#the long hours of practicing and running from november are still present.. how...

[starlighttaylorsversion]

hii, here i am again, lurking

[rannie-moon]

what song would heran cover on their YouTube?

now playing... youtube covers!

masterlist | wattpad

WHAT THE HELL! | avril lavigne

⤹ 2021

this was her first cover on their youtube channel. It was early november and she had some free time (which was super rare) and instead of relaxing she decided to hop in a booth. on live she asked engenes if they wanted her to cover any particular songs and they swore they didn't care as long as she dropped something.

so heran being heran, shuffled her playlist and stuck with the first song that played—what the hell. she didn't even waste a second, reached over for her guitar in the rack beside her desk and plugged it into the amp. after barely 10 minutes she messaged her manager: "can you book the booth please? don't ask questions."

less than an hour later she's in a recording studio, putting her headphones on—ready to record with beomgyu on the other side of the glass. he was just there to keep her company. nothing much. and two takes later, she was done. that's all it took.

beomgyu was tripping out on her, lecturing her about how most idols take time to record their covers and put a lot of effort into it with an actual production crew, and here she was recording a pop-rock song in less than an hour.

her excuse, "does it look like I have the time? just because I didn't spent 3 months recording a single song doesn't mean that it's low quality jeez. let me be good at my job in peace!"

she didn't waste any time to get that video shot either oh my days she was on a generational run. the staff were still asking if she wanted to make the set pretty and she was like, "just give me my guitar, an amp, a mic stand in a garage set. we'll just keep it authentic, yeah?"

who could blame her though? she had to study for finals, practice for their upcoming award shows, make time for her therapy sessions, and her own studio time, while also staying present in her members' lives. they didn't even know that she recorded the cover, and only found out when it was uploaded. "my bad, I forgot to tell you guys but it's good right?"

so the what the hell cover drops randomly on a thursday night, no teasers, no posts, no nothing—just the thumbnail of heran with her guitar slung over her shoulder, a smile on her face, and “HERAN — What The Hell (Avril Lavigne Cover)”.

beomgyu’s in the credits with a sarcastic “recording assistant / emotional support / unofficial hype man.”

engenes were so confused and shocked, they all flooded her weverse bro.

💬 : heran you never told us about the cover! wtf mahn I threw my phone across the room when I saw it! ⤷ rannieYUH my bad? bro I'm in the middle of math class it's never that deep I swear 🤷🏼‍♀️ 💬 : POP-PUNK PRINCESS HERAN?? I ASCENDED ⤷ rannieYUH congratulations 👁️👄👁️ 💬 : heran what was the reason that you decided to bless us all with an avril comeback? 🎤 ⤷ rannieYUH I shuffled my playlist and chose the first song that played 🎤

the middle of the night | elley duhé

⤹ 2022

okay, so for this one she did practice! It wasn't spontaneous (shocker).

heran had this quiet longing to explore her ballet roots again—not in a rigid, traditional way, but something emotional. raw. something that could blend her contemporary influences with the delicate control she developed from ballet.

she just didn’t know what song could carry all that weight. until one night, middle of the night played while she was organising her choreography notes. she only settled properly when she had a clear vision of the execution, only then did she pitch the idea.

she sat with the song for days. listened to it on repeat. at night. on the way back to the dorm. while doing her skincare. she listened to it so often until she felt her body lean into certain dance moves, silently marking and mapping out her flow. once she had the vision, she brought it up during a meeting and everyone was borderline shocked... (because she was actually consulting them first for ONCE).

she was clear: she wanted it to be elegant but emotionally intense. and there was one very important factor: she needed water. and a lot of it.

she met with her dance instructor whenever she was free, asked for help, some constructive criticism, and some ideas to bring her vision to life.

the video shoot

the set was stripped down to it's bones. no fancy backdrop, no led screen. just a vast, blacked-out soundstage. all the lighting focused on her.

on the floor was a huge, clear pool/container that was filled with water (but from the video you could only see he water on the floor, nothing else). she was standing in a shallow, reflective pool of water. barely ankle deep, just enough for each step to ripple.

scene 1

she stood motionless, head bowed, arms loose at her sides. the began—and the camera circled her. her first step created a ripple that moved across the surface like glass cracking in slow motion. the choreography started slow and delicate, her eyes closed as if she were physically feeling the song flowing through her veins. the water only adding to the beautiful imagery.

every turn, every kick, every glide of her feet created beautiful arch of water, until she dropped down and was on her knees, halfway drenched as she danced with a desperation that she conveyed so well.

by the second chorus, the lighting begun to pulse, faint strobes like thunder in the distance. the choreography picked up—sharper, angrier, like the song was crawling in her skin. her dress clung to her frame, soaked from the water as she continued dancing knee-deep.

the camera zoomed in during floorwork—her hands dragged through the water as she hit the beats like they owned her or something. her hair was loose, dripping in a way that shouldn't have been that pretty. she looked ethereal.

and just as the final chorus swelled—BOOM. the overhead sprinklers turned on.

rained poured down in sheets, instantly drenching her. she turned, reached, spun, her dress spinning with her. she hit her final beat on the downbeat, chest heaving, face toward the ceiling, eyes shut. the water shimmered down her like a crown.

when the video was posted, it hit over a million views within the first 24 hours. fans were handing out titles left-right-and-center, as if she single handedly proved that she was the best female dancer in 4th gen, and was on the list of best dancers in the industry period. she was.

💬 : she didn't just eat. she fasted for days. cooked a seven-course meal. fed the industry. AND left no crumbs 💬 : when the video ended I was just staring at my screen, watching a solid 10 seconds of heran looking up as the rain poured down on her. she literally left me speechless... 💬 : I don't care what ya'll say, she is easily top 5 in the industry. never in my life have I seen an idol dancer as technically gifted as her I'm sorry, your favs are not sitting with her just yet. 18 years old by the way!

even idols were openly talking about it! taemin mentioned her in a fucking interview and put it on his insta story! the king of art himself recognised her!

die for you (feat. heeseung) | the weeknd and ariana grande

⤹ 2023

what else did you expect? LITERALLY WHAT??

this cover was super chill, just straight vibes. even the video was literally recorded with a go-pro and in the studio. clips of them during recording and just chilling. the lights were dim, they both looked comfortable and freakishly attractive.

heran and heeseung are both hugeeee the weeknd fans, and just them doing this cover with their voices sounding absolutlely heavenly together. It only showed the industry why bang pd was fighting wars for them to debut together. once again they had to remind everyone that they are THAT duo. NYEAAHHHHH!

the video shoot

heran was radiating a different type of girlfriend energy in this video (r.i.p jungwon). it was insane how effortlessly intimate the energy was—not romantic (obviously), but something even more maddening. that lowkey, undeniable chemistry that comes from knowing someone so well your voices just lock in like puzzle pieces. the best friendship ever. they are the epitome of homeboy and homegirl.

heeseung was leaned back in the chair, headphones around his neck, hoodie slouched just right. heran was sitting next to him, hair pulled up into a messy bun in the most effortlessly cool way in an overzised t-shirt (jungwon's, but nobody needs to know that) and a pair of sweats.

💬 : jungwon watching this like 👁️👄👁️ 💬 : the vocals, the atmosphere, I'm never knowing peace again

the whole thing felt like the softest flex—no elaborate set, no high-concept visuals—just them. just raw talent and the type of synergy that you can't manufacture. they were so in sync, engenes joked they were probably breathing in harmony too.

the video ended with the clip of them laughing at the end, both yelling "WAIT WHY WAS THAT SO GOOD??" and heran throwing a water bottle at heeseung while he laughed too hard to dodge it. the credits rolled in the form of handwritten notes over footage of them ordering food post-recording.

naturally the cover blew up! but the best part? jungwon's weverse reply to an engene.

💬 : jungwon did you see heran and heeseung's cover?? don't you think they looked so cute together 🤗 ⤹ jungwonie she sang that song for me by the way 👍🏼

wants and needs (with ni-ki) | drake ft lil baby

⤹ 2024 (original by sean lew and and bailey sok)

absolute perfection of a dance cover. too much skill and swag in one video I fear. I wanna say mother and son but damn. just two talented best friends having a good time on set ugghhhhhhh.

this and their collab stage to that michael jackson medley during their fate tour?? YESYESYESYESSS A MILLION TIMES YESSS! It was practically "how many times can one maknae duo leave everyone screaming".

ni-ki really wanted to do a dance cover with heran for their youtube channel, seeing as him and jungwon did a performance for studio choom. poor boy literally begged her aww.

"noona, I know you're super busy. like with a billion things, with the tour and you solo stuff but I really want to do something with you."

heran tried to resist at first. not because she didn’t want to do it—never. she’d actually been itching to do another dance project with him for a while. but between comeback prep, her solo concept shoot, rehearsals, and those ungodly early morning recording sessions, she had zero free time.

still, ni-ki was giving her the biggest eyes. full pout. slight tilt of the head. the “maknae begging his favourite noona” combo.

“riki,” she sighed, closing her ipad after reviewing practice footage. “you’re literally weaponising your cuteness and it’s working. can you please go back to being nonchalant or something?” “Is that a yes?” “…shut up. send me the choreo.”

they practiced like there was no tomorrow but ni-ki couldn't help the slight twinge of guilt that he felt because he was keeping heran from her schedule. but she swore that those things were the last of her priorities. "you before anything else buddy. now help me up so that we can re-run the first section."

they were so locked in it was borderline scary.

the two of them sweating it out, marking moves until they could do the routine in their sleep. every time heran stumbled or missed a beat, she'd slap the air like it offended her and go, “again. again. again.”

ni-ki would just laugh and go along with it, even if his body was already sore from his own rehearsals.

“your perfectionism is showing.” “and yours isn’t?” she shot back, already restarting the song.

the video shoot

the concept was very movie-esqu. starting off with heran working in an office and then ni-ki joining until the song played. the choreography was very hefty on partner-work which made it all the more fun. overall it was just such a vibe and they enjoyed filming it, and had even MORE fun dancing together.

you could see it in their faces, the chemistry was palpable through the screen. ughhhhh mother and son yessssir.

💬 : the way the move like they share one braincell ughh my babies 😭😭😭 💬 : not me crying over a drake cover... THEY MAKE ME DO THIS SHIT EVERYTIME 💬 : introducing nishimura "nonchalant around everyone but heran" riki! 💬 : I paused to breathe and missed three transitions. riki and heran... you'll always be famous

and heran's weverse post?? everyone was in tears!

late night with the boy, because that's more important than whatever my manager keeps on calling me for <3 we finished filming our dance cover today so I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate my cutie 😭😭

💬 : NO STOP IT! STOP I CAN'T DO THIS TONIGHT 💬 : all I do is cry... 💬 : I heard through the grapevine that jungwon is punching the air rn

takes me back home | wasia project ⤹ 2024

when you show up to a "who loves enhypen more" challenge but heran is your opponent. might as well pack it up, yeah?

she posted the cover for their debut anniversary and it was such an emotional process—and it actually took her so long to record because of the amount of crying she was doing. because there's just something about her relationship with her members that she can't put into words.

It's a feeling, intangible, indescribable through words alone. and they just had such an overwhelming year, that taking a moment to record this song was a breath of relief.

those seven loser boys are quite literally the main reason that she stays grounded, whether it's through laughing at something stupid, jokingly fighting, or sharing quiet moments. nobody compares to them.

the video shoot

the video was emotional too—a compilation of videos straight out of heran's camera roll. and these were videos she's kept since debut (she takes emotional attachment very seriously) so it was beautiful and raw. the moments that fans didn't get to see, just her and her seven loser boys.

this video was her heart laid bare:

their first album photoshoot in jeju after i-land—the moment that felt like the real beginning. jake and sunghoon jumping ten feet in the air because they thought a bee was chasing them, the rest of the members yelling in panic while heran’s laughter echoed from behind the camera, shaky footage catching her nearly dropping the phone from laughing too hard.

their first christmas together—seven boys and one girl trying to decorate a tree way too tall for their dorm ceiling. it almost toppled over when ni-ki tried to hang a giant bow at the top while standing on jay’s back. absolute chaos. the clip ends with the tree lopsided and everyone wheezing on the floor.

the dressing room after their debut showcase—shaky footage of limbs everywhere as they screamed, cried, and collapsed into one giant pile of disbelief and joy. heran’s voice barely audible through her tears, “are we even alive right now?”

a soft moment in the backseat of their van—heran squished between jake and ni-ki, both of whom had fallen asleep on her shoulders after a long day of rehearsals. she looked into the camera with a helpless smile, whispered, “send help please,” but her eyes were soft, her voice warm. like this was home.

jungwon and heran on a swing set at 2 a.m.—one of those quiet, late-night walks they took when the world felt too loud. the camera sat on the grass in front of them, catching flickers of light from a nearby lamppost. jungwon pushed the swing gently with his foot while they talked about everything and nothing, laughing like they didn’t have a care in the world.

the video cuts between moments like that—raw, real, painfully beautiful.

sunoo crashing out on her at the arcade while she was at the claw machine, trying to get him a plushy. heeseung and her in the booth together as they recorded their background vocals and adlibs for a song, unable to take the moment seriously at all until they were hanging onto each other laughing. jay dramatically reciting lines from a script for one of their conceppt films while everyone booed him. sunghoon trying to braid her hair and accidentally tying a knot. heran filming her own face, mock annoyance etched into it. "hoon I swear if you can't untie that I'm—"

"I can I swear! jsut give me a moment!"

It wasn’t just nostalgia. It was a mosaic of love, growth, and being seen.

and the final scene—the one that shattered everyone?

a quiet rooftop shot. all eight of them sitting together, backs facing the camera, watching the sunrise after a long night of filming. nobody said a word, but you could feel the weight of everything they’d been through sitting gently on their shoulders. heran turned the camera slightly to catch the way jake leaned his head on sunghoon’s, ni-ki pointing something out in the sky, jungwon quietly, sunoo and heeseung complaining about something.

until the song ended, the instrumental fading out and allowing for the video's audio to play. heran saying, "what I just pushed all of youu off the roof and ran away."

and just like that, she left the entire fandom curled up in fetal position.

💬 : why did I think I was emotionally prepared for this video??? like oh cool, a little throwback— proceeds to sob uncontrollably for ten minutes straight 💬 : me watching the swing set scene like: 🧍���‍♀️🧎🏽‍♀️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 💬 : the way she just kept everything. like imagine how much she cherishes these moments that she saved them for YEARS and chose to share them now. HERAN YOU ARE SO LOVED 😭

⤹ comment or pop a message into my inbox if you'd like to be added to my taglist

taglist: @angie-x3 @deluluscenarios @chaeryyeongz @akitoshi39i @sparklydoll444 @yunjiiin @kaitieskidmore97 @yb763

[oopsallgoalies]

You Catch More Bees With Honey: Prologue

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw, blindsided by a team he trusted like family has been traded to the San Diego Dogfighters. Across the country from the place he calls home, Bradley feels lost and betrayed. Not to mention the familiar faces and ghosts from his past that he now has to face every day at work. Bradley’s caught between wanting to show his former team the mistake they made in double-crossing him and wondering if it’s time to hang up his skates after one final season. You’re living your dream as the PR representative for the Dogfighters. When Coach Maverick made a bid to bring his godson to the team, you hadn’t batted an eye. Bradley was a good teammate, and a good player. Unfortunately, the Bradley that shows up in San Diego is nothing like your research suggested. He’s moody, irritable, aggressive, and angry, throwing a wrench in all your careful planning. What’s caused such a drastic change in him? And can you figure out how to help him before he makes a mistake you can’t fix?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, dead parents, drunkenness, alcohol consumption, violence, sports violence, blood probably, angst, fluff, eventual smut, age gap (28 and 38), enemies to lovers, suggestive language, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This is a repost of my completed series, You Catch More Bees With Honey. It was originally posted in November-March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“Bradley Bradshaw.” You zone back into the conversation as Maverick offers his suggestion. You sneak a glance at the clock on the wall. Your bones are aching from sitting pin-straight for the last four hours. It’s been thirty minutes since you’ve been actively present in the conversation with the three grown men sitting at the conference table with you. At the head of the table is Tom “Iceman” Kazansky, the owner of the newly formed San Diego Dogfighters. At age 64, he’s aged gracefully since his glory days playing for the Boston Bruins and later, more famously, for the Anaheim Ducks, but not quite as gracefully as the man seated across from him. Pete “Maverick” Mitchell somehow still has the aura of pure charisma that he oozed through his lengthy, thirty-one-year hockey career. After an infamous stint with the Philadelphia Flyers in the eighties, he went on to play for the Anaheim Ducks for a whopping twenty-five years alongside both Iceman and the man sitting next to him. Beau “Cyclone” Simpson’s hockey career both on paper and in practice shows off his intense desire to be the next Iceman, but he seems to have fallen short. He followed Kazansky’s footsteps from Boston to Anaheim, taking a brief detour in Dallas on the way. And yet here he sits, the general manager for the Dogfighters.

The three of you are going through potential players who could be recruited, drafted, or traded for to create the roster for the new team. As the team’s PR representative, you don’t have much of a reason to be here but you’ve made yourself useful. One of your specialties is keeping meticulous records of the pasts and presents of your players and that means you run a killer background check. You’re here to evaluate the potential players based on their personal lives. Nobody wants to hire a PR nightmare, especially when you’re a new franchise.

This extracurricular project isn’t without its perks, however, just an hour ago you pitched the defensive duo of rookie Mickey Garcia and seasoned veteran Reuben Fitch currently signed with the New Jersey Devils. Mickey and you have been friends since you met in college at the University of Wisconsin. Ever since Mickey got drafted to the Devils, you’ve been doing your best at maintaining your friendship long-distance, so when you got a job with the Dogfighters, Mickey was your first call, and after several lengthy conversations, he and Reuben agreed to you offering them as a potential trade prospect. You’d presented your meticulously rehearsed pitch to the three men at this table and they’d agreed that the duo would make a good addition to the Dogfighters.

After your pitch, you’d let yourself relax mentally. It wouldn’t do you any good to relax physically in front of your bosses. You’ve already clocked the looks Cyclone’s been giving you since you showed up on your first day in one of your signature pastel suits. Today you’re wearing one of your personal favorites, a baby pink number. You needed the extra burst of confidence that it always gives you. You know what it takes to be a woman in this business but that doesn’t mean you have to become a man. You flaunt your femininity as much as you pride yourself in your poised and polished appearance. Your suits are colorful enough to draw attention to yourself, but not indecent enough to make that attention bad. You stand out and you’re proud to do so. Men may command the room with their deep voices and raging testosterone tantrums, but you can command one just as well without even speaking a word. Curious attention is still attention and that’s what matters most.

“Bradley Bradshaw? From Philadelphia?” Cyclone sounds dubious as he muses over Maverick’s pick. Then again, he tends to sound dubious whenever it comes to Maverick generally. “He’s getting a little old, isn’t he?” His eyes flick to you, prompting you silently. Your perfectly manicured fingers fly across the keyboard as you speak up.

“Bradley Bradshaw, left winger for the Philadelphia Flyers. He was scouted by them straight out of college, and has been playing for them and their AHL affiliate for a total of sixteen years.”

“He’s never played for any other teams?” Cyclone says, raising an eyebrow. He’s right to be surprised, it’s unusual for any one player to stay with a franchise for so long, let alone their first one. Sure, both Ice and Maverick played for the Ducks for over a decade but they signed to other teams first. They established themselves before they established a home.

“His father, Nick Bradshaw played the same position for the Flyers from 1984 to 1986.” You rattle off as your eyes scan the various articles you have pulled up. “At the same time as Maverick,” your eyes flick up from your screen to where Maverick is shifting uncomfortably.

“You played with his old man?” It’s a statement phrased like a question. Cyclone’s piercing green eyes join yours on Maverick.

“I did. Bradley’s my godson, actually.” You can’t stop your eyebrows from raising at that. That particular tidbit wasn’t in any of the articles you’ve been skimming. You want to scoff at how easily Maverick offers up the information. He’s making his intentions clear from the get-go. This is personal for him. You’d kept your cards as close to your chest as you could when you’d pitched Mickey and Reuben. To make it personal was to tank the pitch in your eyes. You were here to be objective and offer objective suggestions for the team. You wait for Cyclone or Ice to chastise Maverick and when neither of them moves to do so, you feel your brow twitch with irritation. The privilege of being a man. Men are rational, and even an emotional decision is still more reasonable than the most rational statement a woman can make.

“Zam, what else do you have on Bradshaw?” Zam, your nickname, is short for Zamboni. You were given it during your first experience with managing public relations for your college’s hockey team. Your job, much like that of a Zamboni, is to smooth things over, both on and off the ice.

“He’s squeaky clean, sir.” Your eyes are back on the busy screen of your laptop, fingers flying across the keys. “He’s known as an enforcer on the ice, but doesn’t seem to be prone to any kind of violence or erratic behavior off the ice. He’s a team player, and his teammates have nothing but good things to say about him.” You rattle off his stats next, projecting them onto the screen at the head of the table. Other than his age being on the older side, as Cyclone had noted, he isn’t the worst pick in the world by a long shot. You know the importance of having senior members on a team, they form pillars for the rookies to build around and Bradley is the model pillar player. He’s well-rounded and the perfect balance between being well-known, and not an outright celebrity. Bradley Bradshaw is an ideal choice for the Dogfighters.

“Alright Maverick, we’ll give the Flyers a call about Bradshaw first thing tomorrow.” And with that, Bradley Bradshaw is halfway to the San Diego.

[tea-reads]

A Christmas Getaway

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: +2.5K

Content: Fluff, Friends-to-lovers, first time spending holiday together, animal with very minor injury.

A/N: For this year's @pedrostories Secret Santa, my gift is for @noisynaia! Thank you for your patience, I hope you like it and I really hope I've done your prompt justice. There were so many ideas and possibilities I had in mind, and I finally found the story that felt natural to write. Your prompt was like a warm welcome back into writing and finding joy in it once again.

Thank you @pedrostories for organising this amazing event!

Merry Christmas everyone and have a wonderful and happy new year!

.

.

.

Prologue

The train air whistle roars as white puffs emit from the train through the cold open air. It gradually slows down to a stop, reaching its destination.

