelings involved when it comes to fake dating. Everyone knows that. You can count all the romcoms you’ve ever seen on only one hand, but even you know that rule. But the way Hyunjin hugs you tighter in his sleep causes not only your heart, but your head to race as well. You’re suddenly too warm, the laptop is too loud, and you feel like the weight of the world has just fallen on your shoulders.

Your breathing begins to pick up, but you’re pulled back out of it when you feel Hyunjin move beside you. Your eyes find his half-opened ones; he looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment.

“Are you okay?” he mumbles before letting out a yawn, his arms still secure around you.

You hum, pretty much shoving your head into his chest, your eyes focused on his laptop. “I’m okay, Hyunnie.”

Luckily, the sleepy Hyunjin doesn't question it. He just pulls you closer and places a kiss on your hairline, sending your mind into another spiral.

“Just take a nap.” You feel him yawn again. “Just enjoy this time.”

When Hyunjin’s snore fills your ears once more, you let out a breath and do your best to blink away the tears swelling up in your eyes.

This was a big realisation for your brain to handle on a Tuesday night. And you're not sure what to do about it apart from what you do best—ignore it and hope it goes away.

nine.

– december 14th.

Before anyone can even say anything, Hyunjin knows he should be focusing on his art theory class. However, as he’s laying down across his desk with his head resting on his arm, he can’t help but stare at his phone in despair.

It had been seven days—one week—since the magical movie night at your dorm. Since then, all of his messages had gone unresponded—actually, you responded exactly one time: the morning after when Hyunjin had asked about getting breakfast. You were busy.

He mindlessly unlocks his phone, opening his message chain with you. Still no response or even a ‘read’ alert from you at the bottom. Deep down, he knows you haven’t even clicked on his messages if there is no ‘read’ alert, just like how his fridge won’t magically fill up with food if he doesn’t restock it… unless you turned read receipts off entirely, but that’s too much effort for you to do.

He lost count of how many times he told you in high school to turn it off when you were in fights with your friends. You’d keep opening their messages and the fights would only continue when they saw you were ignoring them. You always brushed him off saying that there was no point, that they’d still know anyway.

But here he is, staring at his phone, wishing for something, anything from you. At this point, he would take a ‘read at 3:25pm’ over the vacancy his inbox seems to taunt him with.

He only realises that class is over when the mass of people in the lecture hall scramble around him to leave. Hyunjin picks up his head from his table and sits there a moment longer.

The other students make a beeline for the door, the professor glances at Hyunjin still sitting there and shakes their head, before following the students out the semi-open door, closing it behind them. Even with everyone’s presence in the room gone, it still feels just as empty as it did twenty minutes before.

His phone lights up and a little bit of joy enters his heart, only for it to be smashed into pieces when the words become clear.

Binnie : YO !!

Binnie : free to get lunch or you with y/n?

Hyunjin responds with a simple ‘i’m free.’ He locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket before throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder, dragging himself out of the lecture hall to wherever Changbin and the gang are.

…

Hyunjin can hear them before he sees them.

Jisung’s incessant screams and Changbin’s laughter are both way too loud for Hyunjin to put up with in that moment. But still, he wonders, following the sounds as they grow closer and closer and the two clowns (said with affection) become clear.

Jisung’s too busy running around the picnic table, screaming about something with Changbin laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face. Next to him is a silent-as-ever Chan, watching in amusement with a dopey smile present on his lips.

It goes silent when Hyunjin drops his bag with a thud on the table. It makes him wince and the stares from three of his friends makes him wish the world would swallow him whole. It’s still silent when he throws one leg over the bench and sits himself down, bringing the other leg in before using his bag as a pillow.

Three, two, one… he thinks.

“What’s up with you?”

There it is. Hyunjin ignores the question as he tries to push his head further into his bag.

“Hyun?” Chan’s voice is softer than the other two boys. Whilst he knows the other two mean well, it’s a lot more comforting when it’s coming from Chan. “Are you okay?”

It takes all of his strength to pick his head up off of the table and look at the eldest of the four boys. Hyunjin feels as if his default look is to frown and when the other two boys clock on, Jisung is sat down next to him in a flash.

“Bro,” Changbin starts. “You look as if your mum told you you’d never see Kkami again.”

This clown (again said with affection) really did not have the slightest indication of how to comfort someone. There was something unique about Changbin, he had heart, but brains? That and reading the room wasn’t always his strong suit.

“I think what he means is,” Chan rephrases, “you look really down in the dumps. What’s up, buddy?” There he goes, talking as if he’s seventy when he’s barely twenty-six.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken to me in a week…” Hyunjin mumbles, letting his head fall back onto his bag. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, but to the trio it comes out more like, ‘o u inks smates me?’

He isn’t sure who places a hand on his back—he assumes it’s Jisung with the angle. All he knows is he can feel a cold hand just barely pressing through his hoodie.

“Maybe she’s busy?” Jisung says, patting Hyunjin’s back lightly. “She’ll send her usual emoji update when she’s ready.”

Hyunjin only picks up his head again so his friends can hear him. “She hasn’t even read any of my messages.”

It’s quiet, too quiet. When he sits up to look at them and Jisung’s hand falls from his back, Hyunjin’s frown just enhances. The boys look at each other, frowns present on their own faces. Hyunjin doesn’t think they completely understand the situation. But then again, neither can he.

“What do I do?” he says.

“She’s probably busy with exams…” Jisung blurts out, looking at the two boys sitting across from them before looking back at Hyunjin.

“Yeah!” Changbin pipes in. “Plus her internship! That’s probably keeping her busy too, especially since it’s close to Christmas!”

Hyunjin looks over at Chan, he’s silent like usual. He has a sad smile on his face, like he wants to say something to calm Hyunjin’s worries, but he’s just not exactly sure what those words are.

“Thanks guys…” Hyunjin does his best to smile.

Jisung brings him in for a tight hug. Even though he normally would have, Hyunjin doesn’t try to push him away. The coos from the two other boys make his heart feel just a bit warmer.

…

– december 15th.

Hyunjin should have called first. But with how silent you’ve been over the past eight days, he knew you wouldn’t have picked up. So here he stands, two pizza boxes in one hand as he tries to pluck up the courage to finally knock on your door after standing outside it for god knows how long.

He wonders if you’ll smell the pizza from inside and open the door yourself so he wouldn’t have to knock. A boy can dream.

He clenches his fist so hard it turns white. Takes a deep breath, releases it. Takes another one. He thinks about how he’ll knock on the count of three—but then procrastinates even more by thinking about if he means he’d do it on three or after three.

In actuality, he doesn’t need to do anything when the sound of your door unlocking makes him smile slightly. He knew you’d smell the pizza.

When the door opens up wide enough, you jump back slightly in surprise. Hyunjin can barely believe himself either. He’s actually here… in all his anxious glory.

“Hyunjin…”

Your face visibly pales, causing Hyunjin to frown. Did you really not want to see him that badly? Over a week of nothing and this is how you react when you see him again?

He looks down at your outfit. You’ve got your puffer coat on and your bag draped across your chest, sending the puffiness out in awkward directions. “Where are you going?”

“I– I’ve got class,” you stutter.

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s shoulders drop.

He motions to the pizza boxes in his hand and smiles sheepishly. He watches how your eyes glance at them before darting off in another direction.

“I thought we could chill and have pizza, like normal,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I forgot you had class today and…” Hyunjin pauses. He takes another deep breath as he watches you, waiting to see if you’d finally look at him. “I was just wondering if we could talk… it’s been a while you know?”

One of your hands comes up to fiddle with the hair behind your left ear. Hyunjin takes note of how you bite at your bottom lip.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

Hyunjin blinks. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Can we at least talk quickly?” he asks. He can’t tell if he’s grateful or not when you open the door wider for him to enter.

“Okay. Just make it quick.”

He shuffles inside, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table that once held his laptop as their makeshift fireplace. Turning back to you, Hyunjin now sees how your hands are shoved into your pockets. Your coat is zipped all the way up so you can hide your face in your collar.

“Where have you been?” The question escapes his lips before he can even register it.

He’s watching you for every single change in your body language, every little muscle movement. Anything that will clue him into what the heck is happening.

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and my internship is piling more on me because Christmas is coming up.” Just like Changbin had thought. But even then, it didn’t feel enough.

“You could have said something,” Hyunjin sighs. “Anything. Even just an emoji like you usually do when you’re cramming.”

He’s surprised when you have nothing to say. You’re just hiding in your coat collar and he can see the distressed look on your face. Hyunjin has never felt more confused in his life, and here you are, doing nothing to help. He feels as if he’s questioning every life choice he’s made up to this point.

“Are you okay?” he speaks again after another moment. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

Hyunjin feels like tiny needles are being pricked into his heart, and your silence is pushing them deeper. The more seconds that tick by, the more his heart crumbles in his chest.

He watches as you take a deep breath in. He watches you as you exhale.

“About that…” You gulp and take another breath. “We should stop this… we should break up.”

Hyunjin can hear the glass house around him break into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. He’s sure that in all that rubble is his heart—pierced and splinted, bleeding out from each wound. Yet all that he can do is blink.

“...What?”

For the first time in his life, he cannot read a single expression or feeling on your face. It’s like he’s been placed in the middle of the desert; no map, no compass, nothing. He’s lost, afraid, and so, so alone. And you’re just standing there, a mere few feet away from him, unable to even look him in the eye.

“We should end our agreement.” You’re fiddling with the strap on your bag as if to keep your mind from spiralling or wondering. “Look, everything with class and my internship is getting busier, and you wanted Christmas dates, right?”

You gulp again. Hyunjin is just silent. He can’t even nod.

“You got what you wanted. You got the dates and to experience a Christmas romance.” You finally look him in the eye, and it’s like one final stab to his heart. “So we should end this now, so we can both focus on the things we need to.”

You’re finally staring at each other, battling it out silently for who can keep their hold the longest. It’s torture and Hyunjin’s never felt pain like this… it pierces into his stomach so bad that he wants to throw up.

“Hyunjin—”

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re cut off by the sound of the door unlocking. Your eyes widen in surprise as Yeri, your usually missing roommate, walks through the door. She has a suitcase behind her, probably back from whatever adventure she’s been on with her girlfriend.

You seem glad to see her back in one piece, but god, did she have the worst timing. It makes Hyunjin want to scream. Why now, of all times, did she have to decide to come home? Right when Hyunjin’s in the middle of being ‘dumped’ by the person he’s in love with?

Yeri looks up in shock, takes one of her airpods out of her ear, and grins sheepishly.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Her eyes flicker between you and Hyunjin. She’s not sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere, but Hyunjin doesn’t blame her. “I’ll…” She motions to her bedroom door to insinuate the end of her sentence, before dragging her suitcase behind her.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to Hyunjin. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He wants to scream and cry out, not only in confusion, but in what Hyunjin can’t tell is anger or just pure sadness. He doesn’t, partly because he knows Yeri is within earshot, but also because he doesn’t know if he has the energy. His mind is making so many laps and leaps trying to figure out everything that he just wants to lie down.

He gasps for air. His eyes feel misty and he wants to do nothing but run.

“I get it,” he mutters, looking away. “You can have what you want.”

Hyunjin says no more, leaving the discarded pizzas on the coffee table. He ignores the way his heart stings when you don’t call after him. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the elevator, choosing to rush down the stairs to get out of the building as fast as possible whilst wiping his cheeks haphazardly with the back of his sleeve.

He once again wants the world to swallow him whole—or for him to sleep for the rest of the Christmas season. Because, honestly, none of it seems worth it anymore.

ten.

– december 18th.

How is it possible that three days can feel like an eternity?

‘We should end this.’ Your voice repeats in Hyunjin’s brain in a constant loop. It torments him when he’s awake and stays to haunt him in his dreams. ‘We should break up.’

The first day felt like torture. All he wanted to was rant about you, to you. Sure, he could go to his other friends, but when you’re his first choice… what could he do? He couldn’t call or text you now that he wants to more than over. He wanted to cry at the sound of your voice and beg you to reconsider—to go on real dates with him—to have a real Christmas romance.

‘You got what you wanted.’

Day two was just as hard. When he hadn’t blown up the group chat over some random thing in over twenty-four hours, this was when his friends got worried. So they blew up his phone instead with a mixture of concern and heartfelt care, and whatever you call Jisung’s messages. Hyunjin decided to ignore them, but kept checking his phone on the off-chance he’d get a text from you. Eventually, he turned over his phone and rolled over in his bed, shutting his eyes and hoping the world would disappear for a bit.

‘You got the dates, you got to experience a Christmas romance.’

Now here he sits, on day three, in the trio’s shared off-campus apartment. He only begrudgingly got out of bed when Jisung threatened to start screaming outside his door. He’s lying sideways across the couch, his feet propped up against the armchair. He hasn’t washed his hair in too long, he vaguely thinks a family of birds might nest in it someday, and his grey sweats have a big blotch of brown on one leg. He spilled hot Americano on himself when he got home after your breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to change out of them.

He knows he shouldn’t be calling it a breakup when you two were never really together. But when his feelings are completely and utterly real, it really feels like one. He feels his eyes start to become misty again, and he shoves his head into his sweater paws as he tries to bury himself in the sofa more.

‘So we should end this now.’

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are all watching from the barely-used dining table. They are at a loss for words, they hadn’t thought about the possibility of you and Hyunjin ever breaking up. To everyone in the friend group, you two were set for life, ride-or-dies, the sunshine to the flowers. To them, there was never any possibility of a break up. They just didn’t get it.

Changbin takes a sip of his protein shake through a bright pink curly straw, and huffs. “This is weird, dudes.” He looks over at the two other boys, who still have their eyes on Hyunjin. “He’s never been like this with anyone.”

“Y/N isn’t just anyone, though,” Chan responds.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes still bore into Hyunjin. “They’re, like, totally made for each other.”

Hyunjin brings his hands away slightly, sending the best glare he could manage. To the boys, however, it was more pitiful than scary, like a kicked puppy. All they want to do is scoop him up and never let him go until his heart is unbroken.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hyunjin asks. “And to be honest, I really don’t like all this mumbling.”

The boys don’t hold his bad mood against him. He’s upset, frustrated, and they know he’ll apologise when he’s feeling better. Chan takes the lead, opening his mouth to speak before the other two dummies could say anything to make Hyunjin more upset.

“We’re sorry, we’re just confused on why you guys broke up,” he explains. The other two boys nod their heads as the eldest speaks. “You two have always seemed so perfect for each other.”

They notice how Hyunjin’s shoulders drop and he goes to hide his face in his sweater paws again. His words come out all muffled and Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all glance at each other to see if any of them understood what he said.

“What was that?” Chan asks. Hyunjin yanks his sweater paws away from his face, turning his head sharply at the boys.

“We never broke up, okay?!”

The trio can now really see how glassy Hyunjin’s eyes have become. They exchange concerned glances with each other, frowns of their own also covering their faces.

“W-Wait. What do you m—”

Hyunjin cuts Chan off with a hiccup.

“We— we were never really together... So w-we never really broke up.”

The boys are stunned, confused and so completely stunned. They don’t know where to even begin to wrap their heads around the confession. But it also leads them to the next question, if it was all fake… why was Hyunjin so distraught now that it was over?

Now it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it was better to hear it from Hyunjin himself.

“Okay,” Chan gulps, “do you want to start from the beginning?”

So Hyunjin starts from the beginning. He starts off with the confession from Jisoo that was totally not the vibe. He talks about how he went to you to whine about how he was losing his chance for a college christmas romance, to how you suggested he should fake date someone to get the experiences he wanted. To how he had decided you were his perfect person for the task.

“Why didn’t you just tell us it was fake, man?” Changbin asks, “it wouldn’t have been that much of a deal.”

Hyunjin sighs, falling back into the chair and letting his head fall backwards so he can look up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, just wanted it to seem more realistic I guess.” He sighs.

“Well…” Jisung continues, “what happened next?”

So Hyunjin continues with his story. He talks about the decorating of your dorm, he ignores the comment from Jisung about that’s how your apartment got that way. He goes on to talk about the movie night and the cookies to the ice skating, and he talks about the Christmas tree farm.

“From there…” Hyunjin slows down and pauses.

The trio is silent, waiting for the blond to admit what they all know. They’re not sure how long he’s silent for, it could have been only a second, but in that moment it could have also been a lifetime.

“From there… It was different.”

He looks over to the three boys at the dining table. He felt like his heart was cracking in a whole new different way. When he was keeping it to himself, he could shove it into a little box and act as if it was something future-Hyunjin had to deal with. But now this present version of him hated past him for even thinking about putting the emotions aside to begin with.

“I don’t know when it happened, or if it happened long before I even realised it, but she’s different. She’s her version of perfect and now it’s blown up in my face.” Hyunjin’s frown is contagious. “I– I love her and now she wants nothing to do with me anymore.”

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Changbin tries to sympathise, but Hyunjin just shakes his head.

“You should have seen her, she would barely look at me.” Hyunjin begins to hiccup again. “She’s the love of my life and it ended before it even started.”

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but Chan quickly nudges him in the side to be quiet. When Jisung looks at the older boy, all Chan does is shake his head. A look on his face saying let him get this out.

“Ever since the Christmas tree farm, she’s been different, she’s amazing and kind–” Hyunjin hiccups, blinking away the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “She has this sparkle about her and even though I know it annoyed her, she still let me go on and on about how I wanted a perfect college Christmas romance when with her… I don’t need perfection.”

“What are you going to do?”

Hyunjin feels like curling up into a ball. He wishes for his friends to stop staring at him. He wants to hide, he wants to cry, and he wants to eat his body weight in a food that isn’t going to remind him of you– not that there were many types of those things.

“I need to give her the space she wanted,” Hyunjin states. “She can do the things she needs to: focus on work and her internship. And I'll wait…”

“Wait for her?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin nods. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

eleven.

– december 14th.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to him. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He gasps for air and you can see him blinking rapidly. You feel your heart tear in two.

“I get it,” he mutters. “You can have what you want.”

Before you can utter another word, he’s out the door. You’re sure the pizza he leaves behind is cold by now, but even if you were hungry a few minutes ago, you’re not anymore. What you want more is for him to turn around, to come back when you call out to him.

But he’s gone. It’s too late.

“Okay, so what was that all about?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your trance.

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Hyunjin left your dorm, your door is still wide open, and you haven’t even moved a muscle. Even though you have class in twenty minutes—that part you didn’t lie about—you want nothing but to run into your room and hide there for the rest of the year.

You clear your throat and your hands go back to the strap of your bag to keep them entertained. “I… I don’t know what you’re on about.”

You haven’t even turned to look at her and you know that she knows you’re lying through your teeth.

“Uh huh,” Yeri tuts.

You hear her footsteps get closer to you before she’s come up beside you and is now in eye view.

“So no trouble going on with Mr Blond Best Friend, then?” she continues to question.

You stay silent in response, not trusting your own voice. Your eyes start to feel wet. You were able to keep up an act in front of Hyunjin, but now that he’s gone and the vision of his teary eyes keeps repeating in your mind, it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend.

“Nothing’s going on,” you clear your throat again. Tugging on your crossbody bag, you look at her once before rushing to the door. “I need to go to class, glad to see you back.”

Yeri can’t even get another word out as you rush out the door, slamming it behind you. You unknowingly take the same route as Hyunjin, rushing down the stairs to get out of the building as quickly as possible.

Once the cold air hits you, you take a deep breath and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands.

You had to, it was the only option.

“Hyunjin!” you call out, looking all around you. Several students push by you, some wearing holiday pyjamas or Santa hats. You don’t understand how they can feel even an ounce of Christmas spirit right now.

You try running somewhere, anywhere, ducking and weaving through the pack of students making their way to wherever they want to go. There are hundreds of students out, yet you can pick out one blond head from the crowd.

“Hyunjin!”

You run faster. Before you’re able to process it, someone on an electric scooter whizzes by, knocking you off your feet. You yelp and stretch your arms out to catch yourself.

And now you’re on the ground. Groaning, you slowly move to get up. Hundreds of students pass by where you lie, but not one stops to help you. Until…

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

You light up for a second at the familiar voice. Once you realise who it is, you roll over, deflated.

Jisung gasps. “You look like death! What happened to you?!”

You blink once. “Gee, thanks,” you say flatly.

The boy stares at you for a second before finally reaching a hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

“O-Okay, but seriously, what happened?” he says. “Are you okay?”

You search his eyes for a moment before shrugging. What are you supposed to say to Jisung? That you just ruined your friendship with the love of your life?

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Jisung says, his voice softer. The way he’s watching you makes you tear up all over again. He seems to let you process for another moment before reaching over, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Look,” he sighs, “I… I know you two weren’t real. I honestly thought you were, though.” He then mutters something along the lines of, “So I didn’t owe our friend group sixty dollars after all.”

“That’s your first thought right now?”

“Wait, nonono!” Jisung’s stance changes in a snap and begins frantically smoothing out your outfit, ruffling your messy hair and making it even messier. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything will beeee okaaayyy.”

You groan and roll your eyes fondly, but you let him continue.

“Okay, but for real now…” He rubs your shoulder again. “I think you should tell him.”

A breath hitches in the back of your throat. “Tell him… what exactly?”

