#Christmas was awful this year and honestly I love this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

periprose · 9 months

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Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet.

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too.

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself.

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad.

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember.

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that.

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing.

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age.

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it.

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little.

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry.

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.”

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too.

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick.

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice.

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.”

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included.

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient.

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone.

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late.

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt.

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear.

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all.

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees.

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort.

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small.

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust.

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you.

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again.

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are.

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said.

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off.

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod.

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something.

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb.

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours.

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security.

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far.

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you.

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that.

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this.

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough.

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too.

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance.

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often.

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too.

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him.

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better.

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about.

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?”

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other.

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do.

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further.

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

1K notes · View notes

pupcuck · 5 months

Text

JINGLE BALLS !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, leon is creepy ngl, dub-con at first then consensual, daddy issues, you get compared to your mom lots, creampie, daddy kink

note. HAII sorry for this being late omg :3 umm this is weird and jolty and the plot im not totally happy with but :333 ignore typos or I will cry!! feedback and reblogs always so appreciated :3

tumblr removes fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that these fics contain dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“Pumpkin!” Your dad’s embrace is stiff per usual. This guy - he seriously needs a lesson in intimacy. Can’t go hugging your daughter the same way you do a girlfriend. Dads shouldn’t put their hands below your midriff. They certainly shouldn’t grip your hips and pull you close with such fervour, now you’re tit to tit with the man who gifted you your pornstar rack. And it’s a bit awkward to say the very least.

“Hi, dad.” He backs off, skittish when he hears your tone of voice. Flat and clipped.

“Sweetpea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Leon starts, he’s laying it on super thick, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” Oh, you’re exhausted already.

“Mhm.” You nod in disinterest as you toe off your shoes, place them beside his mud-caked boots. Leon is your dad. Your dad is just a guy to you. One that’s around never, you see him seldom and from afar. He’s not exactly awful, but he’s nothing great. A little touchy if anything, and enthusiastic in a way that comes across as disingenuous.

The only thing you really know about Leon is that he’s your dad, he works with the government, and he’s still hung up on your mom. You can tell from a mile away. Looks at her like she crafted the earth itself, mapped out the stars, plucked them from the sky to make him a new moon. Totally whipped for a woman who forgets he exists until major holidays roll around. And you get it honestly, your mom is pretty, fun, and she’s all you’ve got. So you might take after dad in that sense.

You’ve seen the kinda women he brings home. That time you caught him mid disgusting, nasty, abhorrent sex act that you’ve only seen in porn. Had this poor girl’s head tilted so far back, blonde curls like liquid gold running along her back, brushing the swell of her ass, his arm wrapped around her neck - like, was he trying to fucking kill her? Well, she liked it clearly. That’s beside the point, when you saw her face the following morning, her sheepish smile and the slant of her eyes - you got it. Mom. She looked like mom. You overheard him telling her she was too young for him, a college girl, his daughter’s age - only after he came down her throat though. What a creep.

Then there was his girlfriend from a few years back, this chick who popped her gum too loud, bossed him around and got him to pay for a new set of acrylics weekly. It was uncanny the resemblance between her and mom. What next? You? Is it your turn to be pursued by Leon, by dad? The only thing you’ve got from him is tits, busty like your daddy, pretty like your mommy. And he fucking knows it. You know he does.

Leon places a hand on your lower back. Like, way lower back, the spot a boyfriend would touch when he wants to initiate a quickie. You shiver, glance at him through your peripheral as he guides you to the lounge, the wooden floor is so cold you feel it through the fabric of your winter socks. This dude is loaded and he can’t even get heated floors installed? Not even for lil ol’ you? His daughter? The one that resembles his one true love?

There’s a red box that contains a gingerbread house sitting on the coffee table, you groan inwardly. Here we go with the bonding activities, it’s so forced it makes your skin crawl. His Christmas tree is, well, it’s a tree alright, crudely and hastily decorated with a sparse amount of baubles and god-awful paper crafts you gave to him as a toddler. Aw, the sentiment is there though, kinda cute. You’ll cut dad some slack.

By the time midnight rolls around, you realise cutting dad even the slightest bit of slack was a mistake. “Take that off.” You jab a finger into his stomach, met with sinewy, toughened flesh. Woah, dad’s still got it going on. “It’s ugly, and I’m not twelve, dad.”

“Moving fast.” Leon - your dad, biological, held you as a baby, rocked you to sleep at night - wiggles his eyebrows at you. All while dressed in a Santa suit by the way, ‘cause that is one very important piece of information. He looks fucking ridiculous. It’s the same one he used to pull out when you were a kid, back when you actually gave a shit about him, what he thought about you, whether he even wanted you. ‘Cause if your daddy wanted you, why was he away so often? Told mom to jingle his balls once, an unsavoury recurring memory that you’d like to forget.

“Oh, dad, that’s actually really concerning, like, I’m not gonna lie.” You frown at him so hard the wrinkles that form on your forehead become permanent. “Don’t say that to me.”

“I was messing around.” He defends, “Christ, what is up with you today? Got a stick up your ass or somethin’? Y’know, in my day, kids used to be able to take jokes.” Now he’s pouting like a toddler in a sour mood.

“That was not a joke, dad!” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it happens and within seconds he’s sat on the couch dejected. This fucking dude. Ugh. He’s pathetic. How did he manage to bag a hottie like your mom?

“I just want you to love me, sweetheart.” Here we go again. Leon sighs hopelessly as he slumps back into the cushions, and you can’t take him seriously when he’s wearing a fucking Santa hat.

“I do love you, dad.” And you do. Honest. Really. Like, pinky promise. You love him out of obligation - he’s your dad, and you’re meant to love your dad. Doesn’t mean you like him though. In your very objective-totally-not-biased view, your dad is just a bit unlikeable. A bit of a strange one.

“Yeah?” He lightens up, “You love me?” God, it’s like he gets off on it. Oh, you’re just being mean now. You scoot closer to him, lean in for an awkward side hug.

“I do, dad. I love you.” You don’t have the courage to look at him. Leon’s arm snakes around your waist, and you know what’s coming. How much do you love me?

“How much do you love me?” Called it. Up until now it’s been a harmless question, but when you face him, gaze flitting from his eyes to his nose to his lips, the general wear and tear of his aged face - it’s different. This time you won’t be able to get away with the regular bout of flattery, wax poetry about how much you love him, how you wouldn’t want anyone else but him to be your daddy. When in reality, you’d swap out Leon for any poor sod. They wouldn’t leave you hanging so damn often.

“A lot, dad.” You turn your head to roll your eyes, getting it out of your system proves worthy, now you can plaster your mommy’s smile onto your face, the one he loves so much. “So much, you know that, don’t you?”

“Just don’t seem like it, pumpkin.” Leon gives you a sideways glance, “I’m trying… I wanna make it up to you, y’know? For how much I was away.”

“Dad, you don’t have to do that. I’m over it.” You’re not. But, you’re good at pretending you are. “I don’t need you to make it up to me.” You do. Oh, you so do. You need it to a devastating degree. “Like, I’m not a kid, I don’t want Santa, and I don’t wanna make fuckin’ gingerbread houses, or watch Home Alone-“

“What, so you’re a big girl now?” He tilts his head to the side, there’s an edge to his voice that’s hard to decipher. Don’t know if it’s good or bad.

“Well, I’m not little anymore, dad.” You gasp when he tries to take a subtle glimpse down your shirt.

“I can see that.” Leon pokes his tongue into the corner of his cheek.

“Yeah, and I saw that!” When you go to stand, his grip becomes almost crushing, wanting to hold you in place so badly. For a moment it’s scary, only for a moment, this is just dad. Just Leon. He’s harmless. As lame as he is, your dad wouldn’t hurt you.

“I didn’t do nothing, baby, c’mere, don’t be like that.” Dad pets your head, and it reminds you of your childhood bedroom. “I’m sorry, alright? I never spent Christmas with just you, and I wanted to make it good for you.”

“I know, dad, and I appreciate it, just don’t need you to get all weird about it. Like, we can just— we can just be normal about it. Don’t have to do all this shit, I just want us to be normal.” Normal, huh? Neither of you can do normal, and you’re fully aware of that. ‘Cause your dad is a freak, and you can’t exactly drain Kennedy blood all that easy. You’ll be your father’s daughter even when he’s dead. “Like, I really, I really can’t deal with this whole Santa thing, did you really expect me to like it? I’m not a baby.”

“I just thought it’d be cute.” Cute? What is cute about a grown man in a Santa costume that’s covered in a thin layer of dust, dug out from the boxes he still hasn’t managed to open ten years after the divorce? “Listen, baby, I’m sorry, alright? I’m real sorry, look at me,” Leon cups your cheek, stares into your eyes with his gentle ones, “Dad’s sorry, yeah? I’m just stupid sometimes.”

“You are,” you nod, “but, I’m sorry too.” No, you’re not. Just saying it so he doesn’t drag this on, so he doesn’t call up your mom and tell her you’re not having a good time. Then your mom will be down your throat, your dad’s missed you, and you missed him too, you should be nicer to him, he tries his best, darling! “You, like, went through all that effort, and I didn’t even say thank you, I just got mad at you— so I’m sorry, dad.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, shifts so he can bring you into his chest, cheek squished against one of his fat tits, god, why’re they so big, you swear it’s bigger than both of yours combined. “It’s alright, I know you’re growing up, and I’m sorry for treating you like a baby, it’s just, it’s hard ‘cause you’re my little girl, y’know?” Not true. You’ve always been a mommy’s girl. Dad is an acquaintance.

“Yes, I know, dad.” You blink at him, he melts, traces your cheekbone with his thumb. Thank god he took that dumbass hat off, you couldn’t take him seriously.

“Gosh, baby, you look just like your mama.”

“I know, dad.”

“Crazy, ain’t it?” Leon kisses your forehead, “Only got these from me, and nothin’ else, huh?” Dad gropes your tits. The man that put a baby in your mother, that baby being you, obviously, the man whose name is on your birth certificate— the man who has given you his name, is groping your tits. “Certainly not from mommy are they?”

You shake your head. In agreement though. ‘Cause you can’t deny it, your mom’s as flat as a board. It feels weird, yes. But not bad. Maybe you’ve detached Leon from the title of ‘dad’ to the point where it doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s wrong, so you go to stop him, but he’s unyielding in his perversion.

“You look like your mommy down here, baby?” Dad asks, he cups your pussy through your jeans with his big hand. “Can daddy see?”

You shake your head again. Slowly. This time a flimsy no, one that teeters on the boundaries of a yes. You do owe him, you’ve been acting like a bitch ever since you arrived in D.C. Making a right fuss the moment you stepped through the door. Poor guy put the rather intricate gingerbread house all together by himself, he’s dressed as fucking Santa, all ‘cause he thought you’d like it. How bad can it be? Not like fucking your dad could land the two of you in jail, right? Well, it could, but that’s not the point.

“No? C’mon, sweet girl, dad just wants to see,” Leon’s plump bottom lip juts out, you kinda sit there for a minute, then lay back on the couch. What have you got to lose? You have no emotional attachment to this man. You do. It’s not weird at all. God, it’s so weird you want to claw your skin off. “That’s a good girl.” He butters you up while he unbuttons your jeans, taps your hips so you lift ‘em up and off they pop, jeans thrown to the ground. “Oh, look at her, baby, how sweet, just like mama,” Leon rests your left leg on his shoulder, holds the ankle of your right one to spread you open. “You think she likes it like mommy did?”

“How did… How did mom like it, dad— daddy?” You correct yourself, feel this horrible churning in your stomach. Both nausea and need flooding your shaky body.

Leon presses his wide nose to the bump of your clit through your tight panties, there’s a wet patch that seems to get bigger and bigger the more he sniffs around down there. He lifts his head, rests it on your thigh as he slides them to the side, sticky, gooey arousal stringing apart, sticking to the seat of your undies like PVA glue when he separates the fabric from your soaked centre. “She liked it real sloppy, baby.” With that, he spits on your drippy cunt, runs his finger through your folds, pinches your clit. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you just how mom liked it, alright?”

“Okay, dad,” you tell him breathlessly, hands clasped together as you try to calm your nerves. The warmth of his breath on your puffy clit is enough to make you shiver, he spreads you open with his index and middle fingers, the tip of his tongue traces along the centrefold of your cunt. Then Leon grows agitated by the way your panties insist on snapping back in place, so he has a little wrestle with them and your limp legs, once they’re off he tucks them into his pocket for safekeeping. Santa’s back pocket.

Sweetly, he kisses your clit, sucks on it like he’s getting to the centre of your cunt, blows a raspberry on it - you’re so wet it’s pooling beneath your ass. Leon spreads your cheeks to lick into your cunt, press his nose into it real nice ‘n deep, smacks his lips against your fat pussy, stubble smeared with your slick. Leaking all over your dad’s pretty face, letting your dad tug your clit between his teeth and fuck his tongue into your tight hole. “Should stop shaving.” Is all dad says once you cream on his face, “Your mama didn’t.” Okay, didn’t need to know that, but here you are, dad’s fat cock hard and heavy against your thigh. So you guess fucking him comes at that expense - finding out all sorts of details about their wild sex life. To be honest, you pegged Leon as the kinda guy who knows what missionary is and missionary only, not that you ever thought about that before. He unbuckles his belt, unthreads the prongs from the holes one by one, and drops his red Santa pants. Good riddance.

“Dad,” you whimper when he sits you up, handles you like a dolly. The tight-fitted Santa coat stretches around his biceps when he scoops you up, puts you on his lap, gosh, you’ve never really noticed those. Maybe that’s what your mom saw in him. Big blue eyes and big tits and big fucking arms. This Santa attire is really fucking you up, it’s hard to take him seriously.

“Your mommy’s real good at riding cock, y’know that, pumpkin?” Leon squeezes your ass, you feel him. All of him. His clothed cock grinding upwards into your bare cunt, a toothy grin stretching his lips as he watches the way your lips squish together. Yeah, fat pussy, so what. Get over it, creep. “Best I ever had she was, best fuckin’ pussy,” he licks up the sweat dripping down your collarbones, “but you’re made for me, ain’t you, baby?”

“Yes, dad.” You don’t know what else to say, breath stuttering when he sits you down on his cock. Thick and fairly long in all the ways a dick should be, you suppose. Look at that, giving a review of your dad’s cock. How far you have come. Fucking degenerate cock critic. It sure does feel good, his tip nestled snug against your cervix, pulsing within the silky walls of your tight cunt. Feel every vein, how his tip leaks pre endlessly, how it twitches when you clench around him.