Those visiting would have a pamphlet advertising for a ‘magical Christmas getaway in the snow!’, which really was a humble town in a snowy region with some fancy cabins too. The town was to appeal to families most, but that doesn’t stop the solo-travellers from going and booking their own cabin.

Nor does it stop a clever red fox from “participating” by taking advantage of the unfinished foods left behind.

. . . . . . . 

Snowmen and snow angels. Christmas decorations and displays. Gingerbread houses. Dinner with loved ones. Family-friendly Christmas movies. Winter Night Markets. Strings of festive lights. Choirs carolling in front of the grand Christmas tree at the city centre. Children laugh as they run and play like the wild and free spirits they are. Presents. 

Whatever made Christmas special and magical for the kids, Din wanted to give that experience to Grogu. It was the boy’s first Christmas after all. Though the problem was the little boy didn’t seem to share the same level of excitement as the other kids - he was curious and awed, yes, but was so comfortable being carried around by his father as the festive season took place.

Admittedly, one day from grocery shopping at the mall, Din attempted to line up with Grogu for those photographs with Santa, but had to make a sharp turn towards the exit when he saw the tears in his son’s eyes. 

And the presents? Din was just helpless. Maybe he was overthinking it - overthinking everything - that the present had to be perfect, but that could be anything. Getting Grogu a teddy bear wasn’t right to Din, but the single dad wanted and needed to give something special.

He valued practicality, the purpose and the quality of every little moment. Yet throughout putting up their own Christmas tree and decorating it, attempting to cook dinner or bake together, watching Christmas movies each night, he still felt like it wasn’t enough nor right.

And it was still November. 

. . . . . . . 

Two-hour-long train ride. Snow. Cozy cabin. Fireplace. Blanket. Hot chocolate. Book. Getaway.

Whatever made Christmas special this year was the opportunity to finally treat yourself to a getaway.

The hustle and repetitive nature of modern life would sometimes get to you, like being haunted by one of those ghosts from a ‘Christmas Carol’. To combat the noise, you found spending the holidays away from it all to be the answer. 

The overwhelming and unbearable weight of hustle culture became a sign for you to step back, detach, and pivot in another direction. One that welcomes rest and relaxation. You worked way too hard this year, including overcoming all minor inconveniences, you very much deserve a reward. 

After randomly one day Googling places, scrolling social media, you found your holiday spot. Two hours on the train from the city to a region of paradise in snow and ice. 

You booked a cabin for two weeks, celebrating Christmas there in peaceful solitude.

. . . . . . . 

Call it a Christmas miracle because seeing the advertisement on a billboard was all he needed.

Din finally found the perfect gift for Grogu.

How did it not occur to him to just go somewhere nice for the holiday?  

So off they went, booking a two-hour-long scenic train ride and a cabin in a snowy region for two weeks. Truth be told, everything was very last minute and rushed - they barely made it to the platform and hopped in the first carriage. The thrilling journey to the station at the start was exciting to Grogu. Din just dealt with the stress of everything up to checking in.

Din finally breathed and eased against his seat as he watched Grogu press his little hands against the window, the small frog plushie Peli gifted from a brief visit to their home tucked in his arm. His breath fogged the pane a little, mesmerized by the passing wintery view.

There was no plan for what they’d do when they arrived. Whatever Grogu takes interest in, Din will see where it takes them. 

. . . . . . . 

You took one of the carriages at the end when you arrived at the station early. Might as well get a head start on your holiday and also save yourself from the stress of checking in. To occupy yourself as  the other passengers boarded the train, you took the time thinking of what you might do when you arrived at the resort. 

First and foremost, you allocated most of your time in the cabin or snow hiking. Of course there would be the occasional trips to grab essentials in town or sneak a treat at the popular tourist spot cafe. It might be worth buying a souvenir too. 

Whatever happens, it all goes to recovering your social battery. But it seemed to have extended to taking care of a small critter.

It wasn’t long into your hike you notice a ball of orange-red fur so obviously standing out in the snow. Whatever it was, curiosity won and you approached that ball of fur. As you got closer, that ball of fur shivered. 

“Oh my God.” Your eyes widen with panic.

It’s a fox! 

The poor fox weakly lifts its head once it heard you approaching and immediately growls quietly in warning, as if telling you to back off. It was heartbreaking to see how scared and defensive the fox looked - his green eyes glaring, and ears folded back as he hardly bared his teeth at you.

You didn’t know who to call, there was hardly any reception, and there was no way in hell you were leaving this poor fellow all alone.

“I’ll be right back” You promised the fox and rushed back to your cabin to grab a large blanket.

You found the fox now attempting to get up when you came back, and your heart ached when he wobbled. You do your best in staying calm to not further cause distress, yet so many questions and concerns for the fox came to mind, you focus on wrapping the fox in the blanket, safe and snug, and bring him back to your cabin where it’s warm.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I got you. You’re safe, darling. I promise.’ You coo softly. The fox resisted at first and squeaks in protest, but relents eventually at the warmth of your voice as you comforted and carried him to your cabin. 

Maybe it is true that animals can sense trustworthy souls based on how willing and well behaved the fox was. 

Or maybe he was just clever enough to realise he’s in good hands and will be taken care of for the next few weeks.

. . . . . . . 

What were the odds of seeing Din on the same trip and finally crossing paths? 

Inevitable. 

It started when you were in the town’s most popular cafe and had to do a double take, making sure you weren’t delusional that it was in fact Din lining up at the counter. He doesn’t notice you, not when he was occupied by the little boy with him.

You couldn't help but keep glancing at his direction every second just to decide if you would very much like to go up to talk to him, but you did not want to deal with the awkwardness of it and went back to reading your book.

For Din, he walked past the souvenir shop and did a double take when he thought he saw you inside. Half of your face was buried from the scarf you wore. Din did not want to deal with the embarrassment of mistaking a stranger for an old friend, but he recognised you for sure. 

After feeling like someone was staring at you for too long, you looked up from the item you held to glare at them only to be met with gentle brown eyes. Din Djarin. You also notice a little boy standing close beside him and holding his hand. The boy gives a timid wave hello. You give a friendly smile and wave back, mouthing ‘hi’.

Din stood there, too shocked to greet you. So you ditched getting a souvenir and walked out of the shop to meet him. 

“Din?” Everything about you, your eyes, your smile, the surreal moment and excitement of seeing an old friend, made Din’s heart flutter. His first thought was how beautiful you are it almost slipped out his mouth. He smiles a little, shy, and nods. He says your name, remembering you. 

“Good to see you again.” He says.

You catch up asking the usual “how have you been/what have you been up to/who’s this little guy?”, learning each other’s duration and plans of their stay.

You laughed uncontrollably when you found out about Din’s stressful experience on the day of departure in comparison to yours. 

“No wonder why I didn’t see you.” You giggle, shedding a tear. 

“Laugh all you want, you’ll be next.” Din frowned but still had a light-hearted tone. 

“It won’t happen. I feel obligated to be your train buddy now.” You say with confidence and Din sighs. 

Din offered that you can drop by and visit him and Grogu for lunch or dinner, but was rather compelled to visit yours when you told him of your situation. 

“This is the fox you’re taking care of?” Din asked quietly nodded at the dozing animal by the fireplace. 

The fox’s ear twitched and he woke up groggy from the pile of blankets after sensing the new companions setting foot in the cabin. The fox first glared defensively at Din, but once his eyes met with the child’s in Din’s arms, he softened up. Grogu stared in awe then looked up at his father, silently asking if he could get close. Din hesitated but set Grogu down.

The little boy and the fox had a harmless stare down gauging the level of friendliness of the other.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened to him. I just found him shivering a few days ago and so he’s been bunking with me.” You explain, smiling fondly as Grogu started to gently pat the fox’s head, to which the animal accepted.

"He's like an animal whisperer." You giggle, watching the cute interaction between Grogu and the fox.

“I like to call him ‘Fink’.” You added, making Din raise an eyebrow and you felt like he was judging you. Your face flushed with embarrassment and explained. “It’s from a book called ‘The Wild Robot’. You should read it to Grogu - or watch the movie with him if you haven’t. I think you’ll like it.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I’ll look into that.” Din says softly, watching his son bond with the fox. 

“Does anyone else know about this?” Din asks.

Fink now rested his head on Grogu’s lap, eyes closed and sighing happily as the boy continued to soothingly stroke his fur. 

“I don’t think you nor I will do that. Maybe it’s not necessary to anyways.” You finally answered, still unsure. 

Fink made a speedy recovery - no longer shivering, able to walk without wobbling, and expressive.

Your efforts looking after him all led releasing him back into the wild. There was no way you would keep Fink to yourself. Fink wasn’t a pet, yet you acknowledged the strong attachment towards the fox and the companionship shared from looking after him.  

You also had to go back home. Same with Din and Grogu. 

For this evening, Din’s heart ached with regret when they eventually had to go back to their cabin. 

“You’re welcome to visit. I think that’s what Grogu wants too.” You grinned as you bid your farewell for the evening. 

Din nodded, saying he’d come back with Grogu. Neither of you had the courage to admit you wanted to see each other too.

Din continued visiting your cabin as you looked after Fink, giving plenty of time to catch up while Grogu kept the fox company. It was like the two were inseparable. 

On Christmas day, you invited Din and Grogu over for dinner. Din helped with cooking and preparing while Fink played with Grogu. The boy squealed in excitement when Fink pretended to chase him, or vice versa. Even if there was a lack of Christmas decorations, the festive spirit was there. This was probably what Din was looking for, same with Grogu. To just be with the people he loved.

“Grogu, he can’t eat that.” Din quickly grabbed the cookie Grogu tried to feed Fink.  . . . . . . . 

In the middle of the night, Fink wakes up to a muffled conversation. He recognises your voice and then that man - Din was it?

You were in the kitchen. 

Fink can tell by hearing liquid pouring and smelt the aroma of cocoa. 

He picked up a sense of familiarity and intimacy within your conversation. The two of you shared stories from your personal lives in a steady rhythm.

You and Din thanked each other’s company for the evening, the entirety of what came to be from your holiday. And then there was a pause. Talking wasn’t either of your forte, but what did feel right for you both was being in each other’s presence in silence. 

“I missed you.” You blurted.

“I missed you too.” Din whispers, sincere. 

Fink fell back asleep. 

In the kitchen, there were faint shy giggles. Whispering one last season's greeting. Whispering each other’s name playfully. 

First kisses. 

More kisses, savouring and remembering it.

Over and over again. 

. . . . . . . 

“We have to let him go.” Din murmurs, Grogu doesn’t stop hugging the fox. 

The fox was all better and set to go back in the wild. You would also be boarding the train back home soon. 

“We can come back next year.” Din promised, gently placing his hand on Grogu’s shoulder. The boy sniffled and the fox whimpered after the loss of affection. 

“Yeah, and next time, we’ll be in the same cabin,” you said, kneeling next to Grogu and looking at the fox, “and hopefully we’ll see Fink again.” You say softly, believing the fox can understand and make a promise.

. . . . . . . 

Outside your cabin, the three of you watched Fink walk a few steps towards the wilderness, looking back one last time to see Grogu with tears, waving goodbye. 

Fink forced himself to run off, until all that was left behind was the trail of paw-prints in the snow. 

. . . . . . . 

This time Din and Grogu boarded the train early, thanks to you.  

. . . . . . . 

Even though it was almost the new year, it didn’t stop you from giving presents. You joked you were Din’s present - to which he rolled his eyes in amusement. 

But for Grogu?

“Go on, open it up. She got it just for you.” Back at his home, Din gently encouraged Grogu when the little boy looked up to his father with curious eyes from the small, soft wrapped gift.

After carefully unwrapping, Grogu lifts up the gift, stares at it for a few seconds then squeezes it in a tight hug, swinging side to side.

Later that night, Din invited you over to join them for dinner.

“Does he like his gift?” You ask Din nervously while you joined him in his bed.

Din chuckles, carefully pulling you closer and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“He loves it. Thank you for getting him that.”

In the little boy’s room, there he was, fast asleep. What was also tucked with him and held close to was a small plushie resembling a red fox.

. . . . . . . 

Epilogue

Sometimes, Fink visits the cabin. He knows the people he wants to see most aren't there, so he sits there in the snow, reminiscing.

He liked being called ‘Fink’. It suited him.

Majority would call him as ���sly’ or ‘mischievous’, but he took it as a compliment in disguise for how ‘clever’ he is.

So clever, that he would keep his promise and recognise the family of three that would visit again next year, Christmas time.

[elektrischemaidchen]

Lisztober #11: Symphonie Fantastique

Madness has taken hold at the Maidchen court. What always comes across as so easy here, is a real challenge, which unfortunately also takes its toll. I now have a real coffee problem by now, so I sometimes have heart palpitations at night. Then there's the incredible time pressure to present you with something cool that has to be ready in less than 24 hours.

If anyone asks why we're sitting in a three-person cell in a asylum by November, tell them it's because of absinthe, reading too much Lautréamont and hysteria. Please.

And that brings us right back to today's topic. Yesterday we escalated. Really. So much so that one girl is hoarse and the other is on the verge of tinnitus. Additionaly, one of our speakers died due to the volume and overdrive. Here you can listen a true masterpiece by Maidchen standards. We had to stop in between, because of laughing over and over, again and again. Both while writing and during the recording itself. Even while cutting. And even more so when the neighbor simply started practicing the tuba for unknown reasons. I didn't even know he had a tuba. It must be new. Totally surreal. But luckily, he didn't call the police on us. And you wouldn't believe how many takes we “indulged” in. (There were 26. 26!) I hope we can convey these moments of pure joy. PLEASE LISTEN TO THE WHOLE SONG TO GET THE VIBE! ;)

The reason for this was our contribution for today, Berlioz “Symphonie Fantastique” aka probably the creepiest piece of classical music that has ever existed. And thank you so much, @franzliszt-official for giving us this opportunity.

So, here’s our plot summary:

We really always wanted to write something about this masterpiece of brainf***, but unfortunately we didn't have the right idea - and you see: With a gun to your head, even the muse must speed up. Let’s see how far we can go with this. The plot of the symphony - just like the story before and after it - is so obscure that it has become a kind of running gag for us. Life (and art) can't write better stories. Never ever. And before I tell you the whole story, if you don't know it yet: there's a wonderful YouTube video with a short summary that I highly recommend you watch (the whole channel is amazing!!!). WTF, Berlioz, really, WTF.

Oh well, it's still about Liszt. Liszt was a huge fan (Really, Franz. I love you, but why? WHY?) of this symphony, just like Wagner (but nobody here give a shit about Richard‘s opinion anyway)  Franz may not have been directly involved in the creation of the “Symphonie Fantastique”, but his piano transcription and his interpretations made a significant contribution to this work becoming one of the most important works of Romantic music. Liszt made it accessible to a wider audience, interpreted it and developed it further, thus having a lasting influence on music history.

That's why we originally wanted to deal with the “Dies Irae” theme, but let's be honest… everything stinks against the main story.

And then there is the “Idée fixe”, the central theme of Berlioz's symphony, the beloved, who appears again and again musically as a motif and ultimately drives him mad. You could also apply this to the Maidchen. Fun fact: 97% of all our lyrics have a hidden hint to Franz. Sometimes so well that Lacelove doesn't even notice ;) Whoever finds them all: Get in touch. You'll get an exclusive shirt and your own song written. I promise.

Oh, dearest, dearest love, you surely will never know that I’m gonna write to you A symphony of love  in just one night Oh, dearest, dearest love, I only dream of you and in my longing I wish you were here Oh, dearest, dearest love, Where have you gone? You dance with a hundred others You erase me from your mind Oh, dearest, dearest love, Fate is not fair My sky, full of violins But my heart, it's so heavy So heavy I try to forget you On noble pastures The shepherds who soothed me Make their songs known But then I see you before me With a smile like a sword You belong to someone else now You're...not worth it That's why I'm whistling opium now And will just kill you. DIEEEE! DIIEEEEE! OH GOD! JUST DIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE God alone knows, I will be judged for everything I have done and none of the heavenly angels will weep at my grave And so I see your face One last time before my face Oh, dearest, dearest love Why don't you save me? Oh, dearest, dearest love then it comes back to me You spawn of hell You are the queen of the witches. ORGIES! DAMN ORGIEEEEEEES! OH GOD! ORRRRRGIIIIIESSSS! Oh, dearest, dearest dearest, will you be angry with me? I invite you on the day of the premiere To find out Oh, dearest, dearest love then you'll be my wife Otherwise I'll threaten you with my own s*i*ide You know that very well IF YOU DON'T MARRY ME, I'LL K*** MYSELF! I'LL K**** MYSELF! AND IT'S YOUR FAULT!!!!! YAAAAAAAAA! And then, she actually married him.

[nanamimizz-archived]

𝐒𝚶𝐋𝚬𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐘 𝚬𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐑

tags: very self-indulgent birthday fluff, the reader is Spanish speaking and is not Japanese, Spanish is reader's first language, kishibe is a lot more softer after hours, 1.k words, let me know if i missed something.

synopsis: kishibe finds your hobbies to be worthy of his solemnly given praise.

The clock reads 12:00 am November 6th when Kishibe wanders home. The days end sooner now and it's a deep dark when he hears the click of the key open up to your shared apartment. He doesn’t expect you to be up, but the soft light from the living room lets him know. He hears your breathing, it's high and pitching - along with the strumming, and plucking of strings. You’re learning to play something. Kishibe’s presence is quiet, it doesn’t surprise him that you can’t hear him. He’s taking off his coat, his shoes going into the shoe rack like you’ve nagged him to do countless times - he still leaves them out so he can see the pout on your face when you lecture him.

The black tie and belt he wears are undone and left hanging on hooks on the door of the closet in the small hallway that leads to the living where the soothing sound of your musical practicing can be heard. Down to his work pants and wife beater he wears under his shirts he rubs at the back of your neck, finally making the turn to lean against the wall to watch. There’s an acoustic guitar in your lap, and you’re sitting on the couch looking at sheet music on your laptop. The song is different - it’s playing at a nice volume and he can hear the beat, the twinkling guitar notes, and the soft vocals. It isn't in  Japanese, the rolling of the r’s and the foreign pronunciations he finds that it’s in Spanish. He knows you can speak it, that it’s your mother tongue but rarely do you in his presence.

You start singing it - “Despidiendo últimamente todo lo que sucedió, Hoy saludo a mi presente y gusto de este dulce adiós”

He can see how your hair shows its warmer tints in the lights of your shared home - the waves part so he can see the smooth skin of the back of your neck and fights the urge to reach out and touch it. Your voice sounds different when you speak Spanish, there is confidence in how you roll the R’s, and how you say the long U’s and smooth C’s - it’s different from when you speak Japanese. Your voice is a bit timider like you’re stepping on the ice of the forest lake for the first time. He likes hearing you speak in Spanish, he thinks.

Kishibe makes his presence known by reaching out and running the back of his knuckles across the exposed skin of the back of your neck. It amuses him when he sees you jump and turn around to look at him - wide-eyed and flustered, clutching your guitar to your chest and saying his name in a hushed shout.

“You scared me!”

“Heh. Sorry.”

You both know Kishibe doesn’t mean a lick of that apology.

“Didn’t know you played.” He nods to the guitar, you’re embarrassed and you lower the guitar to lay flat on your lap. You don’t meet his eyes and he thinks about how pretty you are, even with the remnant of your mascara smudges under your eyes. Tucking your hair behind your ear you wet your lips and explain,

“Just sometimes, on special occasions. I try to do it when you’re not here, I don’t want it to bother you.” Your eyes are timid as they flicker back up to him, and Kishibe finds the last remnants of his heart soften under your demure gaze.

“It doesn’t bother me. I like it. Kishibe's words aren’t flowery but they are kind in their true honesty. You smile and he considers that a victory.

“What’s the special occasion tonight?” He asks, rounding the couch and sitting next to you, one corded arm resting on the back of it, hand hanging by the end of your shoulders. You smile and it’s a bit more somber than he’d like but he knows - everyone has their baggage.

“It’s my birthday. I don’t really like to do much on it, so I just dedicate the day to practicing or something.” He hums, fingers going from touching the material of the couch to the soft skin of your shoulder, he doesn’t ask because he knows you wouldn’t want him to. He murmurs,

“That’s a nice thing, sweetheart.” He tips his head back to your laptop, you had paused the song somewhere amidst your scare and he can see the foreign words on the screen. 

“What were you playing?” 

“A Spanish song - it’s called Soledad Y El Mar,” you say softly, letting the guitar rest upright against the couch as you lean into his side. His arm that rested against the back of the couch comes to wrap around you instead, bringing you closer. You smell vanilla-like when you bake something and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. Your hair is soft against his nose and he tells you,

“Play it for me baby -wanna hear it.” He smirks when he can feel your heart stutter in your chest. He keeps ghosting his fingers along your skin and delights in the flustered side-eyed looks you gave him as you prepared yourself to play for him. You look back at him, there’s a bit of a pout on your lips and he inwardly coos at how cute it is.

“I’m nervous to play for you?” His stoic face betrays nothing and he presses on,

“How come?”

“What if you don’t like it?”Kishibe huffs amused, the corners of his lidded eyes softening at your admittance,

“I’ll like it- let me hear it, baby.”  He says and it’s simple praise but Kishibe knows that’s what you need, you preen and smile shyly. Your lashes flutter and turn to start playing the song. The song begins from your laptop - about the sea, blue ports, and sweet loneliness. The way you pluck at the guitar strings shows you're more than a beginner but less than a master. He likes it, you’ve clearly got a knack for it.

He closes his eyes and dedicates the moment to memory, he wants to savor the sweetness in the bubble you two live in, just for a little longer. In the alleyway, a rat scurries under the streetlight.

[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin: 

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]

Y/N: 

Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[ectoentity]

Late Night Answers

Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Witching hour vs Twilight

Fandom: Danny Phantom

Rating: G

Characters: Danny Fenton, Kitty, Johnny 13

Tags: Witching hour, ghost culture?

Danny keeps waking up in the middle of the night. The same exact time every night. He decides to take a flight around town and runs into a couple ghosts who're willing to give him some answers.

Read on AO3 here.

Danny’s eyes opened. It was night. Above him, the stars on his ceiling gave off a dim glow. He was still wrapped in his blanket. There was no cold ache in his throat that would indicate his ghost sense had woken him up.