He sighs deeply. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to sigh, and you look down at your shoes as your eyes well up again. Jisung smiles sadly at you and pulls you into a hug.

“He misses you, you know that?” he says. You nod, shoving your face in his shoulder before he can see you cry. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him you miss him, too. That’s your job.”

In between sobs, you nod.

“And once you two get together, I can get my damn money back,” Jisung grumbles.

You let out a wet chuckle and hold onto him for another minute. You’re terrified of what may happen, but no amount of fear in your body is worth the heartbreak you feel right now.

twelve.

– december 24th.

Hyunjin feels… something.

Every year on Christmas Eve, the boy would scramble to get to bed early, so he could be asleep by the time Santa comes. Obviously, though, he’s since outgrown that tradition, but now he stays up till midnight like every other teenager and college student, counting down the seconds to Christmas Day. It’s as if Christmas is Hyunjin’s pre-New Year of sorts. He may not believe in Santa anymore, but the childlike wonder and excitement he gets during this time of year has never changed. He’s all jumpy and hyper and jittery like a kid who ate too much candy, eagerly awaiting the day that the movies and the lights and the snow have made so magical.

And this year, for the first time ever, he might not be counting down alone.

Going the past week without hearing the sound of your voice felt like walking barefoot through a pit full of Legos—doubly so because he saw you on campus during finals week talking to Jisung once. Jisung! Out of everyone in your friend circle, of course you were still talking to the one who flirts with everyone for fun. At least he didn’t wink at you this time…

But after what felt like aeons of being sent to voicemail, you finally called him back six days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago. You said something about meeting up for lunch the day after or something; he barely remembers anything from that call other than that you called. That lunch at the university cafe wasn’t much different. He was so relieved that you were in front of him talking to him again that he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were actually saying.

…Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You rearranged the Christmas decorations he had thrown all over your dorm on your first date, you got all your Christmas shopping done, and you have a super-duper special date planned for Christmas Eve. Dress warm. You’ll pick him up at 8 for dinner. And you’ll both be getting home late.

Hyunjin can see his breath just past his nose as he checks out his reflection in the glass window panes of the university library. He picked out his best winter coat for tonight—the one that goes with almost any outfit he could put together, but also doesn’t take the limelight off of yours. He also broke out the pristine white sneakers—you know, the ones he cleans frantically after every use. Were they going to get dirty in the snow? Maybe a little. But it’s you, and they go so well with his sweater and jeans. You deserve his best fit.

He knows nothing about what your plan is for tonight. All he knows is that you’ll be here in five minutes, his stomach is doing flips inside him, and he’s got shivers going up his spine.

Hyunjin feels something—he just can’t name what that something is. All the adjectives he can think of don’t feel quite right. The closest he can get is ‘tingly’, and even then, he can’t explain why he landed on that particular word. But when you pull up at the library and roll down your window, all the words he’s ever learned fly out the door.

No combination of letters could capture how beautiful you are to him.

…

Hyunjin is surprised to find himself back in the heart of downtown. This time, it’s after a lovely meal and hours-long conversation with you, and you’re the one guiding him around now.

He swivels his head around as he lets you lead, taking in all the glittery Christmas lights the same way you are. Quickly, he recognizes you’re taking the same path he once did to the cafe where you two watched the light switch. He feels like he’s on the Polar Express to the North Pole—yes, of course he was watching the movie before your date tonight. It’s a Christmas must.

Wait… fake date. He nearly forgot these dates aren’t real.

He’s not sure why he let himself get away with calling all these real dates. Clearly, it made you uncomfortable to the point where you felt the need to fake-break up with him. He’s also not sure if he should consider himself lucky that the breakup wasn’t real.

Does this mean the fake Christmas romance thing is back on? You two never actually discussed it, but you did also ask him on a… fake date.

Despite this, there’s still something in the air that’s giving him that tingly feeling. He’s still not sure if that’s the right word. He just knows that standing right next to you on the balcony of an abandoned cafe to witness the arrival of Christmas Day… it feels so, so right. Almost like everything is falling into place.

“Hyunnie… can we talk?”

—

Hyunjin turns to you, his gaze soft, and you freeze in place. Did you really just say that? Now? What if you ruin Christmas Eve and Christmas because you didn’t wait?

You sigh to yourself, a small puff of air escaping your mouth. You know that this was something you needed to do, both for yourself and your peace of mind. Maybe Jisung, too, and whatever lost money he was moping about that one time. But there’s still ten minutes to midnight. Is that too soon?

No. It’s not. If anything, it’s long overdue. No more running. Plus, if he’s truly your best friend and he doesn’t like you back, nothing should change… right? At least, not for the long term.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyunjin’s honey voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Hyunnie, sweet like honey… wait, Y/N, don’t get distracted. It’s almost midnight.

Take a deep breath.

“Hyunnie, um…” You fiddle with a small object in your pocket as you try to think.

When you look up, he’s nodding. “Yeah?”

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I'm sorry for ghosting you and stopping this so suddenly.” You’re blinking and Hyunjin watches as you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. Like the words are at the tip of your tongue, but the courage just hasn’t bubbled up enough. “I…” You take a breath, looking up at anywhere but him as you mumble to yourself, “God, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You take a little shuffle forward.

“I… I think I realised too late, and by the time I realised, I freaked out and just… I shut down.” You look at him, your eyes boring into each other like you’re both trying to find the centre of each other’s soul. It's too much for you to stomach while you struggle to pull words out of your throat, so you let your gaze fall.

“Realised what?” Hyunjin whispers. You somehow hear it over the crowd of people forming below you.

You shuffle forward unconsciously again, keeping your eyes down.

“Do— do you hate me?” Hyunjin says.

Eyes wide, you snap your head up and shake your head quickly. “N-No! Of course not.” “Then what—”

Your gaze shoots down and your hand goes for Hyunjin’s. A small gasp leaves his mouth before your brain catches up with the rest of you.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, it’s like everything has blurred into the background. Everything except the boy in front of you, who looks about as shocked as you are at yourself. Is this it? Is this going to be your Hallmark moment?

Deep breath.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wider, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a couple times. He probably thinks someone took over your body, that this isn’t really you.

“You… love me?”

You nod and smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s still in disbelief, but honestly, you can barely believe you’re saying these words. But you mean every single one of them.

“I do… and there’s no one else I’d rather have a Christmas romance with.”

There’s a feverish look grazing Hyunjin’s face, his mouth opened just slightly as he gasps quietly. You swear you can see little stars adorning his pretty brown eyes.

“Well,” you clarify quickly, “a college Christmas romance. But I don’t think I want this to end after we graduate.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are crinkling at the edges, his nose scrunching just slightly with the force of his joy. You’re sure of two things in that moment. One, your own expression must look just as lovesick as his. And two, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyunjin under the glow of the lights surrounding the plaza.

“Y/N, I… can I kiss you?”

From somewhere in the streets below, you recognize the gathered crowd beginning the countdown to midnight. You barely pay it half a mind as you pull the object from your pocket. Hyunjin’s eyes follow you as you hold it up over your heads. It’s a small sprig of mistletoe, and you can’t help the proud smile that sweeps across your face.

“You know, you wanted to hit all the Christmas traditions and you forgot one of the best ones.”

“God, I love you.”

You practically jump into his arms when he presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode in your chest as the clock rings twelve and cheers erupt from the streets below. It’s all a buzz in your head, though, as you cup Hyunjin’s cheeks in your hands and melt into his arms and lips and just him.

You hope he never tries to chase perfection again, because you’re sure that this moment, right now, is the definition of it. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so right, and nothing else will ever come close.

As if on cue, when you two slowly break the kiss, you feel something wet land on your head. You and your not fake boyfriend?—you’ll have to talk to him about that later—look up to see fluffy, white snowdrops falling all around you two.

“Merry Christmas, Hyunnie,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin has the biggest smile on his face as you pull away. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You let out a joyful giggle. It looks like Hyunjin got the cheesy Christmas romance he’s been searching his whole life for. It might not have gone the exact way he’d dreamed of, but you hope he is as happy as he has always made you.

And maybe, just maybe, you also got the ending you’d been dreaming of all along.

485 notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 4 months

Text

At the Restaurant

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this, and his eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

-OR-

the Christmas situationship AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Modern AU; Christmas fic; Angst; Fluff; Miscommunication; Emotionally unavailable idiots; But also idiots in love; Toxic relaationships; Situationship; There is nothing well adjusted about any of this pls don’t come into this house if that’s what you’re looking for; Trigger warning for man with an avoidant attachment style; Condolences to all my fellow victims of The Situationship; Size Difference; Unprotected Sex; Creampie; Oral Sex (F!Receiving); Frankly some pretty pathetic behavior; Girl stand UP; Fuckboy Din; Plan B and Delusion as a form of birth control; Pull and pray baby pull and pray; Possessive Behavior; Jealousy; Insecurity; Trigger warning for Right Where You Left Me by Taylor Swift references

A/N: Hello and welcome to my contribution to the holiday fic pool! This is not at all what I was planning as my holiday piece, but I woke up a few mornings ago and was just completely taken hold by this. Much love and thanks and gratitude and all the kisses in the world to my friend @f0rlornmyths for all the help on the idea and brainstorming and for the gorgeous edits she made for this little story. Mai baby, this is all for you, and I know it's not the Christmas gift I promised you, but I swear, one day that too will get written.

I’m wishing you all the happiest and most relaxing of holiday seasons. I think of you all constantly and wish you all the best always, and I hope you’re taking care of yourselves during this time ❣️🎄✨

Word Count: 8.2K

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He gets this sparkle in his eyes when the bar’s extra busy, cheeks flushed and curls damp with sweat and this shine that speaks; that tells of all the things he does that make a woman belong to him whenever he’s giving her his singular attention. Eyes that laugh and crinkle at the edges with happiness. Eyes that tell you how much he does or does not want you at that specific moment. And he’ll laugh and blind the room into seduction under the Christmas lights, and then he’ll turn, suddenly remembering you’re here for him, and look at you all serious-like, while you sip on your tequila soda, with two limes always because he knows that’s how you like it, and it’ll be a serious, cool look for just a second before it blooms into the best smile anyone’s surely ever had in all history, and you love him.

It’s three days til Christmas, and you’ve never known want like this. You’ve never practiced restraint of this kind either. A restraint that suffocates and kills and could probably be taken as a form of self harm were you in a righter, more clear mind, but it’s the only thing you have left against him. Din. A control over yourself that falsely feeds you the illusion of power. You never call him. Never. Any interaction, any late night fuck, any time he comes over and comes inside you, it’s always, always because he calls you, he looks for you. You never beg, not with words at least, and you never text first and you never ask him if you can see him, and it’s the only way you tell yourself you maintain even a semblance of control. And at night, when you’re alone and it’s dark and you’ve only got the cat for some sad company, or you’re crying in bed because he hasn’t called, and you know he’s not at work and he’s obviously not at home, so he’s somewhere you don’t want him to be, that false sense of control that says you’re never the one reaching out, it’s always him coming around so surely that must mean something… it’s all you have at the end of it.

He’s not your boyfriend. He never has been. And there’s always been that excuse you use to soothe yourself with of, well, we’ve never really talked about it, and he’s not really my boyfriend, so it doesn’t really matter. Does it? Doesn’t it? You’re sure you don’t know anymore. And you tell yourself, lie to yourself, comfort yourself, whatever it is your tired heart needs in that moment, because it truly is so tired, the push and pull is the most exhausting game in the world, that if he’s coming to you it’s because Din’s choosing you. Even if just for a night, even if just for now, even if tomorrow he’ll be with someone else, he chose you for tonight, and so surely that must mean something. It’s the worst thing you do to yourself, but it feels so good in the moment. You just can’t help yourself.

“Another one?” He calls over his shoulder with a smile.

You’d had a little bit of a… well, you don’t really know what to call it. A falling out, perhaps, because the two of you never have fights. You never fight, you never discuss the things the two of you should discuss, like feelings or anger or resentment or boundaries and wants and needs. Nothing. Nothing that indicates anything that might define what it is the two of you’ve been doing for two years with each other now. Fights are something couples do, and you two are not a couple. But up until three days ago, you’d not heard from him for two weeks. Two weeks of nothing, of hearing from your friends that they’d seen him out with his friends and other girls who you know probably mean nothing, even less than you do, but still. It’d made you insane. A little bit irrational, and so when you and your friends had gone out over the weekend, picked up a group of guys at the new bar you’d chosen for the night, since Din’s bar was off limits at the moment, and brought them back to your apartment at your roommate, Bo’s, insistence, well, you’d thought you’d give him a taste of his own medicine. After a slightly tipsy, teary eyed rant, explaining to your new friend for the night, a one Toro Calican, who had a very nice smile and very pretty eyes and not at all bad arms, all about your terrible situation with this man who you were not really in a relationship with, but who you have sex with, and only with him, regularly, unprotected, enthusiastically, but who is still not your boyfriend and not even anything close, he’d arranged himself very nice and cozy-looking in your bed with your twinkly lights sparkling in the background and your pink pig stuffy which Din loved to make fun of you for, and you’d taken a very tasteful, in your opinion, picture of him for your Instagram story. Again, a taste of his own medicine.

Din had been at your front door forty five minutes later, angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him before, and not at all trying to hide it. Pushing past you and into your apartment all tall and broad and wearing your favorite dark blue hoodie he knows you love, curls mused as if he’d been pulling his fingers through them in agitation. There’d been a sneaky, smarmy little devil inside of you doing a happy dance at that moment, and his eyes when he’d turned to glare at you after giving poor, Toro – casual, entirely unbothered, Toro with his big smile stretched across his handsome face as he’d looped an arm over Bo’s shoulders where he’d been sitting beside her on the couch – a look that said Din had half a mind to take him outside and wipe the floor with him. But your new friend had laughed him off, taking Din’s terribly cocky onceover, the sort he liked to set people down with, in stride. All arrogance and the sort of self assuredness only a man who knew what he was made of and how to take care of himself could possess. He was too hot for his, or your, own good.

And when he’d turned and pushed you into your bedroom, a little tipsy, a lot desperate and pleased and wet, because yes, finally you were getting exactly what you wanted, exactly as you’d asked for it, and he’d flipped your skirt up and ripped your panties down and buried his face in your cunt from behind, all: this pussy’s mine, what the fuck was another dude doing in your bedroom? You’d been nothing but pleased giggles and hiccupy little moans as you’d come on his tongue just as he’d demanded of you.

It was wrong. The two of you were wrong and maybe even bad for each other, but also, and this was only your own personal, fanciful discernment, addicted. A mutual addiction. The way he fucked you, hard and deep and possessive, like you belonged to him. Tugging you up by the hips and pulling you back onto his hard cock, the wet slap of your pussy dripping for him so that it surely echoed through the thin door of your shitty little apartment for the man who’d threatened what Din saw as rightfully his could hear exactly what was happening in here. You should have cared more about this ridiculous display of a pissing contest. You should have been bothered by it. You absolutely were not. And when he’d gone harder than stone, shoved deeper than you could comfortably take him so that you were coming around his cock one last time from the stretch and sting of it, and he’d filled you to leaking without even asking, you’d not even blinked at it, had been nothing but contented sighs.

It was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Even worse, you’d never been on birth control. It made you sick, tired, moody, and the two of you worked around it… sometimes… kind of. Condoms when you remembered, usually ripped off mid fuck, pulling out… also sometimes. Never very responsible or dedicated to the practice of safe sex and level headedness, more focused on how fucking good it always felt when he was inside of you like this all bare and wet and hot and his. And if he fucked other girls, well, you tried not to think about that. Got tested, told yourself you were the only one he didn’t use protection with because you were special when they were not. And if there was, that last horribly misguided whisper that said, well, if he’s taking this risk with you, then obviously that means something too, right? Then so be it.

Again, like you’d said, bad for each other.

But he always gave you so many reasons to be stupid, delusional, like the way he’d kissed you before he’d gone the morning after, while you were still sleepy and warm and a little sweaty from where you’d been pressed together so close through the night, wet and sticky between your legs from his come. He’d wrapped his arms around you and pressed you so, so close to his chest, nipples bare and tight against hard muscle and wispy hair. The musky sleep smell of him as he’d started at your shoulder, mouth slow and damp, kissed and nibbled his way up your collarbone, your throat, your jaw, settled at your ear to taste that soft place behind, pressed his tongue there to feel the echo of your pulse moving through your whole body, the flutter of his long lashes against your skin because he’s just that close. Your toes had curled and spasmed, little and cold, bracing against his hairy shins and big feet, hard cock nestled between the warmth of your thighs. And he always makes the best sounds, you know, deep and rumbly and all man. Familiar sounds that you’re able to replay again and again in your mind afterwards when he’s gone, sounds that make it easy for you to pretend he’s yours because you know them so well, and you want to keep him so bad it makes your stomach hurt. Gotta go get the kid, he’d said, by way of explanation for why he wasn’t pushing up into your come soaked cunt and having you one more time again, but he’d stayed and kissed you. And when he’d finally found his way to your mouth, sipping on you, tasting behind your teeth, along the wet of your tongue, that was all that really mattered anyway.

Sometimes, he kisses you like he loves you, and it makes you hate him.

He hadn’t called in the three days since then, but he’d been kind enough to DoorDash you a Plan B and a bag of your favorite Dove dark chocolate bites, and you want to hate him and maybe even run him over with you car, you really do, but then tonight, out of nowhere while you’d been at home telling yourself you weren’t going to cry, tired and sweaty from lying under your duvet for too long, fingers slippery between cunt and cotton, too many unsatisfying orgasms and a tear worthy film already chosen as your excuse for later, he’d sent a: come to the bar tonight, baby, I want to see you. And well, he’d come looking for you, right? He’d texted first. So really, this was all him wanting you and choosing you.

You need help, electroshock therapy, a lobotomy, anything. But you’d gotten your butt up and dressed, begged Bo to come out with you, and now here the two of you sit, good friend that she is, waiting for him to finally come over and say more than three stringed together words to you. Shaved, lotioned, perfumed, pathetic little ass sitting at the end of his bar in a too sticky, too uncomfortable stool waiting for him. Always waiting for him.

You shake your head no at him and his proffered next round. No you don’t want another fucking drink. What you want is his attention.

And the worst part is, probably the worst, for there are so many bad parts to this, is that you don’t truly think he’s a terrible person, Din. He’s just so… he’s just– you don’t know. Sad, busy, exhausted, selfish, overwhelmed, so many things. But not bad, not actually a bad person. You’re sure of it. And it might look so differently from the outside, like you’re nothing, like he uses you, and sure, in ways, he does. You’re not so stupid or naive to not see this for what it is, because if there is one thing that is crystal clear here, it’s that you’ve always known what this is and what it is not. But you also see him. You also know him, as hard as he’s tried to keep you at arms length, to not let you see, to not let you in, you’ve weaseled your way inside anyways, or, better said, and something you don’t let yourself dwell on too much for the things it makes your stupid brain and heart feel, he has never been very good at not letting you see him. Because despite all the truths of how this thing between the two of you is, or is not, there is also something, as small as it may be, that is real here.

So no, Din is not bad, or not all bad. And it’s easy to call them excuses, but you’re not so sure that’s the only thing they are, the ways in which you justify his behavior or yours. Because there is also context to him, and his life, and the things that drag his attention away from you when you so desperately need and want it, why you know he won’t commit to one single thing because he knows how easily lost a good thing can be.

You take a pull from your straw, paper, and it’s already coming apart in wet flakes on your tongue because this dumb bar he works at pretends to be swanky, and paper straws are obviously a signifier that it’s not the cheap, shitty dump it actually is. Mean, but you’re in a bad mood tonight. Peli, the owner, had him string up multicolored lights and decorations everywhere for the holiday season, and it sort of looks like Santa threw up in here, but it’s also nice. Cozy or comfortable or welcoming, something happy and cheerful about the crowd surrounded by the sparkle of the holiday and loose from the heavily poured liquor. Or maybe it’s just that you know he put up the decorations. That he’d been good and patient and helpful as the older woman, eccentric and curly haired and a little stern and potty mouthed as she is, but always kind to him, had directed him as she pleased. Giving orders so that the bar could look as lovely and warm and cheerful as it does now. He always looks at her with such care and warmth, and you alway see it, as much as he tries to hide it.

He’d added a splash of sweet grenadine and a maraschino cherry into your drink tonight, and called it your slutty Shirley Temple, said you looked like you needed something sweet followed by one of those cocky little winks he thinks make him look hot, they do, but you tell him only make him look like an asshole. All of which you know is only his way of telling you, without actually telling you, that he’s going to be shoving his cock down your throat later tonight. Something sweet… yeah, sure. There’s nothing sweet about him.

He always tells you so many things neither of you want the other to know with his eyes. The stupid things, the silly things, the real things, it doesn’t really matter. He can’t ever help it.

The first time he’d told you about his parents, you’d thought: this is it, this is something real. The come down had been a singular type of devastating you don't think you’d recovered from to this day. They’d died in a home invasion, a robbery gone terribly, terribly wrong, when he’d been two months shy of eighteen; left him with too much responsibility and too much grief for a boy of seventeen to bear, to ever be able to grow into without growing a little bit skewed in the process. When he’d introduced you to his little brother, the first time, you’d been better prepared, better in control of yourself and your expectations. But still, still you’d let a small, small part of you let it mean something. Grogu, Greg, but they used to watch this cartoon together about this man, a warrior, a space cowboy of sorts, who finds a little green baby, more frog looking than baby looking, called Grogu and takes him in as his own, bringing him along on all his adventures through the big, wide galaxy. They’d always joked that Greg looked like the frog baby, and so, Grogu.