“Baby, you’re such a big girl now,” Dad kisses you smack-bang in the middle. On your pouty lips. The ones that remind him of your mom, same lips that sucked his cock in the marriage bed, same eyes rolling back into your skull when he begins to rock his hips into you. “Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you? Better than mommy.” Almost, he wants to add. You know he does. He’s so predictable.

There are no words in your brain, only able to let out shaky breaths and the occasional yelp as he takes you, grabs your hips and bounces you up and down on his cock. “Fuck, wait, let me— let me-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he’s sliding you off and bending you over the couch. “Better like this.” That’s ’cause you look like mom from behind. Same hair, same hips, same perky ass. Leon fucks you harder, his strokes deeper, knocking his cock into your poor cervix with his brutal thrusts. Your nails scratch at the cracked leather of his couch, unable to help the way you moan for him, it’s so embarrassing, even more so when your hips begin to move on their own, fucking yourself back on dad’s dick.

Each thrust is harder than the last, god, is he trying to go through you? Put you in A&E ‘cause his cock got tangled in your intensities? “Is this… Is this how mom likes it, dad?” You manage to get out through a stifled groan, he digs his teeth into your neck, licks a stripe over the tender skin then tugs at your hoop earring with his teeth.

“Your mom likes it even harder, baby,” Leon snickers, “your mama is a dirty bitch.” You gasp, tighten around him involuntarily, your pussy behaves in mysterious ways. “She liked it when I did this,” his hand comes down on your ass hard, you squeal, almost lose footing and fall face-first into the couch cushions. “And when I pulled her hair, and slapped her tits, and spit down her fuckin’ throat.” Your mom is one nasty bitch, good on her. Personally, you’re new to it all. “You want that?”

“I don’t know, dad.” You say helplessly, thighs trembling when he reaches round with his nimble fingers to rub neat circles into your bud, so you come undone around his cock. Coat the shaft in cream, drip slick down his balls. You muffle your moans into a pillow, painted toes curling against the wooden floor, suddenly thankful for his lack of underfloor heating - ‘cause you’re sweating like a pig.

Your body trembles with aftershocks as he continues to fuck you through it, helps his little girl out by kissing the wet nape of her neck, a big hand on her waist to steady her. Sweat prickles your skin, jolting as he gives one last sloppy push into you, hips jerking as he unloads all he’s got to give and you milk him just right. ‘Cause you know, you’re his kid, made for him. That’s why he fits like a glove. Born to get your cunt bred by dad. You think he says your mom’s name into your hair, but you don’t question it, slumping over in exhaustion.

“Dad, can you just do me a favour and take that off, please? I’m really tired and it’s pissing me off.” You curl up on the sofa, uncaring of the seed that drips out and trickles down your plush thighs.. Leather’s easy to clean.

“Why? I like it. Don’t you think it’s cute, sweetpea?” Normalcy or what the two of you consider normal returns.

“No, take it off, or I’m taking the next flight home.”

“Alright, pumpkin.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur.

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve.

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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f1version · 4 months

Text

SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ MSC47

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader ( she/her )

summary: Mick and you have been best friends for years, been through the good and bad, but feelings change and thoughts spiral. Will this holiday time make both of you realize that you could be the one?

warnings/info: fluff, best friends to lovers, miscommunication (they’re avoiding each other), kissing, a bit of anxiety, a try-to hallmark movie my way through fics.

word count: 2.1k words

note: inspired on sabrina carpenter’s song! hope you like it, have a good day and happy holidays!

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 20, 2023

It’s cold outside; snow is falling everywhere but not with enough force to block the streets or close the stores. Usually, when the weather looks like this, you would call Mick and bake those cookies he loves. He would put on his ‘Emotional Support’ apron and pretend to help. You would tease him about how he never does anything, just there to eat, and he would laugh, eyes lighten up, and say something along the lines of—I just passed you the flour! or whatever ingredient he helped you grab from the shelf ten minutes back.

Sometimes you wonder how you ended up in this place, so desperately in love with your best friend, with butterflies in your stomach when he hugs you, a silly smile on your face when he tells some awful joke, and an enormous fear of telling him, sort of. It doesn’t matter; that won't stop you from baking cookies on such a pretty snowy day.

You: Wanna come over? I’m making cookies

Mick: Very busy right now

Mick: Just do them without me

You: that's alright

Here’s the thing: Mick’s been acting as cold as snow since the last time you saw each other a week ago. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, not that you are aware of; you were watching Hallmark movies together, and he decided to leave abruptly before the movie ended. Maybe it’s just an emergency, he said, but he’s been running away from you for days, your friends confused over the whole thing.

You wonder if he’s noticed. Lately, your friends have spent a lot of time telling you how obvious it looks—shiny eyes paired with a never-ending smile. They have also suggested it’s mutual, which you hope because all you've wanted to do before your family's Christmas party is to confess, but who knows, maybe you’ve all been watching too many movies.

DECEMBER 22, 2023

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make him mad?” Alicia, your best friend, asks. She came in to leave some decorations for the party on Sunday, but one life update lent to another and of course, the Mick situation came up.

“It doesn't even seem like he’s mad at me,” You say because it’s true, you’ve known Mick long enough to know how he acts when mad, “he’s just ignoring me.”

She sighs. “Then why don’t you ask him what’s wrong?”

You’ve asked yourself that a couple of times, but the answer is still not clear, usually is as easy as walking down the street to his house but this time the thought overwhelms you. “Because I'm scared?” You answer, out of breath. “I don't know. I’m focusing on the party, especially because Mom doesn’t come back until tomorrow evening.”

“Honestly, my suggestion is for you to ask him before the party.”

You sigh, knowing she’s right. The Christmas party is a tradition your families started eleven years ago, after Alicia, Gina, Esteban, Mick, and you decided to become inseparable at one of Mick’s birthday parties. This year it will be hosted at your family home, and with your mom away in Germany for a work conference, you’ve had your friends come around and help. They’ve all shown up but Mick. What the hell is his problem?

“I know Ali but,” Your phone starts ringing, Mickey is displayed on your screen with a picture of Mick carrying Angie. Alicia rolls her eyes and encourages you to take it with her head. “Hello?”

“Hi. I'm panicking a bit,” he says, the background noise lets you know he's in his car.

“Why?” You ask, forgetting you were having a crisis on this. “Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “It’s embarrassing, but I have no idea what to get your mom,” he says, and you laugh. Last year, you were having this exact crisis about Corinna.

You hum, thinking, “She wanted new pedals for her bike. Loved some she saw in Bike World; you’ll have to drive a bit, but I’ll send you the pic.” You put your phone away, change the call to speaker, and open messages, sending the picture your mom sent you a month ago. “There you go.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

You smile, letting out a laugh. “I know, idiot.”

“Bye, love you,” he says. Your calls always end like this; it’s a habit, so you mutter Love you back and hang up.

Alicia is staring at you, a grin on her red lips. “I hate both of you,” and she laughs, grabbing her keys and purse, about to leave. You’re somehow dumbfounded.

“What?”

“Bye, love you. Love you,” she mimics, and you feel heat rise up your cheeks. “You guys really need to talk; I’m done dealing with him too.”

“What? Ali, it’s a ha-”

“I’m coming back at six”

“Alicia!”

“Just ask him!” She closes de door before you can even ask her to come back.

DECEMBER 24, 2023

Needless to say, you didn’t talk with Mick on the 23rd. Too busy dealing with the party and, as Esteban said, too busy avoiding the topic.

Now it’s 7 p.m., warm lights tint the house while friends and family sway along the music in the background. Mick has been around since ten in the morning, bringing presents, a couple of ingredients that your mom was missing, and decorations, which he then helped put together. Now he’s just in full black attire, wine in hand, singing along to the song playing. Once again, you're too busy in your world to notice him approaching you.

“You always know which songs to play,” he says. Because he knows it’s your playlist reproducing. You know that’s one of his favorite songs.

“I try my best. But I also know it’s one of your favorites,” you answer, and he hums. There’s a void between you, one that hasn't been there before. It's not the tension when you fight or the longing when you're upset; it's not the excitement of seeing each other after months of traveling or the mischief when you prank your friends. It’s different—something that has been building itself for months—and you are too oblivious to understand what it is.

“You look beautiful,” Mick says, not looking at you but at his drink. He’s looked at you enough tonight, he thinks. You look up, suddenly feeling an outrageous urge to kiss him. Try and see if that’s the answer to all your questions.

He’s faster though, clears his throat, and says, “I’m going for more cookies.”

And he leaves. Your eyes stay on his back as he takes one cookie from the snack table. See him hum to the taste. You smile, bittersweet, What is going on, Mick? You want to shout at him, tell him in a million different ways how confusing all of this is, but that’s a talk for tomorrow; you’ve decided, you can't escape it any longer then.

"Shatz,” Someone calls and then says your name.

“Hm, yes, mom?” You ask, and it’s time to eat.

[ 10 minutes later ]

You are in the middle of dinner, or gossiping time, as Gina calls it, when Aunt Adelaide starts asking each one of you—the single, young members of the family and friends—about relationships. It’s not your favorite part, but a lot of fun commentary comes out of it.

Hearing your name, you know it's your turn. “Do you have anyone special yet? Maybe a secret boyfriend you don't want to tell us about?"

You laugh, “No, no. But I hope someone comes along this year.” First, you have to get over Mick, you think, and laugh a bit more.

“I have a neighbor I could introduce you to, dear. He’s a lovely young man.” She always has someone to present you to; it’s surprising. You try to go on dates with them, but they never end up working.

“I’ll think about it.” You say this as the loud sound of silver hitting the floor calls everyone’s attention.

Mick abruptly stands up. “I’m sorry,” he says as he picks up his fallen fork. He looks uncomfortable, like he’s had enough of the food, the music, or the topic. “Excuse me, I’m going for another one.”

The table has fallen silent. Aunt Adelaide is looking at you in amusement, a playful grin on her face. Someone nudges your shoulder, and you know it’s Alicia. Her eyes stand on a strange middle ground between confused and knowing, tilting her head in encouragement, like she always does. You also stand up, not so abruptly, but now everyone looks at you expectantly. “I’m going. Excuse me.”

You follow Mick to the kitchen; thankfully, it's far enough from the dining room that no one will bother.

“Mick?” You call once you’re there. His head is on his hands, and he is murmuring inaudible words to himself. "Mick, what is going on?"

He looks up, his hair messy. He’s overthinking, and you don't know what to do. You feel lost looking at him, far away from his thoughts and feelings. “What do you mean? Everything is alright.”

“You don’t look alright,” you say, shaking your head. ��You’ve been acting strange.”

“No, I haven't. We’re alright,” he lies once again, picking on his thumbs.

You sigh, knowing this is when you talk about it—no script, no thinking, just questions and hope for answers. Whatever is budging him has his anxiety running in full force. “No, you’re not, and we're not; I have no idea what just happened, and you're acting as if you barely know me."

He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair, and looks at you with his deep blue eyes. You see questions being asked but don’t understand how to answer them. “It’s nothing; I'm just. It’s hard to explain; you won't understand.”

“I will try to understand then, like I always do.” You promise, taking two steps forward, close enough to reach out and hold him, "Just please talk to me."

“I don’t want to mess things up between us,” he says, sounding afraid. It reminds you of the time sixteen-year-old Mick broke your favorite perfume by accident. He didn’t want to tell you, too afraid you would stop talking to him. You really hope he didn’t break anything, material or not.

“You won't. I will be here for you.”

“I just want,” he stops himself once again. His eyes never leave yours, so you open yours a bit, waiting, listening to whatever he has to say, and it seems to work because he just says, “You."

“What?” You blank, not knowing what to say or do, not knowing if you understood correctly or if it’s the movie's effect once again. You see the exact moment in which he panics.

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, I.” He looks everywhere but your eyes, searching for an exit. Your first instinct is to grab his hand, keeping him where he is.

“I could,” you say slowly, looking at your now-intertwined hands. “I could be misunderstanding all of this, but, Mick,” you say, looking at him. He’s looking back, hope in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. “I like you, but no, not even. Mick, I’m so in love with you it hurts. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but then you disappeared. You didn’t want to see me; you were acting different, and I got so worried, but I think...”

“That we are both idiots,” he says, a small smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, we are.”

He smiles and brings his free hand to your cheek, says your name like it’s meant for him to say forever. “I’m in love with you too, so much. I got so scared when I realized that I didn't just like you, that I couldn’t hide it anymore. And then our friends started saying how obvious I was being.”

“Same here,” you say, laughing. He moves his hand, pulling you in for a warm hug. It feels different than any other you’ve shared; the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been building together, finally finding their place. It’s a breath of fresh air. Mick’s hands are all around you, softly caressing your back, his head buried in your neck, leaving a small peck before distancing himself enough so he can see your face. You want to ask if it's appropriate to kiss him now.

But he's the first to talk. “Quick question."

“Shoot."

“Do I need a mistletoe to kiss you?” He asks, and you laugh loudly. Shake your head in embarrassment. Oh, how you love this man.

“As much as I enjoy the tradition, all you, Mick Schumacher, have to do is ask,” and now it's his turn to laugh, brings you closer while doing so.

“Can I please kiss you?"

You pretend to think about it and decide to tease him a little bit: “Is that what you asked for Christmas?"

“It’s the exact thing I asked Santa Claus for."

“Then merry Christmas, Mick.”

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah . . . add yourself here

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kaciidubs · 5 months

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A Pun-y Thanksgiving

❣ Summary: A random thought about Chan and terrible Thanksgiving puns. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 739 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, corny puns [2], slice of life, discussions of family, implied Black! Reader [but neutral overall], Chan gets emotional over being loved ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher, Channie, and Baby, lightly edited, that plate of food was not mine but it's close enough ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"I'll give you more than thanks tonight."

"Baby, please."

"A turkey isn't the only thing I'd like to stuff."

"Christopher, walk away from me."

"What?! You can't tell me that wasn't funny!"

"I can," you hummed, looking over your shoulder to see him leaning against the kitchen island with a cheesy grin, "and I will - that was not funny!"

"So why are you smiling?" He goaded, dimple pressing into his cheek as his grin grew.

An astonished laugh fell from your lips, though you couldn't reign in the smile that stuck to your face, "Because you're corny!"

"Or, because you did find it funny!"

"Oh my god." Turning back to the pot of boiling elbow noodles, you stirred away some of the foam, "You're gonna drive me insane before my own family does."

A pair of arms snaked their way around your waist, Chris tugging you slightly against his chest as he pressed the side of his face against yours. "You know you love me."

"I do, but if you say anything related to 'gravy', I'm leaving you here and telling my grandmother you couldn't make it to dinner."

He dramatically gasped, shaking his body with yours, "You wouldn't! I think I'll actually die without her yams this year, and Christmas is way too far away to have them again!"