He glanced at his alarm clock. The red numbers read 3:00. Danny grumbled and turned on his side, away from the clock, and tried to go back to sleep. This was the third night this had happened. For the last two nights he’d woken up at exactly three in the morning for no reason. He’d tossed and turned in bed until around four.

This night apparently wasn’t much different. He laid in bed for about ten minutes, but his brain just kept going back to worries about the next day. It wasn’t restful at all. Danny sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. If he was going to be awake for a while, he should at least do something useful.

In a flash of light Danny transformed. He flew through the wall into the chilly night air. He could feel the cold against his face, but it didn’t bother him like it would a normal human. There was no moon tonight - it had set before nightfall - but he could see perfectly well. Danny decided to head towards the city park. The night was fairly quiet. There were some cars on the roads, but not very many. Just a few night shift workers and late night travelers.

His ghost sense went off when he was halfway to the park. It felt familiar: kind of spiky but not painful or aggressive. Danny was slowly getting better at identifying ghosts based on how his ghost sense felt, but it was more of an art than a science. He had no idea who this could be. Who would be out at the park in the middle of the night and not causing havoc?

The sound reached him before he saw who it was. A motorcycle revved its engines, and someone shrieked in joy. It had to be Johnny, Shadow, and Kitty. Danny landed near the park fountain. They didn’t seem to be causing much trouble aside from being loud. He sat on the edge of the fountain and waited for them to come around again. It wasn’t long before Johnny’s ghostly bike flew in from the opposite area from where they’d left. As expected, Kitty was hugging Johnny as he did some spins that would have been dangerous if they’d still been alive. They rose up on the front wheel of the bike and spun three times before landing again. Then Johnny pulled into an empty parking spot in front of the fountain.

“Hey, kid,” Johnny called. “Surprised it took you so long to come out.”

Danny shrugged. “Didn’t seem like you were really causing trouble tonight.”

Behind Johnny, Kitty giggled. “You mean the last three nights?” she asked.

That got his attention. Danny floated up into a standing position, though his feet didn’t touch the ground. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What’ve you been doing?”

“Chill out, kid,” Johnny said. He got off his bike and offered his hand to Kitty. She grabbed it and jumped down from the bike. “We’ve just been riding around. Witching hour season, you know how it is."

Danny didn’t know exactly what Johnny meant, but he had a feeling it had to do with why he kept waking up. “I keep waking up at three,” he admitted, settling down to stand on the ground. “What’s that about?”

“How long’ve you been a ghost?” Kitty asked. “Or, whatever you are.”

Danny’s eyes flashed. “A little over a year.”

Kitty put a finger up to her chin. “And you didn’t notice last year? That’s a little weird, with how strong you are.”

“You guys kept me up almost every night for three months straight last year,” Danny grumbled. He was still a little bitter about that. It had ruined his grades. Now that he’d cemented his ownership of Amity Park, ghosts didn’t try to challenge him as much, but it had been a really awful for a while.

“Oh, right.” Kitty at least had the manners to look embarrassed. “Well, this time of night is when we’re more… present, I guess?” She looked at Johnny for confirmation, but he just shrugged. Kitty frowned and looked back at Danny. “The closer we get to Halloween, the more it affects us. I can be out of the Zone a little bit longer, Johnny and Shadow can ride faster, that sort of thing.”

On the one hand, Danny was glad to get some kind of answer for why he kept waking up. On the other… “So I’m gonna wake up in the middle of the night for no reason for a month?”

“Two months,” Johnny corrected. “Sorry, Phantom. It doesn’t just stop on November first.”

Danny sagged. He wiped a hand across his face in frustration. “Great. Thanks for telling me. I guess I could… get homework done,” he said weakly. It sounded like the worst possible thing to do in the middle of the night.

Johnny and Kitty stared at him and then burst out laughing. Danny glared until they quieted down enough to talk.

“Oh, Ancients, you’re such a goody-two-shoes,” Johnny snorted. “That’s awful. No, kid, this is ghost time. You can’t do lame shit like homework.”

“What do you want to do?” Kitty asked. “Really? Do you wanna do homework, or… I dunno, fight people? What do you even do when you’re having fun as a ghost?”

Danny frowned. “I don’t have fun as a ghost.” He gestured to his glowing, jumpsuit-clad form. “I’m only like this when I have to fight ghosts.”

The ghosts shared a glance before looking back at Danny. “That’s really sad, kid,” Kitty said. She brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “Do you even know what you’re like as a ghost?”

He blinked at her. “I mean… I’m me? I’m more, uh. Protective of stuff.” He blushed green and looked away. He didn’t really like thinking about all the weird ghost instincts that had popped up over the last year. It made him worry about being less human.

Johnny snorted. “No shit. You spent the last year beating the crap out of anyone who laid a foot in your territory.” Kitty elbowed him in the gut.

“Come on, Johnny, he was just a mote. We weren’t too chill for a few years, either.”

“Ow! Babe, we weren’t… you know!” Johnny waved at Danny, indicating his whole self. Danny raised an eyebrow.

“You did kind of try to take over my sister’s body and then possessed one of my classmates,” he reminded her.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but that was before I knew you were just a kid. Like, really a kid. Most ghosts don’t get near as strong as you in their first year, you know. We both thought you were super old but just acted like you were a kid.”

“Even though my human form looks just like me?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Yeah?” Kitty said with a shrug. “Look, the only other one like you we’d heard about was the old guy. He’s been the same age for like, fifteen years or whatever. Why would we think you were any different?”

A lot of questions crossed Danny’s mind. Did that mean Vlad stopped aging? He knew the fruitloop looked weirdly young, even though he had grey hair, but he figured that was botox or something. Did that mean Danny was going to stop aging in a couple years? He was pretty sure he had grown some in the last year, but what if-

No, he had immediate things to deal with. These two probably didn’t know any of the answers to those questions.

“Okay, so, let me get this straight,” Danny said, “Witching hour is for doing ghost stuff. And I’m supposed to figure out what I like to do as a ghost, so I can do it for a couple months.”

“I guess?” Johnny said with a frown. “Not like we had to figure that out.”

Danny picked up his feet so he was hovering a couple feet above the ground in a seated position, one leg dangling and the other hiked up so his knee was in front of his torso. “I guess I like flying? It’s pretty nice. I can go over a hundred miles an hour.”

“Yeah, we can tell,” Kitty said, a hint of a laugh in her voice. She picked up her legs too so she hovered in a cross-legged position in front of him. “That’s not really a you thing, though, is it? Most ghosts like flying.”

“I still prefer the bike,” Johnny said.

“Objection noted, sweet heart,” Kitty teased. “You like protecting the town, right? Maybe you should fly around to make sure it’s okay?”

It wasn’t a bad idea, but something about it felt sour. “I do that all evening anyway,” Danny grumbled. “It’s not like I hate it, I just… It’s not fun.”

Kitty hummed. Danny was very glad she didn’t poke at that. Fighting ghosts could be fun sometimes, but mostly it was something he felt driven to do. He didn’t enjoy it like he would playing a game, or watching a meteor shower, or…

His eyes lit up. “There’s two meteor showers this month,” he said, remembering it suddenly. “The Draconids are in just a couple of days, and then the Orionids near the end of the month.”

“That’s like shooting stars, right?” Kitty asked.

“Exactly. It's rocks from space burning up in the atmosphere,” Danny said, a smile spreading across his face. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? He could get up above the clouds, away from the light pollution. “I bet I could get the best view in town now.”

“Of course he’s a nerd,” Johnny grumbled. Kitty shushed him.

“That sounds like a great thing to enjoy,” Kitty said to Danny. “Wanna ride with us one day and get out of town? Away from the lights?”

Danny hesitated. “You’d be okay with that?” He glanced from her to Johnny. Kitty seemed friendly enough when they weren’t fighting, but Johnny was the one who drove the bike.

Johnny frowned for a moment. He looked back at his bike. Danny could practically see the gears turning in his head. Finally Johnny turned back to Danny and said, “If it gets us out of this dump, yeah, we’ll take you stargazing.”

Before he knew what he was doing, Danny was hugging Johnny. “Holy shit thank you I haven’t gone in years I won’t let you regret it.”

After a few moments had passed, Johnny gently put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “H-hey, it’s no big deal, kid.”

Far in the distance, a church bell rang.

“Well, that’s our cue,” Kitty said. “Same time tomorrow?”

Danny straightened up, a little embarrassed that he’d just hugged Johnny of all people. “Yeah. See you then.”

When he made it back to his bed, he fell asleep instantly.

[pochiperpe90]

[L’Officiel Hommes] Luca Marinelli, rising star of Italian cinema

To win his first film role, Luca Marinelli agreed to put on sixteen kilos. For the second, he had to shave his whole body and learn to walk in heels more than eight inches high.

"If I believe in the part, there is nothing I'm not willing to do," says the twenty-six-year-old protagonist of ‘The Solitude of Prime Numbers’, the film by Saverio Costanzo presented at last year's edition of the Venice Film Festival.

To play the role of a boy devoured by guilt due to an accident that happened to his sister, Marinelli did not hesitate to ruin his athletic physique by gorging himself on fats and carbohydrates, and giving up any activity for three months. As soon as he could, he started running again to lose the extra pounds. Between football and swimming he has always been used to playing sports. But the forced immobility had atrophied his muscles, and at the end of the first runs he ended up vomiting his soul from the effort. After a month of intense exercise, however, he had already lost the extra pounds.

"Changing your body makes you feel more vulnerable and you become prey to irrational fears: when I was fat I was afraid of dying every time I took the stairs, when I was hairless I was afraid that my eyebrows would never grow back," says the actor while he eats a salad sitting at the bar of the Palazzo della Triennale in Milan. "But it's always a very interesting experience", he continues, absently stroking the hairs on his forearm, still growing since the end of the shooting of “L’ultimo terrestre”, a film that will be released next year by Gipi, an Italian illustrator making his debut behind the movie camera. It’s a love story set against the backdrop of an invasion of extraterrestrials, in which Marinelli plays the role of a transvestite friend of the protagonist. To prepare for the part, the actor watched dozens of crossdresser and transgender footage and had to practice for hours walking with extravagant stilts instead of shoes.

“I was told that, as a woman, I move well and I'm quite beautiful. In short, the experience gave me a certain satisfaction”, he jokes, winking with gray-blue eyes.

Compared to the film debut of ‘Solitude of Prime Numbers’, this new film offers him a smaller role and visibility. But Marinelli is not concerned about this. He knows he was very lucky to end on the red carpet of one of the most important festivals in the world with the first film. And he would almost feel calmer if his career were to continue more gradually.

"It was so lightning fast that I was not prepared. Venice was a wonderful experience but I was in panic. In the evening I came home with a terrible headache, I felt like I had two tight screws in my skull. I almost felt at fault to start out so great. And now I'm happy to start again slowly”.

Marinelli finished high school in 2006 and three years later graduated from the Silvio D'Amico Academy of Dramatic Art in Rome. Before being chosen by Costanzo for the feature film that gave him notoriety with the public, he had already played several roles in the theater with directors such as Carlo Cecchi and Michele Monetta. His father, actor and film voice actor, tried to introduce him to the world of entertainment as a child, without achieving great results. He had made him voice the voices of Tip and Tap, the grandchildren of Mickey Mouse from the cartoons, and had offered him some amateur roles. Despite being fascinated by the profession, however, the son didn’t feel cut out to be an actor.

“As a child I was shy. I liked being the center of attention, but only with people I had a lot of confidence with. More than being observed, I was interested in observing the lives of others. Not the present ones, but the past ones”.

After high school, Marinelli enrolled in the faculty of archeology in Rome. But after two months in which he attended only lessons that had nothing to do with his course, he realized that the university wasn’t for him and threw himself into acting, overcoming the fears he carried within him since he was a child. Even today, however, it retains some of that shyness. To the point that, whenever he is about to go on stage, he has to resort to small exorcising rites to reduce tension and cancel thoughts. And when we ask him how it feels to tell a complete stranger about himself, he confesses to being a little nervous.

"This is my second interview. From the first, I came out as some kind of psycho. I hope this time it goes better”, he jokes.

He has pain in his neck from a fall that occurred a few days earlier and moves his torso in a slightly stiffly way. He jumped on the ball and crashed to the ground during a game of "calciotto", the eight-a-side football that is popular in Rome, the city where he was born and raised. Every time he turns his head he makes a grimace of pain. Apart from that, Marinelli seems to be quite at ease, and does not resort to clichés. Nor does he try to hide behind sophisticated characters: he wears a blue shirt, military green trousers and brown jacket, in a style that he simply defines "for men", made up of garments unearthed among vintage shops and thrift stalls rather than in the boutiques of the big names. He loves to run around with his bike, although he admits that the longest trip he has done was from Rome to Fregene with a friend. And as soon as he has a free moment he takes his dog Nonò, a foundling dachshund who also follows him on tour, and takes him around the capital for long walks in the company of Sandy, the dog who lives in his parents' house.

Even though he’s aware of the difficulties and uncertainties he risks facing in his profession, he speaks of his dreams with passion and without anguish. He would like to pursue a project as a director and is enthusiastic about the collaboration with Cecchi in “Sogno di una notte di mezza estate”, a piece with which he will tour Italy between November and February.

"I know that being an actor is a job with a very high risk of failure and depression, but for the moment I try to live this lucky moment to the fullest."

Marinelli is not religious, but he’s particularly fascinated by the figure of Christ. He loves reading books and watching films that tell the Nazarene in his human dimension (from the Gospel according to Matthew by Pasolini to Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ), because when he sees a miracle he feels the "smell of burning" and is immediately distracted.

"The story of Jesus, understood as a simple person, is a proof of the wonderful things that man is capable of. And studying it helps to understand how far we live from the example that has been given to us".

Among the dreams in the drawer, remains to work with Eimuntas Nekrošius, the Lithuanian theater director who recently staged Albert Camus' Caligula in Rome. And with Pedro Almodovar, the master of Spanish cinema whose language he knows well. In fact, Marinelli's father spent his childhood in Argentina and passed on to his son his love for Spanish, which Luca speaks with a slight South American inflection.

Of course, the situation in Italy for novice actors is not reassuring. Most of his fellow academics are still looking for work. The lucky ones earn a few euros by acting in the theater or making fiction which is exhausting for the body and demoralizing for the spirit. The others are making a living with alternative uses waiting to be discovered.

“I'm working, but not because I'm the best of those who came out of my class. Luck matters a lot. In Italy the environment is closed and there is little money. Abroad, however, it seems that this art is much more accessible".

His response is interrupted by a strange sigh that sounds like a whale song. It’s the ringtone of his cell phone, a reconstruction of the original music used in the Greek tragedy. Marinelli doesn’t respond, but begins to show signs of unease. He noted that the Palazzo della Triennale hosts an exhibition of Pasolini's portraits that he would like to see. He has little time left, but he adores the poet and insists on entering.

Inside the exhibition, observe the black and white photos taken by Dino Pedriali in 1975 which show the artist reading in his villa in Chia, writing on an Olivetti 22 and walking on a bridge in Sabaudia with his hair down from the wind. Then he stops in front of a photo of Pasolini naked, portrayed in his bedroom.

"What a fascinating man, in this image he reminds me of the bad lieutenant in Abel Ferrara's film," he says as he heads towards the exit. Then, unexpectedly, he turns to his interviewer and asks him with the relieved tone of someone who knows he has completed a business: "Prof, how did the exam go?".

“I'd give you a nice twenty-eight”, we reply according to the game.

"Okay, I accept it".

L’Officiel Hommes

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)  

[sequinsmile-x]

Day-to-Day

Part of the Whatever Tomorrow Brings series 

Chapter 3: Jack 

Word count: 4.2k 

Read over on a03, or below the cut: 

Let me know what you think :) 

November 2002

Emily thought she knew what exhaustion was, thought that the long days and short nights at the BAU had taught her how to function on small bursts of sleep.

Then she had a baby.

Her body was running on fumes. The 36 hours she had spent in labour with Theo had left her shattered, and in the three weeks since her baby was first placed on her chest she didn’t think she had slept more than 90 minutes at a time.

She groans as Theo cries out from the bassinet sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching out for him before he could wake Aaron up. It was his first day back at work in the morning after his paternity leave and she wanted him to get as much sleep as possible

“Ok, sweet boy.” She says, lifting the baby into her arms and settling back into bed, she one handedly shrugs off her pyjama shirt and undoes her maternity bra so she can feed her son.

She rests her head against the headboard and closes her eyes, knowing it was only a few short hours until the day would begin. ______________

Aaron wakes to find his wife sat up, her eyes closed as she leant against the headboard, Theo fast asleep on her chest. She was wearing her maternity bra and her sweatpants, clearly having given up on a shirt at some point in the night. She had one hand cupped under the baby’s bottom, the other hand moving up and down his back. The movement was the only sign that she was awake.

“Your son hates sleep.” She murmurs, opening her eyes to look down at Theo. “Well, apparently he hates me sleeping.”

Aaron sits up next to her and kisses her bare shoulder and cups the back of Theo’s head. “You should have woken me up.”

She smiles at him, exhaustion clear across her face. “You have work, it didn’t make sense for both of us to be up.”

“Can I help at all?”

“Can you take Jack to school?” She asks, looking back down at Theo. “Now he’s sleeping I might try and have a nap.”

“Of course.” ______________

She’s late picking up Jack from school. Theo had slept in the afternoon, and so had she, and the next thing she knew she should have already been out of the house. She gets there as soon as she can, Theo screaming in the back seat and her nerves very much on edge.

“Ok, baby. Please stop crying.” She practically begs as the car pulls up to the school drop off, Jack stood there with his teacher. She steps out the car, and opens the door for Jack to get in. He gets in, not even looking at Emily as he clicks his seatbelt into place. Pulling the door shut, muting the sound of Theo’s crying. Emily turns to Jack’s teacher, sees the sympathetic look on her face.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Mrs Hotchner. I’ve been there myself.”

Emily smiles and nods at her as she gets back in the car. She sees Jack in the rearview mirror, the upset on his face clear as his younger brother continues to cry.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

He doesn’t respond. _______________

Aaron gets held up at work on his first day back, leaving Emily to sort dinner for a still grumpy Jack as she tries to soothe Theo. She ends up with Theo in a baby wrap, content to sleep against her as she cleans away dishes from the, very mediocre, mac and cheese she had made.

Jack is still sulking when she walks back into the living room, his eyes fixed on the tv screen as he ignores her.

“Jack, sweetie, that's enough cartoons for tonight.” She says gently, feeling like she was treading on eggshells. He made no move to turn the tv off, the usually very reasonable 9 year old ignoring her. Emily sighs, one of her hands on Theo’s back, as she walks further into the living room, turning off the tv herself.

He finally turns to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed in a way that reminded her of Aaron. “I was watching that.”

She raises her eyebrows at his tone. “Jack.” She says calmly. “Please don’t speak to me like that.”

Jack rolls his eyes at her and stands, walking past her. “Whatever, Emily.”

“Jack.” She says firmer this time. “I know you’re upset, but you have to be respectful, ok?”

“You’re not my mom.” He replies. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Emily feels like the wind has been knocked out of her, exhaustion and everything that being a mother to a newborn makes her react in a way it usually wouldn’t. “Go to your room.”

“I hate you.” He says as he stomps up the stairs, slamming the door to his bedroom loud enough to wake Theo.

Emily shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes as she tries to soothe the baby. ______________

When Aaron gets home he finds his wife crying on the couch, Theo in her arms and the baby wrap abandoned next to her.

“Sweetheart.” He immediately puts his briefcase down and sits next to her, gathering her into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I suck at this.”

He cups the back of her head, pulls her face from his neck so he can look at her. “You suck at what?”

“Being a mom.”

It takes him a second to react, her words surprising him. “Em, you’re the best mom.” He says firmly, not even entertaining her comments for a second. “What happened?”

“I was late picking up Jack from school.” She says, shifting a, miraculously, sleeping Theo to rest his head on her shoulder. “I overslept and he was so mad.” She shakes her head at herself. “And he was grumpy all evening, and told me I wasn’t his mom. I overreacted and sent him to his room.” She clears her throat. “He told me he hated me.”

He sighs and cups her cheek and kisses her forehead. “That doesn’t make you a bad mom, baby. You’re exhausted. And Jack is adjusting. He’s gone from being just with Haley, to losing her, to living with us and becoming a big brother all within just under 10 months. That’s a lot for anyone, let alone a 9 year old.”

Emily nods. “You’re right.”

“And he doesn’t hate you. Far from it. He’s just not used to sharing you. Sibling jealousy is completely normal, even when you don’t include the rest of it.” He kisses her forehead. “Want me to talk to him?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ll do it.” __________

She gently knocks on Jack’s door an hour later. The baby settled and Aaron with him.

“Jack, it’s Emily.”

There's a pause, and for a moment she thinks he’s fallen asleep. “Come in.”

Emily walks in and smiles at him. He was sat in his bed, his favourite toy tucked under his arm. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi.”

She closes the door behind her and sits on the edge of his bed. “Should we talk about earlier?”

He looks away from her, sniffs as he looks down at his bedsheets. “I’m sorry.”

She places her hand under his chin and makes him look up at her. “I am sorry too, I think we were both a bit sad and said things we shouldn’t have.”

Jack nods and suddenly moves towards her, hugging her. She wraps her arms around him too and kisses his hair. “I’m sorry, Emily. I don’t hate you.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheat.” She kisses his hair again, her hand running up and down his back. “I’ve had an idea.” He removes himself from her grasp, his head tilted in curiosity at her.

“What idea?”

“How about on Saturday, dad stays home with Theo for an hour or so and you and I go get breakfast at the usual place?”

“Just the two of us?” He asks, the hope on his face making her chest swell.

“Just the two of us.” She confirms, ruffling his hair. “What do you think?”

His smile is the only answer she needs. ______________

August 2012

It’s when Sara asks him about the picture that he keeps in his dorm room that Jack really, truly, thinks about it for the first time.

It’s a picture taken at his high school graduation. Emily on one side of him, Amelia on her hip, his dad on the other with Theo in front of him. All of them have wide smiles on their faces. The trauma they had been through less than a year before, and still lived with, not present in the happy family photo.