The first time he’d asked you to come over, you’d forced yourself to not throw up as you’d seen the text come in, had to force away thoughts of this has to mean something, please, please, let this mean something more. And the kid had been asleep already anyways when he’d smuggled you inside, quick and quiet, locking the door to his bedroom behind you, messy and lived in and Din, Din, Din everywhere, pressed you into his rumpled mattress, and fucked you til you’d cried and bit your tongue until you’d tasted blood to keep in all the things you had inside to tell him. And in the morning, when he’d made you a cup of coffee and oh, isn’t he nice for that? The kid had stumbled out of his bedroom, dinosaur pj’s and sleep rumpled curls the same warm mahogany shade as his older brother’s turned pseudo father, and he’d had his waffles while you’d sat there between the two of them as Din’d clucked around making lunches, sipping from your mug trying as best you could to be a good girl and not whip around and scream at the man that this has to mean something more, please.

The kid had eyed you skeptically, as if you’d had two heads, little fuzzy brow cocked high up towards his curl covered hairline while he chomped loudly on his waffles. More syrup than bread, but who were you to judge?

“Are you Din’s girlfriend?”

And rather than drop dead on the spot or bear the devastation of hearing the refusal come out of his older brother’s mouth, the second you’d seen Din’s own eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline, mouth falling open to probably tell him no, absolutely not, she’s nothing even close to being my girlfriend, you’d said as easy as you could manage, “No, we’re just friends.” Even added in a fake, tepid smile as you’d said the words. And now, as time’s passed since then, when you think back on the memory, you tell yourself that you’d imagined the frown and scowl that’d pulled Din’s face down into something that looked a little like annoyance or anger or confusion. He’d never done anything to make you think you were anything otherwise, and so what good did it do to dwell on the maybe false memory of his look of disappointment at your words? None at all, surely.

But you’re pretty sure you’re the only girl that’s ever been let into their space like that.

He’s at the other end of the bar now, engrossed in a conversation with someone who’s too sparkly and too pretty and too blonde to be anything but trouble for you. His tall, deceptively lanky form that you know beneath the dark baggy, long sleeved tee he’s wearing is strong and muscled and warm as a furnace, curved over the lip of the bar to lean further towards her. They’ve been talking for about five minutes now, yes, you’ve been counting, and your heart is doing that horrible thing it does where it hurts so bad it feels like it’s ripping in half all on its own. You want to look away, especially as you watch the long, gorgeous form of his hand, big, strong hands that you know exactly what they feel like wrapped around your throat, clutching your breasts, lift slowly towards the glowing Christmas lights necklace the girl’s got hanging around her neck, the cheery red and green lights nestled deep in her cleavage. He plucks at the necklace, giving it a little tug and says something to her that has her throwing her head back, and she sparkles, she really does, with those sort of laughs that tinkle like bells or something equally fucking ridiculous.

“We should just go, babe,” Bo says from beside you, glaring down at him so intensely you’re shocked he hasn’t keeled over dead at this point.

“Just a little bit longer, Bo, please.”

“God, I can’t watch this shit anymore.” She pushes up and out of her stool with a roll of her eyes, but passes a loving hand down the back of your hair as she goes. “I’m gonna go try and pick up that red head sitting in the back. She’s been eyeing me all night,” she smirks at you.

“You cannot date another ginger. That is too much ginger for one household.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re in love with the devil, I can do whatever I want. And I can’t watch him anymore, I don’t have the stomach for it.”

You try and protest as she walks away from you, tell her that you’re not in love with him, that he’s not the devil, that you don’t have the stomach for it either, but she’s gone before you can muster your lies. When you turn back towards the bar he’s abandoned his Christmas lights blonde and is pouring drinks for a group of frat guys, checking I.D.s and making easy, charming conversation. He’s strange in that way, quiet and reserved by nature, which you know now because you know him, but he puts on a face in here, in Peli’s bar in front of the customers and the pretty girls and the people expecting him to perform for them, making nice and pleasant. It’s just one more thing that feeds your delusion, the fact that you see his smile for what it is, the too handsome, too shiny version you know isn’t the real one.

You know that despite the fact that Bo loves you, she also thinks you’re a little sad, a lot weak, when it comes to him. Maybe even, and you know she’d never say this because she’s a good and loving friend, but maybe even a little pathetic or desperate. And maybe you are, or definitely, you don’t really care about the details of it at this point, but maybe there’s also something about him that’s slightly desperate too. Desperate for love or attention or companionship. Maybe that’s why he always feels the need to search for it in so many different places. Maybe he wants it so bad he’s scared of it. Or maybe he’s just easy. Maybe he’s just a whore.

You don’t know if the why’s of it all really matter anymore.

He serves the group their shots and beers, all of them clinking their glasses together loudly, hooting and wishing each other a Merry Christmas, and you want to snap that it’s not Christmas yet, it’s still the twenty third, it’s a special day that should be remembered, but you turn away. Try to swallow the heat in your face and throat, take deep breaths. Bo’s right, the two of you should go, but when you turn to search for her, she’s deep in conversation with the red head, gorgeous, strong and tall and just her type. Their two heads huddled closely together beneath the red lights that turn their hair both brighter shades of auburn. And you know you can’t interrupt. At least one of you should have a good night tonight. But when you turn back around, ready to join the frat bros in on their shots, he’s there.

You swivel in your stool, catching yourself on the lip of the bar, digging your nails into the wood grain until it hurts, staring at him in silence.

“What?” he asks with that slightly provoking smile he forces on you when he knows you’re bothered and refuse to open your stubborn mouth and just speak up.

“Nothing.” Stubborn, sullen. Terrible.

He hums, laughter dancing in his eyes that pisses you off. He knows you’re bothered, knows you won’t say anything about it either. “Want another?”

“Sure.” You might as well get drunk if you’re going to have to watch him be a jackass all night long.

He starts to move about, gathering the things for your cocktail. “You like the grenadine I added?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

He looks at you with a half smile and a cocked brow as he measures the shot. He never makes your drinks as heavy handed as the others, says you’re a bad drunk. Whatever. “Yeah? You like the Christmas decorations?”

“They’re nice.” He hums again at your sullen tone. And you want to be nicer, happier, peppier, whatever it is that would be enough to make this all right and better between the two of you, inside of you, but you just can’t. You can’t force yourself into a shape that’s okay with being without him, and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it’s something you’re capable of.

He adds your two limes and tops the drink off with a Santa printed mini umbrella Peli had gotten an order of in bulk, pushing the glass into your hand. He braces his hands against the bar edge, watching you as you bring the drink up to taste, peering over the edge to keep your eyes on him. The lights twinkle over head, washing him in a glow of greens and reds and warmth, and his eyes do that terrible sparkle you hate in return.

Sometimes you think he likes it when you’re pissy. Turns him on or something which sickly, stupidly, in turn, riles you up, knowing he’s turned on by your anger.

You take a long pull of the fizzy, mildly sweet drink, licking your lips of the tang and bubbles when you pull it away, and watch as his eyes go a little hazy, glassed over as he watches the wet of your tongue peek out to lick up the drops of sweet liquor. You watch a swallow pass through the strong column of his throat, and his gaze is still on your mouth when he cocks his head at you. “C’mere,” he murmurs, eyes shifting to take in the crowd, the customers and the status of their drinks before he’s tugging at your hand over the bar, drawing you out of your seat and along the length of it from the other side.

“To where?” You whisper at him, nerves of excitement, of want, fluttering in your belly and throat all fizzy and sweet. He tips his chin at the cracked open door of the stock room, the warm glow from within peering out, and then back again once over at the crowd before you’re at the end of the bar, and he’s tugging you inside after him. You tip your chin over your shoulder just before he kicks the door shut behind you, taking in Peli’s knowing look and the laughing shake of her head, and then it’s just the two of you. Hungry and hurried as he’s pulling you into himself, big hands immediately cupping your ass to tug you up into him with a cracked groan. “Want to fucking kiss you so bad,” he licks into your mouth, tasting like the coffee he drinks too much of and the cinnamon gum you know he’s always chewing.

“Din–” and you’re about to protest, say that everyone’ll have seen the two of you come in here, Peli, the blonde Christmas light girl, that the whole bar is going to think he brought you in here for a quick fuck, but you and he both know you don’t really care if anyone thinks that. That probably, if you’re really honest, you’d be glad for everyone to think you’re his that way. So you kiss him back. Arms looping around his neck to hang off of him, fingers twining in the thick curls at the nape of his neck, the hair there so silky smooth, cool at the ends but warm and damp at the roots. And this is what you were talking about, when he kisses you like he loves you which makes you hate him. All tongue and teeth and desperation. His mouth sliding against yours, spit slick and heat heavy. Big hands kneading at your ass, clutching at the short skirt of your dress, pulling it up so he can shove his palm between the nylon of your tights and your warm skin and cup you over the wet mound of your cunt.

“Fucking warm and soft for me, baby.” He kisses his way down your neck, licking at your cleavage, tugging at your ear. “You smell so good,” and he squeezes you against himself, dragging his palm back and forth over your pussy as best as the constricting tights let him. “I can’t wait to fuck you later.”

“Me either, Din,” you say because there’s nothing else to say besides, I love you. Please, love me back. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back into a little arc hooked over his arm, something frenzied and a little sloppy about the way he kisses you like he wants you so much he can’t control himself. And when the two of you stumble out a few minutes later, hair tousled and flushed with heat, the shine of your lipgloss transferred onto his own lips and those sparkly eyes of his cranked up to blinding so that the whole bar can see what it is the two of you have been up to in the stock room, there’s nothing but sweet, fizzy pleasure suffusing your belly. Even if it isn’t real, everyone else thinks it is, maybe for tonight that can be enough.

“The tree’s really cute,” you say as he helps you out of your coat, unwrapping the scarf from around your neck, round and round until he lets it slither from his hand onto the messy floor of his bedroom.

“Yeah, well, G wanted a real one so… my ass went out and got him a real one.”

You reach up to card your fingers through the floppy curls falling over his forehead, pushing them back to twist in your fingers and pull his head down towards yours. “Good brother,” you murmur against his mouth. You want to ask him if he remembers what tonight is; wanted to ask him all night but kept your mouth shut for fear of that utterly vacant look in his eyes when he’d have no idea what you were talking about.

He settles into your kiss, knees bent to come down to your level, sighing deep and long as he licks at you slowly, sucks on your bottom lips, a gentle nip. “Looked so pretty for me tonight,” he says, and he’s such a good kisser, and all you can say is a breathless thank you, trying to swallow the immediate lump in your throat back down because the only other thing to say would be you’re right, it’s all for you, or I hate it when you say these things to me, I hate it when you’re nice to me and then turn around and act like I’m a stranger, like I’ve never meant anything to you at all. You press up higher, insistent, on your tiptoes, trying to get closer, more of him. He runs his hands up the length of your spine, one arm banding around your waist, the other coming up to twist in your hair, tugging your head back sharply and pulling your mouth from his.

“What do you want, sweet girl?”

And what a cruel, terrible question. You, is what you should say. Ruin the moment or the false magic, glass shattered on the white cloth. And so, “Fuck me,” is all you say instead because that’s all this is anyway. He peers down at you, fathomless look on his face, no more bright sparkle in his eyes, something more like an ember. You think you like this look better, it’s more for you, and there's something satisfying about that.

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

He pulls your clothes from you slowly, and he can be so tender sometimes, slow and precise in the things he does, the way he moves. Sometimes he fucks you hard and fast and sloppy. But not always. Other times he does it in a way that is much, much worse. Slow and deep and intentional. He lays you out across his messy bed and spreads you open for himself. Starts at your feet, kissing the soles and the creases and marks over the arches and around your ankles from your tights and boots. Up the slope of your calf, teeth dragging sharply, a little too hard over the muscle. He kisses the backs of your knees, a place only he has ever thought to kiss, and you won’t cry, but you’d like to. His tongue along the soft of your thighs, stubble chafing and tickling, and when he finally gets to your cunt, soaking wet, glossy with your slick for him, his tongue drags up your slit slow and teasing one second, deep, fucking inside of you the next. He makes you come on his face twice before he even thinks of being nice and letting up. Sucking on your clit, taking each soft lip gentle, gentle between the edge of his teeth and tugging so soft you almost don’t feel it. He licks and licks and slurps up your wet, and you know he enjoys this because of his own sounds. When he rips his t-shirt over his head because he’s steaming with sweat and want, the zip of his jeans ringing so that he can get his fist around his cock and jack himself while he licks up the splash of your second orgasm.

He kisses you everywhere when he’s had his fill, twists and turns you this way and that, groping and kneading and taking every inch of you in so that no spot of skin is left uninspected or untasted. Pulls you up and under his arm so he can peer down at you from behind, lemme look at that little asshole now, he says all nasty the way he gets sometimes, and spreads your cheeks apart. You brace yourself against the column of his throat and hold on to the bulge of his bicep and try and breathe through your mouth and pray for control and temperance and the will to not spill all your truths to him. Difficult, when he manhandles you like this, when he pets and licks and kisses you all over and tells you how pretty all your holes are for him.

His cock is so hard when he finally settles on his knees between your spread thighs, on your back again so that you can see his pulse in the tiny, subtle beat of his erection as it stands up, curving towards his flat belly. No condom, and you want to say thank you for letting you feel him like this.

He pushes your knees wide and grips his cock, twisting his fist around the sticky glossed head, flushed red almost purple. You love it when he’s this hard, when you know it’s all for you, when you know you’re the only one in this moment that can fix it for him.

“Get it wet for me,” he nods his head at your slick cunt, parted and bared to him just like he likes. You dip your fingers into the well of wetness, play in it, watch the shiny string of slick stretch between your pussy and fingers, and no one makes you as wet or as desperate as he does, and like he can read your mind he tells you, no one makes me as hard as you do, and you do not tell him that that isn’t something you want to hear, that that isn’t something that makes you feel good. The reminder that there are others.

You wrap your slippery fingers around his cock, coating him in yourself and when you pull him towards you, notching him at the mouth of your cunt, and finally – finally, I’ve been waiting for this all night, and you can’t even tell who says it – it’s so fucking good that all the rest of it is worth it for this singular feeling right here.

He pushes in, in, in, heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your bottom, and you’re so soaked it’s slid down between your ass, marked his sheets with you, swings his hips back all smooth and wet and shoves back inside. His mouth is at your tits, folded over you, caging you in, biting and sucking on bare, tight nipples he tells you belong to him, cunt he fucks hard and deep he tells you also belongs to him.

He pulls an ankle up over his shoulder, changes the angle and drills into you hard and fast, other knee hooked over his elbow so you’re pressed and folded and presented to him just how he likes and needs, and he makes you say his name over and over, tells you exactly how he wants you to come on his cock just for him. His pelvis bumps your clit on every push forward, too thick cock wedged inside your cunt so that you’re stretched around him and no matter how many times you do this, it always hurts just a little. Like everything else the two of you do together.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans. “You take it so fucking good. Don’t come yet– don’t come. With me– wait for me. I want it together.” And you do cry at that, when he changes the angle once more and shoves in hard against your g-spot, the fat tip of his cock punching against it over and over so that there’s heat pooling at the base of your spine, stars flashing behind your closed lids, your breasts going hot and heavy and tight, stomach clenching with the effort to stave off your orgasm and do as he asks. He breathes into your mouth, and it’s all hot and damp skin and your sweaty limbs sliding against each other, open mouth to open mouth.

“Now,” he says, pulls you onto him deeper with a tight grip on your ass, long fingers wrapped over the curve so that he can feel the wet, stretched place where he takes you, makes you his. “Take the whole fucking thing,” he whispers against your lips, and as your cunt goes tight as a knot, painful in that way that only he can make it, that’s so good, that way that always keeps you coming back for more, you finally start to cry real tears. Not just from his cock but from the whole of him, from everything he does to you. Your heart beats fast, fast, fast, and you count the days in the month til your period, the little game you like to play with yourself when the two of you are bad like this, and then decide you don’t really give a fuck as he starts to fill you with the heat of his come.

He stays inside of you for too long after the last throb of his cock. Rubbing his lips all over your neck and shoulders and tits, tasting you and giving you too much time to memorize the pattern and cadence of his breathing. And when he pulls out and pulls back to look at the slick, puffy sight of your cunt full of his come, he bends to lick you clean like he always does. Gives you one more orgasm, the last nail in the coffin or your heart.

Sated and spent, you glance at the clock, and it’s officially Christmas Eve. You know he goes all out for Grogu, milk and cookies for Santa, stockings and gifts, the works. He is an exceptionally good brother, all a child could need in a father figure, and there had never really been any chance of you doing anything else besides loving him.

When you pull the gift from your bag, heart in your throat and halfway to regret but more resolve than you’ve ever had in his presence, you tell yourself that if this brings on the end of everything, that you’ll find a way to be okay with it. If you’ve gone too far, done too much, you’ll accept it, count your losses, and what great losses they’ll surely be, but you’ll move on as best you can.

You’d picked some pretty, baby blue paper with little red robins on it, a soft gold ribbon tied around the package. The sight of it makes you want to cry. You’d tried so hard, you really had.

He’s quiet when you put it into his hands, staring down at it like it’ll reach out and bite his head off if he blinks even once. Swallowing several times before he says, “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I know. It’s– it’s for the both of you, kind of.” Him and his little brother.

“I didn’t get you anything.”

“No– that’s okay. I know. You didn’t have to.” Your voice comes out all breathless and full of nerves. You should’ve put your clothes on before you did this, made for a quicker, easier get away if necessary.

He pulls the wrapping apart slowly, gently untying your ribbon, long fingers carefully picking at the little pieces of tape at each end so that he doesn’t tear the paper and disturb the robins.

“Where did you get this?” He says when he’s finally unwrapped it, his voice telling you instantly that you’ve made a terrible mistake.

“It– it was in your drawer. I–”

“You went through my stuff?” He says, eyes snapping up to yours, finally looking away from the photograph you’d copied and framed for him. A picture of him and Grogu and his parents. Grogu, a baby, Din, a boy of maybe eight, gap toothed, cheesy grin and messy curls between his smiling parents. They looked, very much, like a deliriously happy family, and you’d thought it such a shame it was stuffed in his sock drawer when you’d found it, left to be forgotten. You’d only wanted to do something nice for him.

“N–no. I mean… not intentionally. I was looking for my extra clothes – the ones you told me to leave here – and I–” your lashes flutter, overwhelmed. He suddenly looks so angry. “I saw it in your drawer. I didn’t mean– I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, I–” You don’t know what to say. All of your falsely held control in tatters at your feet and tears in your eyes as you take in the horrible look on his face. Shocked, angry, hurt, but his gaze leaves the photograph again, shifts back to your face at the crack in your voice.

He presses forward, as if to reach for you, realizing you’re about to cry. “It’s fine.” I’m sorry, Din, you murmur again. “It’s just–” He shakes his head, a frustrated noise in his throat, his voice all graveled and cracked like yours. He seems so much like a boy in this moment. A child confronted by a past he was too young to lose when he did, forced into the shape of a man too soon. “You know that this–we–” He motions between the two of you.

“Yes. I do,” you cut him off quickly. Assuming what he’s going to cut down here between the two of you before he gets the words out. He doesn’t need to say it, not out loud. He doesn’t need to be that cruel. The strength it takes the both of you to bite your tongues in that moment, as you take each other in, swells to a near painful pressure, and there is something so sick here between the two of you. His eyes are glossy with emotion and everything he won’t ever let himself tell you or anyone else, and you so badly want to tell him that it’s only that it’s hard to be casual when your favorite bra lives in his dresser, and also that you’re in love with him.

“Thank you,” he finally says quietly, and you can’t answer, looking away out at the dark night through his murky paneled window. It looks like it’s about to snow, all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas at play. The room is so warm and his bed is so comfortable, and you feel so full of fragile and soft things inside. “You’re going to see your family tomorrow?” He still has the picture frame in his hands, fingers smoothing methodically over the edges, thumb swiping gently over the happy faces inside.

You clear your throat, “Yeah, tonight. I’m going to my parents house, spending the night there.” And it’s on the tip of your tongue to invite the both of them to come too. You know your parents would love to have them, you would love to have them there, him, but the words stick in your throat with the fear of his rejection, and the two of you fizzle awkwardly into a heavy silence.

You look out at the window again, too much of a coward to look into those bright eyes, but you can feel his gaze on you, singing the side of your face, and suddenly you feel him scoot over towards you. Deep sigh, dragging the duvet with him, wrapped around his bare shoulders all messy hair and flushed cheeks still steaming from your sex. No one should look like he does. No one. It’s the most unfair thing that’s ever happened to you in your whole life. He grips you around the bend of your bare knee, pulls you halfway into his lap, and your eyes are still fixated out on the night, the dark much safer than anything that lives inside this room.

“You remember when we met?” He says. The tears are back. “It was tonight.” Two years ago.

You tip your chin at the window. “At the restaurant…”

“...Down on eighty seventh street. Two years ago.”