You laughed, turning off the stove and grabbing the oven mitts that were on standby, "You're so whipped for her cooking - I'm surprised you haven't figured out she makes extra just for you."

"She does?" His hold on you slipped as you picked up the pot of macaroni, stepping back to let you pour it into the strainer waiting in the sink. "Since when?"

"Our second Thanksgiving together when I had to make a to-go container full of them alone, and she asked if I was making you a plate and I had to tell her that, that was your plate." You placed the empty pot back on the stove, "And I still think it's unfair because I'm her grandchild! I asked her so many times to make me a separate batch, I'd even buy her the stuff! But no, she wouldn't do it for me but anything goes for her grandson Chris!"

In the midst of your teasing rant, you hadn't noticed the silence from your boyfriend behind you until you had started the sauce mixture for the macaroni and cheese, urging you to turn around to look at him suspiciously.

"Chris?"

He gazed at you with soft eyes, an almost delicate pout set on his lips as a fine blush turned his ears red. "She likes me that much?"

Family had always been a huge factor for him, and the desire of having your entire family love him the way they loved you was something he had strived for since the first time they met. So, it was no surprise that hearing that your grandmother would go out of her way for him and his admiration for her cooking made his heart swell.

"Aw, Channie," you cooed, turning the stove to low before making quick steps over to him, your hands cupping his slightly puffed cheeks from rest. "She absolutely loves you - my whole family does! My aunts ask about you whenever they call, my younger cousins always ask to see you, and even though my uncles joke about putting you in a shallow ditch if you break my heart - they can see how much you care about me and they honestly look forward to having you around."

Guiding his head down, you placed a quick kiss on his lips, giggling when he followed you away to steal another.

"My family loves you, my extended family loves you, and you already know I love you."

His pout melted into a smile, one you embarrassingly missed for the few moments it was gone, "Even with my corny jokes?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded in agreement, "Even with your corny jokes. Now, help me finish the mac and cheese and we can start getting ready - I'm sure if we stay here longer we're gonna be the last ones to get a plate, and I'll be damned if I let my cousin get to the corn pudding first."

Slinking your way our of his arms, you took to stirring the sauce mixture before speaking over your shoulder;

"Then when we get home, I'll show you what else I'm thankful for."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader

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mondaymelon · 4 months

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MERRY CHRISTMAS !!! gifts ensue.

he really went. blep. hi user @ilyuu. im proud of this one so congrats wanderer takes home first gift wooo

lmao id like to apologise in advance as this was brought on because of me but I got super burnt out drawing like 20 of these over the course of 2 days... if you see the quality of the drawings declining ( which you will ) please don't mind it!! thank you.

@anonbinaryweirdo. sigh. i get whiplash whenever you're super nice and then in the span of the next three seconds immediately do something vile

@soleillunne. we don't talk much but from what I know you are such a sweet person omg !! and your works??? dies inside (in a good way). the way you write xiao maks me so. puddle like

@realkavehgf. we agree on one things (amongst others) and that is that kaveh is. kAVEH IS. MALFUNCTIONS PERISHES.

@emphasisondrvgs. you scare me. please take your ranpo and quietly see yourself out LMAO /j

@pjsk-writin. AMIMI ONE OF MY FIRST EVER MOOTS !!! im so proud of mikoto. sighs. straitjackets are smth else to draw .. BUT HES SO. MMMMMM !!!!

@circyexistforcontent AAAHHH HI PRECIOUS. I LIKE YOU BUT I DONT REALLY LIKE DILUC SO. TAKE THIS... quietly throws up

@whats-it-mean. puka puka. head empty. puka puka. please stop your affairs with my mother.

@falors. UGLY SOBS. UGLY CRIES. I LOVE YOU /P SM. WAAHHHH TEARS TEARS TEARS you are the most talented person ever I S T G gRAAAHHH YOU BETTER GET 18412409128410948 FOLLOWERS THIS YEAR OR I WILL RIOT. mwah.

@dustofthedailylife. omg. hi dust... tbh ive been so concerned for you recently with how much life is running you over with a pickup truck so wishing for your improved health soon !! alhaith is a smort guy what can I say

@the-white-void. DEAREST. literally one of the first people I ever interacted with on this platform and you're actually. like. literally one of the sweetest people I have ever met. KLEE IS SUCH A CUTIE FJSFJDK

@kaeffeinee. OMG. m..my kitten- woah WHO just said that. wild shit right there. have something you don't like?? have something that's been pestering you for far too long?? no worries. its the official nag seal of mendokusai !!!!

@lillonvia. sobs. I didn't do the man justice.loud sobs. DFSDDSF YOUR ART MAKES ME WANT TO LIKE DISENTAGRAT INTO GLOWING BALLS oF FUZZ AND FLOAT INTO THE HEAVENS I DONT KNOW HOW ELSE TO DESCRIBE IT. WE ARE SO DELULU oVER XIAO. FOAMS AT THE MOUTH

@absolutelyobsessedkiya. HELP WHY IS MINORI SO BRIGHT.... she's literally shining what. we need to talk more pspsspsp I just now found out that you're a fan of milgram!! remember like last year I was all 'whose that pretty pink person on their pfp??' AND NOW I FINALLY KNOW THATS ITS MUU RAHHHH

@auroratumbles. meow. cat. what a sweetie. I don't even know what my art style is doing here anymore Istg what even. what even BYE LETS TALK ABOUT XIAO LATER !!

@papiliotao. mwah. a kith for you. mWAH. ANOTHER KITH. SJFKSDJFLS GRAHHH YOU ARE THE SW E. E T E ST AND YOUR THE SWEETEST AND YOUR CAT IS THE SWEETEST AND YOUR VOICE IS MAKING ME WANT TO ELEVATE INTO THE CLOUDS AND YOURE SO SILLY EVEN THOUGH YOU DONT LIKE AKITIO SHINONOME

@yinyinggie. hihihi ying !! it honestly amazes me how you're able to juggle so many events and servers at once. im actually in awe. always look at xiao he's so emo and short

@solxima. GRAHHH HI. I DONT LIKE HOW JINGYUAN LOOKS IN THIS BUT. DLJFLSDJ DIES> I CANT DO THIS AN Y M O RE. your honor. hes so cat coded hes so cat coded he's so PERISHS

@yelshin. WAIIIIT NO YOUR NAME GOT CUT OFF> iM SORRY. I don't know why he looks... so r e g a l in this but its definitely giving off oRAtRice MecAnIquE DAnAlySe CARdiNAle .

@vennnnn-diagram. LOUD SCREAMING N O . YOUR NAME GOT CUT OFF TOOOODJSKFLSD JGAIJFAD JKLJFD:LFS. anyways. I need to see nahida smiling more she deserves everything and then some. aranaras are so silly giggles

@lume-nosity. I hold the slightest bit of guilt for putting your angsty ish drawing right next to happy lil nahida buT AHAHAH IT MAKES IT HURT MORE IG. took some inspo from your blog title... mwah ily lume. I WAS SO SCARED TO TALK TO YOU AT FIRST WHEN I SENT YOU THAT MOOT ASK BUT I AM EVER SO HAPPY THAT I DID !!!

th end. im actually so dead lmao my fingers actually were starting to bleed afklsdjfaskdjfklsdjflkasdjflksjflkjowejtoij enjoy your Christmas gifts mooties !! if anyone asks why I haven't been posting fics as promised. this is why. ill be in a coffin for a while please let my soul rest

OH AND FORGOT TO MENTION I DREW THESE BASD ON THE MOOTIES THAT COMMNTED ON MY THINGY LIKE LAST WEEK WHICH ASKED WHICH CHARACTER THY WANTD I LOVE YOU ALL PSPS I PROMIS

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stevesbipanic · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 7: Mall

You would think after the last mall burned down the town of Hawkins wouldn't erect another so quickly. But money is money and by December the mayor was happily cutting a big red ribbon in front of Galaxy Mall.

"I'm honestly surprised they didn't call it Starcourt 2," Robin giggled.

"Might as well call it the Titanic, I give it 4 months before I don't know an earthquake rips it to shreds," Steve replied, a smirk on his face.

Despite the trauma Steve and Robin had been forced to find work at the new mall, Family Video had shut down its standalone store in favour of one in the mall. Keith had unfortunately terminated their employment, citing that the new store was smaller and they could either choose one of them to stay or both go.

"You know, we have an awful habit of finding jobs with dumb outfits."

"Hey could be worse, we could have to wear the big red suit and have kids sit on us."

"Yeah, sucks to be that guy, hope they didn't hire a creep though."

Being an elf for Santa's Workshop had its perks , free candy canes, hanging out with Robin, and hot cocoa's every morning.

Santa was sweet with the kids, whoever it was seemed like a nice guy, he never rushed any of the kids, no babies cried for their photos and everyone left smiling.

Honestly, Steve wanted to meet the guy, but he always seemed to have left by the time Steve's changed, and he's already in the chair once Steve arrives.

He's decided to take matters into his own hands, he's a guy that gets what he wants and right now he wants that man, whoever he is.

So, he waited until they closed and jumped onto Santa's lap before he could get up. Santa's face turned a very festive shade of red.

"Now Santa's I've been a veryyyy good boy this year and you haven't even asked me what I want for Christmas."

Santa seemed to compose himself, a spark of mischief in his eyes, "And what is it that you want for Christmas little Stevie?"

"I'd love a kiss from Santa Clause."

Well Steve couldn't say he wasn't direct.

"Meet me out back in ten and I think you can get your present early."

Steve had never changed so fast, he'd told a confused Robin that she had to call her mom to pick her up today and dashed out the back door.

He didn't have to wait long before two strong hands took his face gently and pressed soft lips to his own. Steve melted into the kiss, not even feeling the bite of the early December air.

Eventually they pulled apart for air and Steve blinked open his eyes to find a very nervous looking Eddie Munson staring back at him.

"Eddie?"

"Bad Christmas present? Sorry I don't think they make receipts for kisses."

Steve just smiled, hoping it eased Eddie's nerves, "Can I still make a return?" Steve asked as he took Eddie's face in his hands and pulled him softly forward.

Best Christmas present ever.

Ao3

#meet cute #mall #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddiemas #stobin #robin finally appears in steddiemas

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voylitscope · 5 months

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Stucky Recs: Holiday fics

December is here, so I've gathered twelve holiday Stucky fics to make this rec post for all of you. They're all perfect for reading under a blanket with the warm beverage of your choice.

Canon Holiday fics

❄️Paper tree | Ellessey | Explicit | 21,391 words

I don't know if it's just me, but I feel like pre-war fluff always has this extra softness to it, even more, somehow, than even the softest and sweetest of AUs. It just hits different. This wonderfully warm and feel-good holiday fic is such a perfect example of what I mean. Steve and Bucky are so sweet to, and about, each other in this fic, and I adore it. This one is also broken up into scenes that happen on different days as December goes on. I always enjoy that sort of formatting so much in a holiday fic, and, in this case, it also gives a whole month of delightful, endearing, and lovely pre-war moments.

Quote:

"It's a different taste, though! I want the authentic Mallo experience, in drink form." "It's coconut. The different taste is coconut. We could make it ourselves." Bucky's face lights up, and Steve adds another thing to his mental list of ways he can make those blue eyes get all happy and bright. He thinks about how many things he's not good at, how many things are so hard for him, but seem easy for everyone else with their perfectly functioning hearts, lungs, ears, and eyes. And he thinks about how easy it's always been for him to make Bucky happy. Doesn't even seem like he has to try, but he likes to try anyway. He drops another marshmallow in his own mug, and two in Bucky's, and thinks he could probably spend the whole rest of his life just trying and trying and trying.

❄️On the other end of the line | velleities | Teen | 9,385 words |

So, okay, only the last part of this fic takes place on Christmas. This fic does go through the rest of the year, too. But I feel like the Christmas-set resolution is significant enough to make this one solidly a holiday fic. It's also a gorgeous fic. It's a Post-TWS recovery fic that makes plenty of time for how not-okay Steve is, something I always really appreciate. Like I said, this fic takes them through a year, a Bucky-recovery year, and the growth and rediscovery of their relationship in that year is so well done. It's sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes sweet and always beautiful. I know calling a 9k fic a slow burn is debatable, so I won't say this is a slow burn. But I will say, that by the time this fic is done, these two have really earned their happy and romantic resolution.

Quote:

He can’t hold up a conversation. He doesn’t want Bucky to go – he craves his company – but he’s too drained to think of anything to say. He resorts to just feeling pitiful for himself, breathing in and out and listening to Bucky breathing in and out in return. “D’you want to hang up?” Bucky asks gently. “No,” Steve says hurriedly. “Okay.” Twenty minutes later, Steve is slowly drifting into sleep. “Steve?” “Mm?” Steve mumbles into the phone, cradling it as if cradling Bucky. “G’night.” “G’night, Buck,” he manages drowsily. Steve somehow sleeps through the night.

❄️I got that good thing for you | canistakahari | Explicit | 5,830 words

You know that correct version of things where, these days, Steve and Bucky live in a nice brownstone in Brooklyn? And awful things have stopped happening to Bucky? And the events of Infinity War and Endgame definitely never occurred? And Steve and Bucky are really happy and super in love? Right. This fic happens in that world, and I love it. This is just so cozy and domestic. It's so low-stakes and so romantic. It's a holiday fic, and it's a fic about just how much Steve loves both making Bucky happy and seeing Bucky happy. It's also a fic about Bucky wanting to get the aesthetic exactly right for a specific sex fantasy. And honestly? They deserve that. We, as a fandom, deserve that. This fic is a joy.

Quote:

“I’ve spent a lot of time looking at pictures of other people's Christmas lights.” Bucky extricates himself from his blanket nest and walks right up to Steve, puts a hand on his chest, and kisses him firmly on the mouth. He is solid and soft at the same time, his hair carrying the faint scent of wood smoke and cold air from the tree farm. “I'll get your lights,” mumbles Steve against his lips. Bucky grins. “Yeah. I’ll make you cookies.” Oh. Oh, Steve didn’t realize it was a trade. It doesn’t have to be, but Bucky is offering. “What kind?” “Whatever kind you want,” says Bucky. He slides his hands down Steve’s chest, fingers tucked into the top of Steve’s jeans. “Even if you want nuts in them.” Steve cocks his head. Bucky doesn’t make cookies often, but whenever he does, Steve counts every single one of his blessings. Bucky will eat two or three and then leave the rest to Steve to devour, which he does, often within the first twelve hours of them appearing. The whole batch.