Sara smiles when she sees it and picks it up off of his desk. “Wow, is that your mom? She’s so pretty.”

Jack finds himself almost unable to answer for a moment, unsure how to explain his family dynamic to his new girlfriend. That he had only met his dad when his mom was dying. That a bigger part of him than he would admit had spent the last decade of his life watching Emily with Theo and now Amelia wishing that she was his mom too.

“Yeah.” He says before he can think about it. “Well, technically no.” He corrects, shaking his head at himself, immediate guilt for discounting Haley. Sarah frowns at him and puts the photo back down. Jack sighs, running his hand through his hair. “My mom died when I was 9. Emily is my stepmom, she’s raised me since then.”

Sara smiles at him and reaches for his hand. “Did I ever tell you my dad is technically my stepdad?”

Jack shakes his head at that, the new information about his girlfriend sinking in.

“Well.” She continues. “He married my mom when I was 12, but he’s always been there since then. He’s my dad.” She pauses as if she’s considering if it’s her place to continue, but after a moment she does, a kind smile on her face. “It’s ok if you consider Emily as your mom, you know? I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind.”

That night he lies in bed and looks at the picture, thinks of how Emily had been there through everything since they’d met. How far they had come since she was teaching him Spanish to distract him from an argument between his parents. How far she had gone to protect him and his siblings when they were separated from his dad, sacrificing her own happiness for them. How fiercely she loved him, the way he knew she would go to war with anyone who hurt him.

She was his mom. ______________

November 2012

Jack gets more and more nervous as they approach Arlington. Sara was coming to meet his family for the first time, for Thanksgiving break of all things. He’d felt confident when he had first suggested it, wanting his girlfriend to know that part of his life.

Now he was more unsure than ever.

“I wish you’d calm down.” Sara says, rolling her eyes at him from where she was sat in the passenger seat. “Isn’t it me that’s meant to be nervous?”

“I know, it’s just...they are really intense.”

Sara stares at him for a second before sighing. “Ok fine, do you want to go over it all again?” She suppresses a smile when he looks almost relieved at her suggestion. “Go ahead.”

“Don’t be surprised if you hear more than one language being spoken.” Jack says as they pull off the freeway. “And, despite how much she might end up talking about her job, please don’t let Mom scare you.” ______________

Emily smiles as she opens the front door to Jack and Sara, beckoning them in from the cold. She immediately pulls Jack into a hug, which he gladly returns.

“Jack, I missed you.” She pulls back to look at him, to try and see if he had somehow changed in the few months it had been since he had last been home. “Your dad will be glad to see you, he’s been talking about this all week.”

Jack smiles at her. “It’s nice to be home.” He clears his throat as he pulls away and grabs his girlfriend's hand. “This is Sara.” He turns to Sara and smiles at her before turning back to Emily. “Sara, this is my mom - Emily.”

Emily swears her brain short wires for a second. Jack had never called her mom before, exclusively calling her by her first name the entirety of their relationship. She doesn’t have time to react before Sara smiles.

“Nice to meet you, Emily.”

She recovers in a second, pushing the emotions down until she has time to process them later. “Lovely to meet you too.”

They all turn to the sound of small feet hitting the hardwood floors, Amelia careening into the back of her mothers legs. She wraps her arms around Emily’s leg, shyly peering out from behind her. Emily smiles, grateful for the distraction, as she bends down and picks her up, settling the 3 year old on her hip.

“Amelia, this is Sara.” She says pointing at her, a smile on her face. “She’s Jack’s girlfriend.” Amelia proceeds to bury her face into Emily’s neck, making her smile and kiss the side of her daughter's head. “Sorry, she can be a bit shy around new people.”

Jack leans forward to try and catch Amelia’s eyeline. “Millie, can I have a hug?”

Amelia turns her face to look at Jack, her hand playing with Emily’s hair, before she smiles at her brother and leans towards him, smiling as he scoops her into his arms.

Emily smiles as she watches her youngest and her eldest together, Amelia giggling as Jack tickles her, brings her out of her shell so he can introduce her to Sara properly. Theo bounds down the stairs to see his brother, the way he had missed him was clear for everyone to see.

She feels the emotion flare in her chest again, the memory of how it sounded when he called her mom flooding through her. ______________

Aaron walks into his bedroom, a small sigh as he runs his hands through his hair, Amelia’s demands for Emily to come read her a story making settling her down for the night. He hears water running in the ensuite and heads towards it.

“Sweetheart? Apparently I won’t do for storytime tonight.” He walks into the bathroom. “You do the voices better…” He trails off when his eyes land on his wife, the way she quickly wipes her face to get rid of the tears she is clearly trying to hide from him. “Em, baby? What’s wrong?”

He places his hand on her cheek and the dam breaks, tears streaming down her face. He pulls his wife into a hug, feels the way she grasps the back of his polo shirt, her fingers digging into the material.

“It’s stupid.” She sniffs into his shirt.

“You’re never stupid.” He says, his hand running up and down her back. He pulls back enough to cup her cheek, wiping away the tears.

“Jack called me mom, Aaron.” She says, sniffing as more tears fall down her cheeks. “He’s never done that before.”

Aaron smiles at her. It hadn’t escaped him that his son had been calling her that all night, as if he had been for years. He’d noticed Emily’s momentary reaction every time, the way she froze slightly before suppressing a smile.

“You are his mom, Em. You and Haley both are. Despite the circumstances, he’s been lucky enough to have both of you.”

She smiles at him, laughing at herself as she wipes tears away from her face. “I know, and I’ve always been happy for him to call me whatever he wants to.” She shakes her head as more tears start to fall. “I just don’t think I realised how much it would mean to me.”

Aaron leans forward and kisses her forehead. “Love you.”

“You too.” She hugs him close, letting him hold her tightly. “What were you saying about storytime?”

Aaron chuckles before pulling back to look at her. “According to our daughter I can’t do the voices like you can.”

Emily laughs. “I should probably go read to her then.”

“Why don’t you get into bed? I’ll bring her in here.”

“If we do that she’ll fall asleep with us, we’ll never get her back to her own room.” She raises an eyebrow at him, he’d always been the firmest in keeping their children in their own beds.

“We can break the rules just this once.”

She is just settling into bed when Aaron walks back in, a sleepy looking Amelia perched on his hip, her storybook in her hand.

“Hi sweet girl.” Emily says as Aaron places Amelia on the bed, the toddler immediately crawling under the covers and curling up against her mother.

Amelia tilts her head at Emily and places her hand on her cheek, clearly taking in her blotchy skin and red eyes. “Mama sad?”

“Oh, no sweetie. Mama is ok.” She kisses the side of Amelia’s head and takes the book out of her hand, smiling as she realises it was Goodnight Moon, the same book she had read to her daughter every night so far that week.

Aaron climbs into bed next to them, wrapping an arm around both of them as Emily opens the book, pleased to have both of his girls in his arms.

______________

June 2018

“Mom?”

Emily turns around in her kitchen, a cup of tea in hand, and smiles when she sees Jack standing behind her.

“Jack! Hi.” She rounds the kitchen counter to hug him. “What are you doing here?”

He hugs her back. “I had no more classes today, thought I’d pop by before Sara was done.” They had moved back to the DC area after college, both of them going to medical school at Georgetown. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She looks at him curiously. “Of course. Shall we go sit down?”

They settle in the living room, Jack suddenly seeming nervous as he clears his throat and pulls a small box out of his jeans pocket, passing it over to Emily. She opens it and her eyes widen at the ring inside.

“It’s beautiful Jack.” She smiles at him. “I am already married though.”

“Mom.” He says, unamused at her attempt at humour.

“Sorry.” She bites her lip to stop herself from smiling. “So you’re going to propose to Sara. How are you going to do it?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. How did Dad propose to you?”

Emily smiles at the memory. “I’d actually just had my tonsils removed and he was looking after me. I woke up from a nap and he just asked me.” She laughs. “Actually it’s more like he told me. He just said ‘marry me.’” Emily realises that hasn’t helped at all. “Jack, you’ve just got to do what’s right for you and Sara. You’ll think of something.”

“Dad thinks I’m too young.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I think what your dad is forgetting is that I was your age when we got married.”

“What was it like when you planned your wedding?” Jack asks, the idea of planning his own stressing him out even before he proposed. Emily smiles at that, his confidence in the fact Sara would say yes.

Emily knew she would too.

“Oh I had very little to do with it. I just let my mother get on with it. The only things I picked were your dad and my dress, and let me tell you she had something to say about both those choices.” She smiles at Jack, a slight look of mischief on her face. “I’m sure if we called her she’d be happy to help.”

Jack pales slightly at the mention of Elizabeth’s involvement. “Oh god, no.” ______________

May 2019

Emily finds him exactly where she expected to. She smiles reassuringly at him when he turns around to look at her, before turning back to look at Haley’s grave.

It was a tradition of sorts. Jack came here whenever he had a big life event, anytime it was an important day. His high school graduation, as soon as he could after his college graduation. The day he finished med school.

“I thought I’d find you here.” She says as she reaches him, standing next to him. “Are you ok?”

“Yes.” He answers quickly, before turning to look at her, smiling sadly as she quirks an eyebrow at him. “No. I feel guilty.” Jack says, looking back at the granite headstone in front of him, purposely not looking at Emily.

She furrows her brow. “Guilty about what?”

“That I don’t immediately miss my mom in moments like this. It’s the biggest day of my life and part of me feels like I’ve come here out of obligation.” He admits. “She’s been gone so much longer than I had her, and sometimes I forget you aren’t my biological mom.” He sniffs, his jaw tightening as he tries to hold back his emotions. “And then I remember and I feel awful.”

Emily had spent the entire time she had known Jack wishing she could take his pain, his grief, away. Grief Emily had got a taste of only the year before when she lost her father. He had lost his mother at such a young age, and hadn’t known his father for the first several years of his life. He still had so many unanswered questions, things Haley had never had the chance to fully explain to him.

“Sweetheart.” She says, placing her arm around him and putting her hand on his shoulder. “She wouldn’t want you to feel like this. She loved you so much.”

He nods, wrapping his arm around her. “Is everyone worried?”

“Sara doesn’t think you’ve left her at the altar if that’s what you mean.” Emily says, a wry smile on her face. “But we should get going.” ______________

Emily smiles as she dances with Jack, Sara and her father dancing alongside them.

“Thanks for today.” Jack says, a smile on his face as he looks at her.

“No need to thank me, Jack.”

He hums in his throat in disbelief. “I have a lot to thank you for really.”

“Jack-”

“We’ve never really talked about it.” He says, the song they were dancing to fading into the background. “The older I’ve got the more I’ve realised how hard it must have been for you at the start, but you’ve never said anything. Never really made me feel any different.”

Emily smiles at him, emotion welling in her chest. “Jack, of course I didn’t. You were a kid. You’re my kid.”

He stops the dance, the music coming to an end anyway. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Jack.”

“Can I cut in?”

They both turn to see Aaron standing there, smiling at both of them. Jack steps back, indicating his father can step in to dance with Emily.

“I should go see my wife.” Jack says as he steps away.

Aaron smiles at Emily as he pulls her to him, one arm banding around her back, the other grasping her hand in his. “I remember dancing at our wedding.”

Emily laughs. “That was so long ago now.”

“We’re getting old, Mrs Hotchner.”

She makes an outraged noise, uses the hand on his shoulder to smack him lightly. “Speak for yourself, Mr Hotchner.” ______________

Emily kisses the side of Amelia’s head, her daughter fast asleep on her lap, the excitement of the day too much for the 10 year old, the evening now passin into the early hours of the following morning. She laughs when she sees Theo dragging Elizabeth up to dance, always able to convince his grandmother to do anything.

“Hi sweetheart.” Aaron says as he drags a chair next to her and sits down, throwing his arm across the back of her chair. “Is she ok?” He asks, smiling at Amelia, her head pressed against Emily’s shoulder, her mouth hanging open slightly as she sleeps.

“She’s fine, she’s just tired.”

He kisses his wife's temple. “It has been a long day.” He looks over to Theo and Elizabeth and back to his wife, not missing the sad smile on her face. “Are you ok?”

Emily looks at him. “Yeah. I just wish Dad could be here, that’s all.” She sighs, the thought of John’s death only the year before still felt sharp to her at times. The feeling she had when she got the call was still fresh, as if it had happened only yesterday.

“I know you do, baby. I do too.” He kisses her temple again, trying to press all of his love and support into her skin

“He really loved Jack.”

Aaron smiles at that, memories of Jack trying to teach John how to play video games. The way he had instantly had the older man wrapped around his finger as soon as they had met.

“The feeling was mutual.”

They sit there and watch their eldest dance with his new wife, the promise of a new beginning hanging in the air.

[antisociallilbrat]

All Too Well

Read on Ao3

Rating: E

Warnings: Cheating and notsfw

Summary: It was just supposed to be a simple tutoring job, how did he end up so far over his head? A man that Richie would call a DILF recites latin poetry to him and Stan can't tell if he's in Heaven or Hell. Or I'm really bad at summaries and this is a gift for @s-oulpunk based off of one the many AUS we've came up with

A/N: Merry late Christmas Pj! You're such a great friend and I can't wait to see you in March! It was crazy to bring this AU of ours to life so I really hope you like it! Also yes it's kind of like All Too Well but also not so I am sorry :-:

-Present-

The neon sign that reads Neilbolt Motel shines in bright red luminescence as Stan gets out of his Uber at an all too familiar location. He opens his umbrella and tries in vain to not get soaked, but the rain is being blown sideways so he just pushes forward, towards their room, room number seven. The rain is causing the air to be cold, but it’s too late. Stan has already gone numb.

Stan raises his fist to knock at the motel door, but Bill answers it before his fist can make contact with the chipped paint. He just stares at Bill with tear-stained eyes and he finally  collapses into his arms, sobbing and not caring that he’s getting Bill soaked. The weight of what's happening getting to him. Bill holds him tightly and pulls him inside, whispering reassurances into his hairline, but none of them can be true. Everything’s fucked and he’s about to lose Bill.

-Five Months Ago-

It was the November of his sophomore year of college at NYU. So far it was your pretty average college experience, not that Stan cared whether or not he had one- but he’d say he was hitting all the milestones.

Tried weed for the first (and only) time, (his childhood best friend Richie didn’t believe him either), hated his roommate his freshman year, an annoying guy named Vic, got the classic college girlfriend, Patty,  who even wrangled him into a few freshman parties. He always prioritized studying over social events but occasionally he found the time to budge to Patty’s will.

His college experience was perfectly normal and he preferred it that way, and he chugged right along through his freshmen year without a hitch. It was his sophomore year he came across his first real problem. His lack of funds.

His parents had set up a college fund for him, and as long as he kept his grades up, which he has- he would have access to it. He just didn’t realize how easy it would be to go through it, and he wasn’t even fully through his second year of college. Mental health break coffees add up. There was still money in the fund, but if he didn’t do something now, it would run by the end of his sophomore year. Which it’s a little embarrassing that he hadn’t figured that out sooner, since he’s an accounting major and all.

Stan had to get a job, which is easier to say than do. He’s a college student, there are only certain hours he can work. To make matters worse it’s the holiday season, and the idea of dealing with the bustle and stress of a retail job is not something he’s equipped to deal with on top of the stress already from finals.  Naturally, he complained to Patty, who- because she is amazing- had found a job for him through her friend Georgie.

Georgie and Stan’s ‘friendship’ has always been a little strained, evident that the two only hang out through their association with Patty but nonetheless is grateful to him for the job. It was a tutoring job! Stan can handle that, also it was tutoring teenagers in trigonometry, it’s practically his dream job.

It’s Georgie’s twin niece and nephew, which sounded a little strange since they were high school students. According to Patty, Georgie had a much older brother because Georgie was an oopsie later in his parent’s life, Then when Georgie was only four years old, his fifteen-year-old brother knocked his then-girlfriend-now-wife with the twins. Georgie grew up with the twins, which is a little strange but who is Stan to judge strange family dynamics? And having family that lives close to where you went to school had to be nice, unlike Stan whose parents lived all the way back in Maine.

Besides that all led him to now, standing on the front steps of a whole lot bigger of a house he’d expect from a former pregnant teen couple. What on Earth did Georgie’s brother and sister in law do for a living? This house was practically a mansion with its cast-iron rod fencing and deep burgundy brick. On the way to the steps, he passed a fountain with statues of- Monsters? Mermaids? He’s honestly not sure, but the things unsettled him. Whatever, so what if the parents are a little eccentric? He’s here to tutor the kids. Audra seemed friendly enough over the brief text conversation they had where they agreed for him to come this Thursday night, but you can never tell.

Pulling his winter coat closer to his chest, he hugs his trig book tighter. It’s just trigonometry, he can do this in his sleep, no need to stress. He knocks on the solid oak door.

Scrambling and ruckus come from behind the door before it swings up. The most unenthused teenage boy Stan has ever seen answers, keeping the door closed enough that just his head pokes through. “And this must be Jacob,” Stan thinks. The kid eyes him up and down and it feels like the kid’s blue eyes are putting an unseen pressure on him, and it almost makes Stan cower in on himself. But he’s not going to do that, that would be ridiculous. He’s the adult here.

Stan clears his throat, “Hey there, I think I’m here-”

“Do you think or do you know? ” Jacob cuts him off.

Confused silence, this kid at least fits his home, “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Do you think or do you know why you’re here, or are you just wasting my time?”

Oh, maybe this tutoring thing isn’t going to work out after all. Jacob stands with his eyebrows raised expectantly, and Stan is floundering. His mind reminds him, weakly, that he’s the adult here.

“Jacob, would it kill you to be nice?!” rings out from behind Jacob.

Jacob somehow manages to look more annoyed and leans back inside to talk back, but the door is forcibly pulled open despite his protests. A teenage girl, Jane presumably, stands next to Jacob in the hallway, a scowl on her face for Jacob she immediately drops when she looks at Stan. “You’re Stanley, right? Mom and Uncle George said you were here to tutor us. I’m Jane and this is my angry brother Jacob. It’s nice to meet you!”

Jacob glares at him almost accusingly, “Oh so you’re here to tutor us in bullshit, that’s just great,” he says as he turns to stalk down the hallway. Stan has to make sure his mouth is not openly gaping.

Delicate hands wrap around his arm from Jane as he lets her pull him inside, still stunned by what had just happened. She offers to take his coat and he lets her with a small thanks. Jane’s smile is sweet and easy going and he finds himself returning it no problem. She links arms with him again and starts to lead him down the hardwood hallway. Physical contact is usually an issue for him, but he can tell Jane is a gentle soul so it doesn’t bother him. She kind of reminds him of what Patty would’ve been like at this age and he decides she’s his favorite of the two twins then.

“Don’t mind Jacob by the way,” she says as they walk, “He’s just upset that mom is making us get a tutor…and that for once he’s not perfect in everything he does. So many high standards and the only person putting them on him is himself, or that’s what mom says anyway.” Okay, Stan can relate to that maybe he shouldn’t be so quick to judge.

The end of the hall rounds out and there’s a grand staircase. In front of a staircase is a pedestal with a good sized statue- like at the fountains- except this one looks like it’s carved from wood. One side of the rounded area here opens up into an extravagant dining room, where Jacob is sitting and playing on his phone grumpily. On the other side of the walls in the hall entrance are two doors, one of them an office where the kid’s dad- Bill, is, Jane tells him. He was wondering if he’d see either of their parents tonight. Bill is Georgie’s older brother and the idea of that is a little stressful. Surely Georgie hasn’t said anything bad about him, right? Wait, they wouldn’t have given him the job if he did.

“Mom should be home in an hour,” she says, breaking his train of thought. Jane sighs when she looks at Jacob, “Jake go get your book! Don’t make this any more difficult than you have already.”

Jacob looks up from his phone to give her a long look before returning to it. Jane stomps over to him to start pestering him. It appears that Jacob has no worries about his dad coming out of his office and seeing that they haven’t gotten started yet. Jacob may not be concerned about it, but Stan is.

He enters the dining room and takes a seat across from the two now squabbling siblings. If he doesn’t figure Jacob out it’s going to be a problem. He’s gotta find a way to try to connect with this kid so he gauges him. Jane said Jacob holds himself to a higher standard? Yeah, he can relate to that but he can’t practically bring that up. ‘Hey Jacob we both have the same issue so let's just get through this and beat ourselves up about our shortcomings later’. That would go over smoothly. Dammit Stan, try something!

Stan coughs and then coughs louder when the two pay him no mind. Jane and Jacob pause their bickering to look at him, “The faster we start the faster we can finish. This session I just want to work on what your current homework is and see where you may need help,” Jacob is still looking at him annoyed, “As I said, the faster we start the faster we can finish.” Jacob glares at him for another moment before relenting and begrudgingly pulling his work out from his backpack on the table. Stan has to fight down a smug smirk.

The next hour goes by quicker and easier than he thought it would. Jacob and Jane are both brilliant, it’s just that numbers are harder for them to grasp. They remind him of Richie. Jacob is very obviously used to never having to try in school, everything probably has come easy to him until now. That’s exactly how Stan felt when he had to take that dreadful creative writing class his junior year of high school, the only class he’s ever gotten a B- in. They get through it though, and Jacob actually smiles, a small and quick one albeit, when he solves a problem correctly with no help.

Jane has a better grasp on trigonometry than Jacob does at the start, but it’s still not a passing grasp. Jane watches and listens intently every time Stan explains a problem to her, and unlike Jacob, she doesn’t give him a death glare when he explains where she messed up in the problem. She tries harder the next time. Unlike Jacob also, she talks to Stan. She asks if he has a girlfriend and squeals when he tells her about Patty. In turn, Jane tells him about a girl she finds cute at her school, Max. Oh, to be in high school and experiencing a first crush- not that Stan knows what that's like. Patty was his first crush.