“Yes.” You finally look at him. “I remember,” you whisper. Your mouth feels so dry, your heart so flinty.

“The place had all those string lights put up, and we sat at that table outside in the back behind that group having their Christmas work party. You remember?” Of course you do. You only can't believe he remembers. He’d been wearing an olive green half zip sweater, and he’d smelled of laundry detergent and whiskey and cinnamon gum when he’d kissed you for the first time.

“I had the best old fashioned I’ve ever had at that place. We should go back. And it was so cold, you remember? You never stopped shivering.”

“Yes, Din. I remember.”

“That was a good night.”

“Sure it was,” and it comes out with a bite you can’t help, for so many reasons you can and cannot explain.

He gives one of those non committal hums he loves to provoke you with, that little glint back in his eyes. “Sure it was? What?”

“Nothing.”

“Is there something you wanna talk about?” The white elephant in the room, come to ruin everything, shatter all the glass, disturb the dust in your hair and break your heart.

He tips your head back by your chin, two fingers holding you there, never letting you go. You shake your head at him caught up in his grasp like that. “No. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

And he gives you the strangest look, and for one second you wonder suddenly if that look you’ve always taken as provoking is not so much teasing, but more pleading, more knowing. “No…” he says, chews on his thoughts, strong, scruffy jaw with the heart shaped patch moving side to side. “I know you don’t,” and leans forward to press one single soft, chaste kiss to your open mouth. “You know what you are?” He says then, and the look is now entirely unknowable, confusing.

Your eyes flick back to the window. “What?” Back to him again, breathless.

“You’re my girl.” And out of the corner of your eye, you can see that there, finally, is the Christmas snow.

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 5 months

Text

Brick by Brick 🎄

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

A/N: The holiday season is upon us!!! This is the first fic for my Christmas event, Fi's Christmas Market ☃️ <3 feel free to check that out if you're curious who and what's to come 🤭

~ Fi 🐝

Warnings: pure, whole hearted X-mas fluff, Mentions of readers mom, healing Leon's inner child <3

Word count: 2.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

December was finally here. The most wonderful time of the year, undoubtedly. You'd been waiting all year for this. The lights, the beautiful tunes, and the atmosphere full of love and warmth. To say you were ecstatic was an understatement, the excitement had been burning in your veins since Halloween ended.

You were itching to pull out every box filled with Christmas decorations and absolutely drown your apartment in red, green and gold. Your Christmas PJs were already laid out, same as Leon's, and you'd jump him with holiday cheer the second he came home. You'd already prepared some apple cider and a few cookies. It would be such a nice evening, you knew it in your heart.

The Christmas songs would fill your apartment, the spicy apple cider and cookies would drench the room in nostalgic aromas. You'd decorate all the cabinets and tables while Leon would hang up the garlands around the living room. It was always a dream you had, decorating your little home with Leon. And since it was you we're talking about, you also got him a little something. An early present, if you will.

There was this tradition in your home, your Mother had started it one year and from then on it was something you'd enjoyed greatly. It might not be the most festive of activities but it reminded you of home, and you desperately wanted to share it with Leon. Your Mom made a habit of building Lego sets together as a family. Sitting around the table with a cup of cider, yuletide tunes playing in the background whil you were constructing your little plastic house brick by brick.

You were a little hesitant to share it with your lover since the anxiety of it being seen as childish always gnawed at your heart. But you knew him, he wouldn't judge you for something like that. He would appreciate that you wanted to share a part of your childhood with him, you were sure of it. You had gotten yourself a gingerbread house set, it was better than a real one in many ways; more fun to make, sturdier and there was no mess after.

But what you were really excited about was for Leon to see the set you had gotten him. It was a police station. As soon as your eyes landed on the set while you were scrolling through the internet, you knew it was perfect. You had warned him about a surprise so he wouldn't be caught off guard.

Your mother had an entire village of Lego houses that she'd rebuilt every year, and you couldn't wait to start your own little village with Leon. He was actually quite impressed when your mom proudly showed him last Christmas. He didn't stop talking about it for weeks after, it was quite endearing. If you could heal his inner child at least a little with this, it would be worth it.

You'd already changed into your PJs. You would've exploded if you hadn't gotten something plaid on your body. It was a long sleeve shirt with gingerbread men and women doing holiday activities. Ice skating, shopping, building a snowman. Your name was embroided in gold on the front.

The pants were a red and gold plaid, matching the embroided. It was a gift from your grandmother. She adored Leon and said that when she saw the matching sleep attire, she just had to get it. It was him who made sure they were always ready when Decemeber was around the corner.

Even if he wouldn't admit it, there was something about the holidays that made him lower his guard and just be himself. Not a rookie, not agent Kennedy, just Leon.

The jingling of keys made you jump up from your place at the table where you had been waiting patiently. Leon stepped inside with a huff, closing the door behind him. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold as he dropped his bag on the floor.

"Hi, Baby-" he was cut off by a grunt when you smashed into him, squeezing him in a bone crushing hug. "I missed you." Your words were muffled into his chest. He chuckled before leaning down to press a kiss to your head. "I missed you too, but I was only gone for 3 days." He stroked his hands down your back. "I know, I know, but it's extra special this time! We have lots to do, come on." You beamed, making him stumble as you dragged him behind you.

"Slow down, we've got all evening." He chuckled, still letting himself be pulled along by you.

You and Leon stood in the middle of the living room, admiring your work. The space was much cozier now, decked with and lights and ornaments. "We really outdid ourselves this year, huh?"

"But we need to decorate, and we have to make a shopping list for presents too, and then I have a surprise for you, and-" You stopped yourself. Leon had just come home, and you were already bombarding him with all the things you wanted to do. You cleared your throat, a little embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I've just been waiting all year for this." You gave him a bashful smile. Leon cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. All of your worries faded away. The chains of anxiety and embarrassment shattered the second you felt his touch.

"Don't be sorry. You're cute when you're all excited, you know." He teased, taking off his jacket and shoes. A blush settled on your cheeks. "Your PJs are on the bed, I'll heat up the apple cider, okay?" He nodded with a soft hum and you pressed a kiss to his still cold cheek.

You squealed in excitement when you thought Leon was out of reach to hear you, but you were wrong. He smiled to himself when he saw you being so happy over something so simple. He loved you so much, you made his life brighter.

The Christmas songs were already on, and you were stirring the apple cider while humming to the melody. "What's this surprise I've been hearing about, hm?" Two big arms engulfed you, wrapping themselves around your waist. You swayed from side to side, pulling him with you. You poured the cider into some very cheesy Christmas mugs and set them down on the coffee table.

"Decorating first, then you'll get your surprise, Baby." You smiled, kneeling on the floor to start unpacking the boxes. "I can't believe you're making me wait. You've been excited about this surprise for months!" He argued playfully, of course. "Shut it and come help me with the garlands, big guy!" You huffed. You weren't tall enough to hang them up yourself, but you had your tall and strong boyfriend who would do anything for you.

And the little perk of watching his shirt ride up and his biceps flex definitely didn't go unappreciated. "S'not my fault you came out so small." He grinned, ruffling your hair as he passed you. You pouted and continued getting out all of your decor from the boxes while quietly grumbling. Maybe he's just unnaturally tall?! You're not small, you're perfectly average height! Okay, maybe you were on the low end of the spectrum, but still. To be fair, those garlands have never been up faster.

Not to shabby, having a tree for a boyfriend.

"Time for the present!" You exclaimed, already dragging him back to the table. You were quiet strong for your height, you've almost knocked him off of his feet once or twice.

You glanced over to Leon who had you pressed against his side. "Yeah, but's gonna be a pain to take down.." he sighed.

"Let me enjoy my Christmas craze, will ya?" You huffed. Leon put his hands up defensively and laughed.

"Alright, alright."

You refilled the apple cider and then went to grab the surprise. You brought out the big box and Leon's brows raised both in shock and curiosity. You heaved it onto the table before taking a seat next to him.

"Christ, Honey, what's in that thing? You do know it's not Christmas yet, right?" Leon chuckled, turning the box in all directions. "Obviously. But I really wanted to get you this. Besides, can't I get my boyfriend presents regardless of the time of year?" You smiled, leaning over to kiss his cheek. He looked over at you with a buttery soft expression.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Once or twice." You grinned, before returning a soft smile. "Go ahead, open it." You encouraged him. Your heart was pounding against your ribcage. You really hoped he liked it. It was a bit of a risky situation since you were worried it might open an old wound. He tore into the festive wrapping paper, revealing the gift inch by inch.

You were slightly squirming in your seat, both from anxiety and excitement. He examined the now revealed surprise. His brows furrowed but you saw the exact moment it clicked in his brain when he realized what it was. His eyes lit up like the ones of a little boy on Christmas morning, and a smile tugged at his lips.

Leon looked over to you and you caught the smallest glimpse of a shimmer of tears in his beautiful blue eyes. "Baby, I.. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this with me- you have no idea how much that means to me." He said it with so much vulnerability and love that you felt like your heart was about to give out.

"Why wouldn't I share it with you? You're my favorite person. Let me tell you, my mom was thrilled when she heard about this." You chuckled, making him snort in response. His expression softened slightly, taking your hands and guiding you from your chair into his lap.

His hands wrapped around you tightly as his head fell to the crook of your neck. "I love you. You're truly something special and I don't intend of ever letting you go." His heartfelt confession sent shivers up your spine, yet your heart has never felt warmer. Your grip around his neck tightened as you pulled him closer to your chest.

"Oh, Leon.." there was a slight crack in your voice that you had tried so hard to suppress but failed. "I love you so much. You deserve the world and so much more." You whispered into his ear lovingly, you could feel him smile against your skin. You held eachother, wrapped in a warm and loving embrace a hallmark movie could only wish of replicating.

He felt safe with you. You were his great love, his home, the keeper of his heart. He meant every word when he said he won't ever let you go.

"Please don't say that."

You could feel yourself drifting off to sleep in his comforting embrace, so you decided that now was the perfect time to pull yourself from his arms. You were dead set on putting some plastic bricks together today, and if you regrettably had to leave your lovers embrace for it, so be it.

"You wanna get started on building that thing?" You grinned, leaning back so you could see his face. "Hell yeah, I do. Let's get bricking."

You were impressed with him, though. He had never done it before but it came to him so easily. "Well, I'm very good with my hands, as you know." He smirked, giving you wink before continuing to attach the blocks to eachother. "Can't argue with the truth, I suppose." You mumbled, setting a brick on top of another.

Leon had gotten the hang of it pretty quickly. Although it might be a rather simple concept, you've seen great men fall to the tiny plastic pieces (your dad). Leon was quite the natural. It felt like in the blink of an eye, he had constructed half of the building.

"How are you so fast?! That's like half of it done!" You were sitting there with your sad little gingerbread foundation done, and he was putting up walls and furniture already.

Leon didn't know how he ended up in this situation. He had just placed the last block on his very own Lego police station. He looked over his work triumphantly, but when his gaze fell on you, he made an effort to look outside the window.

You were knocked out cold, softly snoring by his side. Your brick gingerbread house wasn't finished, the blocks were thrown across the table, and you were in the middle of it, looking as beautiful as ever to him.

But what scared him, though, was that the sun was starting to come up. He hadn't noticed how late, or early, it had gotten. He had gotten so lost in this simple pleasure it made him smile a bit. Leon couldn't help but think as he carried you to bed, to finally snuggle up and let his body rest.

You had stayed with him. The whole night you had stayed. You didn't leave when your eyelids got heavy or the intervals between your yawns got shorter. You stayed, and watched him with a smile. He realized that he wanted this with you. A life with you, one that he would spend with you until the very end.

You were definitely getting promoted from girlfriend to wife next year. It made him realize what love could and should be like. He never thought it was in the cards for him, truly. But he couldn't be more grateful to and for you. He wanted to build a future with you.

And he would, brick by brick.

#bumblebeesfromvenus #FI'S CHRISTMAS MARKET ゜✭・.・✫#resident evil leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff

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mxqdii · 3 months

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Colby x reader where they go to look at Christmas lights every year on Christmas Eve, and all he can do is watch at the way her eyes sparkle while seeing all the lights and decorations. Just fluff and super sweet colby 🎄🫶🏼🤭✨️

pretty as you - c.b

pairings: colby brock x reader

summary: walking down candy cane lane with colby

warning(s): just fluff

not proofread

me and colby walk hand in hand, looking at all the pretty lights

at first when he suggested we walk down some street called 'candy cane lane' i thought it sounded silly, but its beautiful

i gasp, causing colby to jerk his head over to me

"what, whats wrong?" he asks

"its snowing!!!" i squeel, letting go of his hand to jump around, trying to catch a snowflake

i run back to him and kiss him, slipping in the process

we both fall to the floor, him now on top of me as we're both a giggling mess.

he helps me up as we continue to walk down looking at the lights, atleast i was looking at the lights

"its so pretty out here colbs" i say, eyes lit up in astonishment

"yeah.. it is." he says, gaze focused on me the whole time

i look over at him, seeing him looking at me

"you're gross colbs, since when were you so in love with me" i say sarcastically

"oh shut up, since forever, you know that" he says, kissing my temple

this is the best christmas eve ever.

a/n: sorry for the short fic! i was in a rush!

TAGLIST:

@opheliaofficial07 @stargirlv0id @strniolo @annaisabookworm @theperson-nextdoor @its-jennarose @thetriplets3 @gottamakemyhatersmad @luvsturniolo @anythingsamandcolby @richardsamboramylove55

#madispeaks!#sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby fic #colby brock #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby x reader #sam and colby #colby brock fluff #colby brock fic #colby brock x y/n #sam golbach #sam golbach fanfic #fluff

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lives-in-midgard · 5 months

Text

🎄Beautiful Miracle🎄

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

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

Word Count: 1095

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

Dividers made by @saradika 💗

Prompt 1: Bakery AU

Masterlist | Fluffcember Masterlist

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

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

Maximoff’s Sweets

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course not.”

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

“Oh, I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I‘m Wanda Maximoff.”

“Hi Wanda, I‘m Y/N.“

“So, what brought you to my bakery?” Wanda asked and you told her the story of your car and how you luckily found her warm and cozy bakery. Wanda listened intently as the two of you drank your coffee and ate your dessert.

“Wow, that tasted so good.” You complimented her after eating the cinnamon roll.

“Thank you, love.” You blushed and looked out the window for a second and saw that it started to snow more.

“What do you like to do when you’re not at this wonderful bakery?” You asked Wanda as you looked back at her.

“Well, I love spending time with my brother and some friends, I love finding new recipes for all kind of stuff, and oh I really enjoy watching sitcoms.”

“Sounds really cool. What’s your favorite sitcom?”

“The Dick Van Dyke Show. I loved it when I was a kid and I still do.” Wanda told you.

“And what do you like to do when your car doesn’t break down in front of a bakery?” Wanda asked and you had to chuckle at her question. You told her about your hobbies and talked for a while until you got a message on your phone.

“Sorry.” You apologized and looked at your phone.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled when you saw the message from the car service station.

“What’s wrong?” Wanda asked.

“It’s the car service station. It will take them a few hours to get here because of the snow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but hey, you’re lucky you ended up here.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled at her. A few minutes passed before Wanda said something again.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears.”

“If you're interested, maybe you could help me with some cookies.”

“Yeah, sounds great.” You said and Wanda smiled happily. She showed you the kitchen where she makes all her desserts. Wanda then gave you an apron and you tied your hair into a ponytail. Then she showed you the recipe and started to put everything you needed on the table. You had fun helping Wanda bake the cookies and when you were done you put them in the oven and Wanda gave you a cup of hot chocolate. You stood next to her and talked for a few minutes until Wanda got the idea to decorate the cookies she had baked before you arrived. When you were almost finished, you received a message that the car service station will be here soon.

Wanda decided to give you some cookies and when you wanted to pay, she said that wasn’t necessary. You insisted that you wanted to pay, but Wanda was a little more stubborn than you, so she won. You put your jacket on and were a little sad to leave now, but you know where this bakery is so you could come back anytime.

“Goodbye, Wanda.” You said before opening the door.

“Wait.” Wanda shouted and ran towards you. You turned around and looked at her confused.

“I really enjoyed this afternoon with you and thought you might like to meet me again.” Wanda asked.

“I also really enjoyed it. I can give you my phone number, so you can text me.” Wanda nodded with a smile, and you gave her your phone number.

“See you soon, Wanda.” You said before walking out.

“See you soon. “You walked out with a smile, happy that your car broke down here and not somewhere else. Otherwise, you probably would never have met Wanda.

Taglist:

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sitp-recs · 4 months

Text

My AO3 Wrapped: 16 Drarry Recs

This year I’ve embraced a change of pace and read way less than I intended to. This made me feel a bit disconnected from fandom but also allowed me to put this list together in record time so let’s not complain too much 😂 this is shorter and lacking my usual commentary but I didn’t want to break the tradition of sharing my fave reads of the year! Be it for their creativity or peak romance, these 16 amazing fics made my heart beat faster and got me even more in love with Drarry. I’ve read most of them in the first half of the year and it was interesting to see so many fics over 40k, as my usual sweet spot is 10k - 20k. I love the mix of tropes featured here and am very excited to rec authors I’m reading for the first time. ps: I haven’t included any Erised fics since the fest is still ongoing.

Thank you dear creators for sharing so many brilliant works with us this year! 2023 wasn’t my best year fandom-wise, but life has been so generous in other areas that I can’t help but feel humbled today. I wish everyone a lovely start to the new year! As always, please mind the tags and take some time to shower these authors with the appreciation they deserve. Oh, and stay tuned for a rare pair list sometime soon ;)

🍆 Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

8th year | touch-starved Harry | soft cock kink

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

🧩 Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 8k)

curse breaking | partners to lovers | memory magic

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

👹 draco malfoy's substitute murder service by @oknowkiss (E, 10k)

odd jobs | D/s undertones | open ending

When Harry joins the Curse Breakers shortly after his twenty-fifth birthday, he’s surprised to find himself assigned to the Department of Creatures, Cryptids, and Associated Calamities.

🏰 the earth from a distance by spqr (E, 15k)

time travel | Wizarding history | only one bed

“Well,” Harry said gamely, once they’d managed to find the Leaky Cauldron – still under construction but mercifully open for business – and he’d turned up a few knuts from his pockets, enough to get them a room for the night, “it could be worse.”

🎚️ O Come, All Ye Faithful by toomuchplor (E, 20k)

vicar Draco | established relationship | Church of England

Aunt Petunia died, that was what began everything. Or rather, Aunt Petunia was dying. In the act of dying. In which Draco finds faith in the church, and Harry finds faith in Draco.

🎄 Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

shop owner Draco | summer romance | light angst

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🚬 Sun Thief by @floydig and BlackRose532 (E, 28k)

slice of life | fast sexual burn | dark humour

It’s 2005, and Draco Malfoy says, “Fuck the Ministry,” Harry works as a handyman in muggle London, and Draco should really stop pissing off the Squib gangs.

🍷 Winner Takes It All by @skeptiquewrites (E, 41k)

break up make up | down & out Draco | hurt/comfort

As with all his friends’ wagers, it starts small. Fifty Galleons for one kiss from Harry Potter is easily done.

🏖️ LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally (E, 42k)

Draco in the Muggle World | pining Harry | recreational drug use

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

🫃Shine On, You Crazy Diamond by @lagerloutfic (E, 42k)

fwb to lovers | gay awakening (Harry) | mpreg (Draco)

Harry has probably always wanted Draco, it just took him a few years to figure that out. A story about the joy of discovering exactly who you are and how easy it can be once you do.

🚣‍♀️ Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46k)

rowing AU | enemies to lovers | university setting

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

🧶 Polar Night/Midnight Sun by toomuchplor (E, 54k)

cabin fic | wintery vibes | only one bed

Harry travels to arctic Norway on the trail of dragon egg poachers, only to find he's been assigned to work alongside the only NorMagPol Auror north of sixty: one Draco Malfoy.

🎩 Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

holiday fic | fake relationship | mutual pining

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

👮🏻‍♂️Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75k)

auror partners | slow burn | humour

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

🖼️ where all the veins meet by @saxamophone (E, 146k)

sad bois | Grimmauld Place | found family | 8th year

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

📼 Always Already by @aibidil (E, 170k)

time travel | forced proximity | mutual pining

Harry and Draco are perfectly fine, separately minding their business in 2004, when the Unspeakables conscript them into service... in the First War against Voldemort.

#ao3 wrapped 2023 #drarry #Sitp faves

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salford-blues · 3 months

Text

Dressed to impress

A/n: I am so not ready to go back to Uni. So fics might slow down a bit because this semester might take a toll on me haha.

Pairing: F1 grid x driver!reader Summary: Y/N shows off her little family to the world, in which they're all dressed to impress. Well most of them are <33 Warnings: like a swear word

@yourusername and @l/nandcompany

liamlawson30, georgerussell63, landonorris & others liked

My new account for my little companions! Just a fun little account for my many pets.

Left - Thackery (12), Middle - Cosmic Creepers (8), Right - Oogie Boogie (8)

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alex_albon booooooo!! Just trying to copy now 👎

> yourusername i cant just let their cuteness go to waste

>> alex_albon you know what... fairs. Cossie is very cute

User.1 eeeeeee soso cute

User.2 Thackery doesn't look very happy

> yourusername that because Alex didn't bring is favourite treat...