❄️Home is the Human Heart | aimmyarrowshigh @aimmyarrowshigh | Teen | 3,194 words

This fic parallels two years: one in during the post-TWS recovery era and one when Steve and Bucky are young. The scenes go back and forth between the two years in a way that really sets this fic's tone. It's beautifully done, and there's a touch of a really lovely bittersweetness that never takes away from the warmth, joy, or hopefulness of this fic. I also really, really love how Steve goes about things, with and for Bucky, in the current era scenes. Also! This fic has a line near the end that hit me hard when I first read it and that I still think about all the time.

Quote:

Rachel crawls out from under the table. Bucky gets the jar of pennies he and Becca have been collecting for the last year, and Becca gets the dreidel. Rachel’s eyes go wide at the sight of all the money. There’s probably fifty cents clanking around in the jar. “Steve, d’you remember how to play?” Bucky asks. “Of course.” Steve sounds affronted. “How many years’ve I been losing to you, ya lousy cheat?” “You can’t cheat at dreidel,” Bucky says, laughing. “Punk.” “Jerk.” “I don’t know how!” Rachel says. She kicks Bucky’s knee under the table. “I wanna play!”

❄️Two strangers in the bright lights | Claudia_flies | Explicit | 7,348 words

Listen, listen. It's a holiday fic! It's a post-TWS recovery fic! It's a tower fic! It's a fake dating fic! It's a damn delight, and you should read it. The love-struck, dopey-eyed, total disaster about each other, antics happening throughout this fic are just wonderful, truly. Bucky spends about 85% of this fic practically on Steve's lap . To make the fake dating look real and fool the other Avengers, of course. (Obviously, we need to do it this way, Steve! It has to be convincing, Steve!) And Steve spends about 85% of this fic absurdly happy about Bucky doing just that, and also noticing that doing these things seems to make Bucky happy, and then being even happier because Bucky is happy — but then not examining that too closely, because, you know, Bucky is clearly just really good at this plan and super committed to it. A joy of a fic that's so much fun to read.

Quote:

Steve finds the tablet discarded among the multitude of cushions on the couch while waiting for their new French press to finish brewing, and as soon as he touches the screen, it opens on a web page titled ‘10 Cute Holiday Winter Dates To Go On With Your Boyfriend’ written in an obnoxiously cutesy script. The first one on the list is ice skating, and the next one is decorating the tree together. Each bullet point is accompanied by a cheap stock photo and some inane text about why this particular date is suitable for a cute winter romance. Gently, Steve closes the tablet and carefully places it back where he found it. He pours the coffee into two matching mugs and carries them into the still-dark bedroom. Bucky mumbles something resembling a “thank you” from underneath several pillows and most of the covers as Steve places the steaming cup on his bedside table. Steve smiles and climbs back into the bed, sitting up against the headboard with his coffee and a book. It’s probably the most perfect Sunday morning he’s had in a lifetime.

❄️(I'll be home for Christmas) if only in my dreams | crinklefries | Teen | 13,728 words

A 5+ 1 that looks at 5 earlier holidays, but starts and ends on the current one, one that Steve and Bucky are spending together, in Wakanda. It's an emotional gut punch of a fic, in the best and most satisfying of ways. I love the holidays this fic chooses to showcase, the little stories it chooses to tell, and the moments it chooses to share. I love the wonderfully sweet holiday tradition it creates for Steve and Bucky. I love the way that tradition becomes something that is so important and so meaningful that they're able to keep it, even when it should have been impossible. Really gorgeous stuff.

Quote:

For the first time since his capture, Bucky feels safe. They’re in a fucking goddamn ditch killing fucking goddamn Nazis on fucking goddamn Christmas, but Bucky can hear Steve’s heart beat, strong and steady under his ear, and he feels safe. Maybe because it’s Christmas day, but there are no shots fired. It’s mostly quiet, the group of them in their respective ditches, tensed, just waiting. Someone--Dugan, he thinks, or maybe Gabe Jones--starts singing a Christmas song and then the rest of the start singing too. Steve’s never had much of a singing voice, but he tries and Bucky tries not to smile.

AU Holiday Fics

☃️'tis the damn season | chicklette | Explicit | 4,625 words

A fic about a Steve and Bucky who grew up together, were together as teenagers, and who, if they're being honest, have been in love their whole lives. But they're adults now, and they refuse to hold each other back. This a general premise that comes up decently often in Stucky AUs, and I'm typically into it for them. I can see these two and their stubborn, self-sacrificing ways, each deciding that they were the thing stopping the other from a goal/plan/the general idea of growing up. It's a very specific sort of exes-to-lovers story, and it leads to a very specific feelings reveal, one that's not "I'm in love with you," but instead, "I've never gotten even a little bit over you." It's something that can work so well for these two, sometimes, and this fic is an example of it being done just absolutely gorgeously. It's warm and painful and sexy all at once — until its wonderfully romantic resolution.

Quote:

Steve’s hair is a little long on top, and he’s rocking a scruffy beard, and fuck him for looking so goddamned good. It isn’t fair, Bucky thinks, mixing the drink. It isn’t fair that he looks so fucking good, that he looks exhausted and stressed out and kind of sad, and he’s still the best thing Bucky’s ever seen. It isn’t fair that Steve shows up every year at Christmas and it is Christmas, it’s a fucking gift and Bucky looks forward to it all damn year, but this year there was a little dread too because every year it takes him a little longer to let go.

☃️I've got a lot to pine about | cable-knit-sweater @cable-knit-sweater | Mature | 6,113 words

I just love a fic about people who are having Totally Very Casual sex, and who are both convinced they are the only person in this situation who has developed feelings. A fic about people who are pining while actively hooking up. 10/10. Great trope. This fic is that trope, used at Christmas, and it's wonderful. There are so many feelings! There are ridiculously cute seasonal activities! There are sweet holiday gestures! There are two absolute idiots in love, being painfully obvious about how in love they are — while both being certain, just completely convinced, that the other is definitely only here for the casual sex! There is a romantic holiday resolution! Just a complete delight.

Quote:

Once they get there, though, he forgets about his worries and actually has a good time. There’s a small Christmas market, a stall with hot chocolate and apple cider, and he’s surrounded by his friends. Even Steve seems to be feeling a little better about the whole festive season, and Bucky likes to think he played a hand in that. What makes it all even better is that Steve is wearing the earmuffs Bucky bought him. He looks ridiculously cute, like Bucky’d expected. The fact that Nat tells Steve he looks cute and makes him blush and grumble a little annoyedly, makes it absolutely perfect. At some point, he doesn’t get away with just staying on the sidelines and sipping his hot chocolate, and Steve drags him onto the ice. He must notice how Bucky is a little nervous. “I’ll hold your hand?” Steve offers. “I’ll make sure you don’t fall. I got you.”

☃️If Only in My Dreams | odetteandodile | Teen | 28,317 words

A holiday rom-com. A joy. Sweet, trope-filled, funny, and so very romantic. This fic has a Hallmark Channel-worthy premise in the most fun and most wonderful way. I am a firm supporter of Steve and Bucky getting to have a rom-com life. Instead of, you know, the relentless tragedy of canon. I also really enjoy that, unlike many actual Hallmark Movies, the central conflict continuing to be a conflict throughout the fic is completely believable and understandable. And then, when we get to the end, it's all resolved in such a satisfying (and romantic! and lovely!) way.

Quote:

He’s been so good today, so laser-focused on taking Sam’s advice to heart and throwing his all into his work—into cementing this dream he’s been working toward for nearly three years. It was steadying to apply himself to the tangible things he could make and do, utterly rooted in reality. But the thing is—Steve is real. He may look like a fantasy somebody invented to torture Bucky this week, but he’s a flesh-and-blood person. And he’s looking back at Bucky like Bucky is the dream guy. Bucky doesn’t make a move to step any closer. All of his words and common sense have abandoned him. So he just stands with his heart hammering foolishly against his ribs at the edge of the room. Steve doesn’t look away. But after a moment he squares his shoulders and stands, his full height and broad chest emphasized under the cut of his uniform, light glinting off the medals and ribbons on his coat.

☃️Whose arms will hold you | biblionerd07 | Gen | 10,843 words

The first of two fics on this list to feature a holiday road trip home from college, a snowstorm, and, yes, only one bed. This one is a meet-cute, and wow, is it cute. Seriously, this fic is just so, so very sweet. When I was pulling this list together, I quickly reread over this fic and hit a moment that made my breath catch when I remembered what was about to happen. It's a moment that made me think, "Oh god, that's right. This is that fic!" And then my heart did a fluttery thing. Also, we've got an alive and well Sarah Rogers in this one, and the conversations Steve has with her are just as lovely and delightful as everything else about this fic.

Quote:

"I didn't realize you were trying to impress me." "Why wouldn't I be?" James says, arching an eyebrow in a way that makes Steve's stomach lurch a little. Is James flirting with him? He can feel his cheeks heating up a little. James is apparently oblivious to his internal turmoil, because he goes to his duffel and roots around. He emerges with a pack of cards. "Wanna play?" Steve doesn't know how to play poker. But James doesn't know how to play gin, so they're sort of at an impasse until Steve says, "Well…what about Go Fish?" And that's how two grown college-students end up playing Go Fish on a dusty motel bedspread, eating apple pie that tastes a little old but not terrible.

☃️Not the same river at my fingertips | giselleslash | Expicit | 11,021 words

And now the second road-trip-home-from-college-for-the-holidays (but then a snowstorm! And a motel room!) fic on my list. This one is not a random ride-share meet-cute. This one is about a Steve and Bucky who had a one-night stand years ago, and who haven't stopped thinking about each other since. But: miscommunication. So they're both pretty sure the other has never given them a second thought. But it's fine because they're both totally okay about that. They're very mature about it, okay? They can handle this road trip without any weird tension. They definitely won't make things worse by talking about the thing where they're each convinced the other doesn't like spending time with them. And the combination of the tension, the memory of their one-night stand, and the fact that they're both, actually, obsessed with each other will absolutely not lead to anything at all when they have to get a motel room to wait out a snowstorm. Not even when there is, of course, only one bed.

Quote:

“You’ve brought me a truly beautiful feast.” Bucky laughed at that and Steve instantly felt a hundred percent warmer than he had before. Even Bucky’s fucking laugh was sexy. It was horrible. Bucky had slipped off his boots and grabbed two of the plastic cups from the small tray that held them and an ice bucket. “Gimme,” he said as he waved his fingers at the bottle of tequila Steve still had clutched in his hand for some reason. He handed over the tequila and Bucky crawled onto the bed with it. He sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Bring the food and hop on,” he said. Steve got the food containers and did just that.

Bonus:

⛄Here Comes Santa Claus | AidaRonan | Explicit | 6,755 words

So, as I've mentioned before, I hesitate to include recs for fics that are primarily smut (and very, very little plot) on these themed rec lists. Mostly because primarily smut fics are just sorta their own thing. That is a theme. But. I'm making an exception, because truly, you guys, here in Stucky we've got fics for so many scenarios. There is just fic for a seemingly endless amount of scenarios. For instance, there's this one. It's Santa Steve fic about, well, Steve, as Santa (but looking like Steve!), repeatedly visiting (an adult!) Bucky on Christmas, and it eventually leading to sex in Santa's sleigh. And, really, I've gotta say, I love that for us. I love that this fic exists. So I felt like I had to include it with these holiday recs. Even if it very much is primarily smut.

Quote:

“You’re standing under the mistletoe,” Bucky says, and Steve looks up. “Huh. How ‘bout that,” he says, before going back to his work. “What’s the rule if you’re under the mistletoe alone? Jerk off?” “Jesus, are you allowed to talk like that?” “I can talk however the fuck I want.” “Pretty harsh language from Santa Claus.” “Language is a construct like time and gender. And ‘fuck’ is really fun to say. Harsh consonants. So satisfying.” Santa slides a small gift box between branches in the tree. “Besides, no one but you is awake to hear me.”

Happy holidays!

Fic Rec Series

#SteveBucky #Stucky fic #Stucky fic rec #Holiday fic #Fic Recs #fic rec series #Me rambling about other people's writing

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months

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Hi, I was wondering if I could request for Jack ? The reader has a bad day and he comes home to find her in a quite house and he spends the day with her watching Christmas movies

"Hey, babe. I was thinking we could just order-". Jack stopped in the threshold of the front door of your apartment when he spotted you. "Woah, did something happen?"

You were still in your work clothes, wrapped up tightly in a blanket, tears stains on your cheeks. The holidays were always hard for you, and lately it seemed the universe was determined to remind you how much you hate this time of year. Today had been terrible, and the only thing you could think about all day was coming home, changing into your sweats, and rotting on the couch for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, you didn't make it past the front door before everything unraveled.

Jack was quick to your side, gently rubbing your thigh as he looked at you. You took a shaky breath before speaking. "I-I just had an awful day. Is it okay if we don't talk about it right now?" You swallowed your tears, knowing you wouldn't make it through an explanation without sobbing. "Of course, baby. I'm here for you if you need anything."

Jack was worried, but he knew you just needed some time to yourself, and you'd open up to him. "Why don't you go take a nap?" You nodded, wiping a stray tear from your face. He helped you up, wrapping his arms around your waist as you made your way to the bedroom. He laid out a pair of your pajamas to you to change into, and left the door slightly cracked so he could keep an eye on you.

You awoke a couple hours later, definitely a bit groggy, but honestly feeling better. As you walked to the kitchen, you could have sworn you smelled pizza. "What is all this, babe?" Jack jumped at the sound of your voice, giving you a big smile. "I thought we'd have our own little holiday celebration today. Try to take your mind off of things." He had ordered pizza from your favorite place, and gotten a few other things to enjoy while the two of you watched Christmas movies together.

"Did you make these, Jack?" There was a plate of gingerbread cookies on a plate, perfectly decorated. You didn't want to sound surprised, but you genuinely were because Jack was not a baker. "Uh, no. Publix made those", Jack chuckled nervously. "Oh, hold on." He disappeared, returning after a few minutes, dressed in pajamas that matched yours, little dogs in Christmas sweaters on the pattern.

"Oh, babe. You're so cute!", you said with a mouth full of cookie. "You think? Not my style, but I thought we could match tonight." Jack shrugged, walking over to you. You puckered your lips, thinking he wanted a kiss, but he pulled back. "Oh, sorry. I just wanted a cookie." He reached past you, giving you a wink and a smile as he bit the head off the gingerbread man.

"Hey!", you playfully slapped his chest and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. "Thank you for this. Today was a lot." Your gaze dropped to your feet. "Hey, look at me." Jack tipped your head up with his index finger. "I'm here for you. Always. Okay?" You nodded, giving him another quick peck.