Mrs. Denbrough, or Audra ( “Don’t be so formal Stanley, call me Audra.” ) comes home in an hour, just like the kids say she would. Stan half expected their dad to finally come out of his office when his wife got home, but the door stayed tightly shut. Audra was pleased with her kids' progress and offered for Stan to stay for dinner, which he politely declined. They still had a couple of problems left on their homework and by the time they finished, it would be time for Stan to go to his dorm and finish his own. She thanked him and told him his money was in an envelope on the statue’s pedestal in the main hallway for when they finished. They agreed for him to be back next Thursday, much to Jacob’s annoyance, before she disappeared into the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later it was about that time. Jane finished before Jacob, who was very upset by that, and she went off to the kitchen with her mother. Stan and Jacob worked through his last few problems together. He didn’t even finish his sentence about them being done before Jacob bolted from his chair and up the main staircase. Stan stared at where Jacob once was, bewildered. Guess he can show himself out. He was so baffled when he started to head out, he almost forgot about his envelope with his money in it.

He picks up the envelope with his pay at the foot of the statue, Audra’s car keys were there also so it must be a common place to drop things off.

The statue itself was kind of creepy but in a strange and unassuming way. At first glance, you’d think it was just a statue of a beautiful woman, but look closer you can see her jagged teeth trying to tear their way out of her mouth, which is contorted into a silent shriek, Small horns sit at her hair line, so detailed it looks like the horn grew suddenly and ripped open her flesh. Her eyes are big and pupil less, and he would guess it was because the carpenter couldn’t add pupils in the eyes, but something tells that was on purpose. Her nails are so long they’re more like claws, and she has her arms up like she’s ready to snatch up the next poor soul. The details are immaculate, that even the dress she wears has very real looking tears and holes.

There’s a silver plaque at her feet, Dolorem, which must be her name. It’s Latin, he knows that, but he’s not sure what it means. It goes with the Latin phrase underneath it, “Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit” - Virgil. Curiosity gets the better of him and he uses his phone to take a photo of the plaque, to google when he gets home. His stupid flash was on.

“Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.”

Stanley jumps and his phone falls to the floor with a loud and awkward clatter. Thankfully he recovers quickly and picks up his phone as he spins on his heel to look at who said that. He feels like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.

A man dressed in sweatpants and a grey knit sweater stands in the doorway of the now open office door, amusement dancing on his features. This must be Bill. Now Stan knows who Jacob really took after, the father and son look so much alike. Those same blue eyes from earlier study him, but with not so much judgment as Jacob’s did. Jane got his easy, charming smile though, as he smiles cheekily at Stan. A grey stripe runs through the front of his otherwise brunette hair and Stan deliriously thinks that Mr. Denbrough is indeed an attractive man.

He walks over to him, and Stan resists the urge to step back, and he looks down at the plaque. His cologne invades Stan’s nostrils, the smell of musk and outdoors, and he finds himself taking a deeper breath.“Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit,” he repeats, it’s what Dolorem quotes at the end of The Attic Room.”

“What’s it mean? The phrase?”

The man’s eyes look up and latch onto Stan’s and he can’t make himself look away, everything feels slow. “You’re Stanley right, here to tutor my kids?” He nods meekly, and Bill’s smile grows, “Well Stanley, it means ‘Perhaps someday we will look back upon these things with joy.’”

“And the monster says that? That makes no sense, what kind of author would write that?” He critiques before he can stop himself. It obviously means something to the man and here he is openly criticizing it.

That doesn’t matter as he starts chuckling, trying to contain his laughter before Stan gets to apologize, “Uh, I think a ‘William Denbrough’ wrote it,” he says as wipes a tear of laughter from his eye.

William Denbrough? … Oh shit.

“I uh- Mr. Denbrough, shit, I’m so-”

He holds up a hand to cut him off, “If you’re going to criticize me, you can call me Bill,” there’s only humor in his tone as he corrects him.

“I- Bill , I didn’t mean to offend you…” he’s not sure what else to say. He’s not wrong, it’s a weird thing for a monster to say.

Instead, he just stands there awkwardly staring at him before Bill decides to take mercy on him, “It’s okay, I guess my books aren’t for everyone,” Bill shrugs.

“Books? As in you’re an author?” That would explain the home and the statues.

“Yes and a very successful author too if I was tooting my own horn. The Attic Room was my first novel and was a major success, even got a less successful movie adaptation,” Bill says quite proudly, “But from what I gather you haven’t heard of it, or of me- a shame too because I really thought I was considered cool with the younger generation.” Bill is not considered cool with the younger generation, Jane just tells him he is.

Stanley doesn’t usually read books about monster women, but if Bill wrote it, he thinks he would. “It’s just that Georgie never mentions having an author for a brother.” Great Stan, blame his little brother. He changes the subject, “Why does Dolorem say that? She just…” Don’t criticize her more Stanley.

“She says it to the man she loves before she devours him.,” Bill puts it plainly.

He scoffs, “That doesn’t sound like love,” he looks over at Bill- when has he gotten closer? He can see grey flecks mingling in Bill’s ocean blues now and Bill’s smile is radiant.

“Love comes in many different forms, Stanley,” Bill chuckles breaks him out of his stupor.

“Huh? Oh, well…I still don’t see how that’s love.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “It’s just something you’ll have to see for yourself.” Bill’s gaze is sedulous and invading. Stan feels like Bill is characterizing every detail about him and it’s too much. He’s got to leave.

“I uh- I should be going,” he turns to leave and has to stop himself from dashing out the door, ignoring Bill calling back at him. A part of him that he has stored into a box feels oddly guilty about the whole exchange. Which is dumb, they were just talking. He forgot his coat.

That weekend at school in the café, Georgie gives Stan a copy of The Attic Room. “Bill told me to give it to you,” he tells him with a suspicious look in his eye. Patty comments on how nice it was of him. “You must’ve impressed them, Stanley!”

Hesitantly he opened the front cover and scrawled messily inside was “All different forms Stanley.” He quickly closed the book and held it close to his chest, anticipation, and anxiety bloomed in his chest about how next Thursday would go.

He read and finished The Attic Room is one sitting that night in his dorm. He understood why Dolorem ate her lover.

-Present-

“Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit,” Stan whimpers into Bill’s chest as they lay on the bed. His sobs have finally started to subside. He can feel Bill’s small smile into Stan’s hair line.

“That’s right baby, Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit, ” he repeats, more smoothly.

It’s almost hard to be curled up with Bill in this bed right now, the same bed they’ve been intimate so many times, where Bill confessed his love for him before breaking down. That was one of Stan's favorite nights. So many times the two have snuck away under the cover of night, and many take-out boxes shared, and it’s all coming to end. All because they fucked up.

“Georgie knows about us,” he confesses.

Bill’s shoulders drop, “Yeah I figured, he sent me a text after you called, but it was pretty vague.”

Stan sniffles, “Do you think we ever even stood a chance? Or that any of this was even worth it?”

His arms tighten around Stan, and he coos at him, “Baby don't ever say that, every moment we’ve spent together has been an absolute gift. I’ve known that ever since you proudly criticized the same work that brought us together.” Stan snuggles closer into his arms.

-Five Months Ago-

Through pure willpower and many, many, coffees, Stan got Jacob and Jane through their winter midterms. They both passed with flying colors and for a moment he worried that maybe he did too good of a job, that they wouldn’t need him for the next semester. Thankfully Audra informed Stan that she would be still requiring his services to get the two through the rest of the school year. After the break they could return to their weekly Thursday schedule.

Except it’s not Jane or Jacob who answers the door when he shows up on the first Thursday of the year. It’s Bill, who seems pleasantly surprised to see Stan standing there.

“Well hello Stanley, it’s good to see you again. Audra must’ve forgotten to text you, she and the kids are on an extended winter break over at her parents,” Bill informs him.

“Oh...that’s great for them,” it’s a little awkward to see Bill again when the two haven’t seen each other since their first unconventional meeting, “I’ll uh, I’ll just come back next Thursday then.”

Bill shakes his head, “Nonsense, come inside. Get out of the cold and have a cup of coffee for a minute. Besides with the kids away I could go for some company.”

Sensing that Bill doesn’t take the answer ‘no’ easily, Stan hesitantly steps inside. “Why didn’t you go with them to Audra’s parents?” It is a little strange that Bill has stayed behind.

“My mother-in-law hates me so it’s best for everyone if I just stayed behind,” he answers as he takes Stan’s coat from him. The time he accidentally forgot it, Jane had lectured him on how dangerous it was to walk out into the cold without it. He hadn’t forgotten it since. He hadn’t seen Bill either.

“What did you do to make her hate you?”

Bill looks offended and he’s about to backtrack when Bill drops the look and chuckles, “I knocked up her teenage daughter. A word of advice Stanley, don’t get a girl pregnant till you’re at least twenty-five, or face the wrath of her mother.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmurs as he watches Bill walk down the hall into his office, leaving him in the closed doorway. A nagging part of his mind that suspiciously sounds like Patty is telling him to leave and this is a bad idea, but instead, he follows Bill down the hallway.

Bill's office is really nice. It's huge with a big dark oak desk with a MacBook on top. Scraps of paper and notebooks litter the surface and he fights the urge to go over and start straightening them. A big leather couch sits in front of a window that overlooks the whole side yard and the other walls have bookshelves that reach the ceilings, not a space spared. In a corner though is what looks like a liquor cabinet and Bill is pouring something into two fine crystal glasses. Idly Stan wonders what happened to the offer of coffee.

Bill turns around with the two glasses in hand a look of approval falls over his face when he sees Stan has followed him. He offers Stan a glass.

“I’m only twenty,” he blurts like a stupid child and he feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. Stan never cared about what people thought of him but he wants Bill to think he’s cool, that he’s mature.

Bill laughs once again, “Oh come on, twenty? That’s only a year away from being legal drinking age. And besides I won’t tell anyone if you won’t,” the implications of that causes a shiver to run down his spine, but he doesn’t move towards the drink. The writer sighs, “Okay well call me selfish, but I want you to actually relax around me and this can help.”

Finally, Stan relents and walks over and takes the drink, ignoring Bill’s smug smile. Bill wants him to feel comfortable around him? That shouldn’t make his heartbeat as fast as it does. He takes a sip of the caramel-colored liquid.

It’s too bitter and immediately he starts coughing as it sears down the back of his throat. That has to be the worst thing he’s ever tried, but the embarrassment is the worst. He expects Bill to laugh at him but instead he offers him a water bottle that he must’ve gotten from the liquor cabinet and Stan accepts it gratefully. He quickly gulps the water down, trying to erase the awful taste from his mouth. Do people actually drink this stuff for fun?

Bill goes and sits on the couch, sipping his drink, unfazed, “It can take a little to get used to but once you do, it’s quite relaxing. I promise.”

He looks at the open space beside Bill on the couch but remains standing, “I’m inclined to think you’re lying to me.”

Bill rolls his eyes, “Oh you’re ‘inclined’ to think that? Come on, the second sip won’t be nearly as bad.”

Stan looks back at him, downright scandalized at the suggestion, but Bill is looking at him again with that overwhelming look in his eyes, and his glass is raised to his lips before he can think any more about it. He coughs a little but not as bad as he did the first time. Bill was right, but his head feels a little stuffy now so he takes a seat on the couch next to him.

He loses track of time, all he knows is that if his or Bill’s glass starts to run empty, Bill is steadily filling them up. And he feels fucking great! His limbs are numb but it feels like his mind is finally quiet and he really wants to crawl into Bill’s lap and get a strong breath of his cologne. Bill has listened to him bitch about how his life feels like it’s a one way train he can’t get off of. Him and Patty will end up getting married and they’ll pop out two and half kids to please their parents and that’s fine but sometimes it feels like nothing exciting is ever going to happen to him. Bill is such a good listener.

At some point, Bill’s hand had found its way into his curls and he started leaning into it. Bill’s hands are big and warm, completely different than Patty’s. He's also stroking his curls out of his face and that feels fucking great too.

“Your first book is just monster porn!” Stan tells him. Bill asked for his opinion on The Attic Room, and it's funny how he waited till Stan was properly drunk to do so, and he’s decided to fuck with him. “Johnathan fell in love with a monster so the genius decides to keep her locked away in his attic?! And then lure and abduct people for her to eat?! I thought he was supposed to be the good guy! And why, why, is there so much porn?! So much porn,” he slurs.

Bill reaches to take Stan’s glass and he yanks it back stubbornly, “You’re about to lose that drink if you don’t stop criticizing my ‘monster porn’ Stanley,” he faux scolds, “The Attic Room is an ode to how love comes in all different forms, and the lengths someone would go to see the one they love happy. More importantly, it’s about how any type love can be all-consuming, that it feels like you’re being devoured by it.”

“Yeah yeah no I get that, and that’s beautiful or whatever…but there's so much porn.”

“Maybe I just like porn.”

The two look at each other in that moment and looking back, he won’t know who moved first, but the next thing he knows their drinks are abandoned and there's a hot mouth pressed against his. Kissing Bill is nothing like kissing Patty. Kissing Patty is always sweet and gentle, a big contrast to Bill’s rough and demanding tongue.

A whimper comes from somewhere and it takes him a moment to realize it was from him. Bill’s big hands are pushing him down onto the couch as the once gentle hand in his hair turns tight and pulls his head aside, breaking their kiss. Bill groans as he kisses messily down his neck, “You’re so fucking hot,” he mumbles into his skin.

Stan? Hot? Never, but with the way Bill is licking into the shallows of his collarbones, he’d agree to anything he said at that moment. He’s panting too loud and he’s embarrassingly hard for barely anything to have happened to him and he needily presses his swollen groin up against Bill’s thigh.

“Fuck you’re already hard baby? Such a needy boy aren’t you?” Stan plain out whines when Bill leans up to whisper that in his ear, “It’s okay, I’m going to take such good care of you. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this.”

Bill’s hands go to his belt buckle and smoothly gets it undone, yanking Stan’s pants and underwear down in one go. In a normal circumstance, he’d be shy about someone like Bill seeing him this vulnerable, hell in any normal circumstance this wouldn’t even be happening, but Stan’s drunk for the first time in his life and everything feels amazing right now. Every sensation feels like he’s on fire, every tweak of Bill’s fingers on his nipples feels blazing hot, and Bill’s tongue is lighting him up like a live wire as he licks down Stan’s body.

“Bill please,” he begs. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, all he knows is he’s so hard it hurts.

Bill bites his thigh and groans into it, “Sshhh baby boy, I’ve got you,” and with that, a burning hot mouth swallows him down. Stan yelps and his first instinct is thrust up because it’s too much. Bill gags and then moans around his shaft, sending vibrations down around him, and oh fuck. His strong arms encircle Stan’s thighs and hold him down as he gags himself on Stan’s cock and it feels like his soul is leaving his body.

He and Patty have never done anything like this, they’re both bumbling and shy virgins but shit, if it feels this good, why have they waited? Weakly he grabs two fistfuls of Bill’s hair, “Shit shit shit Billy it’s so good, it so- oh yes - it’s so fucking good.”

Bill moans around him again. Saliva is getting everywhere as Bill's sinful mouth sinks up and down on his shaft as he tongues at he vein on the underside of his cock, it’s so messy but so incredibly hot. His balls are tightening and he feels his orgasm quickly creeping upon him like the sad virgin he is. He’s almost there.

“Bill please, please it’s so much, I’m so so close,- FUCK! ” Bill sneakily sticks his thumb into his equally virgin hole and he cums so hard he sees white. Bills swallows him down and takes his cum down his throat with much more ease than a man married to a woman should be able to.

It's when his pants are pulled back on, he thinks of Patty and Audra. Of Jacob and Jane and drunken sobs hit his body like he’s been shot. Bill pulls him into his lap and consoles him, and he can still feel the press of Bill’s erection against his ass.

Eventually, he passes out and when he wakes up in the middle of the night, Bill is still holding him. Bill wakes up when he starts trying to discreetly sneak off of him and Bill ends up taking his virginity right there on his office couch. By this point, the alcohol had left his system so it was only himself to blame.

-Present-

“After that first night I was hooked on you Stanley, you quickly became the center of all my thoughts.”

That makes him smile, “You did for me too Billy.”

Bill runs a gentle hand through his curls, “Then let’s get through this, I can’t lose you. We’ll figure something out.”

He so wants that to be true, but this is about more than just him and Bill. From his own people, he’s been a pretty absent boyfriend to Patty for a while. Sweet Patty who deserves the entire world. “Bill, we’ve got to think about everyone around us. I know since we started this, I haven’t been the best boyfriend to Patty…and I can’t keep on the way I have been with her.”

-Three Months Ago-

“Stan sweetie, are you sure you can’t miss one study night? It’s a Friday night, I’m sure the kids would be happy if you canceled on them” Patty pleads as the two make their way over to their table in the café. It’s the same table they sat at every day since freshman year, both being creatures of habit.

He smiles and shakes his head, “No I’m sorry. The parents are paying me too well to cancel on them,” they in fact are not paying him well, because there are no parents, no kids to tutor either. He’ll be seeing Bill Friday night after an almost two-week dry spell. It’s just that's his breakaway excuse, that he loved tutoring Jacob and Jane so much, that he’s found more kids to tutor when he’s actually going to meet Bill in their motel room. Bill found out this was his excuse and now pays him a weekly allowance to keep up with the front. When he proposed the idea to Stan, he asked him jokingly if Bill would spank him since he was getting an allowance. He did. “Go to the party though, have fun,” he urges her, “Besides, Georgie would probably love to go with you.”

“I'd love to do what now?” Georgie asks as the two approach the table, taking their seats across from him- as always.

“Go a party with me this Friday night; since Stan here has another torturing gig,” she answers him.

Georgie lights up, “Oh yeah, of course, I’d love to go with you,” he side-eyes Stan, “since your boyfriend can’t ever take the time off to spend time with you. Also, I thought Bill and Audra were paying you enough.”

Stan smiles at him even though irritation itches behind his eyes for the younger Denbrough. His darling Patty chastises him for him, “They pay him plenty! But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to earn as much as you can! Stan is very money savvy,” she kisses his cheek as she says this. Stan doesn’t hide his smirk from Georgie.

Georgie rolls his eyes, “So money-savvy huh? Then why did he blow through his savings?”

Patty picks up a roll from her tray and throws it at him and it hits him square in the chest. “Did you just-”

“Yes.”

Stan throws an arm around her shoulders, “Yes she just did.” Patty gleams up at him.

“Okay, you know what? I’m supposed to get to class early today. I’ll see you later Patty,” he says as he grumpily walks off with his tray.

Stan lets his arm slide off of Patty’s shoulders as she asks him worriedly, “Do you think he’s mad at me, I only threw the bread at him in good fun.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Sweetie, Georgie is never mad at you, trust me.” He has too big of a crush on her to get mad at her.

Her frown eases away, “Okay, I just worry, he’s one of my best friends, besides you of course” she looks back over at him, “I really wish it was you who was going to the party with me Friday night though.”

Stan wishes he was the boyfriend Patty deserves, but he can’t give up what he has with Bill. The guilt slowly eats at him, but when Bill falls between his thighs, it’s easy to forget things. Easy to forget Patty. “I know sweetie.”

-Present-

He doesn’t have to look at Bill to know he has a scowl on his face, he always gets that way at the briefest mention of Patty. “She deserves better than me, Bill,” he laughs hollowly, “Maybe someone like Georgie, since he’s had a major crush on Patty for as long as I’ve known him.”

Bill doesn’t comment on what he’s said about Georgie’s crush, “Audra and I also haven’t been doing the best, but what’s new there.”

“That’s not what Jacob says,” he snorts.

He looks down at Stan, confused, “Jacob’s talked about Audra and I's relationship?”

Stan backtracks, “Well, not about what's been going on recently.”

-Two Months Ago-

Out of all the time he’s tutored Jacob and Jane, he’s never been left with just one of them; and if he had to choose which one he'd rather be left alone with, it would probably be Jane. So of course when that scenario happens, it’s Jacob.

His and Jacob’s relationship is a lot better than when they first met. Jacob finally looks like he doesn’t want to kill Stanley when he sees him. He’s even caused Jacob to smile once or twice with his quick wit. That doesn’t mean that when the two ended up alone together for a tutoring session…it wasn’t any less awkward.

Audra is still at work, her and her co worker Beverly are on deadline for a new design so he’ll completely miss her coming home, and Bill is locked away in his office. He has his own deadline from his publisher. Probably editing the porn scenes. And Jane? Jane is at an AV club party at her school, and he didn’t even know she was in the AV club, but according to Jacob, Max invited her. The two shared a look in silent rejoice for Jane’s victory.

The two are set up in the dining room again and Jacob silently works on his trigonometry homework, and Stan waits patiently for when Jacob asks for help on a problem. Or better yet, waits to see when Jacob has been on the same problem for too long and has to intervene, Jacob is still as stubborn as ever. To pass the time, Stan reads The Black Rapids, another one of Bill’s books.

For the third time in thirty minutes he looks up from his reading and sees that Jacob is hung up on a problem, again. “Do you need any help there Jake?”

“No,” he snaps at him.

Stan takes a deep breath and sets the book down, Jacob has been having a rough night with his studies so maybe a break is in order. “Do you want Chinese takeout? Your mom left some money to order food.”

Jacob eyes him as if he doesn’t believe what he’s hearing, “You're asking if we can order Chinese takeout? That’ll cut into tutoring time.”

“I know, I’m hungry though, aren’t you?” Food always wins people over. Even stubborn teenagers like Jacob.

He thinks for a moment, “Okay Chinese takeout sounds good, but we have to order sweet and sour chicken for my dad! Eventually he’ll come out.”

Stan knows what to order Bill, the place he’s about to order from now is the same place they always order from when the two don’t have to immediately leave the motel room. He smiles and pulls out his phone to place the order.

Within no time the food arrives and Jacob is in a lot better mood as he eats his noodles. Looking for conversation, he settles on the obvious. “So have you given any colleges a thought?” he asks over his rice. Jacob; and Jane are very smart. If they wanted, they could have their pick of schools.

Jacob shakes his head, “I’m not sure about college. Jane’s deadset on a school out in L.A., but neither of my parents went to school and they both turned out fine. Even with their teen pregnancy and all.”

Bill and Audra got extremely lucky. After the twins were born Bill published his first novel, Stan’s beloved The Attic Room, and it became an instant success. Audra and her childhood friend Beverly worked their way up in the fashion design industry, neither going to college for it. Jacob must be hoping that luck runs in the family.

“Well good for Jane. My best friend goes to college out on L.A. and he loves it,” he pacifies, “Never say no to a college campus tour though, your parents are both very successful but who knows? Going to college may have changed their lives.”