>> alex_albon heeyy i forgot!! Tell him I'm sorry. pleassee

>>> yourusername he said he'll forgive if you bring him some next time!

>>>> alex_albon deal!!

landonorris do NOT let Cosmic Creepers fool you. He may be cute, but he's possessed. I'm telling you

> oscarpiastri dramatic, and for what?

@l/nandcompany and @yourusername

oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, logansargeant & others liked

Omg, I've never looked so good...

Left - Kismet (9), Middle - Itchy (3), Right - Knuckles (1)

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User.3 how do you come up with these names???

> yourusername most of them are named after characters!!!

charles_leclerc hahaha... veryyy funny caption

> yourusername knew you'd like it

User.4 how many pets do you have?

> yourusername faaarr too many.

User.5 surely this is animal abuse...

User.6 Why does she have a hedgehog?? I thought they were illegal in some states

> yourusername 1. I rescued him and 2. not everyone lives in the states babes <33 but thanks for the concern

@l/nandcompany and @yourusername

mickschumacher, lewishamilton, logansargeant & others liked

Having a fursome time. Managed to snag a pic before Diablo fought the camera. 🐾

Left - Diablo (3), Middle - Meeko (2), Right - Prometheus (5)

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User.6 Diablo looks very cool.

> yourusername Diablo likes to tell people to 'fuck off'... wonder were he got that from

>> yourusername looking at you @liamlawson30 👀👀

>>> liamlawson30 don't know what you're on about 😤

>>>> yourusername sure you don't. Just like you don't remember teaching him to attack people when they're smacking their lips.

>>>>> User.12 that is a very valid reason to attack someone

logansargeant look how sophisticated Meeko looks

> yourusername oh wow, that's a big word coming from you

>> logansargeant i try to be nice and this is what i get in return...

>>> oscarpiastri yh but you're american. it's why you get bullied

roscoelovescoco whens cans I's comes round agains?

> yourusername soon Roscoe!! Prometheus and Itchy miss you

@l/nandcompany and @yourusername

frederikvestioffical, georgerussell63, danielricciardo & others liked

We wish you a merry christmas and aaaaa happpyyyy newwwww yeaaarrrr 🎄🎄🎄

Left - Ankyl (6), Middle - Bandersnatch (2), Right - Scorchito (2)

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User.7 why are all these animals so cuuutteeee

User.8 cuteness overload... think I'm gonna die

User.9 Ankyl isn't very christmassy

> yourusername I couldn't find his christmas picture, so I had to put his halloween one up instead

porschef1 hmmm meet and greet when??

*yourusername liked comment*

User.10 do any of them have a favourite person/driver? do any of the hate one of the drivers?

> yourusername yes and yes!! some examples: all of the cats HATE Lando, but Itchy loves him. The cats like Oscar, Alex, Liam, George etc. The ferrets are fond of Fred Vesti and Charles. The bird likes noone... he will attack at any point. ESPECIALLY when you're singing. He's a very naughty boy and we can blame Liam for that.

>> User.11 Liam and Lando catching strays left, right and centre.

maxfewtrell Lando looks like he might cry. Keep talking

> yourusername well I'll send Itchy his way. That'll cheer him up

>> landonorris thanks gonna keep him now

>>> yourusername right... grounded for 3 months.

>>>> landonorris 3 MONTHS???? WHY???

>>>>> yourusername cause the cats told me to

>>>>>> landonorris this is bullying!!

@yourusername and @l/nandcompany

mickschumacher, liamlawson30, oscarpiastri & others liked

Meet our newest member Koda 🐻

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User.13 awweee he's so fluffy!!

oscarpiastri I want to be the first one to meet him

> mickschumacher too late...

>> oscarpiastri I SAW THAT

>>> oscarpiastri NNOOOOOO

User.14 wait Mick was the first to meet him? Awweee

> logansargeant NO not 'awweee'. Why was Mick the first one Birdie?? Why not me? Why not Oscar? Do you not love us?

>> yourusername why so dramatic? Can we appreciate Koda's cuteness instead ta

mickschumacher so cute!! Can't wait to meet him 💙💛

> logansargeant you can't sweet talk your way out of this Mick

>> oscarpiastri LIAARRR... count your days Mick

>>> yourusername stop threatening the poor boy or else you can join Lando

>>>> oscarpiastri no please I'll be nice. Promise 🙏

#f1 fanfic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

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currentfications · 4 months

Text

Christmas Special | 🎄

Synopsis: after your last shift of the year, you excitedly made your way home. The snow had made running difficult, and the delay was enough to cause you to miss your bus. With your phone battery flat and only one phone number memorised, you decided to try your luck, hoping that your ex would pick up the phone.

A/N: this is just cliches after cliches cause I am a basic bitch, special shoutout to @bluebada for the Christmas post (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) sorry for the cheesiness and general cringe, I just sat down and typed a whole bunch of tropes into one fic, sorry if it’s not my best work, I’ve had the worst week and needed some fluff >/////<

Warning: swearing, fluff and cringe, but mostly sfw (mention/alluded to sex but no smut in this fic)

“Wait!” You waved your hand at the bus’s closing door, to no avail. The hydraulics hissed and the driver took off in haste before the doors had fully closed. “Fuck,” you muttered, tugging the suitcase behind you, the wheels squeaking in protest after being hauled around the past miles while you sprinted.

Walking up to the dimly lit bus stop, you checked the posted schedule for the next bus. A piece of poorly stuck on paper informed you of your continued misfortune while its peeling corners flapping around in the wind seemed to mock you. You bit your tongue from making a sarcastic comment at the situation on hand, not wanting to jinx your already doomed self. Instead you silently wondered if you could survive the night if you wore all your clothings at once. The Christmas sweater at the bottom of your bag ought to serve it’s purpose, you thought.

Noticing a phone booth nearby, you thought the shelter might make the wind chill more tolerable. The stench that hit your nose immediately had you reconsider taking your chances with the elements. Staring at the key pad and the suspicious puddle of stain on the floor, you tapped on your phone screen again, hoping that it had magically recharged itself. It did not.

You hung your head in disappointment and immediately regretted taking a deep breath to self regulate. Picking up the rusty phone and the last few quarters you had at the bottom of your bag, you swiftly punched in the number to the studio, hoping that someone- anyone- had stayed behind. Maybe the night cleaners would call you a cab.

“Thank you for your call. We are currently away for Christmas closure until the second Monday of January. Please leave a message-”

You hung the receiver up and sprinted outside for some fresh air. By the time you had remembered to jiggle the little refund handle on the pay phone, only two quarters are spat back out. Groaning at your own stupidity, you stared at the keypad and dialled in the only cell phone number you remember.

An odd feeling stirred in you as your finger lingered above the last button. Before you could quite identify the emotion, a wave of nausea from the smell quickly dismissed any other feeling in you.

The call went through.

What was I thinking? You thought to yourself as the wait tone went on. She’s not going to pick-

“Hello?” A familiar voice pierced through your doubt.

Instinctively, you took another deep breath. Your eyes watered up, and you’re not sure if it’s from her voice or the reek. “Hey Bada,” you managed to squeeze out.

A brief moment of silence hung in the air, and you thought she had hung up on the call. “Y/n?”

You nodded, realised that she can’t see you, and croaked out a confirmation. “Sorry to call you this late, I-”

A sharp beep cut you off.

“Please insert a quarter to continue the call.”

You fumbled around for some extra changes, but the call ended. Looking down on the mystery stain, you have a sudden irrational urge to defecate on the money hungry technology. Before you could do anything you’d regret, or worse, destruction of public property, the phone rang.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

You waved at the approaching headlights, and the black sedan came to a screeching halt next to you. The door to the driver’s seat flung open, and a familiar silhouette darted towards you. You were engulfed in Bada’s comforting scent warmth as she threw her coat on you.

“Are you okay?” Her soft voice was dripping with concern as she brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Shit, you’re freezing. Get in the car.”

You climbed into the passenger seat of the still running car, thanking her as she shut the door behind you. “Sorry for the trouble,” you muttered apologetically as she buckled herself behind the steering wheel. “Thanks for getting here so quickly too, I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?”

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad you remembered my phone number.” A hint of pink tinted her cheeks, and you convinced yourself that it’s either the weather or the poor lighting.

You sheepishly smiled at the taller girl, “well I’m glad you picked up an unknown number in the middle of the night, or I’ll probably have to crash in the phone booth.”

“Wouldn’t want the Mouse King to get to you, princess,” Bada teased.

You beamed at the pet name before quickly tuning down your smile, reminding yourself of the distance you ought to put between yourself and her. “How’d you know I got the role?”

Bada’s eyes widen and she whipped herself around, turning her attention to the GPS. “I- uh, Lusher told me. Speaking of which, the girls are having a Christmas party at Minah’s, you wanna come?”

You raised an eyebrow at her sudden change in subject, but nodded nevertheless. “It’s been a while, you think they’d mind?”

“Nah, it’ll be a Christmas surprise.” A smile sat on the corner of her lips as she gripped the steering wheel, her hand on the lowered break lingering beside you went unnoticed as you fixated on her eyes.

“Thanks for the invite,” you said as you finally peeled your gaze away. The scent of her car reminded you of something. “I better change,” you muttered as you pulled out a sweater from your bag, before wiggling off her coat and the shirt that you were wearing, which still faintly smelled like the phone booth. “Sorry for the stench.”

Bada glanced over to you and almost swerved into the opposite lane, immediately hiding her surprise with a cough. “Geez y/n, trying to make me crash the car?”

You chuckled as you pulled the Christmas sweater over your head. “Eyes on the road Bada, nothing you haven’t seen here before.”

Bada bit down on her bottom lip as she fixed her eyes back on the road, her knuckles turning white as she gripped on the steering harder.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

You heard the party as Bada pulled into the driveway, shaking your head at the girls’ energy. “They’re still as lively as ever,” you remarked at the Christmas karaoke blasting through the basement. Bada hummed and nodded in agreement.

“Perks of living near a construction site, I guess.” Bada was worried when Minah first told them she’s moving into this area, but soon discovered that the BEBE dancer is actually the menace of the suburb.

“What took you so long?” The door swing open at the bottom of the stairs and Minah peered through, stopping dead in her tracks when she spot you wrapped up in Bada’s coat, an ugly Christmas sweater underneath. “Holy fuckery are you-”

Bada shot her a warning look and wagged her head ever so slightly, and Minah muttered an apology of some sort before pulling you into a hug with a huge grin on her face.

“Merry Christmas,” you squeezed the redhead, “it’s been too long.”

“Come on in and tell me all about it,” Minah chirped excitedly as she pulled you into the house behind her. “Lusher is here too,” she nodded towards the singing, All I Want for Christmas echoing through the stairwell.

“Hurry up,” you turned around to Bada, who’s already kicking off her sneakers, “don’t wanna miss your part.”

Bada whipped around and sprinted down the hallway, leaving you with Minah, who offered to take your coat. “We have beer and eggnog, Lusher was making something in the kitchen. Do you have work tomorrow or can you stay?”

“I can stay,” you said as you handed her Bada’s coat, “we finally finished our last show of the year. Can I take up on that eggnog offer?”

With a mug full of spiked milk, you leaned against the door frame leading to Minah’s living room, where Lusher and Bada stood in front of the television, singing (Bada rapping Soulja Boy’s Crank That).

“WAR IS OVER!” Lusher screeched when the song finished, turning to you with a hug. “WE CHEERED!”

Bada covered her mouth with her hands, but it was too late as Tatter emerged from the kitchen with a cup in hand, which she flung to the other side of the room as she dived into your arms. Minah’s disapproving groan overshadowed by Tatter’s chatter. “It’s a Christmas miracle, we are no longer children of divorce!”

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“Who’s baking gingerbread at this hour?” You asked, sniffing the air as smell of baked goods slowly filled the room.

“Oh shit,” Lusher recalled, making her way back to the kitchen. “Should we make gingerbread house?”

“Should you be making gingerbread houses right now?” You followed her into the kitchen, hot behind her heels as she stumbled on flat ground.

“Oops,” she chortled. The gingerbread now smelled toastier than before, and you hastened your speed towards the oven.

You found the kitchen mitten hanging by the stoves and reached out to grab it. “I’ll do it, go sit your drunk ass down.” The girl giggled and you heard the kitchen stool being pulled out, lusher plopping into the seat.

A hand appeared from above your shoulder and plucked the mitten off your hands, you turned around to Bada already putting them on. “Your clumsy ass is no better than her drunk one. Go sit next to her.”

You tried to protest but Bada’s firm hand on your lower back guided you away from the oven door. You stood in place even after she had withdrew her hand, too distracted to notice the quickly browning smell of the baked goods. Definitely too distracted to notice the blush taking form on both of your cheeks.

Bada opened the door and a gust of cinnamon and clove scent poured out the oven, and you almost forgot how ridiculous it is to be making gingerbread houses in the middle of the night with your salivating.

“Hot tray incoming,” Bada warned as she pulled out a sheet tray, snapping you out of your daze. You looked around and found a coaster, placing it on the bench behind her as she put down the piping hot tray.

It was brief, but the domesticity stirred up some feelings you thought had long settled in you. You then immediately scolded yourself for dredging up the past. The festive season must be making you all sappy.

You shook your head and turned your focus to Lusher’s trays instead. “Are we building minecraft houses?” You couldn’t help but ask upon seeing two dozens or so poorly formed shapes on the sheet trays.

Bada peered over your shoulder. “These are squoval at best,” she noted, “how many drinks have you had tonight?”

“Enough to spontaneously want to bake,” Lusher slurred.

“You can glue them with melted sugar,” Minah suggested, pulling out a pot from her rack.

“Nope, too drunk to handle hot sugar.” Lusher threw her hands up, sitting back into the stool. “You do it.”

Bada sighed exasperatingly, “is this a Christmas party or a babysitting gig?”

☆*:.｡.:*☆

Between the gingerbread house decoration, eggnog, and Christmas songs karaoke, the tiredness from the bus chase earlier that day had finally caught onto you as you let out a yawn, covering your mouth with the sleeved of your Christmas sweater.

“You alright there?” Noticing your watering eyes, bada checked in on you. “Do you need to go? I can drive you if you need,” Bada offered.

“No, no I’ll be fine, once my phone charges up I can call myself a ride. Plus no drinking and driving,” you added,

“No more Nutcracker this season?” Minah asked.

“Nope, just finished our last show of the year,” you gestured towards your suitcase.

“Speaking of which,” Lusher chimed in with curious eyes. “Have you gotten the role?” She asked, “for Sugarplum Princess?”

You nodded with a smile, before quickly realising something was off. You squinted at Bada, who has taken a vested interest in the bottom of her cup.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“So,” You prodded, “I thought you said Lusher broke the news?” Leaning against the concrete wall, you took a draw from the cigarette, the dim light from your lighter illuminating the snowy street.

“She must had too much to drink,” Bada adamantly insisted, leaning towards you. You held up the smoke silently for her, raising an eyebrow at her response.

“Lee Bada, are you stalking your ex?” You joinkingly said, gently taping her shoulder with your fist.

“It’s Christmas, nothing wrong with watching the Nutcrackers during the festive season,” choking on the smoke, her tone turned defensive.

“Right, so you came by and watched me without stopping to say hello?”

“I- I didn’t know what to say, after…” Bada trailed off, leaving the silence to fill the icy air. After what felt like minutes, she turned to you with a smile, her eyes suspiciously damp. “You were incredible on that stage, princess.”

You blushed at the pet name, having to remind yourself that she was just referring to your role. With a smile and en pointe, you lifted your arms beside you while you gave her a stage bow. “Thank you for coming to the show.”

When you stood up straight again, the moisture pooling in her eyes seemed to have increased, moments away from falling off her cheeks. You looked up at the tall girl and instinctively reached your hand out towards her. Whilst your hand is still raised in midair, you realised that the gesture may be too intimate, and settled with fixing her fringe instead.

“Are you still putting on one right now?” Bada asked, her voice hushed as it wavered ever so slightly, the tears welling up in her eyes finally falling off.

“What are you talking about?” You frantically asked as you caught a stray drop sliding off her cheek. “Bada are you alright?”

The taller girl shook her head and tilted it back to stop her tears from falling. “I’m sorry y/n, I thought I’ve moved on like we promised to.”

“Bada-”

“But I don’t want to,” Bada continued, still looking away from you. Her neck stretched back as you saw her swallowing hard. “And I don’t think I can.”

“Bada,” you tentatively said again, your voice now much softer with the emotions bubbling up. “I’m sorry I asked that of you. I thought it would be easier if we both just walked away, I-” your voice trailed off as you pondered how the hell did you even thought that was a good idea in the first place.

Sure, work gets in the way of relationships. But if you had just tried harder, accommodated more, would it have made a difference?

Her chuckling made you look up, now meeting her gaze as she looked down at you, a tight smile that couldn’t quite reach her eyes plastered on her face. A nervous habit you knew she had. “It was anything but easy these couple years, y/n.”

You hummed and nodded in agreement, “look at me being stranded on the side of the road without you.”

Bada chuckled, “look at you, still remembering my phone number even in a pinch.”

“I’m surprised you picked up unknown numbers this late at night,” you said with a laugh.

“Can’t help it, I know an accident prone idiot who needs my rescue at all hours of the day.”

“That can’t be safe, how many scam calls do you end up picking up?”

“Probably too many, I actually almost fell for one once- but it’s well worth it, I got the call I’m waiting for.”

You stood flabbergasted by the admission, the cold air stinging the inside of your cheeks as your jaw hung. “Shit Bada, I’m sorry I’m still causing you trouble even after I left.”

Was two Christmas ago? When you sat her down in the kitchen and told her you’re moving out. Between trying to keep your relationship working and your career, you’ve chosen the later. You’d also gotten her a hand knitted sweater that year- speaking of cliched.

“Nah, ‘y can’t help that you’re forgetful-”

“I am sometimes forgetful,” you corrected, and Bada backed off with her palms up, a smile finally returning to her rosy cheeks. Frostbitten, likely. “Get some sleep after this party, sleep debts’ a bitch,”

Bada raised a finger to her under eye. “Oops, busted,” she said as she stuck her tongue out, like being caught red handed in a cookie jar. “Fine, New Year’s resolution,” she announced as she turned to you. “Go to bed by two each night.”

“Ten,” you whacked away her hand placed on her chest.

“Twelve.”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven each night,” Bada replaced her hand on her chest.

You rolled your eyes at her but didn’t correct her this time. “And eat breakfast,” you added.

“Huh?”

“New Year’s resolution, don’t forget to eat breakfast,” you reminded.

Bada groaned. “As if you eat breakfast,” she muttered, scrunching up her nose in annoyance.

“Fine, our New Year’s resolution. Breakfast.” It’s about time you make one and stick to it anyways. “Eight cups of w-” you begin, only to immediately cut off by Bada.

“Y/n, be reasonable.”

You shrugged. “It was a nice try though. Congrats on the competition- you girls’ schedule must’ve been packed lately?”

Bada hummed and nodded a confirmation, “it’s great to have a job, don’t get me wrong,” she said, holding her hands up defensively, “it’s just nice to be able to sit around and do nothing for a while.”

“Word,” you muttered, as the chilled wind blew at the awkward silence that filled as the small talk settled.

“Uhm,” bada started, breaking the silence. “I can send you home?”

“Oh don’t worry about it, my phone should be charged up by now, I’ll call myself a ride. Thanks, again, for coming to my rescue.”

Bada chuckled, “anytime, princess.” The pet name is starting to grow on you.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

“How is the battery STILL flat?” You wailed, clutching your lifeless phone.

“Did you plug it in?” Bada peered behind you.

“Of course I plugged it in,” you snapped, “I’m not stupid.”

Bada took over your phone and charge and wiggled it around. “Is the plug turned on?”

“Of course it’s-” not turned on. You could’ve sweared that you had seen the phone lit up when it was plugged in. “Oh come on who turned it off?”

You suspect foul play, but your streak of bad luck of the day made you sound hesitant. Bada was not convinced.

“Do you want to crash for the night?” Minah poked her head into the kitchen, letting out a yawn. “It’s getting real late.”

Between asking Bada to drink drive and staying the night, you chose the later and thanked Minah for the bed. “Sorry if I’m over staying my welcome.”

“Don’t be silly, we haven’t caught up in a while. Stay as long as you like,” said Minah, as she led you to the guest room. “Lusher fell asleep on the couch,” Minah continued, turning to Bada. “So you can sleep here too I guess. Aight, I’ll see you in the morning,” Minah’s voice trailed off as she quickly made her way back to her room, slamming the door behind.

“Minah set us up, didn’t she?” You said with a sigh.

“Probably unplugged your phone too,” Bada chuckled. “Sorry for the wrongful accusation.”

“That was very hurtful,” you joked, “since you felt so bad about it you’ll let me call dibs on the bed.” You flopped yourself down on the nearest mattress and looked around the room, realising that you’re sitting down on the only bed.

“Minah!” Bada shouted as she marched towards her room, shortly returning with a huff. “Bastard locked her room.”

“I still call dibs on the bed.”

“Well scoot in then,” Bada instructed, “unless you want me to sleep on the cold hard floor?”