The two of you headed to the living room, you getting comfortable under the blanket on the couch while Jack turned the projector on. "I was thinking we could watch my favorite Christmas movie-"

"Harry Potter", you both said in unison, making Jack chuckle. "You know Harry Potter really isn't a Christmas movie, babe." Jack sat down next to you, pressing his hands together. "Babe, I love you, but you're just wrong. So very wrong."

You giggled, taking a bite of your pizza. "Hey, I won't argue with you. At least not tonight."

Tag-List:

@jacks-daycare

@livsters

@katiaw2

@xangelonmyshoulderx

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings

@j0hkiya

@bell3e

@isisosidixj

@caroline334

@lightsoutstyles

@hufflewhore128

@jackscurlyhair

@jackharloww

@brixo

@beautiifulpeople312

@bernelflo

@taniapri

@ageofthebarbarians

@honeyharlows

@aga21

@iheartharlow

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@w1ldthoughts

@jackslilsecrett

@harlowcomehome

@fantasywritersstuff

@exoticr0ses

@iknowdatsrightbih

@itsyagirljaz

@hoodharlow

@bobthe-turmpetman29

@wittyjasontodd

@purecinnamonextract

@fluidsentiment

@comehomeimissyou

#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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anna-scribbles · 3 months

Note

can you share some of your writing/planning process for thirteen? i adore the non-linear format - how do you decide what scenes to put where?

ahh thank you!! idk how much of a defined process I have, but there's definitely a lot of planning that goes into it and i can show you some of that.

i keep all the chapters in one doc organized by month, and then i plan everything out in bullet points in a timeline at the beginning. here i just have october and november as examples bc after december things started to get more detailed/messy

all of the scenes (especially at the beginning) set the stage for things i’ve planned to happen later, or establish something that feels relevant to adrien’s character by the time we meet him in canon. the task of condensing an entire month into about 2-3 scenes has been a bit difficult; i’ve found out that i’m a very present-moment kind of writer so it’s harder for me to describe the passage of, like, weeks of time. so i’ve been pinpointing specific threads of adrien’s story that i want to be sure to tell and choosing scenes from each month that build on that.

i’ve had the idea for this fic in the back of my mind since about 2021 so i’ve had several scenes cemented in my mind, ways i’ve decided things played out, etc. some of the writing process has been building the narrative around those things or figuring out how we get there. that’s what i love about prequels in general, honestly - it’s inevitable where we’re going to end up, but how do we get there?

adrien’s situation, at the moment we meet him in origins, is SO endlessly fascinating to me. he is in the process of doing something reckless and rebellious and bold - running away - against the will of his father, a man he spends the rest of the series struggling with his compulsion to submit to. we find out, via the rest of the show, exactly how difficult it is for adrien to stand up to his father. and yet, in his very first appearance, adrien is running away from him.

how did he get here? what, exactly, pushed him to this point? was this the final escalation of a steady build of rebellious behaviors, or an impulsive breakthrough after one awful day too many? what has this small boy been through in the last year, and why does public school seem to be his only fathomable escape?

and WHY, if his circumstances are so dire as to compell him to rebel so boldly in the first place, does he still throw it away to help the old man in the road? what makes him so kind, when he has everything to lose? what happened? how did he get here?

i’m interested, obviously, in the character of émilie. i think that the hole she leaves in the narrative is a compelling silhouette and i’ve been having a blast trying to pencil in its details. it’s obvious that adrien loved her deeply and had a stronger connection to her than with gabriel. but also, adrien was still shut off from the world while she was alive. he was still, presumably, an exploited child star while she was alive. she was an actress and a mother and died by broken magic and never told her son the truth about any of it. figuring out who i think she was and then how to show that through young adrien’s eyes has been a huge part of planning this story for me.

as far as the twenty three year old adrien sections, those have been less involved as far as planning goes. i only recently mapped out which areas of the house i want him to visit during the different months. i wanted his sections to line up at least thematically, if not physically, where thirteen year old adrien is at in his story. for example, in december twenty three year old adrien cleans out the dining room where thirteen year old adrien was having terrible christmas dinner. and in january they’re both in the garden, etc.

it’s a bit harder to map out twenty three adrien just because it has to also make sense geographically - i can’t have him running back and forth up and down the stairs, let’s be real he doesn’t have the energy for that. i’ve also opened up the agreste mansion page on the miraculous wiki so many times while trying to map this out 💔💔 did you know that apparently there’s a third floor we never see in the show. yeah i have to figure out what to do with that now

ANYWAY long story short: the planning process for thirteen is kind of a mess, but the whole story is built around some central plot points that i knew i wanted to hit from the beginning. the details change a lot (as you can see from the outline above - it’s not quite right) but i keep the end in mind. just have to figure out how we get there.

thank you for asking!! mwah<3

#thirteen #anna rambles #asks #sorry for writing SO MUCH #in my defense i’m sleepy #and i just started rambling #adrien agreste…..kissing your forehead my love. tucking you into bed. agreeing with you about tamaharu #i don’t even know if this answered the question this is just truly my process #the process is that i think about adrien agreste and then write it down #ml

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roseharpermaxwell · 4 months

Text

RWRB FirstPrince Holiday Recs

Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve - click below for my favorites.

I Don't Know About You, But I'm Feeling... by IBoatedHere. T, 794 words. Four birthdays in Alex's life.

kiss me, and tell me that i’ll see you again by fxckingeyelashes. T, 2k. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, but are you into guys perhaps? I’d like to know if I have a chance.”

“A chance at what?” Alex raises his eyebrows. It’s only then that he notices the rainbow G A Y under Henry’s name.

“A chance to be your new year’s kiss.”

(you can start) a family who will always show you love by @waterloolovers. T, 2.1k. “Confetti eggs.”

“Cascarones, but yes,” Alex grins, “I’ll give you a pass since your Spanish is a bit tragic.”

“Rude.” Henry rolls his eyes fondly. “So you just… chase each other around and try to smash eggs on each other? Seems rather messy with confetti going everywhere.”

“It’s very messy, but that’s the fun part of it. It’s meant to bring good fortune for the rest of the year."

The Spirit of Giving by @cha-melodius. T, 2.3k. His practice tamales come out pretty damned good, if he says so himself, and the ones for the holiday party are going to be even better. Alex is confident now that there’s no way his won’t be the best dish a the whole potluck; he’s definitely going to win (and no, he doesn’t care that you can’t ‘win’ a potluck, June).

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: “My holiday dish is better than your holiday dish.”)

Speaking my Language by HMS_Chill. G, 2.3k. Prompt:

"Alex always saying sweet things to Henry in Spanish but won't tell him what any of it means, and he's always google translating them and awe-ing at how cute Alex is and then like maybe he learns how to say something adorable to and says it to Alex and Alex just like melts or something"

one of your girls. by seafloor. M, 2.4k. New Years Eve; three years later. An hour before midnight.

Santa, Tell Me by @harrysglasses. G, 2.5k. Henry receives a very special gift from his office Secret Santa and is determined to find out who it's from.

we play all day (and spread holiday cheer) by headabovethewater. E, 2.5k. Nora guffaws. “You fucked Santa’s Elf?!”

“I mean,” Alex pauses and shrugs, “not with the costume on, obviously.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Nora exclaims, her hands cupping her own face in disbelief. She looks over Alex’s shoulder and cocks an eyebrow, before she lowers her hands and her tone, and asks, “Since when do you have a thing for blondes?”

I'll Have a Flu Christmas by @three-drink-amy. G, 2.7k. Plans go awry when Alex comes down with the flu right before Christmas while Henry waits for him to fly over and meet him in England. Prepared to spend Christmas sick and alone, Alex doesn't expect Henry to take matters into his own hands.

i think i'm falling for you by WaterlooLovers. T, 2.8k. Henry blinks at the man. He’s thankful the rink is fairly dark, only disco lights and black lights surrounding them, so the man can’t see the blush on his cheeks. The man is gorgeous, and still holding his waist, and Henry might be hallucinating. Maybe he did crack his skull on the hard rink floor. “Um.”

Trick or Kiss by ronans. NR, 2.9k. Henry’s been here for ten minutes and he’s already causing Alex to feel some feelings. He supposes Henry has made him a bit scared with his costume, but not in the god given Halloween way he should.

Or, Alex is throwing the Halloween party of the year and can't quite figure out why the Prince of England is haunting his every thought.

May Your New Years Dreams Come True by chamel. T, 3.1k. “In fact, I’d wager money my date will by far be the hottest there.”

Hunter scoffs, which honestly Henry doesn’t understand. It’s not like Alex hasn’t pulled in some real lookers to previous years’ parties, much to Henry’s chagrin. “Really? You want to bet?”

Alex shrugs. “Sure.”

“Henry,” Hunter says suddenly, finally—and unfortunately—acknowledging that he’s actually been standing there the whole time. “You want in on this?”

(1 million words challenge holiday edition, prompt: "Competition to see who can bring the hottest date to the New Year’s party")

you and me, forevermore by @theprinceandagcd. T, 3.1k. "He pushes up on his toes to kiss Henry, who returns the kiss immediately, greedily, tongue brushing against his in a way that makes Alex's brain short circuit just as much as it did a year ago.

A year ago.

It still does something to him, stirs something deep inside him that makes his entire body feel like pure mush. It's a memory burned so bright in his mind - cold air, a buzz in his veins, a tree in a quiet garden, fingers gripping his face, soft lips against his.

The night his world turned on its axis and shifted toward Henry, altering his path and forever tilting him closer."

Or, Alex and Henry on New Year's Eve, one year after their first, and Alex wants it to be special.

don't let me get drunk again by @getmehighonmagic. E, 3.1k. Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass.

Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

Merry Christmas, Darling by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 3.2k. Alex and Henry's first Christmas together as a couple. Just some good ol' fashioned Christmas smut

Wherever you are, as ever I remain by gallifreyandglowclouds. M, 3.4k. 'It’s transparently a lie, and he shouldn’t lie to Alex, but he can’t help it in the moment. He so badly wants everything to just be fine, to love this new life without a foot stuck in the old one.'

Henry can't help but feel a little homesick during his first Christmas in Brooklyn.

stars by the pocketful by weather_stained. T, 3.7k. Henry is having a terrible Halloween, so terrible that he completely forgets it even is Halloween until Alex shows up at his door asking to borrow a prop for June's costume.

Though Henry opts out of June's Halloween party, Alex makes sure he doesn't spend the holiday alone.

Call It Even by @smc-27. T, 3.7k. Alex shrugs. “I’ll go with you.”

Terrible, terrible, no good idea.

Too bad his mouth works faster than his brain. Which is…another thing he wishes to not think about. His mouth, and Alex, and all the things he could do to that man.

“All right.”

Fuck.

(aka: henry needs a +1 for a holiday party. his roommate offers.)

Help Yourself to Happiness by ronans. NR, 3.8k. ‘So you’re taking the post down, I assume? Now we’re both sober and in control of our impulses?’

Pez barks a laugh. ‘Absolutely not.’

‘I know we discussed the very real possibility that I would cry myself into oblivion without you here singing horrendously off key Christmas carols, but… isn’t this a little… desperate?’

‘I’m willing to see where this will take us, aren’t you?’ Pez asks, raising an eyebrow.

‘Says the man who would be safely out of the country after setting his best friend up with a potential murderer.’

Pez levels him with a look and then picks up Henry’s phone. ‘How many polos did he play?’ Pez turns the screen around so Henry can see the comment. ‘Does that sound like a person with murderous tendencies?’

Henry snatches the phone back. ‘This is a terrible idea.’

Or, A drunken night leads to Pez posting on Reddit, calling on any singles in the area to help Henry be a little less lonely this Christmas.

I'm not gay, but my apparel is by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 4.5k. “I’m not a salesman,” Alex points out, coming out from behind the counter and rolling up his sleeves. “I’m a purveyor of oddities, curiosities, and intrigue.”

“Yes, I saw your sign.”

“And now here we are,” Alex says, gesturing grandly and expansively to the space around him.

“Here we are,” the man says softly, then pulls one hand out of his coat pocket and holds it out to Alex. “Henry Fox-Mountchristen. I would like to purchase an oddity, curiosity, or an item of intrigue.”

you bring blue lights to dreams by headabovethewater. E, 4.5k. When Alex pulls him a bit closer and kisses him again, he thinks he sees a flash of blue peek through the opening in Henry’s shirt, but he ignores the thrill that travels down his spine and shrugs it off. Wishful thinking, he’s sure.

Or, Henry surprises Alex as they celebrate New Year's Eve together.

baby, be mine by strwbrryfox. T, 4.8k. five times alex asks henry to be his valentine and one time henry beats him to it ♥️

many times, many ways by @littlemisskittentoes. M, 4.8k. The thing is, Alex knows he can’t replace the bittersweet wave of memories that swarm Henry’s head at the sight of snow flurries and smell of peppermint in the air. He doesn’t want to. He wants Henry to keep those close, even if it is through the sepia tone of melancholy.

But Alex can’t help but wonder if maybe he can find a way to balance poignancy with something a bit easier. Something a little bit lighter. Something Henry can revisit to understand where he belongs, how he fits into the “happy” of it all any time he needs.

He looks over to Henry, finally asleep against his chest. He takes in the gentle slope of Henry’s nose, the fluttered fan of eyelashes against moon-bathed cheeks. He fixates on the subtle canyon, the soft part of Henry’s lips, the phantom wind of a silent snore, and Alex knows: the very least he can do is try.

or, holidays have always come as a reminder to Henry of what he’s lost. But Alex always manages to remind him of everything he’s gained too.

Ink it in on my skin, sign me up, make it last against the time by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 5.2k. “Okay, then,” Alex says, and Henry can’t help but smile at the hint of mischief creeping into his voice, “there’s two weeks until Valentine’s Day. We each have that long to make it happen, and we’ll do a big reveal that night. Deal?” Flecks of gold are shimmering in his copper eyes. Henry leans forward, catching Alex’s lips to seal their accord.

“Agreed.”

Alex and Henry both decide to get tattoos.

I must tell you what you will not ask by @lizzie-bennetdarcy. E, 5.3k. Henry's plans for Christmas fall through, so Alex invites him home for the holidays. They're best friends, strictly platonic roommates, so why does everyone think they're dating?

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. T, 5.4k. When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

You and Me, Forevermore by milowren. NR, 5.6k. When Henry gets sick a few days after Christmas, he and Alex end up celebrating New Year's together in a different way than they planned.

where every wish comes true by @hypnostheory. E, 6k. “Locked out?”

“I forgot my keys,” Alex says with a sigh, leaning against his door with a muted shiver. He was planning on a heated Uber ride to June’s apartment, not standing out in the cold ass hallway. Alex hugs his coat closer to his chest. “My friend has my spare.”