“They couldn’t have gone to college, they had us when they weren’t even sixteen yet,” he corrects him.

“Jake plenty of teen parents go to college, but college also isn’t for everyone,” he amends.

Jacob ponders this, “I guess you’re right…but I’m happy they didn’t. They’ve had a couple of rough spots over the years and I don’t think they would’ve survived it if they went to college.”

Stan has to act unfazed even though every part of him is dying to beg Jacob for more information. He doesn’t know much about Bill and Audra’s past, aside from the obvious.

“Really? I would never have guessed.”

Jacob doesn’t want to go back to trigonometry so he continues, “When I and Jane were seven, Dad’s most recent book flopped and Mom had just taken out a major loan for a studio. I guess money was tight, but I was also seven so who knows, but they argued all the time.”

Bill never mentioned any problems with Audra and Stan subconsciously leans in as Jacob spills the tea, “Jane would wake me up crying because they would be screaming downstairs. I didn’t know what was going on, but I really thought Mom and Dad were going to become like Mike in my elementary school class, ‘separated’. That’s such a scary word for a kid.”

“What happened?” he asks before he stops himself.

Jacob chuckles, and sounds so much like Bill, “They got better. I think they started going to couple counseling or something. One week they were fighting and the next they were back to being my parents. Mom and Dad always find their way back to each other, no matter what comes their way,” he sounds so proud as he says that. Stan’s never seen him proud.

His throat feels very tight, “I’m happy they do Jake, now let’s get back to your trigonometry homework.”

“Dammit.”

-Present-

Bill sits there in silence, and Stan waits patiently for him to speak next, “I guess my son is more observant than I give him credit for.”

Stan decides to push his luck, “How are you and Audra by the way? You never really talk about your guy’s relationship.”

He sighs deeply as he idly plays with Stan’s curls behind his ear, “It’s been rough. We got married when we we're seventeen . All because I was a virgin and I thought that if you had sex with a girl right after period, she couldn’t get pregnant. Our entire relationship we’ve had to fight for it, and I’ve always wondered when the moment was I fell out of love with her. I guess me and her just got a lot better at pretending, for the kid’s sake.”

Bill smiles softly down at him, “But me and you? I’ve never felt like I’ve had to work at it, there was never any pressure to be the perfect person. The perfect husband or perfect father, with you Stanley I got to just be me, baby.”

Tears cress in his eyes again, “That’s exactly how I’ve felt, I’ve always just gotten to be me around you.”

“I’m glad baby, I really am,” he’s silent for another moment, “You know at my birthday party, Audra and I got into some big fight right before, I can’t even remember what it was about, but it’s Audra. Of course, she put on her actress face before the party started, and then again, so did I.”

-One Month Ago-

It was a little strange when Audra invited Stan to Bill’s thirty-third birthday party. Stan had been such a help to Jane and Jacob this school year she said, he was practically family she said. Of course, he had to come. She and Bill were both so appreciative for all he’s done for their kids. Now Stan gets to sip on scotch, with an abandoned plate of cake in front of him, and watch the Denbroughs . Such a happy family.

They’re in the living room and Jacob and Georgie are trying to get an old video recorder setup to their smart tv- at Audra’s instance of watching home movies. Georgie was not happy about Stan coming, not one bit. Even more upset when he found out he wasn’t bringing Patty. She understood though, she always does. Bill’s childhood best friend, Eddie, (Uncle Eds as Jacob and Jane call him) sits by the two, looking over all the tapes, and wrinkles his nose when he finds one labeled ‘Eddie’s twenty-first'. “We are not playing this one,” he tells the two.

Jane is with her Mother and Bill as the three sit over by the gift table. Jane excitedly tells her parents all the wonders of Bill’s new Apple Watch, given to him by Audra. Other gifts include a new leather journal and a collectors edition of Virgil’s book The Aeneid. Stan purposefully avoided Bill’s knowing look when he unwrapped it since he was the one who got it for Bill.

Bill’s been trying to get his attention all night but he’s been ignoring him. Every time he looks up, Audra is hanging off of Bill and it makes him sick to his stomach. He has no right to be jealous but he is. Audra is Bill’s wife, she’ll get to have what Stan will always want.

“Finally!” Jacob rings out victoriously as the dated technology finally connects to the new, “Uncle Eds hand me a tape.”

Eddie smiles as he pulls one out he deems good enough, “Here play this one.” Jacob pops it into the player and the video starts up.

At first glance, it looks like Jacob on screen, but it’s just a teenage Bill sitting on a couch. Two babies sit on each his thighs, and they can’t be any older than one. Just old enough to sit up by themselves. The one that must be Jane has a pink bow in her hair as she blows raspberries and Jacob giggles at his sister’s antics. Audra’s voice can be heard just beyond the camera, “Miss priss has a lot to say this morning doesn’t she?”

Younger Bill responds, “And she’s hilarious, cracking her brother up aren’t ya baby girl?”

It’s strange to see Bill be a dad. It’s completely endearing and it makes his bones ache in the worst way.

Another voice, one of a toddler, comes running up from the background as a kid Georgie jumps up to sit up by his big brother, Bill on the tape telling him to be careful. “Can Jakey play ball?” Little Georgie asks.

Everyone in the room coos at the home video and Audra and Jane move to sit closer to the tv. He can feel Bill’s eyes drilling into him. The scene on screen changes to the twin's first birthday as teenage Bill lets baby Jacob put a fistful of birthday cake in his mouth. Stan feels like he’s going to be sick.

His feet lead him out of the living room, and no one  is paying him much attention. The scotch eases his nerves a little as he finds himself in the front hallway, right in front of the statue of Dolorem. There’s a presence behind him, but he completely expected him to follow.

“What? Bored of your past?” he asks as he takes a sip of his drink.

“You’re not having a good time.”

Stan rolls his eyes, of course, he’s not having a good time! He’s surrounded by everything he will never get to have! Having to see Audra hang off of Bill, not knowing all the whispered confessions of love Bills exchanged with a younger man. Knowing that Jacob and Jane, who he’s come to care about deeply, would hate him if they knew the truth. The reality is he shouldn't even be here, he should be with Patty. “No Bill, I'm having a great time actually.”

Bill doesn’t say anything to his smart remark but an arm encircles around his waist from behind him and he tries to shake him off, “Bill stop it,” it's too risky to do anything here.

He doesn’t listen and suddenly lips are pressing at his pulse point, causing a shiver to run down his spine, “Come on Stanley, it’s my birthday.”

It’s always too hard to think clearly when Bill’s this close and acting this needy. Bill makes him stupid. “And I gave you a present-”

Bill chuckles in his ear, “The Aeneid, I’m proud really,” he presses his budding erection against Stan’s ass, “But now I want my other present.”

They’re supposed to meet up tonight for just that and he’s struggling to contain himself now, “Well you have to wait,” he really hopes he doesn’t sound as weak as he thinks.

He starts pushing Stan to his office, “I think I’m going to get you a refill on scotch,” he says as he nibbles at Stan’s ear. All his resolve is gone and he allows himself to get swept up in the ocean that is Bill Denbrough, consequences be damned.

The moment the office door is closed, Bill has him pressed against the door, their tongues fighting for dominance. A battle Stan is always happy to lose. Stan’s glass of scotch lays abandoned on the side table. Bill bites down on Stan’s lip and a moan escapes him. Bill bites him again, “We gotta be quiet baby, remember?”

Stan nods, already drunk on lust, not that his scotch from earlier isn’t helping in that manner. Bill turns him around and he goes willingly, always pliable for Bill’s demanding hands. In no time his and Bill’s pants and underwear are pushed down far enough and he can feel the heavy and hot press of Bill’s erection against the roundness of his ass.

“Oh baby boy, I think you just gave me my favorite present,” Bill tells him as he tugs at the blue crystal butt plug nestled between Stan’s cheeks.

Stan has to slap a hand over his mouth to contain his whimpers but he manages to get out, “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Bill grips the end of the jewel and slowly starts to ease it out before letting it go so it slides back into Stan’s body, “I think I like it better this way,” he says as he repeats what he just did and Stan can feel his body breaking out into a sweat. If Bill doesn’t get inside him now there will be a problem.

As if reading his mind, Bill finally pulls the plug out and replaces it with his cock. He pushes in slowly, as he didn’t have time to pull Stan apart with his fingers like he usually does before fucking him. After a moment his waist comes to rest against Stan’s ass and Stan stupidly thinks of how much of a perfect fit they are.

Pressed for time, Bill starts a quick pace and Stan is struggling to keep quiet. He uses both hands to cover his mouth and he gets pushed against the door from Bill’s powerful thrusts. It’s so hot and the thought of people right down the hall only makes it hotter. The thought of how risky this all is causes him to bite down hard onto the side of his hand.

One of Bill’s hands leans against the door, supporting him as he drives his cock into Stan over and over. His other hand ends up around Stan’s throat. His orgasm rips through him by surprise with a chocked off moan and his release ends up on the inside of his button-up shirt. Better than leaving evidence against the door.

A rugged groan comes from behind him as he tightens around Bill and he knows Bill is going to cum soon and wonders if Bill is feeling the adrenaline like he is. Right when he’s starting to get too over-sensitive, Bill busts. “You’re so fucking perfect!” Bill whisper-shouts as he cums, painting the insides of Stan’s walls with his release.

They’re both left panting heavily as Bill pulls out, causing Stan to wince at the loss. Bill kisses him on his sweaty forehead when he turns around and wipes them both up with the wipes he keeps in his desk. Bill tells him how good he is and Stan’s heart flutters. It’s almost romantic.

The stress has completely left him and he’s ready to rejoin everyone, now that he has that satisfying ache in his lower back. Why was he so upset in the first place? He gets to have Bill in ways Audra will never be able to.

When the two leave Bill’s office, all smiles, they both fail to notice Georgie watching the two from the dining room, not believing what he just saw.

-Present-

“That’s when we screwed up. Georgie was there when we left your office,” Stan cries out.

Bill’s face runs white.

-Earlier That Day-

“You’re fucking my brother, aren’t you?”

Stan stares blankly at Georgie as he stands in his dorm doorway. His textbook for studying for his accounting final lies abandoned in front of him. He has bigger things to worry about now. Like his life falling apart around him.

He could deny this claim, fight it with all his willpower, but what’s the point? Did he and Bill really fool themselves into thinking no one would ever find out? That they could just continue behind closed doors forever? In a way, it’s relieving. Stan doesn’t have to hide anymore. So he instead asks, “Have you told Patty yet?”

Georgie takes this as an invitation to come in and close the door, causing Stan to get irritated. He didn’t mean for him to come inside his space. “Not yet, and I’ve been fighting the urge to. It’s been disgusting to watch you act like a boyfriend towards her this past month. She deserves so much better than you.”

Stan knows this, he agrees with this, but that’s not the part that catches his attention, “A month? You’ve known for a month? ” He always assumed in his fantasies that Georgie would confront him the moment he knew for sure. Always kinda hoped Bill would be with him when Georgie did.

“My brother’s party," Georgie answers, "I’ve always thought you two were weird around one another but cheating? I had to see proof for that. I saw you two come out of his office and it was obvious what you two had been doing,” he looks kind of green as he tells Stan this, “I’ve spent the past month trying to figure out what to do. I mean fuck- Stanley, this is my older brother and his family- my family. I needed time to think.”

“And?” he asks calmly.

Georgie looks offended and annoyed that he doesn’t seem to have more to say, “ And, I’ve decided that you two have to stop. You have to break it off. Stan, you’re not a bad person, I know that, but my brother has kids . Have you ever stopped to think about what this may do to them?”

Stan breaks, “I care about them! Jacob and Jane, you can’t come in here and tell me that I don’t care about those fucking kids!”

“-And I’m not saying that! But for their sake, end this thing with my brother. Or at least end it for Patty, who you also say you love so much,” Georgie comes back with, “This whole situation is so fucked up and you have to fix it, or so many good people are going to get hurt!”

He won’t look at Georgie anymore, the dam has broken and silent tears are running down his face. All he wants right now is to see Bill.

When Georgie realizes that Stan’s not going to say anything else, he turns to leave with a sigh, “Just…do the right thing Stanley,” and he walks out the door.

Immediately Stanley is reaching for his phone, dialing up Bill. He’s a complete wreck by the time Bill answers. The sound of Bill’s worried tone isn’t even enough to calm his nerves. Through his tears, he asks Bill to meet him at their room and he quickly agrees. He has no idea what to do.

-Present-

Stan finishes telling him what had happened earlier in the day through his tears, and Bill looks angry.

“Of course, he’s fucking dodging my calls right now. What right does my little brother have going sniffing around in my businesses?!” Bill lets go of Stan and stands, pacing in the motel room and resisting the urge to put a hole in the shitty motel wall, “What the fuck is his deal anyway?! Talking about my kids?! They’re my fucking kids!”

“Bill,” he calls out for him, he’s never seen Bill angry and it’s only upsetting him more.

He’s back over to him in an instant, fighting down his anger for Stan’s sake, “We’ll find a way baby. I’ll divorce Audra, Jacob and Jane like you, they’ll come around. Jane sooner than Jacob but that’s okay,” Stan shakes his head rapidly, “Baby don’t do that, we’ll find a way. I love you , Stanley.”

His bones are aching and his heart feels like it’s about to burst at the seams, but they can’t do this anymore. They’ve been found out and it’s drowning him, but he can’t let Jacob, Jane, Patty, and even Audra go down with him. “I love you too, more than anything, but Billy please, you know .”

Bill’s back up and shaking his head in denial, “Don’t b-b-baby, please duh-don’t do this.” For the first time since Stan’s gotten to the hotel, Bill looks like he’s about to cry.

Stan crawls off the bed and runs over to Bill, and Bill’s arms pull him close in what is their last hug. “We can’t hurt everyone, you know this.”

His head hangs low and he starts crying into Stan’s neck, “Puh-please I cuh-can’t lose you.”

He holds him tightly and tries to commit to memory how it feels to be hugged by the man he loves along with the smell of his woodsy cologne, “Goodbye, Dolorem. ” He whispers as he breaks away and with all the courage he has in his body he heads out the door, despite Bill’s pleas for him to stay.

A part of his heart was left behind in that motel room, stored underneath the box spring bed and beside the dust bunnies.

-Two Years Later-

Stan broke up with Patty right before school let out for that summer, shortly after he lost a piece of himself. She didn’t understand and pleaded with him to explain why he was doing this to them, and Stanley, he was so tired of lying. So he told her the whole truth and didn’t flinch when Patty slapped him.

A couple of months later he would see from Georgie’s Instagram that the two have finally gotten together and he couldn’t have been happier for the couple.

That following summer he had flown out to L.A. and spent it with Richie. The two got high, a lot, and Stan slept with a couple of guys that vaguely reminded him of the person he missed but didn’t remind him of the man too much that he wanted to get sick.

Richie never asked, never pried into what happened to Stan the previous school year. He just kept rolling their blunts. When he asked Stan if he would transfer to his school out in L.A. (“They have a great nerd program here too,” of course, Richie looked in that) he couldn’t find a reason to say no. There was nothing left for him at NYU.

So for the next two years, he finished out his accounting degree and Richie eventually dropped out to pursue his comedy career. He’d never admit but Richie was actually pretty funny when he wanted to be, and he thought Richie stood an actual stance. He also paid his half of the rent on time every month so Stan didn’t care too much.

Speaking of money, after he had graduated, he was able to find a good job at an accounting firm. There was also a cute secretary he enjoyed fucking, she vaguely reminded him of Patty. She also never asked for anything outside of  just fucking so Stan liked her.

He’s not where he thought he would’ve been two years ago but he’s  content.  That’s all that matters right? His life was pretty simple until a ghost from his past unexpectedly ran into him at his favorite coffee shop.

“Stanley?”

Stan’s head snaps up from where he’s reading the wall street journal, he  knows  that voice. His eyes scan the crowded shop until he sees someone he didn’t think he’d ever see again. “Jane?”

Jane walks over to him, smiling that same comforting smile, still so much like Bill, she had on the day they met. Her hair is longer and she looks more mature, but to him, she’s still just that sixteen-year-old girl who needed help on her trigonometry. He has to fight the flood gates from opening in his mind.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” she astonishes, “You single-handedly got me, and Jacob, through trigonometry.”

“It was a joint effort,” he says as he stands to shake her hand, but Jane ignores his outstretched hand and hugs him. He’s only dazed for a moment before he smiles and hugs her back.

She lingers for a moment before breaking the hug, stepping back to tuck a piece of her hair behind her hair, “Sorry, it’s just been so long since I’ve seen you. What’s it been? Like-”

“Two years,” he finishes for her.

“Wow, time really gets away from you,” she scrunches her nose at him, “You’re even going grey on me,” she sees the instant panic that streaks his face and laughs, “I’m just messing with you.”

Stan refuses to ask how Bill is. He can’t tell if Jane ever found out about him and her dad or not, so he safely asks, “So what are you doing in L.A?”

Her whole body shakes in joy, “I got into school here! Jacob ended up going to one in someplace named Derry so it’s a little rough to be in a different time zone by three hours from him,” Stan is so happy Jacob ended up going to college, “But I think he wanted to get away from our parents when got divorced.”

Stan’s whole world freezes and his tongue feels too big for his mouth, “I’m sorry what?”

Jane is looking at him, knowingly. She doesn’t appear angry, more sad, “Yeah mom and dad got divorced a year ago. Mom is doing great, but Dad…he’s been better.”

He wants to ask a million questions but he holds off and just looks at her, at a loss for what to say. Jane digs a notepad and a pen out of her bag and writes something down on it, “Here’s my cell phone number, we need to get coffee sometime to catch up.”

The coffee shop door opens and a fiery redhead comes and smiles, and calls out to her, “Jane over here!”

Jane looks over at her and waves before returning to Stan, “I have to go now,” she passes him the note, which he takes on autopilot, “It was good to see you, Stanley, please let me know when you’re free!” Right as she’s walking away she says something else over her shoulder that he almost misses, “He still has the same number by the way.”

The rest of the day Stan just moves as if he’s just a puppet on a string. He can’t call Bill, they broke off what they had two years ago, Stan was the one who did it.

Regardless of any sound reasoning, by the time night falls he finds himself scrolling to the contact he never dared to delete from his phone. Time passes and he doesn’t know how long he’s left just staring at the number. It’s late, and even later in New York but he’d be up right now. Bill was always a night owl.

Eventually, his finger presses the call button and he’s barely aware it’s ringing until a baited, “Hello? Stuh-Stanley, is that you?” answers.

And just like that, Stan has gone back to his consuming love, “Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit, you once told me it meant that someday we would back on this day with joy, do you think that maybe that day is today?”

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 30: Family

Chapter 29

Read on AO3

November 27th

Jamie felt a flutter of excitement as he rang the doorbell to the Abernathy home. It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and neither doctor had had the day off on Thursday. Claire had mentioned they’d done exactly this last year. Claire had casually asked if Jamie wanted to make a pie or pick one up, and he’d stared at her, bewildered. 

“Ehm...fer what?”

Claire eyed him as if he’d asked what color the sky was. “For Thanksgiving?”

“Oh! I...thought ye spent it wi’ Joe’s family...”

She blinked at him like he had two heads. “Yes. And you’re coming.”

And that was that. 

This was a big step for them as a couple, as a potential family, and Jamie knew it. He knew better than to make a big deal out of it to Claire, but that simple assumption that of course he’d be celebrating with Claire’s adopted family had made him fit to burst with joy. The next day, Jamie had texted her:

speaking of holidays and families, how do you feel about spending christmas with mine?

She’d replied hours later, likely during her first break of the day:

I’d absolutely love to. 

So they were there now. They were officially bringing each other “home for the holidays.” Well, Jamie’s family was coming here to avoid putting Faith through air travel, but still. If somebody had asked Jamie last Thanksgiving or last Christmas if he’d ever imagined this, with her, with them, he’d have told them they were crazy. 

That morning, they’d gone to see Moana. The local movie theater did half-priced tickets before noon, and the movie had come out the day before Thanksgiving. Jamie had told Claire that he and his family always went to the cinema on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day; since the closest one to Lallybroch was an hour away, it was a special occasion. Claire had immediately lit up, declaring that they had to go on Thanksgiving. Rather, their makeshift Thanksgiving. Claire had never actually brought Faith to the movies before, but the place was empty aside from one other family, so it was perfect. She was in heaven. She was absolutely enthralled by the hugeness of the screen, the colors, the music. They’d sat near the front in the wider aisle where the railing was, meant for handicapped viewers, so Faith could run around or lean on the railing, dangling Horsie over the edge with her mouth agape. Claire had bought the album on iTunes on the way home, anticipating that Faith would want to play the music all day, and she’d been right. Jamie already knew almost every word to “How Far I’ll Go.” He wondered if it would hold up against “Let it Go” for Faith, but only time would tell.

A gust of November wind brought Jamie back to the moment, and the front door opened to reveal Joe, white teeth flashing against his dark skin in a radiant grin. 

“Ah, there he is!” Joe enthusiastically clapped Jamie on the shoulder with one hand, and shook Jamie’s hand with the other. “It is so good to have you here, Jamie.”

“Hello to you too,” Claire said wryly.

“Come on, I see you all the time,” Joe said. At that moment, Faith slipped right out of Claire’s grip and bounded inside, humming loudly and flapping her hands wildly. 

Claire rolled her eyes at both Faith’s escape and Joe. Jamie watched with amusement as Gail appeared at the end of the hallway and exclaimed in surprise as Faith barreled into her. 

“Sweet Jesus!”

Joe ushered Jamie, Claire, and Angus, leash held by Claire, into the house. 

“Well it’s nice to see you, crazy bean!” Gail said, laughing, and Faith disappeared into the living room. “Dee-Dee! They’re here, and Faith is looking for you!”

Jamie handed off the pie (that he’d made from scratch, of course) to Gail, and insisted on helping her finish with the hors d'oeuvres and the drinks. Faith darted about, in and out of the rooms, until the pitter-patter of little feet coming down the stairs had her running back into the hallway. By the time all the adults were settled with finger foods and drinks, Delia and Faith were already in the corner of the room, engaged with dolls and a little house. Even Faith’s Horsie was involved in the game, of course. 

“They did this last year too,” Claire said as they sat down on the couch. “We got here and Dee-Dee had a whole spread. It was adorable.”