You rolled your eyes at her and made room for Bada. “That little minx, I’ll get her in the morning.”

Bada climbed in, and the old mattress sunk at the weight of you two, squeaking as gravity pulled you together at the bottom of the mattress nest.

You opened your eyes to meet Bada’s hot chocolate brown ones staring back at you. “The fuck are you looking at,” you giggled as you pushed her fringed down to cover her eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah I will, just-” bada stirred in her cocoon of blanket, “I haven’t seen you in a while. You keep sleepin’ and don’t worry about me.”

You tried to close your eyes but felt her burning gaze on you. “I can’t sleep with you staring at me, you weirdo,” you said as you turned around, the mattress nest pulling you backwards.

As you were falling asleep you felt an arm around you, but you quickly drifted off as the slow rising and falling of Bada’s breathing gently lulled you to sleep.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

The first crack of dawn spilled through the window above the bed, and you snuggled deeper into the warmth as slumber reclaimed you.

A firm hold around you enveloped you as you next woken up from possibly the best sleep of the year. Followed closely by the rudest awakening of the year. Bada’s arms had snaked around your waist as she nuzzled into the back of your neck, you backside pressed up against her stomach as one of your legs have started to fall asleep. You suspect it is between her thighs.

“Bada,” you gently nudged the sleeping giant, poking at her shoulder. “My job needs me to have both legs,” you whispered.

“Hm?” She continued to stir, gripping you tighter into herself.

Seeing that her slumber is not letting up, you yanked your feet out from her weight. Pins and needles attacked your foot as blood returned to your leg, and you let out a hiss as you rubbed your foot.

“Y/n?” Bada opened her eyes in confusion, slowly recalling the events of the night before. “Shit, sorry. You okay there?”

You nodded, pulling yourself up from the bed. “Merry Christmas, Bada.” Judging by the lack of noise in the house you assumed the rest of the BEBE girls are still fast asleep, you pointed at a door down the halls and mouthed ‘toilet?’ at Bada, shuffling towards it as Bada nodded a confirmation.

Bada followed closely behind you out the room, heading for a glass of water in the kitchen. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

A bundle of mistletoe hung by the doorframe, staring back at the two of you, its waxy white berries beckoning. “This wasn’t here last night,” you said, observing the tape holding up the ribbon.

“Mhmm,” Bada hummed, easily guessing the culprit who’d set it up. “Should we let it serve its purpose?”

You chuckled at the offer, before leaning in to plant a quick peck on her cheeks. “Fine, seeing that I didn’t have a Christmas present.”

The kiss was short and sweet, and you tried to not linger on the sweet part too long. Doesn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in your stomach. You shrugged off the feeling and made quick time to the toilet.

Bada’s hand grabbed you by the arm, pulling you back into her arms. “Y/n, wait.” Her eyes took you in as she hit down on her bottom lips, brushing away a strand of hair away from your face. “Can we try again?” She said with a hushed tone, concealing a break in her voice.

“Bada we’ve been through this,” you sighed, “it’s too much work and it’ll take away-”

“I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself,” Bada cut you off, her eyes welling up again. “But I promise I’ll be more present this time. It takes two to make a relationship work, right?”

You pondered at her words for a second. “We are both so, very busy,” you reminded, “it’ll be hard fucking work.”

Bada leaned down and pressed her forehead against yours, her breath tickling your upper lips. “Then I’ll put in the hard fucking work,” her soft voice determined, uttering a promise in whispers. The firmness in her voice felt so reliable, and you couldn’t help but falter at it.

Maybe this time it’ll be different. You’re older, know better. And her arms felt like home, like shelter in a storm, a ride in the dark. “Are you sure?” You glanced up, looking for signs of hesitation but found none.

Bada pressed her lips against yours, and you found your answer in her firm hold around you. You melted against her and allowed yourself to let your guard down, to allow the crashing waves of yearning you’ve been feeling wash through you. Grabbing the collar of her shirt, you pulled her closer into the kiss.

An excited screech broke your tender moment, as Lusher had awoken from the couch, now prancing towards Minah’s room. “Wake up Minah! We did it! The room trick worked!” She shouted, slapping the locked door.

You’ll get them back. But first, “I still really gotta pee,” you turned to Bada in the midst of cheerful chaos, peeling her arms off you.

“Since you haven’t gotten me anything for Christmas, I’ll take watersporting as a gift,” Bada teased, earning an elbow to her guts.

☆*:.｡.:*☆

A/N2: Thank you guys for reading~ hope you all have a wonderful time at this time of the year, and to all my hospitality workers: stay strong, thank you so so much for your service!! Thanks for allowing my self indulging fics (I really should be talking to a therapist than putting y/n through shit but alas)◉‿◉

#bada lee #swf2 #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #fanfic #bada lee x fem reader #bada lee x y/n #christmas fic #merry christmas #fluff

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deadlymistletoe · 4 months

Text

Mistletoe Kisses 🎄

Pairing: Legolas x f!reader

A/N: 1. I’ll be using the word ‘Yule’ in this fic, rather than Christmas due to it being in Middle-earth. 2. It’s only vaguely mentioned, but I imagine the reader as being from Edoras & getting to know the others both on the way to Helm’s Deep and through Eowyn. 3. Merry Christmas!

Genre: Fluff, Christmas Romance

Description: During a Yule celebration at Minas Tirith you introduce Legolas to mistletoe.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1092

Yule had always been a celebration you looked forward to since you were a young child, the festives never failing to bring you joy. There was just something about the tinkling of bells and flakes of now in your hair that brought a smile to your face.

And now, in the aftermath of the War of the Ring, such a celebration was exactly what you needed. As the days turned colder and light dustings of snow began to fall, the mood in Minas Tirith only grew better.

By the night of the celebration, the city, particularly the large room in which the main celebration was held, was nothing short of festive.

When you excused yourself from your friends for a moment long after darkness had fallen outside you made your way towards an archway leading to a somewhat secluded balcony, a smile still etched across your face from laughing with your friends at jokes you couldn’t even remember while you watched Eowyn and Farimir glide around the dance floor not far from Arwen and Aragorn.

That was one good thing that had come from the War - your friendships with people you never would have given second thought to before.

You ducked through the archway, dodging the plant that hung from the top and made your way to the balcony bannister where you closed your eyes as you breathed in the fresh air, the music and chatter from inside drifting through the entryway.

To your credit, you only jumped slightly when a voice spoke beside you. “The hobbits are very loud, aren’t they?”

You opened your eyes, turning to see Legolas beside you, and you couldn’t stop the jump of your heart at his close proximity as he stood beside you. At least now you knew why you hadn’t heard footsteps.

“They’re joyful.” You countered. “And rightfully so. It is Yule after all.”

He nodded in acceptance, and the two of you stood in silence for a moment. You weren’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere between Edoras and Helm’s Deep, you’d grown closer to the elf than you’d ever imagined.

“Do you miss it?” You asked, curiosity taking over. At his confused look you elaborated. “Your home. Is Yule very different there?”

He tilted his head at the questions, giving them some thought before answering. “I miss it, but in other ways it is very freeing to be somewhere else for a change. No responsibilities so to speak.” He glanced inside for a moment. “Our Yule is… different in some ways but very much alike in others. The parties are similar, but you humans have your own traditions.”

Your eyes moved over his shoulder, landing on the plant hung from the top of the archway the two of you had come through, the red berries standing out against the green of the distinctly shaped leaves.

“Yes,” you murmured. “We do.”

You’d had run-ins with mistletoe before - hell, your first kiss had been because of mistletoe, when you were 16 with a crush on the baker’s son. But this time the sight of it caused different feelings to rush up, and you knew that the elf beside you was the reason.

You glanced back at Legolas, eyes darting to his lips. It was the perfect excuse. No one else had to know.

The elf in question tilted his head, your wandering attention not being missed. “What is it?”

You swallowed. You hadn’t meant to be caught, but his question gave you the opening you needed, and you nodded towards the mistletoe, Legolas following your gaze.

“Have you ever heard of mistletoe?”

“The name, yes.” He shook his head. “But it’s not something we are familiar with at home.”

His eyes landed on you again, holding you captive in your spot and a hint of curiosity shone in them. You clearly saw something special in the plant - lots of humans did. He wasn’t unobservant. He’d heard the giggles as the servants hung the plant throughout the city and buildings in the lead up to the yule celebration, shooting sly glances at those who passed.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s so special about mistletoe then?” Legolas suggested, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the way he moved ever so slightly closer to you.

You cleared your throat, looking away for a moment before you turned back to the elf and spoke. You could feel your confidence rising.

“It’s a tradition.” You murmured, moving a step closer. “Usually it’s hung over doorways, so it’s harder to avoid. See, when two people get caught under mistletoe at the same time, there’s only one way to get out.”

“And what would that be?” His own voice was just as quiet as yours, and you could see as he slowly put together what you were saying, clearly being able to guess the implications of what came next from your tone.

By now there was hardly any space between you and as you worked up to answering, he lifted the hand not resting on the balcony bannister to brush a piece of stray hair back from your face, fingers lingering.

“A kiss.” You whispered, feeling his hand land on your waist as he slowly walked the two of you towards the mistletoe, stopping underneath it.

Blue eyes stared into yours, a smile on his lips. Snow was now lightly falling from the sky, having started sometime during your talk, small flakes landing on his pale hair, almost white in the moonlight.

Your eyes darted down to his lips once more as he spoke again, his voice barely louder than your own previous whisper. “Show me.”

In that moment, there was nothing apart from his words, resounding throughout you. They were the only thing that mattered; not the snow, not the fact that he was a prince, or an elf, not the light wind that ruffled the skirts of your dress, not the even sounds of celebration coming from inside.

You didn’t waste words, instead leaning forward to press your lips lightly against his own.

Somewhere along the way your hands had ended up on his chest, the smooth material of his tunic under your fingertips. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other lightly caressing your face as you pulled back.

You let out a breath, your lips tingling with the aftermath of the touch. You risked a glance up at Legolas again, only to see a soft smile directed at you as he spoke, eyes shining.

“We should get caught under mistletoe more often.”

Permanent Taglist

@fizzyxcustard, @bookworm-with-coffee

Temporary Taglist (this fic only, let me know if your want to be added to a permanent taglist for anything)

@nerdygothzippermuffin, @aheadfullofsteverogers, @coopsgirl

#christmas fic #imagines #lord of the rings #female reader #legolas #legolas x reader

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im-a-marvel-ous-hoe · 5 months

Text

Baby, Please Come Home | Bucky Barnes (1st Day of 🎄)

(Credits to the owner of this gif!)

Hello hello hello! Alondra here! I haven’t written anything in a long time, so I apologize if this is shit lol I’m doin a 12 days of Christmas sort of thing and I’m praying that this doesn’t flop 😅

Christmas Masterlist <- check out my other holiday fics! ✨

~~~~

“Merry Christmas, doll.” I heard Bucky’s voice through the phone, his tone in a slightly higher pitch than usual. I smiled to myself as I sat down on the couch, startling Alpine for a moment as she was just starting to fall asleep. She yawned and stretched out her little white paws in front of me, her claws peaking out as she started to climb onto my lap. The princess has spoken. Looks like I’m gonna be stuck here for a little while.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky.” I spoke. The realization that we’re not spending Christmas together this year comes fluttering to the front of my mind no matter how much I've tried to ignore it these past few weeks. The only sense of warmth I have of him in our house is some old shirts he left behind and our baby Alpine. She’s quiet and craves cuddles, just like her dad. “It uh… it doesn’t sound as good on the phone as I was hoping than in person, does it?” He chuckled out, trying to find a way to lighten the mood. I shook my head, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see me. “No, it does not.” I replied, clutching my phone close to my ear trying to imagine that he’s here right in front of me and his voice isn’t so staticy.

“You want to say hi to Alpine? She’s right here.” I looked down at the small animal on my lap as my hand began softly scratching her head. “Of course I do! Put her on.” I placed my phone on the arm rest and pressed the speaker button on my screen. “You’re on speaker, baby.” I heard him shuffling on the other end of the line before speaking up. “Alpine? You there?” The cat’s ears turned up and looked towards my phone. “You takin’ good care of your momma?”

She stood up and leaned closer to my phone, inspecting it. It’s like I could see the cogwheels in her head turn as she wondered how she could hear her dad’s voice if he wasn’t here. “She’s been keeping me company.” I smiled and heard him laugh on the other end. “Really?” He said. I could almost picture him smiling. “Yeah! We’re best buddies now. We have so many intellectual conversations.”

“I can’t wait to see it in person. I gotta get Sam to help me figure out how to take a video so I can just do it without messing up when I get home.” I chuckled at the thought of poor Sam having to deal with Bucky’s lack of phone knowledge and the constant bickering they’re bound to have. I swear, sometimes he really does act like a 100-somethin’ year old man. “Sergeant Barnes, you are something else.”

“Hey, you know I still have trouble understanding! I didn’t grow up with this kind of thing.”

“Then how is it that my grandmother is able to figure out Facebook better than you?” I laughed as he grumbled. “Your grandma had more time to figure it out! It’s not my fault she’s hip.”

I could just imagine what his face looks like right now. His eyebrows are probably scrunched up, his gaze is on the floor and his lips are pouty and just waiting to be kissed. I let out a chuckle and looked around our house. The decorations were put up soon after Thanksgiving. We played Christmas music in the background as we both decorated our tree, Alpine seeming to think this is another place for her to climb and make hers. Once Bucky put the star on top, everything just felt perfect, even though I knew I wouldn’t see him on the day of. “I’m really sorry that I wasn’t able to be there this year.” He said. “I tried my best to – ”

“Bucky, don’t worry about it. It’s okay, I completely understand. Our line of work doesn’t exactly allow us to have vacations, sort to speak. I’m not holding it against you.”

“I know, doll, but still. I thought I would at least be home for Christmas.”

“I know, baby, I know but there’s nothing else we can do about it. We’re in two different places and flights are backed up, so I guess we’ll just have to make due with what we’ve got.” I could feel tiny vibrations on my leg as Alpine purred against me, my hand not stopping to show her love. She seems content. He sighed and spoke up once again. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

I smiled. “I know you will.”

He cleared his throat as if he was trying to mask the sound of something. “Bucky… was that.. were you in a – ”

“Baby, did you get the thing that I sent you yet?” He cut me off as I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. “Um.. no, no I haven’t. I haven’t gotten anything.” He let out a groan. “No? Are you sure? FedEx promised me it would arrive in time for Christmas.” Alpine leaned in closer to my hand as I scratched the top of her head. “Doll, can you please do me a favor and keep an eye out for it? It could be arriving any minute.” I smiled to myself as I nodded. “Okay, I will.”

“I wanna hear as you see what I got you for Christmas.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “Bucky, you know I will love whatever you got me, but what I really want is you and I don’t think FedEx can send people over like that.” He let out a laugh. “Maybe they’d let me if Steve was to put in a good word.”

“You’re such an idiot.” I laughed and Alpine stirred in my lap, a quiet reminder for me to not move or else she’s gone and she’s the only thing in this house keeping me company. I could hear him huffing on the other line as I tried to figure out what he’s doing. “Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you?”

“What do you mean where am I? You know where I’m at.”

“No, I mean are you outside? I could hear you huffin’ and puffin’. Are you trying to keep warm?”

“Maybe there’s another reason why you can hear me breathin’ so hard. I’m talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone and she misses me just as much as I miss her.”

I stayed silent for a moment as I processed his words and gasped. You cheeky little fucker. “James!” My outburst along with Bucky’s laugh startled Alpine once more as she got up and left. “No! Kitty come back!” I could hear him practically wheezing in the background as she left to God knows where in our house. “What happened?”

“You made me scare Alpine out of my lap!” I whined as he continued to laugh at my expense. “Hey, you were the one who got the joke late and yelled, scaring our poor baby Alpine! That’s not my fault!”

“It is too! If you hadn’t made that joke, I wouldn’t have reacted that way!” I’m sure my face must be red from embarrassment as he continued on. “And to answer your question, with no hidden dirty jokes, I went out for a walk. I couldn’t stay in that hotel with Sam trying to find ways to decorate my arm with holiday decorations. Note to self, don’t let Sam buy tinsel and say it’s for the “tree at the Stark Tower”.”

I smiled at the thought of Steve being in the middle of these two teasing each other like children and not knowing which side he should take. Hearing his voice, even if it’s not crystal clear, makes me forget for a moment that he’s not here. There’s almost this sort of echo in the house that really makes you feel like you’re alone. It still breaks my heart, but I wouldn’t tell him to make him feel even worse about it. He’s trying his best and that’s all I could really hope for.

But I do wish he was here. Wherever Bucky goes, that’s home.

“Hey, I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say that you didn’t take the trash cans in like I asked you to.”

I was silent for a moment as I thought about what he said. “You didn’t, did you?” I shook my head and spoke. “Um no, I’m pretty sure I did.” I tried to lie and pretend like I didn’t forget, which in fact I know I did.

“Oh, really? Hmm… are you sure? ‘Cause something is telling me that you forgot.” I smiled and leaned back more into the couch and got comfortable. “I know I tend to be forgetful, but I’m pretty sure I already took them in.” I heard him chuckle. “Alright, alright I’ll believe you. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, baby..”

“Trying to put the guilt trip on me even when you’re not here, baby?” I laughed and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV. “I’m just stating the facts.. oh, hey, one second! I’m getting another call. I’ll be right back.” I waited for him as he placed me on hold and began to browse through Netflix to look for some good Christmas films to watch.

Before I could go to my suggestion list, I heard the doorbell ring.

“Weird, wrong number…” I heard his voice once again as he took me off hold. “Hey, I just heard the doorbell ring.” I spoke as I went to stand up. “It’s probably FedEx. Go check it out and take me with you!” I stood up, grabbed my phone and went to go and find a sweater to quickly put on. “Just uh do me a favor.” He requested. “Sure, baby. What is it?”

“I know you’re lonely at home, but try not to check out the delivery man too much, okay? Even if he is very handsome.” I laughed and shook my head. “Ohh, I don’t know Barnes. I gotta see what kind of a package I’m lookin’ at here.” I joked as he laughed. I walked over to the front door and opened it. My body stood still as my phone fell out of my hands.

“Delivery, for Mrs. – ” Before he could even finish the sentence, I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him towards me. I could feel and hear him laughing against me as his arms embraced me tighter into him. I could feel the cold air from outside come into the house, but I didn’t care. He was warm and he was standing at our doorstep.

He pulled me back so he could look at me and I could see a sheen of tears in his baby blues as he leaned down for a kiss. Both hands cupped my cheeks as he held me in place, his cold lips meeting my own. He’s grown out his stubble and it lightly tickled my top lip. I reached my hands up to tug at his hair and felt him smile against me as soft moans of content left his mouth. He pulled away too soon for my liking and looked down at me and laughed.

“Did ya miss me, doll?” I pulled him in for another kiss as he mumbled against my lips. “I can hardly tell.” His metal hand moved a strand of hair away from my face as he continued to smile at me. “But… how are you here? You’re supposed to be in – ”

“I know I know but we managed to finish the mission early and catch a flight. Turns out, Steve doesn’t mind using the Captain America card to get on a plane while running late.” He chuckled. He rubbed small circles on my cheek as I leaned into him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He leaned in to grant me one more kiss before pulling away to make a comment. “I know it seems hard to believe, but I made you a promise that I will try to be home for Christmas and I keep my promises… unlike someone I know who didn’t bring in the trash cans.”

Fuck…

“Oops? You’re not upset, right?” I asked as he shook his head. “No, baby I’m not upset. I could care less about them. I’ve just gone and gave myself the best present a guy could ask for… the love of his life, crying and cheeks reddened in his arms, clinging to him with all the might they can muster..” He laughed as he held me against him.

“I’m here and I’m not going anywhere… now let’s get inside, get a warm drink and see if we can warm ourselves up with each other.” He winked as I playfully slapped his arm. “Let’s go surprise Alpine.”

“Ahh! That’s right!” He walked in and yelled out. “Alpine? Daddy’s home! Where are you sweetheart?” I closed the door behind us and smiled at the thought of him finally being home. He took off his jacket just as she came out from wherever she was hiding. He crouched down as she walked up to welcome him home. “Hey, you. Ya missed me?” He chuckled as he looked up at me.

“Doll?”

“Yeah?” He smiled up at me, his cheeks rosy as he uttered, “Merry Christmas.”

~~~~

I hope y’all liked it! Please let me know your thoughts! Likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #christmas imagine #Bucky Barnes christmas #Bucky Barnes Christmas imagine #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas #please go easy on me #i haven't written in so long #i hope y'all like it #✨🎄✨🎄

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rhey-007 · 4 months

Text

The Family Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x reader x Pierre Gasly

Summary: Agreeing to do Charles a favor turns into hell when you meet his family for the first time and proceed to spend Christmas with them as his fake girlfriend.