Henry nods, leaning against his own door frame. Alex isn’t sure what the man does outside of going to grad school at NYU, but it must be bench-pressing horses based on the size of his biceps. Henry reaches up to push his glasses higher on his nose and Alex swears he wasn’t that bisexual when the day started. “Would you like to wait in my apartment for your friend?”

Alex gets locked out his apartment on Christmas Eve. He's forced to take refuge in his neighbor and occasional fuck buddy Henry's apartment, and together the two get into the Christmas spirit with the help of a festive costume and a silk ribbon.

The Honeymoon Suite by clottedcreamfudge. E, 6.1k. Henry's plane is grounded, which is absolutely fine, and not at all the worst possible outcome on Christmas Eve when he should already be on his way to London. Alex's plane is also grounded, but fortunately for his leggy British co-worker, he's a generous soul who's happy to share the room he managed to bag at a local hotel while they wait for their new flights.

So, so generous.

Baby, it's Halloween and we can be anything by sheisraging. E, 6.3k. Alex is furious. More furious than he should be about the whole thing, but still. Plans were made. Money was spent. Costumes were purchased—not even rented—purchased!

it's in the stars, it's who we are by @indomitable-love. E, 6.4k. 'Henry pulls back with wide, startled eyes, releases him roughly and staggers backwards. He lets out a mumbled curse and turns on his heel, and Alex has just enough of something still firing in his brain to reach out and catch Henry’s wrist. Just enough awareness of the fact that Henry is about to run, to say, ‘No, wait,’ before he can disappear through the snow.'

or, the AU where Henry doesn't run after the New Year's Eve kiss.

Re: Inappropriate Festive Party Conduct [Sent with High Importance!] by @largepeachicedtea. E, 6.5k.

Alex has changed his suit into something soft-looking and appropriately red, though the white shirt with the holly pin is still there, now accompanied by a trail of sparkly tinsel around his neck like a festive scarf. He’s holding a whiskey glass in one hand, leaning into something Nora is saying, and looks positively lethal. “Christ,” Henry mutters through a gulp of cider. “He looks good,” Pez agrees through a cheshire grin. “He always looks good,” Henry says. “Right now, he looks–” “Henry! Pez!” “Fuck.” “Alexander!” Pez hollers. “Babes!”

—

An office holiday party AU where Alex and Henry ignore the first rule of corporate festivities: Don't hook up with your coworker.

Ho for the Holidays by @whimsymanaged. E, 6.8k. “Listen, don’t worry about this,” Henry says quickly, already mentally crafting the passive-aggressive text he’s going to send Pez. “Better luck next year. I’ll just be off—“

“Hold your damn horses.” Alex stops Henry with a fast, surprisingly gentle hand to his wrist. His eyebrows furrow. “What did you put on your questionnaire?”

Henry’s ears go hot. “That’s none of your business.”

Alex scoffs and leans in closer. “Baby, we matched. It’s safe to say we have at least some interests in common. Be honest—was it because you confessed to having a secret desire to slap me?”

Or, Pez organizes an event called Ho for the Holidays, and these two idiots get paired up.

all my time is yours to spend by smc_27. T, 6.8k. Any way you look at it, Bea is not meant to be here, and if it were just the lights, he’d assume she forgot to turn them off. The fire burning is another thing entirely. The weather has been dreadful, and perhaps her flight was canceled. Surely, she’d have told him as much.

He should investigate.

Waffles & Conversation by clottedcreamfudge. E, 7k. “I’m fine, I swear. I just need to give it a proper clean and I’ll be fine.”

Ellen isn’t convinced. “Okay, but you’re letting Henry look at it later.”

Alex grits his teeth for what must be the thousandth time today and tries to keep his voice level. “No, I’m not. He’s a vet, mom.”

“And he’s the closest thing to a doctor we have coming tonight,” she says firmly, letting him take his hand back and raising her eyebrows at him. “It’s that or the ER, honey. Your choice.”

You're the Perfect Gift for Me by @cha-melodius. T, 7.2k. “Twenty-one-year-old Scotch,” the man says with a low whistle, looking more impressed than anything else. “Special occasion or just expensive taste?”

Alex can’t stop his grimace. “Came up here to propose,” he says, even though this random stranger doesn’t need to hear his woes. “Found out my girlfriend’s getting back together with her high school sweetheart.”

“Ouch,” the man replies, the word sounding slightly absurd in his rounded, posh accent. He looks at the bartender. “Leave the bottle.”

(Dumped two days before Christmas by his girlfriend, Alex meets a British writer who's spending Christmas on his own in generic Tiny Town, USA, and together they discover something new to celebrate.)

Snowed In? Snow Problem by @rmd-writes. E, 7.3k. The challenge: to write a fun college AU for the queen of college AUs (though she’ll probably be mad at me for saying so). Bonus points for also including the only one bed and getting caught doing something sus tropes.

The result: hopefully all of the above, plus they’re snowed in for the holidays.

AKA Henry and Alex get snowed in at their dorm for the holidays, whatever will they do?

It's Not Thanksgiving Without the Turkeys by allmylovesatonce. M, 7.5k. Thanksgiving 2020, Alex invites Henry to join the Claremont-Diaz family for Thanksgiving. More than anything, they're excited for another excuse to be together.

(Valen)Tie Me Up by @happinessofthepursuit. E, 7.7k. “Well, I actually made your gift at one of Pez’s workshops, though I’m sure they would’ve gotten it out of me anyway,” Henry says, voice fond.

Alex’s mind is whirring, going through the monthly calendars from Seize the Play. Pez leads classes multiple times a week, but there’s only a few that Henry could’ve attended, and one in particular that would explain his own gift…

“Which one?” Alex asks.

“I think that’ll immediately be clear.”

Or, Alex and Henry exchange gifts for their first Valentine’s together—then proceed to use them.

you make it look so easy, i know it's not by @anincompletelist. T, 7.9k. Bea’s to his left, speaking frantically on the phone with who Henry hopes is the fire brigade or someone else trained to deal with these— situations. In front of him, Pez is fumbling frustratedly with the water hose, showcasing his colorful vocabulary with a flourish of jerky hand movements and chaotic pacing. On either side of the fence, his neighbors are peaking over the sides to ask if everything’s okay, and Henry feels the resolution to make a good first impression crumbling and slipping rapidly out of his grasp. Even David watches on from inside the house, his sage eyes and patriotic bowtie appraising the scene and looking back to Henry as if to say I told you so.

And the fryer — the fryer itself is up in flames, thick gray smoke swirling up into the air and soaring high above the tree line now. In the distance, the echo of sirens. Henry may faint right here, in the middle of his backyard at his new home before he's even unpacked, with all the neighbors and his family and friends watching on, on his first official American Thanksgiving. It is, by all means, not what he’d envisioned for the day.

everything ever written about love by greenandmoss. E, 8.4k.

“Bet you’re glad you knocked on this door.”

“I am, actually.” Smiles should not be this disarming. It’s disconcerting.

It’s like they’re in a movie, where all the lines are pre-written, and the smiles and the looks all mean something. The couple are scripted to catch eyes, and fall in love with each other the second their lips touch. But that’s fucking ridiculous. Henry sits there like some kind of James-Bond-Jude-Law heartthrob, and Alex’s life is not a movie. This is not how real life plays out.

Or: The Holiday au but it's just that one scene where Cameron Diaz meets Jude Law

Save a Horse, Ride a Princess by @affectionatelyrs. E, 8.6k. “I have to say, this is all quite literal, don’t you think?”

Alex wouldn’t know literal right now if it hit him in the head. “Huh?”

Henry points at Alex: “Pillow Princess,” and then to himself: “Cowboy. Ready to ride and all that.”

Alex nods dumbly. “Right.”

Or, Alex and Henry dress up as the ultimate couples costume for Halloween — themselves — and they both feel some kind of way about it

the world watched (and the world smiled) by fangirl6202. M, 9.1k. "Oh,” Alex says finally, faintly, touching one hand to his lips. Then: “Shit.”

His mind catches up then, realizing that Henry is walking away and he doesn't even think twice. He begins to quite literally chase after him, trying to get to him before he can get away or, God forbid, try to fly back to England and ghost him.

Henry is very pointedly not looking at him, stuttering apology over apology until Alex has to quite literally throw himself in front of him to get him to stop. Alex doesn’t know what to do. But the answer is simple, isn’t it? So fucking simple.

He takes Prince Fucking Charming’s lapels into his hand and kisses him back.

Or; it's New Years, and Henry stays.

more than you could ever know by indomitablelove. T, 9.5k. He watches Alex’s bright smile as he talks to Bea and Leo, the way that Ellen and Catherine have their heads bent close together and how Nora is talking with Pez, Oscar and June. He feels something catch in his throat, something blooming in his chest with such strength that it threatens to burst its way out. He never, in a million years, thought he would have this.

this year i will fall by @rmd-writes. E, 9.8k. Henry has many regrets in his life, but leaving the ice rink after a literal run in with the potential love of his life without even obtaining his name may be his biggest. With his family visiting for the holidays for the first time and ever-present work deadlines looming, he's too busy to think about how to engineer his own happy ending worthy of the novels he edits.

But what if fate has other ideas?

Ye Merry Gentlemen by allmylovesatonce. M, 9.9k. Across three different years, at different points in their lives, Alex and Henry celebrate Christmas together.

On My Mind (Let's Go) by @sparklepocalypse. E, 10k. Pez blows into his hands and rubs them together to warm them. “Listen. Just… whatever happens in there, say yes, alright?”

“I don’t follow,” Henry says, his brow furrowing. “Say yes to what?”

“Whatever opportunity comes knocking,” Pez says breezily. “You forget, I’ve seen your messages. The booze is flowing tonight, and everyone’s got their best fit on – so opportunity will knock, and you will say yes.”

(A movieverse New Year's Eve fix-it that started as crack and turned into crack taken seriously. With dancing. And smut. Like... a lot of smut.)

Someone Special by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 10k. "That was Shaan," Henry explains as Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his nose to his neck. "The blizzard hit early, apparently. Too risky to fly."

"So Christmas here?" Alex says in that sleepy drawl of his that Henry will never get tired of. "Fuckin' sweet."

Happy NY by @myheartalivewrites. E, 11k. “Hi,” he says, and Henry looks into his eyes, taking in the brown colour and little flecks of black and gold that give it depth; the tiny freckles dotted across his nose and cheekbones, only a shade or two darker than his deep bronze skin. “Uh, sorry about that,” the man says, but he doesn’t step out of Henry’s arms. Instead his eyebrows go up, and his expression changes, from one of embarrassment to something Henry thinks is surprise, and maybe, ever so hopefully, a little bit of interest.

would you wait for me? by smc_27. T, 11k. Henry Fox has made Alex nervous from the second they met.

Now it’s different. Now Alex has to try and find a shirt to wear to a party where he’ll inevitably see Henry for the first time in a year. For the first time since Alex’s heart was broken and he’d made what felt like the brave and smart decision and left.

Coming back might be a mistake.

Gonna Give You Something (So You Know What’s on My Mind) by @affectionatelyrs. E, 11k. Alex hums, turning around to pull open the freezer drawer. “You want anything?”

But Henry barely registers his question. Not when Alex is slightly bent over, allowing Henry a perfect view of his perfect ass. Each individual ridge of his spine is visible due to his lack of shirt. All of these things combined would normally be a large enough issue in itself to render Henry dumbstruck, except—

Except, that’s not the only thing that Henry’s faced with.

Right there, clear as day: blue lace, delicately peeking out from the waistband of his joggers. Henry’s hand immediately flies up to his cheek. The skin is hot to the touch, and he feels the imprint of where the material once lay like a brand.

Or, With the help of a white elephant gift, Henry learns that maybe the whole being-in-love-with-his-roommate thing isn’t as one-sided as he thought

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by myheartalive. T, 11k. Alex and Henry both work at a farmers' market and they hate each other, until suddenly— oops! They don't!

(Secret) Santa Baby by @indomitable-love. E, 11k. "When it comes to Secret Santa, Alex really does have a reputation to uphold. Everybody wants Alex to get them. Nobody actually wants to get Alex, which is why he usually ends up with novelty socks or a political biography, but he doesn’t care. Ultimately, everybody wants Alex to get their name. And right now, Alex is seconds away from finding out who his new mark is. The person that he’s going to spend the next few weeks learning inside and out to ensure that he gets them the perfect gift."

Alex gets his work nemesis, Henry, in the office Secret Santa and realises that he doesn't know nearly as much about him as he thought...

Trim my Christmas tree by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 12k. Henry is a writer, not a mall Santa, but unfortunately this year - thanks to his adorable and conniving nieces and their Aunt Beatrice - he's going to have to be both. This doesn't leave him a great deal of time to pine horribly over the part-time bookseller and Law student over at June Claremont-Diaz's shop, but somehow he manages to jam it in anyway.

Ho ho ho.

i'll be home for christmas by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 12k. He books a tiny cottage in a village called Little Snoring (not to be confused with the nearby Great Snoring) somewhere in Norfolk and tries to tell himself Christmas by himself in a foreign country is going to be an adventure from which he will have an adorable story to tell his friends and family, and not just totally depressing. At the very least he can take a cute picture of his snowy cottage and pretend he’s not totally fucking jealous of his entire family gathering in Austin without him.

If he ever fucking gets there, that is.

Or, Alex's first Christmas in the UK gets ruined by the British weather. A handsome stranger invites him to spend the holiday with his family instead.

The Holiday by @dracowillhearaboutthis. E, 13k. Henry is in no mood to attend his family's holiday gathering this year. So when June Claremont-Diaz asks him via a Home Swap website whether or not his house is free over the holidays, he jumps at the opportunity to escape the country and his family for the holidays.

He did not include Alex into the calculation - June's charming and gorgeous brother who suddenly appears at her doorstep.

Airplane Mode by clottedcreamfudge. E, 14k. Getting into an argument with someone in the airport lounge had probably been a mistake, in hindsight; Alex knows this. But with so many fucking delays and the fact that the signal on his phone is currently making it about as useful as two paper cups joined by a piece of string, he’s kind of on-edge. It’s not entirely his fault that he snaps.

Attractive people with perfect hair who take the last almond croissant before Alex can get to it probably just need to understand this. Alex is at the end of his tether, and he will not be swayed by, “Well, I was here first,” in a British accent so smooth it could butter bread.

Home for the Holidays by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 14k. “How would you feel about maybe spending Christmas in Texas with me and my family?” He bites his lip after popping the question.

Henry’s eyebrows shoot up. But before Alex can regret asking, a soft smile blossoms on his face.

“I want you there with me. I- I wanted you there this week, too-” Alex starts to ramble. “And, like, it’s totally ok if you want to go to England to be with your family, duh, but I’d love to show you Austin and introduce you to my family and teach you the Claremont-Diaz holiday traditions and kiss you on Christmas morning and-”

He’s cut off by the hard press of Henry’s lips against his own.