“She does it every time she knows she’s coming over,” Gail said. 

“Aye, I remember her at Faith’s party; she’s a sweet one,” Jamie said fondly. 

“Thanks,” Gail said.

“And that one got so big!” Claire exclaimed, looking at Lenny, sat in his own corner with a tablet. “Last Thanksgiving he still looked like a baby.”

“Four years old, you believe that?” Joe said, shaking his head. 

“Oh, I believe it,” Claire said, eyeing Faith. “They grow too fast.”

“Oh my gosh, Claire, I never even asked.” Gail said, putting down her drink. “Faith started school!”

“Yeah, she did.”

“You were scared shitless,” Gail dropped her voice to a low whisper. 

Claire chuckled. “Yes, I certainly was.”

Jamie put his hand lightly on Claire’s knee, and she took it, seemingly without thinking about it. They laced their fingers together with practiced ease, and Jamie squeezed. 

“You mentioned at work the first day went okay,” Joe said. “How’s she been since then?”

“Really good, actually,” Claire said. Jamie could feel the warmth of glowing pride radiating from her. “She stopped having any bathroom problems, finally, and she hasn’t had to call home or either of us at work in a while. Which is good, because it’s hard when I’m at the hospital or if Jamie’s with a client...but I think we’re finally past that.”

“That’s great,” Gail said. 

“I can tell she still doesn’t really love it. It’s a bit of a fight to get her on the bus after a weekend or a break. Monday should be really fun,” she rolled her eyes, “but she’s doing it. She’s getting her stickers when she earns them and prizes and after school treats.”

“Claire is doing all the right things,” Jamie cut in. “It’s hard to motivate her sometimes, but as long as she’s on the bus in the morning, then we’ve done all we can do.”

“Right,” Gail said. 

“Remember after Labor Day when she would not get on, no matter what I did?”

“Aye, I do. I had to leave the stables to try to get her on myself.”

“I couldn’t believe the driver waited that long.” Claire covered her face and shook her head at the memory. “If that never happens again, it’ll be too soon.”

The adults shared a quiet laugh. 

“I see she’s got a communication device now?” Joe said, gesturing to the tablet resting next to Faith. “The school provides that?”

“Yeah,” Claire said. “She’s been getting more and more comfortable with it lately. She still signs for her basic needs, and Mummy, but she loves being able to say ‘Angus,’ and all your names, and Gillian’s name, and Jamie’s. I don’t want her to lose the signing, but this is a great additional tool.”

“Yeah, of course,” Gail said. “I saw that video on Facebook that you posted, when she first figured out the ‘Mummy’ button.”

“Oh, yeah,” Claire smiled fondly at the memory, and so did Jamie. When it had first clicked for Faith that there was a word on her device for every sign, she could not get enough of saying “Mummy,” calling out to her beloved mother in a brand new way. “She did the same thing to Jamie the next time we saw him.”

“Over and over,” Jamie confirmed. “It was sweet.”

“Until the third hour,” Claire said, and Jamie could tell she was only half-kidding. He didn’t blame her at all. 

Jamie was about to ask about how Delia was doing in school, how pre-k was for Lenny, when Joe spoke again. 

“How are you guys?” He raised both of his eyebrows coyly. “I mean, it seems like it’s...going really well. Yeah?”

Jamie watched a blush creep up Claire’s neck and touch her cheeks with color. She flashed her eyes at Jamie, who felt warmth spreading from head to toe. 

“We’re great,” Jamie answered, looking into Claire’s eyes and raising her fingers to his lips. “Really great.”

——

December 17th

As Claire approached the door to Jamie’s apartment, shopping bag and leash in one hand, Faith’s hand in the other, she heard a loud shriek from the other side of the door. Faith let go of Claire’s hand to clamp her hands over her ears, and Claire’s stomach dropped.

Off to a great start.

Claire was nervous beyond all reason to meet Jamie’s family. They’d gotten off the plane from Scotland two days ago, wanting to give themselves plenty of time before the holidays, and wanting to meet Claire and Faith at least once before then. Jamie decided on a little pizza party at his place.

Claire begged and pleaded with Faith to calm down, but she would not move until presented with her headphones. Claire sighed in defeat and put them on her. She knew deep down that Jamie’s family would bear no judgement on her in the slightest, but she really hadn’t wanted their first impression of her and her daughter to be flustered mother of an irritable daughter.

The door opened while Claire was still kneeling on the ground, and she looked up in a panic, relief washing over her to see that it was only Jamie.

“Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly. “Wee Jamie is a bit of an imp.”

Claire stood up, laughing nervously. “Oh, hi, sorry.” She tried taking Faith’s hand again, but Faith recoiled, reaching up to Jamie instead. Claire rolled her eyes upward, and Jamie grinned.

“Aye, alright, let’s get ye in out of the cold.” He obliged Faith, lifting her up and settling her on his hip, leading the way into the apartment. Faith rubbed her cheek against Jamie’s, delighting in the stubble, and Claire peered around Jamie to see the face that she’d come to be so familiar with but had never actually seen in person. Jenny was sitting on the couch feeding star-shaped puffs to a toddler, and the just as familiar Ian was holding a little boy over his shoulder.

“Everyone,” Jamie announced. “This is Claire. And this is Faith.”

Jenny launched herself off the couch and handed the baby off to Ian, who expertly handled holding both children at once.

“It’s great to finally meet ye, Claire,” Jenny said, throwing her arms around her in a bone crushing hug.

Claire started in surprise at first, but then returned the embrace. Her embrace was warm, soft and solid all at once, much like Jamie. She was wearing an oversized cream sweater, similar to Claire’s own white cable-knit turtleneck. “Hi, I’m so glad to finally meet you, too.”

“I’m Jenny, as ye probably guessed,” she went on, pulling away from the embrace, but keeping a hand on one of Claire’s shoulders. “That’s my husband, Ian.”

“Hallo,” Ian gestured with his chin in greeting. “This heathen is Wee Jamie,” he turned around to show Claire his face, given that his feet were previously facing her, “and this is Maggie.” He turned back around.

“Great to meet you, all three of you,” Claire said, laughing.

Just then, Claire noticed the man that had appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, smiling down at her. Everything about him was warmth, strength, and comfort.

“Claire,” he said, his voice deep and laced with the deepest affection.

“Hi,” Claire said sheepishly, her smile hurting her cheeks. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mister Fraser. Jamie speaks so highly of you.”

“Och, I’ll no’ have ye calling me that. Ye’ll call me Brian, Da, whatever ye’re comfortable with.” He stepped in toward her and pulled her in for a hug that was somehow tighter than Jenny’s. “Ye’re family, lass.”

Claire squeezed him back, this man she had just met, and tears pinpricked her eyes.

My family.

Brian pulled away and gripped her shoulders, looking into her face. “Christ, my heart’s full to see ye.”

“Let her breathe, Da,” Jenny chided. “Here, let me take this. And give yer coats to Ian.” Jenny took the paper bag of crisps and cookies in Claire’s hand like this was her own home and disappeared with it into the kitchen.

Ian put little Jamie down and pointed a threatening finger at him, and the boy grinned impishly as his father took Claire’s coat, then Faith’s, from Jamie.

“Hi!” he burst to Claire. “Are ye my Auntie now?”

“Oh, I…”

“Jamie…”

“Oi, why d’ye no’ play wi’ the Wii, lad,” Jamie cut in. The boy bounced with excitement, planting his bottom on the coffee table right in front of the tellie. “Quietly, now,” Jamie warned, setting up a game for him with Faith in his arms all the while. She refused to be put down.

“That’s her, then? Wee Faith?” Brian watched as Jamie shifted her to his other hip after finishing setting up Jamie’s game.

“Yes, that’s my girl,” Claire answered, pride warming her chest.

“Beautiful,” Brian breathed, beaming at her as Jamie approached his father. “Yer spitting image.”

“Thank you,” Claire said. She stroked Faith’s cheek, who was still rubbing her face and arms against Jamie’s stubbled jaw.

Brian hummed in amusement. “Willie used to do that to me,” he said. “It’s comforting to them.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Claire’s eyes flicked nervously to Jamie, but he seemed alright. Perhaps they spoke fondly of Jamie’s brother often. She’d have to get used to that.

Jenny flitted back in from the kitchen and chided her brother for letting her son play with brain-rotting video games, but Jamie just rolled his eyes and sat down, Angus settling at his feet at attention for Faith.

“I didn’t even know you had a Wii,” Claire said, sitting down beside him.

“Aye, well,” he winked, “how else would I kick yer arse in Mario Kart?”

Claire snorted quietly and fought the urge to swat at his arm in front of his family. Ian sat down next to Jamie with Maggie, Brian sat on the leather recliner in the corner, and Jenny sat on the edge of the coffee table facing the couch.

“So! This is the wee lass I’ve heard so much about?” Jenny beamed at Faith.

“Aye, she canna hear ye just now wi’ these on; wee Jamie gave her a fright.”

“Och, I’m so sorry,” Jenny said. “I did try to explain to him — ”

“No, it’s okay. He's so young.”

“Aye, and a menace to society already.” Jenny rolled her eyes, and Claire chuckled. “I’m just grateful he didna make a run fer the dog. He retained that from our talk at least.”

She was obviously referring to the fact that when Angus was working, he could not be pet. Claire did catch a few longing glances at the animal from the little boy, but he was being very good.

After a few minutes, with Angus’s help, Jamie managed to coax Faith into taking the headphones off.

“There you go, good girl,” Claire praised. “She’d never take them off without Jamie here. He’s absolutely wonderful with her.”

“Aye, and she’s quite taken wi’ him as well,” Jenny said smiling at the way Faith was nuzzled into his neck.

“We’ve a…special bond,” Jamie said, his eyes twinkling. “Aye, princess?” He bounced her on his knee, and she giggled.

“Look, lass, this is Jenny,” Jamie said. “Can ye say hi?”

She buried her face further.

“She’s very shy,” Claire explained. “Strangers are a little tricky. But I promise the more she’s with you, the better it gets. Even Jamie was a scary stranger at some point. Right, lovie?”

Jenny and Ian laughed softly.

“I really appreciate you all coming here,” Claire said. “It can’t be easy traveling with little ones.”

“Och, ’twas nae bother,” Ian said. “Glad to do it.”

“We hardly ever get to see Jamie’s place anyway,” Jenny added. “We’ve only been to the Island…what, once or twice before?” Ian nodded in confirmation. “It’s nice to see the life he’s made here. And the stables are just great.”

“Aye, we’re very proud of the work Jamie does,” Brian cut in, the pride oozing out of his every feature.

“You should be. He’s…he’s got a special touch with those kids,” Claire said, unable to stop the heart eyes she knew she was giving Jamie. “He changes lives. I know he changed Faith’s, and mine for that matter. Even before, well…this.” She blushed, realizing she was rambling. Jamie reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, likely sensing her embarrassment.

“Aye, well it’s good ye ken how lucky ye are,” Jenny said. “Ye’ll no’ find a better man than my brother.”

“Christ, Janet…” It was Jamie’s turn to turn scarlet.

“I’m being nice, Jamie! I could go on instead about how difficult ye are to live with…”

“Claire doesna need a speech about treating me right,” he said. “She’s doing just fine.”

“That wasna what I meant.”

But given the look that Ian shot her, that was indeed what she’d meant. Though a little uncomfortable, Claire did not blame her. Jamie was her little brother after all, and Claire knew by now how deeply he felt things, how sensitive he was. Somebody cruel could tear him to pieces.

“It’s okay,” Claire cut in. “I know what you meant.” She squeezed Jamie’s hand.

“Aye, good. Well, it’s no’ as if it doesna go both ways. When Jamie sent me yer Facebook profile, I gave him an earful about how damned lucky he was,” Jenny said, and Claire bit her lip to stifle a grin.

“Janet…”

“What! Ye’re embarrassed? I couldna very well meet her. No shame in sending me something to get to know her by!”

If Jamie could have melted into the couch, Claire was sure he would have.

“Jamie went on and on about ye last Christmas, ye and the lass both,” Jenny explained. Claire’s heart fluttered to think that his family knew about her all the way back then, when she was still so far in denial she couldn’t see past her own nose. “So I was bloody curious what was so special about ye. Didna take long to see it, I’ll say that.” She smiled fondly at Claire, her eyes twinkling.

“Well…thank you. I think.”

“What Jenny is trying to say,” Ian cut in. “Is that we’re glad ye’re here, and we’re grateful to ye fer the joy ye bring our brother. Both of ye.”

“Aye, cheers to that.” Brian lifted his whisky from where he sat and took a sip.

“You know,” Claire said. “I heard all about this little one after the holidays last year.” She looked around Jamie and Faith at Maggie. “Jamie showed me pictures of her. She’s just adorable. I mean, both of your children are beautiful, of course.”

“D’ye want to hold her?” Ian offered.

Claire’s heart fluttered. “Could I?”

“Aye, of course.”

They both scooted forward for the exchange.

“Have to pish anyway.”

Jamie clapped Ian on the shoulder as he got up to leave, and Claire sighed loudly as the small weight settled in her lap.

“Well, hello!” she cooed, smiling enormously at Maggie’s sweet face. “Aren’t you the cutest little thing.” She bounced the baby in her lap, and she smiled lazily at her before breaking into the sweetest little giggles. Claire laughed in response, her head light and dizzy from the euphoria of holding a baby.

“Oh…I haven’t held one this small since Faith,” she sighed. “She’s just so sweet. Such a perfectly behaved baby.”

“Aye, she’s night and day wi’ that one.” Jenny nodded behind her to Jamie, engrossed in the game on the tellie.

Maggie gave another squealing giggle, and Faith abruptly sat up for the first time since burrowing into Jamie’s side.

“Ye look bonny wi’ a bairn, Sassenach.”

Claire looked up from Maggie to see Jamie boring smoldering diamonds into her, and she felt herself turn to a puddle. She’d be lying if she said she’d never thought about having another baby, and she’d also be lying if she said the thought of having one with Jamie hadn’t immediately crossed her mind the second she laid eyes on Maggie’s darling face.

They maintained eye contact for a long moment, and then Faith reached forward and grabbed the baby’s face, and Claire gasped, pulling Maggie into her.

“Gentle, Faith,” Jamie said quickly, as gently as he could muster. “The baby is very wee, and very sensitive. Ye must be gentle.”

“Gentle like with Pippi,” Claire added.

Faith bit her lip and sat up again, and then she gently stroked her fingers down the line of Maggie’s nose. Claire and Jamie both burst out laughing, and Faith hummed loudly, jiggling her hands and bouncing in Jamie’s lap.

“Pippi’s her horse?” Jenny said, chuckling herself.

“Aye!” Jamie said through his laughter, and then Jenny and Brian were also laughing out loud.

“What’d I miss?” Ian returned from the bathroom and sat back down on the couch.

“Faith started petting Maggie like her horse because we told her to be gentle,” Jamie explained, laughter finally subsiding. “Good girl, Faith,” he said.

“Come here, baby,” Claire summoned her closer. Faith clambered onto Jamie’s other leg. “You don’t have to pet her nose. Look.” Claire stroked Maggie’s head, then rubbed her back, all while bouncing her. “See? Gentle.”

Faith hummed loudly again, bouncing and jiggling.

“Calm down, lass,” Jamie crooned. “Ye canna play wi’ the bairn if ye canna be calm.”

Faith managed to stop one of her hands from flapping as she gingerly patted Maggie’s little head. Maggie turned to look at her, and Faith squealed.

“Yes, good job,” Claire said.

“Oh, how sweet,” Jenny said. “Ye’re a sweet girl, Faith.”

Faith did not turn at the sound of her name, but Claire beamed at Jenny. “She loves babies,” Claire said. “One of the moms brought her baby to the stables one day, and I had to hold Faith back from throwing herself in the stroller.”

Jenny chuckled. “She’ll make a braw big sister, then.”

“Janet,” Jamie warned, but Jenny just put her hands up in surrender, and Claire’s cheeks flushed red.

Faith gave another loud hum, and then she scrambled off of Jamie’s lap. She pattered over to the bag Claire had left by the door that contained both of her tablets and some emergency snacks that Claire had packed. She reached in for the school-provided tablet and walked back to the couch, standing in front of Claire and Maggie. She clicked around for a bit, and then she pressed the word she wanted to say.

“Play.”

Claire broke into a stupid, beaming grin. “You want to play with Maggie?”

Faith jumped up and down, letting out a squeal that gave way to a hum. “Play.”

“You’re so smart, good girl, sweetheart,” Claire praised. She looked to Jenny, who motioned for Claire to follow her. Claire set Maggie down on the floor as Jenny set out some toys she had brought.

“Play.”

“Yes, darling, we hear you, one moment please.”

Before long, Jenny had shown Faith all of Maggie’s toys, and Maggie was chewing on one while Faith became engrossed with the little baby piano toy. Jenny sat beside Maggie and Claire beside Faith, each making sure that Faith remained gentle and calm. They conversed over the children and across the room to the men. Claire learned how Jenny and Ian had gotten together, learned about the antics of all three of them growing up together, and at one point, she had tears leaking out of her eyes from laughing so hard at a story Brian told about the lads and the pigsty. 

Faith would occasionally take Maggie’s hand and make her press buttons on various toys, some more gentle than others, but Maggie did not seem to mind. Little Jamie only got too loud on his video game one time, and one stern word from his mother was enough to assure it did not happen again.

The pizza delivery arrived, and there was a flurry of motion to get everyone into the kitchen. Parents all made sure that little ones’ hands were clean, and plates and cups were set out. Claire watched in awe as Jamie pulled a pizza plate out of his cabinet.

“Where on Earth did this come from?”

“I bought one,” Jamie said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If the lass is gonnae eat pizza in my home she’ll have a pizza plate.”

Claire didn’t have the heart to tell him that Faith was not picky about what she ate off of if she wasn’t home, so she let Jamie hand the plate to Faith, both of their faces glowing with joy. Jamie turned around to grab the juice from the fridge and Claire went to help him, and by the time they both turned around, Brian was cutting Faith’s pizza on the plate, and Claire stopped in her tracks to stare.

“Ye’re family, lass.”

Jamie noticed, and he looked back and forth between his father and Claire, his eyes twinkling. He hugged her around the shoulders with one arm and kissed her temple.

“They’re as crazy about her as I am.”

Jamie crossed the rest of the way to the table, and Claire wiped her eyes quickly before following.

“I like her pizza plate,” wee Jamie announced, crossing his arms.

“Well, it’s Faith’s pizza plate,” Ian said firmly. “Ye’ll eat off yer own plate, and ye’ll like it.”

“Why do I no’ get one?”

“Because ye dinna have all the worries and troubles in yer heid that Faith has. The pizza plate helps her feel better. Now eat.”

The table was crowded, not meant for nearly as many people as were there, folding chairs squished between the wooden ones, but they made it work. Maggie was passed between laps so that her parents could eat, and everyone took turns handing her tiny pieces of saucy, non-cheesy, soft pizza to chew on. The conversation passed easily as they talked more about Jamie’s childhood; they even asked about Claire’s. She had plenty to tell about her adventures with her uncle, stories that she loved sharing with anybody who would listen.

Once the pizza was gone, Faith disappeared into the living room and returned with one of the DVDs that Claire had packed. Jamie helped her get it set up, and then little Jamie and Faith were sitting on the couch, watching Lilo and Stitch, and Ian was putting Maggie to sleep in the stroller that they were leaving in Jamie’s room.

The adults stayed at the kitchen table with drinks, and Claire held Jamie’s hand under the table, his other hand stroking her knee and thigh absently. Conversation with this family was easy and familiar, as if she’d known them her whole life. She did not feel like an outsider as she’d predicted she might. The feeling of belonging enveloped her like a warm hug. Then she’d remember Jenny helping Faith play with Maggie, Brian cutting her pizza, Ian explaining to little Jamie why Faith was different, and she would well up with tears.

Family gatherings in England made Claire sick with anxiety and made Faith utterly miserable, which just made everything worse. The Christmas before Frank left, when Faith was three, Claire had cried herself to sleep with his parents’ sneers burned into her subconscious. But this…

This was acceptance, understanding, welcoming, joy, warmth, comfort.

This was family.

[rodeoxqueen]

AWAS

CHAPTER ONE: BE NOT AFRAID 

“Dante and Vergil return from Hell to tie up loose ends from their year-long absence. While they seek a sense of normalcy, the fates send them anything but.”

Contents: Violence, Blood and Gore, Brotherly Banter, Explicit Language, Slight Angst 

Rodeo’s Two Pieces: 

I'm very excited to show y'all what I have been working on since hell, November of 2020. Thank you kindly for sticking around.

Back to the present, where the world turned on its axis for months without the weight of the blood of Sparda upon itself, the tides had changed.

In the midnight, had the stars laid witness to the damn near impossible. A portal had opened from the underworld, and two brothers stumbled out. Clutching their swords, Dante and Vergil reunited with the human realm.

How long had it been? Of endless violence and humorous quips thrown at the other, as the years of the gnashing of teeth smoothened the rough patches of their disjointed childhoods?

“We’re back, Verg.” Dante chuckled, arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“We are.” Vergil echoed. The obnoxious weight fell off of him and landed on the ground with a thud.

Dante had got on his knees and kissed the earth that they now stood on.

“Don’t be a fool,” Vergil said, staring at the moon. After years of wanting to become one with Hell, he tilted the false king’s crown to admire the clear sky.

Dante rolled to the ground, sighing in relief.

“We’re back.” He repeated. His brother nudged him with the Yamato.

“Get up. We must find our way back.” Eyes closed and a grin across his face, Dante let the wind pass through his bloodied and matted hair.

“Now we sound like a real team.” Vergil scoffed.

After a few moments, Dante got back up. They had arrived back from Hell to a cliffside overlooking a city that was not Redgrave.

“I assume you have unfinished business in Redgrave.” Dante nodded.

“I sure do.”

The portal became a forgotten relic, the Sparda brothers nowhere to be seen, their demonic presence known to the world.

Dante was known for many things, but mainly for how much of a constant he had remained in everyone’s lives. Never changing, staying the same as he was, an unstoppable force of sarcastic expression.

And also a huge manchild.