(Based on "The Family Stone")

A/N: It's a LONG one just so y'know. I recently saw "The Family Stone" for the first time (LOVED IT, you have to watch it, I think I cried like 5 times lol) and an idea for this fic just randomly popped up in my brain shortly after. I've been writing this for past 2 weeks and finished it just yesterday. I hope you'll like it :)) I also wish everyone happy Christmas or whatever you're celebrating! 🎄🎉

Warnings/Tags: female reader, vegetarian reader, Atheist reader, toxic family, orphan reader - basically reader is op 😅, family fluff, toxic Pascale, mentions of sex

Wordcount: 9465

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🎄˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You never thought you’d ever find yourself pretending to be Charles' girlfriend. Yet there you were, getting out of his car seeing his whole family curiously looking at you through the window. You’ve known the Monegasque for a few years already and befriended him almost immediately but never met his family. That’s why you were the first person who came to his mind when his mother mentioned bringing a girl over for Christmas. His family was tormenting him about a partner for too long, so to make them calm down he asked you for this favor, even offering you money which you didn’t accept.

The house Charles rented in Austria was quite big, big enough to accommodate the 9 of you. It was made out of wood, with a forest near by and a great view at the mountains. It literally took your breath away. Although you felt a little uneasy feeling six pairs of eyes as the two of you made your way to the door.

“Don’t let them walk over you... They might be a little... Possessive and overprotective of me...”

The man explained ringing the doorbell and soothing your back with a smile. You had to admit you felt a little nervous. Heck REALLY nervous. You've heard so many things about them on your way there, some positive and some negative. Well... Mostly negative, but just because Charles wanted you to get ready for the chaos.

“Charlie!”

His mother appeared in the door a few seconds after, hugging her precious baby tightly and shooting you a glare.

“Hi mom, this is Y/N. I told you she’ll join us”

Charles disclosed before you greeted his mother with a firm handshake. You walked inside, the man instantly helping you with your coat, then introduced you to the rest.

“Y/N those are my brothers Lorenzo and Arthur. This beauty is Carla, Arthur’s one and only. And last but not least - Carlos and his girlfriend Rebecca, family close friends. Guys this is Y/N”

You smiled cutely at the 5 and hugged them gently before Charles and Arthur left to get your suitcases and Carla showed you the room you would stay in.

“Is everything alright?”

The girl asked soon, noticing you playing with your fingers uneasily. You shook your head with a soft smile. You couldn’t tell her you expected to sleep in a different room than Charles, could you? You both would feel uncomfortable as you were just friends in reality, but maybe in this skit you had to commit to the role a little bit more.

In meanwhile Arthur initiated a conversation with his older brother about you, who didn’t really like it.

“Really? This is her?”

The younger one asked taking out your bag from the trunk.

“What do you mean?”

Charles huffed slowly getting angry. From his whole family Arthur always seemed the most tolerant, but what he was about to hear changed Charles’ opinion completely.

“Come on man! Can’t you see it?! She’s just a bimbo falling for you money!”

“What did you just say?”

The older growled gripping Arthur’s collar and pulling close to himself. The vain on his forehead was about to pop and his face was all red as his gaze pierced through his brother. No one could say such gross things about you, especially not in his presence.

“Don’t you dare disrespect her like that”

He hissed letting his brother go and walking back inside with your bag. After they brought them upstairs, Charles dismissed Carla and Arthur before closing the door and sighing heavily.

“Charles?...”

You said quietly, sitting on his bed and playing with the hem of your beige golf sweater. He turned around to you and sat down beside. His hand rested on your thigh soothing it gently while he looked at you with an asking expression.

“So uh... I-I was hoping for a room for my own... I-I don’t know like a guest room or something... If that’s not a problem of course...”

Bitting your lip softly you looked down and felt the man’s hand stop. Was he disappointed? Yes. Did he expect that? Also yes. He exhaled gripping your limb.

“I can sleep on the floor, it’s not a pro-”

“What! No! It’s your room. I should be the one sleeping on the floor if there’s no free one! ”

You cut him off and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I can ask mom. I’m sure we’ll find something free. Now come on, let’s go eat something”

You followed the man downstairs to the dining room where Pascale and Rebecca set the table. When you eagerly offered your help the older woman completely ignored you, she didn’t even know you well enough to draw conclusions but apparently she already drew them on the porch. You wondered why though. Were you dressed improperly? If you could even call a beige sweater and black jeans an improper outfit... Maybe it was your makeup that alienated her from you. But you only wore mascara, some soft blush and lip oil...

Maybe it was Charles. Too perfect to have and don’t have a second half. Or maybe it was just Pascale hoping he would bring home someone she knew, someone she hooked him up with. You had no idea but had to know to improve your image in the older woman’s eyes and play the role of her child’s girlfriend better.

Once the table was ready, everyone sat down and said a brief pray – even though you weren’t Chistian you respected their beliefs and joined in the little act. By the time everyone started to eat you noticed your portion was just the same as everyone else’s – meatballs in tomato sauce with delicious puree and caesar salad - although you made sure Charles informed his mother you were vegetarian. You decided not to inform her by the dinner table, instead wanting to talk about it later in the kitchen alone but the blonde initiated the conversation herself when she noticed you pushing the meat aside.

“Is something wrong?”

She asked to which you didn’t respond at first, too occupied by staring at the plate. Charles’ poke got you out of trance and made look at his mother.

“Oh! Uh... N-No, everything’s alright. Why?”

“You didn’t touch the meatballs...”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows while you shrunk in your seat.

“Well uh... I-I don’t eat meat-”

Pascale burst out laughing not letting you finish your sentence, her kids following with faint chuckles, except of Charles.

“Mom, I told you million times...”

“But I didn’t thought you were serious! That’s just ridiculous! How can you live without eating meat? No wonder you look so weak”

You looked back down at your plate, not wanting to argue with her. Her words and laugh hurt you a tad, but Charles warned you she might be critical.

“Look at me when I talk to you-”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you miss but that’s who I am and you’re not gonna change that. I’m sure the meat is tasty, just as the rest, but I won’t eat it nonetheless”

You snaped not being able to hold yourself back anymore. No woman should disrespect another woman. Your words brought a smile to Charles’ lips, he was proud of you for stepping up for yourself as you never really did that, always being a shy mouse.

“I'm also not Christian but respect your beliefs and joined in your pray. So it would only be fair if you respected my eating habits- Or what I should rather call eating disorder because I am in fact deathly allergic to meat”

Pascale scoffed as if she was offended by your statement.

“That's an absurd-“

“Mom can we talk? “

Charles cut in, pointing his head towards the kitchen as he stood up. The woman rolled her eyes and followed after her son.

“Who the hell did you brought!? A vegetarian. Not a Christian. Tell me she's also a man! Or maybe she is a widow, huh? Oh Charlie, Charlie... You could do way better... “

Pascale grabbed Charles’ arms and was about to shook him when he shrugged her hands off and took a step back.

“Don't. Don't touch me. I told you she's a vegetarian. I told you so many times but of course you didn't listen. Why do you have such a problem!? You don't even know her yet! You always told me you'll respect whoever I bring home, even a man, yet you deny your words now!”

“I just want the best for my little boy... “

“I'm not your little boy anymore! I'm a grown ass man and I'll date whoever I want. Either you like them or not. So deal with it! “

Charles hissed before leaving the kitchen and joining you back in the dining room. He huffed angrily, flopping down beside you and continuing to eat without a word. An uncomfortable silence fell since he left that lasted until the end of the meal.

You felt responsible for ruining the moods of Leclerc's, especially their mother, but what else were you supposed to do? You couldn’t let anyone disrespect you like that and laugh into your face for your beliefs. After the dinner you locked yourself up in Charles' room.

“Well... That went great... “

You sighed flopping down onto his bed and whining loudly.

“Yeah... Amazing... “

The Monegasque nodded sitting down beside you.

“I'm sorry... I should have said I'm just not hungry. Maybe she would’ve let it go earlier then”

You said turning to your side and looking up at him. Smiling down at you, he brushed your hair away from your face and gazed a little too long before responding.

“It's okay... She would have to find out sooner or later... I'm sorry too. Didn’t expect she would be so possessive already... “

Charles layed down and turned his head to you, his hand grabbing yours and squeezing it gently. If he knew his mother would be THAT critical he wouldn’t have taken you with him. He cared for you too much to want to see you hurt, but his mom was too impossible to foresee even for him to predict that. He just wished that after that week you would still like to be friends with him... Maybe even more if the situation settles down and everyone calms down.

“Go take a shower and relax a little... I'll go find some mattress and set everything up... It'll be better for you to stay here. We don’t want another fight do we? “

You chuckled a little shaking your head and got up. Although you still preffered to sleep in another room, you didn’t want another quarrel with Pascale.

“This is gonna be an interesting week... “

You said before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts. How was he going to convince his family and friends to like you, when the head of his family already hated you? He had no idea but had to come up with something soon, or else the Christmas would be ruined.

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Next day an excited and loud array of voices woke you up. You grumbled turning your back to the door and looking down at the floor where Charles previously slept. The mattress he layed on now cold with sheets neatly displayed on top, which meant he must have left quite a long time ago. You got up hearing the man in question call you and rubbed your eyes softly while leaving the room. Stumbling down the stairs your eyes felt heavy and with one too long blink you found yourself falling down, someone catching you quickly before you hit the floor.

“Are you okay?”

A male voice said, hot breath fanning your face and a smell of fresh mint, cedarwood and cinnamon hit your nostrils. When you opened your eyes you noticed it wasn’t Charles who caught you, the Monegasque standing beside you and the stranger holding your arm firmly.

“I-I’m okay... I just woke up and uh... I-I'm sorry...”

You mumbled pulling away from the handsome man that held you, now able to take a better look at him. He was almost as tall as Charles, had blue hipnotizing eyes, full pink lips and a gorgeous smile.

“Y/N this is Pierre, another friend of the family”

Charles introduced you to one another as you shook your hands. You had to admit the man was really handsome, even more than your ‘boyfriend’, making your eyes unable to tear away from him. Pierre smirked noticing you stare at which you blushed softly and looked away sheepishly. If he had to be honest, if not Charles he would’ve try to pick you up right there and then. You were a really beautiful gal, your ginger hair looked so smooth the only thing he wanted was to play with them the whole day, your green eyes shined like if you had stars in them and the soft freckles across your face complimented them so well.

“Look who woke up... Our sleeping beauty...”

Pascale scoffed seeing the three of you walk into the kitchen.

“Welcome Pierre”

She cooed giving the man a tight hug and a kiss to his cheek. You figured he was like a son to her, actually her favourite child as you later found out.

“Long time no see ma. How have you been? You happy with Charlie’s new girlfriend?”

He teased looking at you at which you just rolled your eyes pouring yourself a cup of warm coffee and ignoring the older woman’s response.

“Oh her? Please... He could’ve done waaay better!”

“What, why? Y/N’s a really beautiful girl and I bet she’s smart too”

The French tried to defend you but it was useless.

“She’s vegetarian. Says she’s deathly allergic to meat but I feel like that’s just a lie... And she’s not Christian. Sooner or later she’ll make my little boy convert!”

She whispered to Pierre, loud enough for you to hear.

“That’s it? Oh good thing she’s not a man!”

He joked with a loud laugh before stepping away and joining everyone by the table. You enjoyed your dark liquid sitting by Charles, his arm wrapped around your waist squeezing it from time to time as he conversed with his siblings, Carlos and Pierre. You observed the group carefully, sometimes looking at Pascale.

From what you’ve caught Carlos and Rebecca seemed the most unproblematic, which didn’t mean they didn’t talk about you behind your back, Lorenzo was the quiet one, not really joining in the conversation prefering to read his book and eat in peace, while Pierre, Charles and Arthur were the triplets of chaos with Carla and Pascale being their tamers.

You didn’t fit in with that family at all, always feeling their judging stares on yourself especially with Charles glued to your side. But there was one gaze except of his that felt different. Pierre didn’t judge your every step, his eyes were full of either admiration or sympathy whenever you looked at him, always ready to help if you needed it.

Leclerc also noticed his best friend’s weird interest in you but as much as you didn’t care he did. He felt jealous seeing him watch you with heartful eyes, touch you whenever he had a chance, constantly talk to you, and you only knew each other for a day! Charles’ gut wrenched at those moments, wanting to tear the man apart.

But why did he care so much? You were just friends after all. But he didn’t consider you just a friend. You were more, his whole world, a person he couldn’t live without. He knew that since you’ve met, trying to find a perfect moment to confess his feelings, wanting to do this on Christmas Eve.

That was also another reason why he asked you to pretend his girlfriend in front of his family. But with Pierre on his way... It would be hard. Especially if you felt too comfortable with the French man and told him the truth, then he wouldn’t hold back anymore and wrap you around his finger immediately and Charles couldn’t let that happen.

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After yet another unpleasant dinner you left to pick a Christmas tree and finish up buying presents. It was a little tradition of Leclerc’s to pick the tree all together and you felt glad they wanted you to join them, at least Charles and Pierre did. You strode through the main square holding Charles’ hand and admiring the Christmas market.

Pierre walked by your other side, getting envious every time the Monegasque pressed a kiss to either part of your body or pulled you slightly away from him. He wished he could be the one to bring you to that beautiful place on a date, to have you all for himself, for you to be his... But you weren’t and instead Pierre had to pretend he was happy for you and his best friend and it was really hard at times.

“Come on kids! Faster! The queue is already forming!”

Pascale shouted from a few meters away as she turned around and saw your group getting distracted by the various stalls.

“Queue for what?”

You’ve asked the boys, confusion clearly painted on your face.

“Santa”

They responded in unison rushing you over to the rest.

“Santa? Aren’t you too old?”

“Naaah. We’re gonna get a family picture with him. It’s another of our traditions”

Pierre cleared out with a huge smile. As you waited the two men told you about and showed you every picture from previous years, making fun of little Arthur always crying sitting on Santa’s lap.

Tears slowly started to fill your eyes at the cute stories, but you’ve managed to blink them away quickly so neither men noticed them. You wished you could’ve had such a childhood, full of fun, family and love but you guessed it wasn’t meant to be. At least now you could have some fun, even though the majority of the family hated you.

When your turn came you positioned yourself freely, you stood on the right in front of the boys almost right next to Santa, but Pascale felt like something was wrong and started to rearrange everyone. Eventually Carlos, Rebecca and Lorenzo landed on the left, Arthur and Carla sat on the old man’s laps – just as always, she took your place in front of her two favourites and you stood next to Charles almost getting cut out of the picture.

Nonetheless the photo came out great and you were happy you received one of the copies. After meeting Santa you went to pick the tree and then everyone scattered to buy presents. Charles left with Pierre, the Spaniard with his girlfriend, Pascale with the youngest and you were left with Lorenzo.

“So uh... I-I guess we’re the only ones left...”

You muttered and the man nodded. You stood in the middle of the square in complete silence until he spoke up.

“Listen uh... I asked Charlie to leave us cause I wanted to talk with you. I hope you’re not mad...”

Lorenzo looked down and started to play with his finger nervously. You started to think of all the things he could want to talk with you about but what you were about to hear shocked you.

“Oh um... As long as you won’t offend me like the rest of your family does I won’t”

“I won’t. I promise. But- Can we go to a café?”

You agreed with a quiet sigh then followed the man. He brough you to a simple but full of Christmas atmosphere café and after you ordered some mulled wine and cookies he started.

“I wanted to talk about Charles...”

“What about him?”

The man hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling it.

“I’ve talked with him about you... I wanted to know what plans he has for the future and if he sees you there with him. He said he loves you so much that he would try his best to persuade mom to give him our grandma’s engagement ring after the holidays... I shouldn’t tell you this but I just need to know... Do you want to have a future with Charles or are you, what Arthur calls you, just a bimbo falling for his money?...”

Your face went pale at the information. You hoped Charles said it just for your skit to be more convincing but the way Lorenzo said it, all serious and without any emotions on his face, started to worry you. Trying to gather your thoughts your eyes closed and palms turned into tight fists, something you always did when thinking hard.

“Hey relax... I-It's just a question... I didn’t mean to stress you out...”

The oldest Leclerc grabbed your hands and rubbed his thumbs along them. It actually helped you relax and think of a suitable answer.

“I don’t get me wrong... I love your brother with my whole hear. I really do. But I can’t tell you if I’d say yes to his proposal. I usually don’t think about the future, just living in the moment y’know?”

Lorenzo nodded understandingly. It seemed like you’ve managed to convince him it was true, but started to feel bad for constantly lying to them, especially since Lori seemed like a really nice guy. You’ve chatted for some time when eventually he apologized for his actions.

“I also wanted to apologise for my behavior... I usually don’t act like that but as you might have noticed out mother's influence is too heavy. Nonetheless I know I did wrong offending you like the others and I'm sorry once again. Seeing my brother so happy while with you made me understand that he actually loves you and that you aren’t as bad as mom is painting you... I hope you'll be able to forgive me one day... “

You smiled softly at the man and his genuine apology. You were really glad that at least one of them apologized to you and couldn’t be mad at him.

“It's okay I forgive you”

While you conversed, Pierre and Charles run around the square looking for a perfect gift for you.

“Oh man... Couldn’t you buy something in Monaco?!”

The Frenchman sighed as they entered yet another store. This time it was a jeweler full of gorgeous sets and classy watches.

“You know well I had no time. Besides, I don’t even know what she likes. I specifically insisted on entering the market from this alley so I could see if her eyes would shine after she notices something-”

“But they didn’t. How can you not know what she likes!? She’s your girlfriend!”

“I’m not sure, okay? I want it to be something unique”

Pierre nodded and soon they started to look for something that would match your vibe. Finally the Frenchman chose a gentle, soft pink butterfly set he noticed you look at as you passed the store, later surprised Charles didn’t notice it too, while the Monegasque opted for something more bold – a silver necklace with an emerald and matching earrings. Now they just had to choose which one Charles was going to buy.

“The green matches her eyes and hair”

“But it’s too heavy for her. The butterflies perfectly match her gentle aura”

“But they’re so small and light you wouldn’t see them on her fair skin...”

Eventually Charles bought what he choose himself. Little did he know that the next day Pierre came back to buy you the set he picked. He was a 100% sure you would like his present way more than Charles’.

Was it weird he bought such an expensive gift for his best friend’s girlfriend? Maybe, but he couldn’t care less. It was the only way for him to please you. He also bought a bottle of vanilla latte perfumes as the smell reminded him of you.

If he could, he would’ve showered you in presents, luxurious gowns from the most expensive boutiques of the world, crown jewels, multiple cars... But you weren’t his, not yet.

The man felt the weird dynamic between you and Charles, it seemed like he was the only one who noticed it. Maybe you two were acting like the sweetest couple ever, madly in love with each other, but you weren’t going to fool him.

He noticed how awkward you could be whenever Charles kissed you and you never kissed on the lips, he was also the only one giving kisses, your lips never touched any part of his skin. Neither did you remember some of the most important things about the Monegasque even though he had no problem remembering yours. Pierre knew there was something going on and he was about to find out soon.

When the boys found you and Lorenzo the four of you met up with the rest in one of the main square's restaurant. You expected something expensive and exclusive as Charles usually insisted on eating out in such restaurants but walking into the premise, a warm, family atmosphere hit you.

You actually enjoyed this little change and the comfortable place itself. You took a place by a long table, Pascale and Charles on either end like the heads of the family, even though it was Lorenzo who was the oldest brother. Through time you've noticed that the quietest Leclerc was often ignored or left out, so you weren’t surprised when Charles took what should’ve been Lori's place.

While you awaited your meals, a little boy around 4 years old run up to your table with a basket of cutlery and a piece of paper with a pen on top. He handed the basket to Charles then pointed at the paper and pen. The man chuckled and signed the paper then gave it to the boy after ruffling his hair. You smiled brightly at their little encounter. When the boy was about to run away a waitress, probably his mother, stopped him and turned him around.

“Honey what do we say? “

They made their way back to your table and the little boy quickly thanked Charles before running off.

“I'm sorry, he's a little shy”

The woman explained bringing your group the food you ordered. She was tall and beautiful, had long blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, seemed around your age and clearly caught Charles' eye. It wasn’t like he immediately fell in lover with her, but he did find her attractive. She was a perfect match for him in Pascale’s eyes and she couldn’t care less that she had a kid already.

Throughout the whole dinner Pascale talked the young woman and her son up, inviting them to eat with you which the blonde had to deny due to her being at work but let her little boy join you. Soon Leo opened up and turned out to be a bubble of joy. He sat on Charles' lap eventually moving to yours when Leclerc had to use the bathroom. That’s when Pascale asked.

“So Y/N. Are you thinking of having kids with Charles? “

You choked on your drink hearing the question. Putting the glass away you coughed a little before responding.

“Well uh... I-I don't want to have kids... I'm not really a fan of them... And I'm sure pregnancy is a beautiful thing but it just scares me too much... “

The blonde laughed. She always laughed into your face when you talked about your beliefs and you slowly couldn’t stand it.

“Oh you're funny. Charles wants to have a lot of kids so it's not like you have a choice. You'll change your mind when he gets you pregnant “

“I'm sure you would love that”

You mumbled under your nose sarcastically knowing well she'd rather die than let her son have kids with you.

“It's her body and her choice mom. If she doesn’t want to have kids I'm not gonna maker her”

Charles said as he overheard a bit of your conversation. His hand squeezed your arm reassuringly. He would never make you do something you didn’t want to.

“Then you should change her for a new model! I want to have grandkids! Leo's mom is a really nice woman. Perfect for you and already has a kid so it wouldn’t be a problem for her to have more “

“Mom”

Charles sighed heavily rubbing his forehead, his hand moving to your lap and soothing it. He felt how tense and angry you were even though you didn’t show it.