“Yeah?” Alex beams.

“Yes, love. Of course yes.”

Sweet Dreams of Holly and Ribbon by @villiageidiot. T, 14k. He falls asleep on the loveseat, Nora and June curled up on the couch across from him, as a terrible Hallmark Christmas film plays in the background. It’s the fourth night of sleeping alone—Henry taking care of some business back in the palace—and he’d rather wake up cold and cramped across from the two of them than alone in his own bed.

That’s how Alex falls asleep.

That is not how he wakes up.

A Fine Line by indomitablelove. E, 15k. Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Whatever is inescapable. In the worst way possible. He’s always fucking there. Alex turns up for his shift and Henry is there behind the coffee machine, apron tied around his waist and stupid, tight white T-shirt clinging to his biceps. Alex turns up for open-mic night at the cafe and there he is again, reading his fucking poetry. Alex goes to the grocery store, or the bookshop, or the fucking campus library, and who does he see? Henry. Always Henry.

Always Henry, always with a different guy.

Alex hates Henry. He's only letting Henry and his stupid long limbs and his overly symmetrical face stay on his couch because he has to, because 'tis the season not to be a massive dick, because it's Christmas. Isn't he? -also coffee shop/roommates

12 Days of Christmas with Alex and Henry series by @coffeecatsme. E, 16k. "It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle."

"Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch.

"Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

(Dil)Do It Yourself by @happiness-of-the-pursuit. E, 16k. “Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.”

Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

Spirit of the Season by @pridepages. M, 17k. Henry was dead to begin with. That much you must understand, or nothing that follows will seem strange or wondrous...

Alex Claremont-Diaz doesn't believe in ghosts. And he really hates Dickens.

But that's not going to stop a very unusual Christmas Spirit...

Henry Fox is on a mission. Once a year, he finds a soul in need of his help. (Too bad this one's such an utter berk.)

When two lost souls find each other on Christmas Eve, they may just find everything they never knew they wanted.

The Christmas Guest by @omgcmere. E, 17k. Alex is looking forward to a relaxing winter break catching up with his sister after her semester abroad, but June's gone and ruined everything by inviting her insufferable international student friend to stay with their family for a real American Christmas experience. Henry is irritatingly gorgeous with a completely obnoxious superiority complex, and Alex is prepared to hate every single second he's forced to spend in his presence. As Alex starts to get into the Christmas spirit, however, he finds that maybe there's more to Henry than meets the eye - and maybe, just maybe, this will actually be the best Christmas ever. - also college

Four Christmases by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf. E, 19k. From Washington to Austin, London to New York, Alex and Henry spend Christmas with different members of their families from 2020 - 2023. Funny couples' Christmas sweaters, festive swimsuits, statement-making ties, and family pajamas all bring lots of laughs, some tears, and a bit of fun to be had by all along the way.

A Year in the Life series by milowren. NR, 19k. Alex and Henry are coworkers, Henry has a crush, and they end up at a haunted corn maze together a few nights before Halloween. Shenanigans ensue! And - When Alex's flight home is canceled at the last minute, Henry invites him over for Thanksgiving - despite never having hosted an American Thanksgiving before.

and you would be there too by smc_27. M, 20k. It’s mostly dark out here, just the lamp poles in the parking lot casting a warm yellow glow across the packed snow.

“We’re closed.”

Henry spins around, heart racing, and sees the beautiful man from the café and from earlier at the shops. He cuts a stunning image, swinging one leg over the wooden fence rail and stepping into the parking lot as he pulls a red and black plaid shirt over his shoulders, his tan pants tight enough across his thighs to make Henry blush for noticing.

This Hell of a Season by Chamel. E, 21k. (Nova, Baby follow-up) “The first few years, it was a relief to get away from all the stupid family drama,” Alex says, blowing a long sigh. The hand that’s not holding Henry’s slides onto his stomach, a warm, comforting pressure. “Then I started to resent it. It hurt to be stuck out on a mission while everyone celebrated without me.”

“And now?”

A grin slips onto Alex’s face as he walks two fingers across Henry’s bare chest. “Now I have you.”

(Or, 3 times Alex & Henry spent Christmas on missions and 1 when they didn't; or, A Very Nova Christmas Special.

Love on the Menu by berrybluefae. M, 23k. Henry Fox has a side hustle at his job as a host in an upscale restaurant. He loves setting up romantic moments for guests who want a little something extra for their night out to dinner. A bouquet of flowers and a bottle of champagne for the couple celebrating their 50th anniversary? Easy. A special table with candles and a dessert with a surprise for the woman about to propose? Child’s play. But despite playing Cupid for the restaurant’s guests, Henry has never been on the receiving end of a grand romantic gesture. So imagine his surprised delight when anonymous gifts begin appearing just for him.

Who is Henry’s secret admirer? Only Valentine’s Day will tell.

You Make Every Day Feel Like It's Christmas by allmylovesatonce. T, 25k. Burned out on work, Alex goes to visit June who is on assignment in a sleepy Vermont town called Snow's Landing. June is determined for him to see where she's been living for the last six months and to love it as much as she does. The most intriguing part of it all is June's best friend there, a man named Henry, that Alex believed was a jerk at first but is starting to discover a new side of as they spend more time together.

Paper Chains by @myheartalivewrites. E, 25k.

DAY 751

(Alex)

Henry is… Well, if Alex is being honest, Henry is everything to him.

But it’s kinda hard to explain.

DAY 1

———

I have no idea how to summarise this one, folks. The best I can do is… Alex and Henry's journey from awkward beginning as colleagues, to best friends, to spending time apart and finally to finding each other again.

But it’s not as straightforward as that.

Every Day's a Holiday (When I'm Near to You) by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 29k. I know this is a long shot, but if anyone’s going to Texas/anywhere south for the holidays and is crazy enough to drive there instead of fly, I’m looking for a road trip buddy. We can split gas money and snacks if you pick good ones. DM me if you’re interested.

And Henry knows he's about the make the most idiotic decision he's ever made in his life.

Or, Henry impulsively tags along with Alex on a road trip to Texas with absolutely no plan. Surely this won't backfire.

in a holidaze by @tedddylupin. E, 49k. Alex didn't mean to spend his New Years Eve thrown together with a perfect stranger at an airport. He didn't mean to offer up to share his hotel room with a very attractive stranger. He also didn't mean to find the man insufferably perfect either.

Or: the one where Alex and Henry find each other during different holidays throughout a year's time.

When I think about you by @clottedcreamfudge. E, 50k. Dream sharing is absolutely not a thing, even though Alex would very much like it to be.

The magic of soulmates, however, means that someone you’ve never met – someone whose soul is tied to yours, in whatever way that manifests – can appear in your dreams, like an extra character who keeps popping up over and over again. They won’t be having the same dream as you, and you won’t actually meet, but whatever you remember from the dream can start to take shape in your waking hours; you can figure things out, bit by bit, dream by dream.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

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applepi-1 · 5 months

Text

Work Wife _Suna Rintaro

You hated that you were late, Suna told you about the dinner party his company was throwing last week, and you told him you should’ve been out of your meeting before, but here you were rushing around your house, jumping into your dress and forcefully throwing your heels on before grabbing your bag and phone and ran out the house, you had your driver speed to get there as you fixed your hair. You stepped out looking presentable enough, you slowly walked inside looking around for Suna, seeing him with a group of guys. You walked over to the bar getting a drink to fix your sore throat, before looking at how hot he looks in his suit. “Hi.” You looked over at the woman who approached you. “I’m sorry I don’t think we met, I’m G/n.”

“Y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Are you on a lower floor of the company? I don’t remember seeing you?”

“Oh, no, I’m here with someone.”

“Oh, my apologies, I see you have your eyes fixed on Suna over there.”

“Oh.” You blushed looking away feeling slightly embarrassed you were caught.

“It’s fine, I do it all the time.”

“Excuse me?”

“May we have everyone’s attention, please?” You turned your head to Osamu. “I have a special announcement, well, my dear friend Suna has a special announcement to his beautiful wife.” Everyone in the crowd clapped as Suna walked up the stairs.

“Um thanks, Osamu, so I’ve been working at this company for 15 years now.” More clapping was applaud as he smiled in your direction holding up a Champaign glass. “I wouldn’t of been able to keep my head on my shoulders if it wasn’t for my love, making sure I’ve ate, asking if I called someone about an important subject or just being there. I love you my queen, I wouldn’t of been able to do any of this without you. Or any of my coworkers you guys have been a big help too. Thank you.” You clapped smiling as he began to make his way towards you.

“Hubby, you didn’t have to say all that.” You looked at her confused as Suna reached you. “But I love you too.” She went to touch him but you grabbed her arm.

“Excuse me what are you doing?”

“Hugging my husband.”

“You’re what?”

“He belongs to me that boy-“

“Is mine.” You said showing her the ring, her face fell looking at Suna who bit his lip looking at his wife.

“Oh, you’re the wife, it must of slipped my mind he hardly mentions you at work.”

“I hear my name enough at home.” Suna smirked looking down at you as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Oh, that’s… great. Oh yeah Suna don’t let me forget I have your jacket in my bag.”

“Why does she have your jacket?”

“Yeah, I had to borrow it out of his bag the other day.”

“I didn’t realize you had it honestly.”

“I haven’t had the chance to wash it yet, so it still smells like me, actually smells like that perfume you got me last Christmas.”

“What perfume?”

“The one you picked out for the females because I didn’t know what to get them.”

“Oh, yeah, and it’s fine we can wash it at home.”

“By the way, you look gorgeous.” Suna releases your waist to grab your hand doing a little spin for him.

“I look rushed, I was rushed I barley had time to do my hair I’m glad I got my dress on right.”

“None sense, you look effortlessly beautiful tonight.”

“Awe, I’m sorry I’m a bit late, my meeting ran later than I thought.”

“It’s fine, you still look elegant.”

“Awe. You’re too good for me.”

“None sense, I’m going to grab a drink, I love you.” He quickly pecked your lips smiling at you.

“I love you.” He kissed you once more before talking to the barmaid.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I had no idea you were coming, Suna might of mentioned it but I thought he said you weren’t going to make it.”

“Ahh, yes, Rintaro is very bad at not checking his messages, but then again I’m glad he didn’t. There’s a voicemail of me sounding rushed as I grabbed my keys and fought with our door.”

“I’m sure you’re kids were entertained.” You cleared your throat smiling weakly at her. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Her voice was far from sincere.

“No, no. We talked about having kids, it’s just been too busy is all.”

“Oh no, too bad.” You nodded your head looking back at your husband, you looked at the girl before walking toward Suna grabbing his arm leading him away from the crowd.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“Let’s have a baby.” Suna’s eyes widen before looking around the room, he sighed looking back at you.

“I thought we talked about this, works just been too crazy, and not just mine yours too.”

“Then I’ll quit.”

“Y/n.”

“I want kids, I want your kids, I want a family Rin, I’m ready if you still are.”

“You’re being serious?” You smiled at him stepping closer placing both hands on his shoulders.

“As a heart attack.” He quickly wrapped his arms around you lifting you off the ground as he spun you quickly, placing you down for his lips to meet yours. You smiled pulling him closer.

“I love you, come on.” He grabbed your hand leading you to an elevator.

“Wait, where are we going?”

“To make a baby.” He tells you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But, your company is throwing you a promotion party.”

“They’ll be okay for an hour.”

“An hour?”

“Oh, I definitely gotta make sure you get pregnant.”

“Suna, this is crazy, you’re crazy.” He stops at the elevator looking at you as if you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. “Let’s be crazy together.” He smirked as the door opened leading you inside, pressing your lips to his as he hits the stop button in the elevator. “We’re doing this here? What if the music stops and people hear us?”

“Let them hear those beautiful angelic moans of yours, I don’t care, I need you right now, I want you right now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? No more interruptions?”

“None, here, now kiss me.” He didn’t need to be told twice as his cold lips met your warm ones, backing you into the elevator walls. He was more thankful the elevator wasn’t made of glass like some of the coworkers wanted, seeing he doesn’t mind if they hear you, but sure as hell don’t want them to see you.

#work wife #haikyuu #fluff #cute haikyuu #angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuuimagines #suna x you #suna rintarō #suna x reader #Suna workwife #workwife meets real wife #jealous #elevator makeouts

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daughterofcain-67 · 4 months

Text

𝒩𝑜𝓉 𝓈𝑜 ℒ𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈

(Alec McDowell x Female Reader)

𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝: Hi!! If you're still taking the Christmas requests, could I please ask for: Alec and "You didn't really think I would let you spend Christmas alone, did you?" ❤️ (Anonymous)

Hello love! Thank you so much for the request. I thought this was such a sweet idea and I’m so glad you asked me to write this! I hope you enjoy ❤️

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’re beginning to grow accustomed to doing things by yourself now that you’ve moved away from family, but your friends at Jam Pony seem to forget that Christmases after moving to a brand new area can often result in being alone during the holiday season… and Alec won’t stand for it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: platonic Alec but potential to be a romantic interest. Other than that, it’s just some fluffy Alec content..

This Christmas was not at all what you expected it to be.

You were used to spending time with your family every year and sharing so many memorable moments with them. You remembered going with your mother to the walkway of lights, or helping your dad untangle the Christmas lights so he could hand them on the outside of the house. You remembered making gingerbread houses with your family and watching Christmas movies.

You knew you were going to miss those moments, but of course the past was in the past and now you’ve found yourself here in Seattle after a rather significant and unfortunate falling out with your family. A long story you preferred not to relive or talk about.

You had moved here three months ago and landed a job at the delivery service, Jam Pony.

You didn’t mind working here, it made paying bills at least somewhat easier and you were starting to make some friends. Max and Original Cindy took you under their wings at work and they showed you around the workplace.

Then there was Alec.

You didn’t know much about him since all you could see were things on the outside. From what you could tell, he was sarcastic, a smart mouth, as stubborn as Max, a little cocky, all about fast money since you’ve seen him and Sketchy playing poker or making bets, but he seemed to have some sort of fun side and a lot of people seemed to like him.

You two talked every once in a while but you’ve never had deep conversations with the guy. The both of you were friendly with each other, and if you were in a bit of a mood you’d jokingly play along whenever he would playfully flirt with you like he would do with the other girls at work. But there wasn’t really anything concrete between the two of you.

But anyway…

Your story was taking place on Christmas Eve.

Normal was having everyone work their typical shifts on Christmas Eve since they would all have Christmas Day off. But honestly, with the way your Christmas would be looking this year, you kind of wish that you were working. On the flipped side you supposed you could be glad that you could sleep in.

“Hey, Y/N! You look drained, you feeling okay?” Original Cindy asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah I’m good. Just ready for the holidays to be over so everything can go back to normal.” You laughed and Cindy smiled a little.

“I hear that. The rush can be a little too chaotic and the traffic sucks! But don’t worry. Just a couple more weeks then the new year will come around. But enjoy the Christmas cheer while it’s here! It doesn’t last long after all.” She reminded you and you grinned softly.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Although for you, it would be a situation easier said than done.

“Alright everybody! Daddy’s home!” You heard an all to familiar voice ring out, causing you to smile a little and roll your eyes before Max spoke.

“There’s Alec.” Cindy laughed and turned around while you were busy decoding the lock on your locker so you couple put your belongings inside.

“Really, Alec? Can’t you come to work and not be obnoxious with your entrance like any normal person?” Max asked like a frustrated older sister.

“Awe come on, if I wasn’t obnoxious at least some of the time then how else could I annoy you?” The sarcasm in Alec’s voice was pretty much expected at this point. Alec wouldn’t be Alec without it right?

“You wouldn’t. And that’s the beauty of it.” She retorted.

“Awe, Max! Don’t be so sour! It’s Christmas!” You could hear another voice call out. It was none other than Sketchy.

You grabbed what you needed and saw that the whole group seemed to be congregated at yours, Max and Cindy’s locker. It was pretty typical at this point but you didn’t mind.

“Well what are you guys doing tonight? I might do some last minute shopping after work. I’ve got some family coming into town tomorrow morning. Anyone want to come with?” Sketchy asked.

“Sure, I’ll go with you! I’ve gotta get some food for the house anyway since I’ve got people visiting and we all know where Max is gonna be.” Cindy smirked and nudged Max’s side, making the other girl roll her eyes and cross her arms defensively.

“Logan want’s me to meet his parents, that’s all. It’s no big deal.” She said in a matter-of-fact sort of tone.

“Well hey, it’s a positive thing that he wants you to go meet his family members. You did kind of sign up for this kind of thing when you started dating the guy. Of course this was going to come up.” You reminded, putting your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

“Yeah, I guess. Anyway, what are you gonna be doing, Y/N?” Max inquired.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you aren’t going home for the holidays.” Sketchy said since they all knew you moved here and your family was out of state.

“With the way Normal’s paying us? Yeah - I’m lucky if I’ll be able to visit early next year. It’s only been three months so it’ll be fine. I can always give them a phone call.” Which you wouldn’t be doing.

“Wait, you’re spending the night alone?” You could pick up a hint of shock in her voice which was a little rare for her.

“Eh, I don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll go to the bar or something. You guys act like it’s not a normal thing for people to spend Christmas alone sometimes. Especially when they’ve just moved to a new place. It’s more normal than you think, guys.” You laughed before you walked away from the group to start work. After all, you had a job to do and you didn’t exactly want Normal on your back.

Alec watched you walk off and his gaze lingered on you for a second.

He knew what it was like to spend Christmas alone. The first Christmas he had when he got out of Manticore was a bit rough. He understood what you were saying about it being normal for new people to have lonely Christmases. But that didn’t mean those first lonely Christmases didn’t suck. They do.

“I doubt she’ll go to a bar. She doesn’t seem the type. Unless she’s playing pool or something.” Sketchy said.

“If she doesn’t seem the type that goes to the bar, what makes you think she’s the type to play pool?” Alec asked when he shifted his attention somewhere else.

“Even I have to say he’s got a bit of a point.” Max shrugged.

“Well you never know. I mean we’ve only just met her. And we haven’t hung out with her after work. So maybe she does go to the bar and she’s one of those misleading book cover types.” Sketchy said.

“Misleading book cover type?” Cindy tilted her head in confusion.

“Yeah! You know.. Things not being all they seem, don’t judge a book by it’s cover, a person may be innocent but they’re into things you don’t expect. Ya know, like Ted Bundy. I mean the guy was going to law school and everybody that knew him said he was a good guy but they didn’t know he was a serial killer.” Sketchy rambled and Alec chuckled.

“I don’t think Y/N is a serial killer, buddy.” He said.

“Well I know that, but you get what I’m sayin.” Sketchy said and Alec chuckled before he nodded a little.

“Yeah yeah, Sketch. We get what you mean. Maybe she’ll get lucky if she goes to the bar.” Original Cindy smirked and Alec watched Max roll her eyes and smirk.

“Hey! Your day off is tomorrow! Get to work! We’ve got a lot of packages and mail to send off!” Normal hollered at the group and Alec groaned a little.

“Calm down, Normal. We’ll get to work.” Max said and with that, the group dispersed so they could get to their routes.

Still, Alec couldn’t help but wonder about you. There was no way you’d actually head out to the bar. Not with the amount of lunatics on the road this time of year and any of them could be drunk because they were alone too. He wasn’t going to let you take that risk if he could help it.

The day was finally over and you’ve said your goodbyes to whatever work-friends you managed to see that were still at Jam Pony before you clocked out for the day. You were glad the day was finally over so you could just go home and get some sleep. Today felt much longer than the average day, maybe because it was Christmas Eve so everyone was in such a big rush, easily irritated because they decided to wait until the last minute, the list could go on.

Once you finally arrived at your apartment, you took a long shower to relax your muscles. Then you got dressed in some warm pajamas, for that night it was a black sweatshirt with a snowman on it and some red and black plaid pajama pants along with some fuzzy socks so your toes wouldn’t freeze. You were letting your hair air dry as you sat down on the couch.

You grabbed the remote for your tv so you could watch some movies. You noticed that several Christmas classics were playing that night so you ended up settling for A Christmas Story. Sure it was an old movie, like really old, but it was a good one nonetheless. Things seemed so much simpler back in the day.

While you were watching the movie, you started getting hungry so you got up as the beginning of the movie was starting so you weren’t necessarily missing a lot. Plus you had seen this movie several times so you knew what was going to happen anyways. You walked into the kitchen and started looking through your cabinets, trying to think of what exactly you were in the mood for.

For whatever reason, you decided to make some pasta. It was simple enough. You had some Alfredo instead of the regular spaghetti sauce so you supposed it would have to do. You started boiling the water and broke out one of those boxes of garlic bread that was technically already made and just needed to be heated up.

While the movie was playing, you heard a knock on your door.

“Who the Hell would that be?” You asked, of course to no one in particular since you were the only one in the apartment.

Despite the fact that company was the last thing you expected for that night, you walked over to the door and opened it up. That was when you saw a familiar coworker standing there.

“Alec? What are you doing here?” You asked him. Honestly, you were surprised that he was at your doorstep instead of at some sort of strip club finding company.

“I was bored. Didn’t have people over at the house either, strip club was too crowded.” Alec said, but a part of you wondered if that was completely true.

“So you pick my place to crash?” You chuckled but then you moved out of the way so he could come in, “If you’re hungry I’m making some Alfredo and I’ve got some garlic bread in the oven.”

“Oh so that’s what smells so good from outside.”

You grinned at the compliment even though it was just a simple sort of meal. Once Alec came inside the apartment, you shut the door behind him and told him to make himself at home.

Alec looked around the apartment since he had never actually been inside here before. He noticed the simplicity of your apartment, seeing the brown couch that had some throw blankets folded on the back of it. He saw that you did have some Christmas lights hung up around the entertainment center where your tv was with your dvds. He also noticed your cute little four foot tree that had some simple yet colorful ornaments on it and a little tree skirt.

“Nice little place you’ve got here.” He commented since the living room was really the only thing he was seeing at the moment.

“Oh, well thanks. At some point I might get some other chairs to put here in the living room in the event people like Max or Original Cindy come over. Or whatever other friends I’ll make along the way.” He heard you explain and he grinned a little.

“Speaking of other friends… how exactly did you know where I live?” You asked and Alec lifted a brow before he shrugged a little then he rubbed the back of his neck.

The truth was, he followed you home after work because he was curious to see if you were actually going to a bar or if you would head straight home instead. He just waited a while so it wouldn’t be suspicious if he knocked on your door just as soon as you got home yourself.

“Oh, well I just asked Max where you lived is all.” He replied.

“Max told you? Willingly?” He heard the amusement in your voice.

“I paged her. Maybe she was with either Logan or Original Cindy. Somebody that makes her a little less obnoxious.” Alec lied, but luckily for him, you laughed and he took it as some kind of positive sign that you believed him.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He heard you chuckle before he watched you leave to go to the kitchen.

He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket while he followed you into the kitchen and simply observed your actions. You were draining the noodles before you opened up the can of the Alfredo sauce.

“Dinner’s almost ready if you’re hungry.” He heard you say.

“Thanks. Do you need any help?” He asked.

“If you could just grab a couple of bowls, they’re up in that cabinet over there.” You motioned to the doors Alec needed to open up and he grabbed what you requested.

“The garlic still needs a few minutes I’m sure.” You said and he grinned.

“That’s fine.” He promised as you dished up everything. And with that, the two of you went to the living room and sat down on the couch beside one another.

The two of you were watching the Christmas Story, laughing at some of the scenes like when Ralphie’s friend got his tongue stuck to the flagpole, or the father’s reaction when he mispronounced “fragile” and had a French accent with it only to discover his leg lamp that would be an iconic staple for the movie. At least it was a staple for you when it came to this movie.

Alec honestly hadn’t had this much fun in a little while and it was nice to have some company that night and he hoped you were feeling the same.

Honestly, he knew that the both of you had sort of this weird, platonic, work friendship if you could put it simply. It was fun to flirt around with you since you would flirt back sometimes but he wondered if you only thought of it as just a joke. For Alec though, it wasn’t exactly a joke. Sure it was nonchalant and he knew that neither of you really knew each other. He couldn’t exactly say that he had a crush on you or anything certain like that, but he was definitely interested.

Maybe that was the reason he didn’t want you to spend the holiday alone. He hasn’t known you long, but Alec knew you deserved better than something like that.

While Alec was watching the movie at the part where Ralphie was fantasizing over the grade he would get for his essay, he could feel your head resting on his shoulder. The feeling made a sudden warmth shoot throughout his body. It was a pleasant feeling and he put his arm around your shoulders, bringing you closer to himself.

You felt the warmth of Alec’s arm surrounding your shoulders. The feeling was nice and comforting even. You hadn’t expected his touch to be so calming, and you were pretty content before Alec had come over anyway.

When you lifted your head, you noticed that Alec’s gaze was still transfixed on the television but you took a moment to observe his features. You’d never had a close look like this before and you had to admit, his profile was definitely a sight to behold. His features were pretty much, well, perfect if you had to think of a word for it. Your heart swelled when you heard him laugh and the smile he had was not only tugging on his lips but the smile was in his eyes too.

Of course, it would be a lie if you said you weren’t attracted to him. You can be attracted to someone and not necessarily be in love with them.

Although for the past couple of weeks, you were starting to grow infatuated with the man. Naturally you would never admit to it, especially since you didn’t want Max to lecture you on how Alec is all of the negative sort of things. If you explored your feelings, you wanted to learn how he was by yourself.

After all, as was mentioned before, you only knew Alec on the outside. You knew what he was like at work and not much beyond that.

“Enjoying the view?” Alec’s voice tore you from your thoughts, and you could hear the teasing sone with a hint of cockiness in his voice too.

You felt embarrassed that he had caught you staring, and your cheeks went pink as you looked back at the screen, “Sorry, just lost in thought.”

“You care to elaborate?”

You shrugged a little, knowing you didn’t want to be completely honest. But there was nothing wrong with a bit of a half truth, “Just thinking about how you and Max never really seem to get along.”

“Ahh don’t worry your head about that too much. It’s sort of like a sibling thing. She’s not so bad.” You heard Alec say, “Most siblings bicker a lot and tease each other and that’s fine with our chemistry. But also like most siblings, we have those moments that her few and far between where we care about each other.”

“Well that makes me feel a little better about it.” You chuckle and Alec grinned.

“She makes you sound like some arrogant, pain-in-the-ass man child that’s a little bit of a womanizer.” You admitted.

“That’s when I’m bored and like to get under her skin. I take pride in being her pain in the ass.” You couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“And the womanizer part?”

“Well if talking to girls makes me a womanizer, how else am I supposed to meet people? It’s not my fault that I may or may not be entertained in strip clubs. People are interesting there too.” Alec said, although his defense was a little questionable yet it wasn’t unexpected.

“I suppose you’re right, in your own little way.” Then you looked up at him once more.

“So… Mr. Pain in Max’s Ass Womanizer… Why did you actually come here? A crowded strip club wouldn’t be a real reason when there’s more than one in town.” You said and that was when Alec looked down at you.

You saw something change in his eyes. His gaze seemed to soften a little more now that he looked at you and he grinned a little, “You didn’t really think I would let you spend Christmas alone, did you? Let alone your first one.”

He came to your house… on Christmas Eve… just so you wouldn’t be alone that night? This was a new layer of Alec you didn’t know that you would be seeing that evening.

You softened against his touch before you looked back at the screen. The movie was still playing with adds in between, not that you were really paying attention to the movie at that point anyways. But you curled into his side and you felt his grip get a little tighter, more secure.

“Thank you.. for coming I mean. It was really sweet.” You whispered, “I’m glad that you came over. I’ve been having more fun than I thought that I would tonight.” You said, then you felt the warmth of his lips on your forehead - which caused your heart to skip a beat. An unexpected gesture to say the least, but it was sweet nonetheless.

“Hey, um… since it’s Christmas Eve and all, and traffic can be a little nuts… would you like to stay here tonight?” You asked. After all, you’d prefer to see your coworker alive and well on the next shift. People were always unnecessarily reckless around this time of year on the road.

“You know.. That doesn’t seem like a bad idea.” Alec smiled, but then the both of you started smelling something in the air.

“Is something burning?”

“Shit! The garlic bread!”

Alec laughed as you hopped up off the couch and ran towards the kitchen.

Other than the burnt garlic bread that could be mistaken for charcoal, it was a pretty good Christmas Eve. You knew it would more than likely be one of the most memorable holidays and that was because of Alec’s simple gesture of swinging by.

You couldn’t be more thankful for a guy like him, and you hoped that maybe because of this experience there would be a chance that the both of you could form a better friendship, or maybe something more in the future.

Hey guys!! Sorry that it’s been so long since I’ve updated. Things have been a bit busy but thank you so much for your patience and support. I hope all of you are doing well this holiday season! Love you all~❤️

Tag List: @roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch

#alec mcdowell x reader #alec x reader #alec mcdowell #alec dark angel #jensen ackles dark angel #jensen ackles #dark angel one shots #dark angel #alec x5494 #x5494 #spnfandom #spnfamily

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