“What? I'm just saying the truth-“

“You're just ruining the atmosphere. Y/N is a perfect girl for our Charlie and you should not care if she's a vegetarian, an atheist, a red head, doesn’t want to have kids, etc. etc. What matters is that she loves him and he feels happy with her”

Lorenzo stepped in getting annoyed by his mother. He had enough of her critical opinions about you as you really weren’t that bad.

“And you, Brutus, against me? “

Pascale gasped at her oldest talking back for the first time.

“Yes. I have enough of you talking bad about Y/N. We all have, as it is the only topic you seem to care about. It’s Christmas we should act like a normal, happy family we are and be glad that Charles joined us at all and not criticize his girlfriend”

“Lori's right... You went too far... “

Pierre added quietly. The rest of the dinner Pascale was quiet. She felt sad after her kids words but didn’t feel bad after hers.

Back at home the boys apologized for being so harsh and made up with their mother, but it wasn’t like she was going to be nicer to you.

“I'm sorry for today... “

Charles mumbled handing you a cup of hot cocoa with some vodka and joining you on the couch. You snuggled next to him and thanked for the liquid, then said after taking a sip.

“It's okay I understand it... She would never like me... Good think it's going to end soon... “

You whispered the last sentence loud enough for only Charles to hear, even though you were the only ones awake. Or so you thought. Leclerc wasn’t the only one that heard you. A few seconds earlier Pierre made his way down stairs to have some water and he overheard your short conversation. At first his heart ached as he noticed you two on the couch, getting jealous it wasn’t him instead of Charles, but then the knot loosened after what you've said.

“It's going to end soon”

He started to slowly connect the dots which were a good omen for him. On the other hand, Charles felt sad. He didn’t want this to end, never. The man hoped that he'd manage to make you fall in love with him in those 2 days, although you didn’t seem to change your thoughts about him yet. He had to try harder. That night you fell asleep in his arms, he took you to your shared room and layed with you on the bed. He was shocked but at the same time glad that you didn’t wake up and make him sleep on the floor.

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Waking up to finding yourself on top of Charles wasn’t the best experience. You didn’t remember much from the previous night and started to worry that something happened between you two.

For the rest of the day you tried to ignore him as best as you could, which made Pascale happy. She hoped that after your previous day's conversation, you had a talk or maybe even a quarrel with her son that slowly led to your breakup. It was difficult though. It was the Christmas Eve after all and everyone had some chores to do, sometimes landing you with him to do something or just constantly passing him by.

You didn’t intend on blowing up by the Christmas table but this time Pascale started to offend your family. A family that died in a car accident when you were little, the view of firefighters putting out the burning crashed car as you sat int the ambulance and watched everything engraved in your brain, hunting you almost each night. That was another reason why you agreed to Charles’ request. You wanted to finally spend Christmas with a family in a pleasant atmosphere. But it wasn’t given to you...

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?! “

You shot up from your place and shouted on top of your lungs at the blonde.

“IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU'RE SUCH AN ALIEN! “

“I'M AN ALIEN?! LOOK AT YOURSELF! I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO YOU BUT YOU KEEP ACTING LIKE A BITCH! ALL OF YOU DO! I REGRET AGREEING TO EVEN COME HERE! NOT MENTIONING SPENDING ALMOST THE WHOLE WEEK WITH YOU! FUCK IT I'M GOING HOME TOMORROW. I PREFER TO SPEND THE CHRISTMAS ALONE THAN WITH YOU! “

“GREAT! LEAVE AND NEVER EVER COME BACK YOU SLUT! “

You left the dining room in tears, quickly put on your coat and run out of the house. Pierre rushed after you while Charles and Lorenzo started to fight with their mother.

Pierre hopped into his car and quickly drove up to you. He softly honked at you a few times while calling your name.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”

You shouted after stopping, mascara mixed with tears falling down your cheeks, hair disheveled and body trembling as you wore only your thigh length, red, sequin dress under the coat.

“Come in, please... You're freezing... “

After a few minutes of convincing, you got into the car and Pierre drove away.

“Where are you taking me?... “

You asked quietly, from time to time sniffling.

“Somewhere we can chill out in”

He explained squeezing your covered thigh. After you entered the vehicle he immediately took off his jacket and put it on your legs then planted his palm on your limb to assure you everything was going to be alright. Pierre parked his car in front of a bar then helped you out and inside. You ordered some drinks and filled one of the booths before chugging one after another. That's what you needed, to get drunk and forget about everything.

“Your family is hell... How do you even stand them!? “

You mumbled out with a hiccup. Your head was propped on your hand with the elbow on the table, you looked terrible, a wreck of a woman, but to Pierre you've looked more beautiful than ever. He was more than happy to have this little moment with you, even if it was supposed to end soon with you passing out. A thing he didn’t knew was that you had a really strong head and you were just a little tipsy after 3 drinks and 2 beers.

“I don’t know either... They're usually not that bad... I don’t know what happened this time”

“I happened. You can’t deny it... They just hate me for nothing and I can’t stand it anymore! “

Your free hand hit the table almost spilling your 3rd beer.

“Yeah I've noticed”

The man chuckled while you huffed unamused, your brows furrowing.

“It's funny to you? “

You hissed at which he shook his head.

“Maybe a little... “

Pierre admitted making you hit his head with a beer cap. He laughed once again this time getting one out of you too. Soon you got really comfortable with him and did what Charles feared the most.

“You know... There's something I want to tell you... “

“I'm listening”

“I'm... I'm not actually Charles’ girlfriend... We're just best friends and he asked me to come with him so you would stop asking him about a second half... Guess that didn’t turn out as he wished it would... “

You sighed melting into the couch. The man was silent for a while before he stood up and sat next to you.

“Then... You won’t be mad if I do this?... “

Looking up at him confused you felt his palm capture your chin and his finger brush along your bottom lip while gazing lovingly and deeply into your eyes. Before you could say something he connected your lips in a soft kiss, giving you time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead straddling his lap and deepening the kiss. It might have been because of the alcohol, or just because of your mutual attraction that you soon found yourself naked in the back of his car, getting marked and taken great care of. It felt bad but oh so good... By midnight you came back home and continued your sinful ministrations in his bedroom.

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Waking up on the first day of Christmas by his side you finally felt like you belonged there, belonged to the family, belonged to him. You weren’t scared, weirded out nor uncomfortable, not like with Charles. You felt as if Pierre was the one thing that was missing in your life.

“Morning... “

Soon you could hear him mumble. You looked up with a soft smile and placed a soft kiss to his lips.

“Will you drive me back home?... I'm not sure I'll be able to look Charles in the eyes after yesterday... “

You sighed resting your chin on top of his chest and played with it's hair. Pierre raised his eyebrow at you, a slightly sad expression forming on his face.

“You didn’t... Enjoy it?”

He whispered at which you shook your head.

“No, no. I enjoyed it, I really did but... I don’t know... It felt a bit wrong... “

You looked away with a sigh thinking of Charles’ reaction if he found out what you two were up to the previous night. He would've been furious with both of you most probably starting a fight and setting the house on fire and neither of you would like that.

“Stay... Just for the breakfast... And I'll drive you home in the afternoon. You still have presents to give us don’t you? “

Pierre started to rub your back and draw patterns on it, trying to calm you down and make relaxed once again.

“I'm sure you wouldn’t like them... Besides Charles can give them to you-”

“But I want to receive it from you. Not from Charles. Not from Lorenzo. From you. Please... Stay... For me... “

Looking into his eyes you saw the sparkles and hearts once again, your heart melting at the sight. You exhaled and agreed reluctantly. That family was going to be the end of you... You were about to get up and start getting dressed when Lorenzo knocked on the door and walked in right after.

“Pierre where's Y/N-“

You hid your bare chest from his view and pulled away from Pierre but was unable to say anything when Lorenzo quickly left and shut the door.

“Fuck. We're fucked. Oh my god that was a bad idea”

You rumbled while getting dressed in the speed of light. When you shot out of Gasly's room you bumped into Leclerc, patiently waiting for you to leave.

“Lori I-“

“Shhh... It's not your fault. You let him fool yourself, but it’s no wonder considering the situation you’re in. I don’t blame you and won’t tell anyone. Now, go make yourself presentable. We don’t want mom to see you like this do we? “

The man placed a kiss on top of your head before rushing you away. You were really confused with his reaction but glad as fuck that he didn’t immediately run to Charles to tell him. After you walked away, Lorenzo stormed into Pierre's room.

“WHAT THE FUCK MAN?! “

Lorenzo tried to throw a punch straight to Gasly's face but due to being way weaker, the Frenchman easily stopped him pinning him down on the bed.

“Calm down and shut up”

He hissed before releasing Leclerc.

“Are you crazy?! She's Charlie’s girlfriend! He's your bestfriend! Your family! “

Pierre rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. He knew well that what you did was wrong but he didn’t feel bad. Quite the contrary. He felt like on cloud 9 after spending the night with you. Not only because you had sex but because you could finally be alone. Just the two of you. No Pascale. No Charles. Just Y/N and Pierre.

In meanwhile you passed Pascale on the corridor. Of course she wasn’t happy to see you in the morning, but thankfully didn’t pay attention to your tired and disheveled state. Neither did the woman notice you leave Pierre’s room earlier.

“What are you still doing here? “

Turning around on your heel you took a deep breath and started.

“I decided to stay until tomorrow morning. Just for Charles. And I sincerely apologize for my yesterdays manners. I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that but your own actions aren’t the best either. I’m sorry once again “

The woman looked you up and down in complete silence before walking away without a word. The only thing she could admit she liked about you was that you were able to apologize and admit your mistakes, not like herself.

“Where were you?”

Charles asked as you quietly entered your shared room, hoping you wouldn’t wake him up but he was up all night.

“I’ve tried to reach you and Pierre the whole night. Where. Were. You. “

The man got up from the bed and slowly walked up to you, caging you between the door and himself.

“Pierre took me to a bar... We’ve spent there the whole night and came back like 2 hours ago... “

You gulped looking up at the man. Good thing you went to the bathroom and corrected your appearance before going in there or you would've been in way more trouble. Charles sighed, his hands capturing yours and squeezing them gently.

“I was looking for you everywhere... You don’t even know how worried I was... I know you were angry but you could’ve at least let me know you’re alright... Or make Pierre call me... “

One of his hands brushed your cheek as his eyes averted between yours and your pink lips. Charles wanted to kiss you so bad but figured you could be still mad and decided otherwise. Plus he was still furious at Pierre taking you somewhere without his knowledge, and if you blew up he would blow up too. Then knowing your both’s tempers the whole house would be on fire with Pascale and Arthur constantly adding gasoline.

“I know... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to worry you, it’s just that... I couldn’t stand it anymore... I want to go home...”

A single tear fell down your cheek which Charles quickly kissed away. He hated to see you in that state, but what he hated even more was that he was the one who caused it. If he hadn’t asked you for that favor, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. He was a shitty bestfriend.

“I love her okay? I just... I just can’t help it... “

Pierre blurted out making Lorenzo shut up and look at him in disbelief. He couldn’t believe in the Frenchman.

“You- WHAT?! “

The Monegasque threw himself at Pierre, a fight unraveling between the two, destroying almost the whole room before they flew out of it through the door, landing on the floor with a loud thump. The noise caught everyone’s attention, saving you from the too uncomfortable conversation with Charles.

“Oh my god boys!”

Pascale tried to push them away from each other before getting shooed over by Carlos and Arthur, so she wouldn’t accidentally get hurt, who stopped the fight. Lorenzo wriggled in his younger brother’s arms angrily, blood running down his nose while Pierre already calmed down a little and touched his black eye gently.

“What have you done!?”

Pascale shouted at you with anger in her eyes. Sure the fight was about you but it’s not like you caused it... Maybe not entirely but still.

“Why do you already accuse me?! I wasn’t even there! I was with Charles!”

The middle Leclerc nodded confirmingly while his arm wrapped around your waist pulling you close in a protective manner. Pierre wanted to vomit at the sight, blood boiled in his vains and he was ready to start another fight this time with Charles but knew better than that. The man just wanted the Christmas to be over so he could finally take you out somewhere and spend some time with you in a normal, nice atmosphere. Without Charles, without Lorenzo, without his family. Just you and him. Together.

“But I’m sure it’s your fault! My boys aren’t my boys anymore since you’ve showed up here! You’ve ruined them! “

You were ready to throw a punch at her and you would’ve done that if not her whole family watching you. Instead you just kept rushing Lorenzo to the bathroom to help him with his nose and talk about the fight.

“I did not expect this from you...”

You huffed angrily, sitting him down on a stool in front of you.

“This is a house of fucking madmen...”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry... But when Pierre disrespected my little brother like that I just couldn’t hold it in anymore...”

The man sighed looking up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes of his. You softly shook your head before proceeding to wipe the blood away from underneath his nose.

“I think... I need to tell you something. You just... Need to stay calm okay?”

“I don’t like where this is going...”

“I know you love your brother with your whole heart and think I’m the best lady he could have but... This is all a lie... We’re not together... We’re just best friends... He asked me to join you because he had enough of constant questions about the other half and hoped bringing me with himself would solve it... But it didn’t. Instead making even more chaos...”

You said on one breath then watched Lori’s face for any signs of his reaction. The man was quiet for a longer time before finally speaking.

“Oh... That's... That’s a pity... And... And I started to get so happy you would be my sister in law... I’m sorry that’s- that’s just stupid”

The Monegasque stood up and was about to leave when you grabbed his shoulders and sat him back down. You embraced him in a warm hug and gave a gentle kiss to his head.

“I may not be your sister in law but you can always count on me. No matter what. You’re like a brother I’ve never had, Lori”

“Stop it or I’m gonna cry...”

He hid his face in the crook of your neck while hugging you back. He felt sad that you and Charles weren’t actually together and was sorry for his brother due to his apparent attraction to you and your obliviousness.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🎄˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“This morning started just incredibly...”

Pascale sighed as she sat down in her armchair in the living room. The whole group already after breakfast now waiting for Lorenzo, who was still with you, to join them so they could unpack their presents. The atmosphere was dense, you could cut it with a knife, yet you still decided to give them your presents first to have it over already. You walked down the stairs with Lorenzo, both holding a few bags, then entered the quiet living room. Taking a deep breath you started your monologue while the Monegasque handed out your gifts.

“I know you have enough of me already, so you can do whatever you want with those. Sell them. Throw them away. Heck even burn them! I don’t care. I just wanted to say sorry that I ruined your Christmas and hopefully next year everything would be way better. Without me of course. Coming here I was hoping for an enjoyable, family Christmas – one that I haven’t had since I was five, when my parents died. But it turned out how it turned out and honestly... In contrast to what I’ve said yesterday – I don’t regret joining you. I am just crazy and this was fun. You can open those now”

With that said you let them open the gifts. Each one of them received a different, knitted by you, Christmas sweater. You once saw a really old family photo at Charles’, one where his father was still alive and Arthur was just a little baby. Everyone was dressed in sweaters like those, with huge smiles on their faces and you hoped to recreate that moment before you came there.

You’ve tried your best to freshen out their designs while keeping the overall vibe of each piece, spending a lot of time on making them without Charles’ knowledge. Now you couldn’t care less.

But seeing their reactions, especially Pascale’s, made your heart break in half. The older woman started to cry, the rest following after. Some just sniffling like Pierre or Charles, too manly to show any emotions. Some cried their eyes out like Arthur and the older woman, which shocked you a lot. You looked confused between them before Carlos spoke up.

“Herve used to make such sweaters for us every Christmas... Then took million photos of us wearing them, proud of his opus... We haven’t worn such sweaters for Christmas every since his death... Thank you Y/N... It’s the best gif we could’ve ever receive”

The man got up hugging you tightly, Rebecca and Lorenzo following shortly after.

“It even looks like my first one...”

Arthur blurted out, almost choking on his tears as he looked down at the piece then back at you.

“Thank you...”

“I... I had no idea...”

You mumbled out. Your heart melted at the view and you were more than pleased that they loved them.

“I’m sorry...”

Soon you heard Pascale whisper through tears. You smiled softly and crouched down in front of her embracing her in a warm hug. The woman didn’t say anything instead hiding her face in your shoulder. You held her like that for a longer time, not saying a word not wanting to startle her, as the whole family watched with huge smiles. When she pulled away you wiped her tears away and helped her put on the sweater.

“It’s beautiful... Thank you...”

The older woman said quietly, while looking down. She was too ashamed to look into your eyes. After receiving your gift she finally understood that you tried your best to fit into their family, not trying to impose your views on them which she accused you of.

She understood her behaviour towards you was horrible and undeserved as you didn’t do anything bad to her nor her son. Quite the contrary. You seemed to make Charles even more happier than he was.

The death of her husband and constant thought of loosing her children too changed her so much she didn’t even realise she started to be toxic. And it wasn’t only to you. Earlier she was critical of every previous girlfriend that any of her sons brought home, but she was just terrible to you and nothing could justify her doings. But your heart was too big to not forgive her after her apology. You felt it was sincere and even shed a tear before hugging her once again.

After you had your little moment with Pascale, Charles got up and announced.

“Well... I guess I should say sorry too. To all of you. For lying straight into your faces... We’re actually not together with Y/N. I just wanted you to fuck off from my love life, that’s why I brought her... I’m sorry once again... “

The whole family forgave him immediately, actually being a little sad it all was a lie as they saw the fire in Charles’ eyes whenever he looked at you.

“Tell her...”

Lorenzo tried to persuade his younger brother quietly, earning a confused look from you and Pascale.

“Tell me what?”

You asked soon, too impatient to wait. You watched the man make his way over to you and sit down beside you on the floor. He captured your hands in his and gave each a sweet kiss before confessing his love.

“I love you Y/N L/N. I always did... Since we’ve met I knew you were the one for me... I can’t live without you. Without your smile. Without your laugh. Those beautiful green eyes... I just- Will you be my girlfirend? This time for real?...”

Feeling uneasy with what you’ve just heard and all the eyes watching you, you looked at Pierre hoping he’d help you. He was hurt and scared you would say yes, making your eyes water.

“No you can’t- You can’t be in love with me... That’s a joke right? Please tell me it’s a joke”

Shaking your head you felt tears spill down your cheeks and an awkward chuckle escaped your lips. It was all too much for one day.

“It’s not like I haven’t been humiliated enough...”

You stood up from your place and was about to leave when Charles caught your hand and stopped you.

“Y/N I’m serious”

“Serious!? Nothing in this house- this family, is serious! You all hate me for stupidest things ever and you dare to say you’re serious!?”

You hissed, emotions steering inside of you, slowly spilling out.

“We don’t hate you...”

Arthur said but you knew better.

“OH REALLY?! And you of all people say that. Y/N this... Y/N that... A bimbo. A heathen. A leafhead! That’s what you all think of me... You think I’m not good enough for your Lord Perceval... And I don’t want to be! I’m an alien who ruined your Christmas and then slept with Pierre!”

You shouted out without realising what you’ve just said.

“What?”

Charles confused question made you comprehend your words and cover your mouth with your hands in shock. The room felt silent, only the faint sound of clock ticking could be heard until the middle Leclerc launched himself at Gasly.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

“Not again!”

Pierre shouted as they dropped out the door, this time the front ones, onto the cold and wet snow. The other men tried to get them away from one another, each failing getting hurt in proces.

“You motherfucker how could you! You’re my best friend and you fucked the girl you knew well I love!”

Soon Leclerc straddled Pierre, palms tightly wrapped around his neck trying to choke him. You’ve never seen Charles so mad, which only confirmed his words that he indeed loved you. Otherwise he wouldn’t try to kill his bestie. Finally, after the 7 of you managed to pull them away you wanted to sink into the ground and die.

“You hate me now, don’t you?”

You asked quietly, entering the room you previously shared with Charles. The Monegasque sat on the bed and gazed at something way before you came there, not moving an inch even after you sat down next to him.

“I'm sorry-“

“I should’ve told you a long time ago... “

“But it my answer would've been no different... I love you Charles, but as a brother and nothing will change that. I'm sorry... “

The man layed down and placed his head on your legs as you started to play with his hair. You've talked for a long time eventually understanding each other's feelings and that nothing would come out of it.

With time and your help, Charles has managed to move on from you. Exactly a year later, you met at the same house once again, this time in a slightly changed composition.

Charles burst in with Leo in his arms and Kate following shortly after. They greeted everyone before finally walking up to you and Pierre.

“We have a little surprise... “

You bit your lip out of excitement while Pierre lifted up his last year's sweater from tour belly revealing a baby bump.

“We think of naming him Perceval”

The Frenchman teased as Leclerc gazed at you in disbelief and excitement.

“Oh you have to call him Charles or Charlie. You owe me that! “

He joked with a loud chuckled, secretly hoping you actually would do that.

"I thought you didn't want to have kids"

Kate asked. You gazed up at Pierre with a loving look them averted your eyes back to Charles and his new girlfriend.

"I think I'm ready"

You never thought that agreeing to help your best friend would change your life 360 degrees. Yet there you were, just a year later, finally accepted in the family, carrying it's another member. You couldn’t have wished for better holidays...

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