Vergil rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Dante. When I referred to unfinished business, I was clearly referring to your shop.”

“Yeah? And I was referring to this.” Dante bit into another slice of pizza, practically moaning.

Vergil sat ramrod straight, sitting awkwardly in a pizzeria. The two were the elephants in the room, both slathered in demonic gore and toting swords. People either gawked or left the establishment.

“You are still an idiot after all this time.”

“Yeah, and I’m also still hungry.”

“Surely your business is more important than this.”

“Meh.”

The blue devil waited for him to finish an hour later, the long-held bill lengthening after months of his absence.

Of course, he had to have indulged a few pieces of his own. It was nothing like the gaminess of demon flesh he had forced himself to sustain upon. It was almost melting in his mouth, unlike the resistance of the shank of a demon. He was never one for vegetables as a child, Dante even more so. Yet the crunch of the toppings was well-received to Vergil, deprived of basic human sustenance for a few odd decades.

However, he found it unthinkable Dante would continue to indulge himself in this for as long as he did.

The door reopened and closed once more to reveal the broad daylight of the streets. Clean, pristine, the sounds of cars and people filled in the crisp air.

Vergil’s boots walked upon a paved road for the first time in ages, man-made and unassuming concrete with stubborn weeds growing from the crevices. No mouth-having crimson blooms that grew to a man’s height. Just simple creatures that fell softly to his weight on their fragile stems.

He had never been here before, where Dante claimed to be his home.

“What’s after this for you, Vergil?” Dante asked his brother, swiping a few demons out of his way.

Vergil, also in his triggered form, huffed a dismissive sigh.

“You know, you should stay with me. Devil May Cry’s always got a spare couch to crash on.”

“Why would I do that?” He slashed a horned devil in two, spewed in putrid green blood. Dante chuckled, knowing there was hesitance in his voice.

“Because I’m offering, big brother. When’s the last time you’ve had a place to call home?”

“I believe you know the answer to that question.” Vergil slid onto his knees under a crouching demon, disemboweling it from top-down. A final gunshot rang his ears, a noise he had to get used to with Dante’s reliance on firearms.

Dull thuds and a flash of red, Dante stood above his brother, offering a now-human hand.

The horde was cleared away like dust on a counter, gone with the wind. Vergil and Dante stood in silence, two children again.

The younger pulled his brother up, insistent stubbornness in his eyes.

“I didn’t hear a no to my offer, Vergil.” Vergil sighed, releasing his hold of his brother’s hand.

“You did not hear a yes either.” Dante chuckled, following his already-leaving brother.

From the past to the present, Vergil’s answer had been neither, never spoken of what he was to do after everything. Yet here he was, now the latter of the two when it came to guidance.

There were many ways the two could have made their entrance to Devil May Cry and have it be a smooth transition back from months of Hell. Dante kicking down the door with a loud “I’m back baby!” was simply not one of them.

Vergil saw that a familiar dark-haired woman was sitting on the desk, absent-mindedly waiting for Trish to return. A girl who once blamed him for her father’s corruption, now a woman with no heed to his presence.

Lady had dropped her nail file, eyes wide at the sight of the two brothers.

“Dante,” Lady whispered as if she was greeting a ghost.

“Yep, it’s me. In the flesh.”

“Dante…”

“Did you miss me? Love what you did to the place.” Dante commented at the cleaned-up shop.

Her face of still confusion warped into anger.

“Dante!”

“Oh boy.”

The next thing he knows, Vergil watches his brother get lectured like a dog. Standing up yet with the attitude of a man in a fetal position, Dante let himself become used to the sound of their tirades once more.

“You had the audacity to give the deed to Morrison. Crazy bitches?! Really!” Dante shrugged.

“I mean if I barked up your tree all day you’d be calling me a-”

“Hey, Lady.” Trish walked into the shop, icily glancing at the two brothers.

“Look at what the hellhound dragged in.” Lady pointed to Dante and Vergil.

“Oh please, I could smell them from a mile away.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Hell doesn’t have any spas. Shame we couldn’t freshen ourselves up before coming here.” Dante sassed. Trish gave a pointed look.

“As much as it was nice to do some hot girl things, we could put Dumb and Dumber to good work.”

“What are you talking about?”

Lady gave a toothy smile.

“How do you think we got this place managed? Money. Money that you now owe us.”

“Hey! I never said you had to do anything.”

“You’d be real upset if we didn’t do anything either, Dante.”

Finally, after sitting through an eternity of harsh words and steep bills, Dante had more than ever landed himself in shambles. Again. At least he was liberated to take a shower. After Vergil of course.

He was surprised to find that the water was still running, and even more elated that it was hot water. Man, maybe paying the bills was a good thing. It felt like ages of grime and gore had been swept off his skin, his hair finally a familiar stark white. In the steam of the bathroom, he breathed out relief.

When he stepped out, he was surprised to see Vergil laying on his bed completely asleep. Usually uptight and composed, Vergil curled in on himself wearing some of Dante’s clean sweatpants that caught dust from all the months they were gone.

With a smile on his face, Dante chose the couch for once and didn’t complain.

They all deserved rest, Dante taking his nap with a magazine on his face. Future Dante could deal with this.

He never expected there to be any neater ends than the frayed knots he left in his human affairs. Yet, he wasn’t alone this time. Neither of them was.

The next few days, Dante gave his nephew a call. Well, more like Nero called him and Dante finally picked up.

Vergil had gotten up after days of practical unconsciousness, foreign to the comfort of a bed, a place to stay, yet much obliged to remain where he laid.

He came down the stairs, rubbing his eyes still. Dante’s voice was muffled until he was in the same room, Dante speaking through the phone to his son.

“Hey, your old man’s here.” Vergil shook his head, having no interest to answer, yet Dante kept waving the phone in his face.

Taking the phone, Vergil heard his son take a breath.

“Hey, Vergil. Nice to see you back from Hell. Um, can’t imagine that was a fun time.” Nero said, unknowing of how to speak to his stranger of a father.

“Indeed.” Dante face-palmed, sitting with another one of his accursed magazines.

“Yeah, um. I have your book.”

“Hmm.” Nero sighed.

“Do you want it back? I’m coming over soon for business reasons.” A hint of desperation and embarrassment from Nero went over Vergil’s bedhead.

“That would suffice…”

“Alright-”

“Thank you, Nero.” Vergil blurted, seeing Dante mouth the words “say thank you.”

Nero stopped for a minute, a few moments of silence on Vergil’s side.

“No problem...Vergil. I got to go. Take care, alright?” Vergil hmmed as a response. The line went dead.

Dante’s grin immensely irritated Vergil, a man who was incapable of second-hand embarrassment.

“Stop that. Wipe that expression off your face. You wanted a conversation with me and Nero, there you have it.”

Dante propped his face up with his hand, a cat that ate the canary.

“Nah.”

Vergil growled in annoyance.

Unfortunately for Dante, and luckily for Vergil, bills had to be paid and jobs to be done. Morrison had arrived a few days later, pleased to see an old friend returned from the underworld. Walking in, he was barely surprised that the shop had returned to a pig-sty appearance.

“Morrison! Nice to see you again.” Dante welcomed, sitting at his desk. Vergil eyed the unfamiliar man, reading through a book.

“Got a new job for you boys. About time you got those girls off your backs about having your little vacation in Hell.” A familiar smell of cigar smoke traced the air, Dante leaning back on his chair, intrigued.

“So Morrison, what nasty demonic critters does this gig entail?” Dante asked, arms crossed.

“There’s a demon runnin’ around towns, causing a lot of trouble.” Morrison placed a photo down, blurred and poorly taken. Although, the grotesque purple skin and rippling eyes on its body didn’t leave much to admire.

“Huh,” Dante mumbled. Vergil examined the picture.

“I’ve never seen a demon like this before. Sure is ugly, though.” Dante noted, pointing at a flat and angular head, pallid yellow eyes that bulge out of its sockets on the sides, and needle-like teeth in multitudes.

“My sources say it’s been going North, the last town they passed was here. Just this morning. It’s making some distance, I’d get to it as soon as you can.” Morrison revealed a map, a red circle around a certain landmark.

“It’s scaring the shit out of people and causing some casualties to be contained.”

“Alright, we’ll take ‘em.” Dante stuck his hand out, expecting cash. Morrison tutted, patting Dante’s shoulder.

“You’ve been spoiled, Dante. Nah, you’re gonna bag this son of a bitch and then we can talk about payment.”

Dante groaned, taking the job. Morrison tipped his hat to Vergil. Vergil glared in return.

“It’s been nice catching up with you boys.” He called out, leaving the shop.

The door thudded as it shut, and the two were alone once more.

“Well, we just got our get-out-of-jail card. Come on, let’s get going.” Dante grunted.

“Must you complain about everything?” Vergil muttered.

Outside, it was late morning with a slight breeze. The familiar sounds of a motorcycle came to Vergil’s attention.

Dante had sat on Cavalier, expecting Vergil to get on.

“Must you rely on that garish thing?”

“It’s too bad you can’t fucking teleport somewhere you’ve never been. Get on the motorcycle.”

Dante patted the seat, Vergil obeying for once.

“Ready for your first job?”

“More than you are.”

They tore through the streets of Redgrave, going north.

The sun rose and started to fall, endless roads leading through towns and cities that paid them only a slight turn of their heads.

The map’s glaring red bullseye had become a dead-end of sorts, the two resorting to walking instead.

Redgrave had always felt muggy with the air of hell creatures around. Here, in this unmarked territory, it had felt clearer. But also more unsettling, the idea of a demon scuttling about more of an awful surprise.

They felt consumed by the empty streets, busted in windows, and vacated shops and residential places in their lonesome wandering.

Something before had wiped this location clean of humans, and now something else was lingering in its place.

“This area has been abandoned.” Vergil walked over giant cracks through the ground, leading to a deserted town.

“Not surprised,” Dante answered, thinking about a certain tree, “good thing we don’t have to deal with any more civilians.”

A buzz in his blood reminded Dante that something was certainly there. The alleys were a perfect spot for creatures to linger, waiting for prey.

As below, so above. A ringing through the air was quickly parried by steel. Dante’s sword stopped a shower of needles from stabbing him, a stray one cutting the side of his cheek. It jolted him as a creature bounded the rooftops of the buildings, a hulking mass of reptilian skin.

Vergil raced after the creature, having blocked all the assailant’s long-distance attacks. Claws dug through the tiles, running on all fours from rooftops to silently treading the paved roads.

It’s clearly after an objective.

Dante chased after the beast from the ground, firing shots at the agile demon. Vergil jumped buildings, gritting his teeth at the demon’s inherent ability to evade and attack back, dodging tail spikes.

The streets all lead to the town center, where a fountain long cleaved in two from giant roots, stood.

Dante and Vergil came across the demon, purple skin stretched over its pointed bones, facing a cloaked individual.

“Hey, pal-” Dante was shushed by Vergil, the two standing a distance away from the hunched-over beast, much taller than either of them when standing on its hind legs.

Neither of them had expected another person in this area, clearly an oddity in the shambles of civilization.

“Famulus. Servant of Raphael.” A rumbling growl echoed in the night in response.

“I’m obliged, filthy halfling.” It hissed, crouched over and leaning to leer to the monotonous voice.

“You will tell me where he is.”

“His brothers may have underestimated you, but my master has known of your presence. Sending his best, I, to exterminate you.”

The person said nothing, as all that was all that needed to be said.

“Looks like we found it’s been searching for,” Dante mentioned, alerting the attention of the formidable monster and unassuming humanoid.

Glazed-over eyes narrowed with bloodlust met the twins as they readied themselves for anything.

“I will bring Raphael the heads of Sparda, once I am done with you.”

The hooded stranger turned their head to the two. With their face void of any expression, the twins had no idea what to think of them.

A pulse went through the air, Dante and Vergil’s skin jolting at a sudden warm wave in the air. Milliseconds after, a rotating ring of golden energy rattled through the stones, passing through the spaces in the pavement that lead to Dante’s boots.

Vergil and Dante were thrown like ragdolls meters away by an unseen force, Dante hitting the ground twice and rolling to a stop as Vergil stuck a landing with the Yamato through the floor.

A golden sphere surrounded the bruise-colored demon and the humanoid, who cocked their head in a disinterested manner, glaring at the taller creature.

Dante touched the wall before them, warm and pulsing with life. Despite the magnitude, he noted how it didn’t seem to hurt him, only pushing back from his own applied pressure.

Vergil paid it no mind, conflict occurring right before their eyes.

Famulus lunged at the smaller person who dodged, hands grappling at a giant maw, throwing its body to the barrier.

Tail spikes unfurled and bristling, Famulus’ hackles rose.

On hind legs, the demon stood well-over the miscreant, who allowed the beast to come to them. No matter how fast Famulus struck, claws phased through the empty air where it expected pliant flesh. Even swipes of its giant tail between quick strikes and heavy blows had been easily dodged.

A rain shower of blade-like projectiles flew at them, their body dropping down to avoid several. Dozens stuck above where their head was, a near fatality.

A needle whistled as it was caught by a calloused hand, palm tightly wrapped around the quill aiming for their chest. Several had torn through their cloak, nearly pinning them to the ground. They let out a startled noise, moving themselves up.

Famulus ran at them, prepared to rip them apart while they were down. Surely a cowardly move than preferred, but a move nonetheless.

They whipped their head around, jaw gritted. The same clutched quill was thrown like a javelin straight into Famulus’ snout.

Pulsating pain and white-hot agony made the beast screech, purple flesh burnt and smoking.

They shook themselves free of any spikes, clad in ancient robes. Nothing a common human would wear now. Even a demon could tell something was off about this one creature in human skin.

This was no common miscreant come to place vengeance upon its master. Raphael had requested Famulus to obliterate this insect as if none of his lord’s underlings could defeat them.

You shall return them to their grave, Famulus. A low gravelly voice rang through the demon’s head, a present message. The snake-like eye in the middle of its forehead rolled back and returned when its master’s command became silent.

“Yes, I shall.”

The foe stiffened as if they had gotten the answer they had been looking for. Famulus knew that. And like the devil it was, it goaded their curiosity.

“You will never make it to my master’s domain. I will gnaw on your bones, putrid being.”

If only if Famulus knew that there was no goading a foe that was already plotting several paces ahead.

Lashing out, a meter-long arrow-like appendage was fired at them once more while the demon began to collect its true power from the air around it.

It missed the mark, sinking into the ground to have the intended target land upon the blunt end, balancing coyly. Several more jabbed at the barrier, sticking into the protective sphere as the cloaked being ducked and turned to avoid scythe-like claws and disemboweling long-distance attacks. Famulus struck a blow that surely meant death, supposedly cornering the prey, until they vanished in thin air. A hazy afterimage materialized and faded away, swiped into nothing.

Immediately, they appeared to the side of the demon, who just began to rear its head to perceive this teleportation.

Legs bent as they were parallel to the ground, they drop-kicked the reptilian brute, scaly skin rippling at the impact.

Famulus’s neck snapped the wrong way, letting out a moist creaking noise as the body stayed stubbornly rooted to the ground. Incapacitated, it could not stop the smaller fighter from leaping onto a begotten tail spike from the ceiling of the barrier, yanking it, and falling back down to its capitulum.

The hooked and jagged arrowhead bit through toughened flesh, securing them to the flat of its head, glowing hand pressing against the middle eye, the key to finding Raphael.

A once distinguished demon, Famulus lashed its head about like a common beast. The joints in its neck realigned, sickening crunches with each segment joined.

Pushing their energy into the convulsing eye, Famulus felt its connection to its lord become not of its own.

Paralyzed from the sensation of a pulling force, tugging away at flesh, and seeping their own life force into it, digging into its mind, Famulus’ muscles twitched and convulsed like an animal to be dissected.

Famulus snarled to itself.

The veins leading to the spike stuck in its head pulsed, conducting electricity straight to the open palm. A strained cry left their mouth as they relented their hold.

The final twist of its head thrashed them off to hit the ground.

Flashing images of a lair, of an iron throne, flashed through its mind.

Famulus had failed to hide his master’s location. And with that, its murderous intent grew.

Despite the finality of its fate, its tail swished with anger and boiling rage to either do the job or keel over in defeat.

The thief got up with little grace again.

Its many eyes had noticed the bloodstains within their cloaked form, old wounds from recent battles. There wasn’t much damage left for them to take.

No one could dodge the Mjölnir.

Dante felt the hairs on his arms stand at full attention. Brows crossed, the older Sparda swiped through bits of his hair that lilted up from their slicked-back position.

“Hey, do you feel that-”

A beam of dark lightning was emitted from Famulus’s tail, striking straight into the opponent’s chest, shards of pure energy slicing through the air with a symphony of cracks rattling the street. Several pebbles flitted off the earth, scorching hot.

The lightning was overpowering, the cries of the stricken muted, body curling to itself with arms stiffening at the chest.

Dante and Vergil both believed defeat was imminent, preparing to have to take out the demon themselves.

When the flashes of demonic power died down, Famulus had witnessed the impossible.

Even with the golden shroud having been faltered, the thunderstruck figure had not been smitten.

Famulus’s needle-tooth grin dropped at the turn of events, rearing back on all fours.

Black lightning danced off their skin, flickering yellow sparks onto the cobblestones.

“No one of that stature could be capable of such an atrocity, and still be human.” Vergil thought to himself.

Famulus was the strongest of the Pessulum litter, demons that nursed from the deadliest of storms to emerge the top of their species. The demon had killed bigger and stronger with less than it had exhibited today.

And now, this runt of a creature had stood against it with no fear, not even close to death? Taking its strongest attack with no problem?

A rush of fear chilled its electrified veins. Stories of the being, whispers amongst Raphael’s underlings, its master’s own grinding teeth at the news of his brothers and their sudden falling, proven true by the might of this mysterious being.

Famulus would live with no merit to his name, scorned by Raphael, seen as less by its inferiors.

“If that does not kill you then I will!” Famulus jumped, claws extended like scythes to slice flesh to ribbons.

Clumsily taking one step forward, tense arms fought back to form one hand pointing to the snout of the devil, the other to the skies.

The thunder was released from its subjugation, deafening annihilation.

A blinding beam of sheer gilden lightning shot right into the demon, many opaque eyes centering at the color of death. Through the other hand, thunderbolts went off like firecrackers into the atmosphere, exploding rapidly and chaotically.

“Holy shit,” Dante exclaimed, sparks dancing off the paved path and flittering in the air.

Vergil ground his heels to the ground, the frontward force of the explosion pushing against him.

The blow sank into purpled flesh, veins and nerves turned from putrid black to nearly white, keeping the demon trapped in the air, still positioned to pounce and disembowel. Famulus didn’t even make any noise, the renowned servant burned alive.

Seethingly hot, with the very air molecules shaking at the display, the twins watched skin and bone become ash and dust. Killed by one’s trump card.

Not even a fallen tail spike was left, the aftershocks settling the twice-over-cremated remains scattering to the wind.

The redirection of the lightning strike had taken a toll on the hooded figure, who straightened up shakily, face revealed for all to see.

A pair of eyes were two suns in the dead of night, a contrast to the light blue ones that perceived them.

Standing alone, centered by destroyed store windows and melted streetlights, they seemed impassive to their might. It was as if they weren’t just blasted with lightning, where their fabric was scorched the only evidence of the offense.

Dante and Vergil didn’t know what to do, not knowing if this person would attack them as well.

They stayed where they were, the moon right above their head, shining around their crown of messy hair.

“Be not afraid.”

Voice hoarse, their mouth moved differently than to the words they just called out.

Before the twins could think of anything to say, the figure beyond them collapsed.

Vergil was silent, still processing all of this. Who was this person? What were they looking for? Who was Raphael?

Dante rushed forward, heavy footsteps raising ashes from their resting place.

Vergil followed, the Yamato ready to be unleashed at any hesitation.

Dante turned them over, noting the strange force surrounding them had remained. As if someone larger was there.

A human face from under the worn, textile cloak greeted them, exhausted and at peace with unconsciousness.

Two lines dripped down their face from their nose. Bleeding crimson, a human above all. In-and-out, slow breaths moved their chest just enough to know they were alive.

“A half-demon?” Vergil questioned himself.

“If they killed the demon, do we have to split the cash with them?” Dante blurted. Vergil raised an eyebrow at the inquiry.

Before he could retort, Dante had lifted them, their stature dwarfed in strong arms.

“Let’s ask them when they wake up.”

“Dante, you are not bringing that thing back.”

“You’re right. I’m not. You are. Open a portal.” He said with a shit-eating grin.

Vergil reluctantly did so, the Yamato ripping open the fabric of space. He would regret this, he was sure of it.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Someone Special

Pairing: Hongjoong and Reader

Word Count: 2,704

Genre/Rating: Christmas AU - Friends to Lovers - Fluff - teeny tiny bit angst - PG-13

Overview: “Last Christmas, I gave you my heart. But the very next day you gave it away. This year, to save me from tears, I’ll give it to someone special.”

Warning: Mentions of cheating and bareback roulette (practice safe sex my dears!)

Last Christmas by Wham!

Main Master List

Author’s Note: I hope y’all enjoy this little gift. Last Christmas is my absolute favorite song, and the movie that came out a few years ago with the same title is one of my all time favorites, so when Hongjoong dropped his cover, it gave me the inspiration to write this piece up. Merry Christmas everyone!

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Snow was steadily falling, the sidewalk and roads had been covered in the first five minutes and several hours later, it was still coming down. You should have been outside shoveling the driveway, but instead, the throw blankets and the couch had beckoned you to come and watch a movie. The Christmas tree was decorated to the nines, and with only one lamp on to keep you from tripping over the furniture in the complete dark.

“Tada,” Hongjoong softly called out.

You looked away from the window, raising an eyebrow as Hongjoong walked towards you with not one, but two mugs filled to the brim with hot chocolate. The steam curled in the air as he took slow and easy steps, but he smiled with satisfaction when you carefully took the blue glazed mug from him. The moment your palms touched the side it felt as if they were being burned, but you held on to the handle as he reclaimed his seat next to you.

“You didn’t have to make this,” you teased.

He glanced over at you, eyes narrowing and lips curling into playful disgust. “Snow, movie, Christmas, of course I had to make hot chocolate.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed his half of the blanket back over his lap. Maybe it hadn’t been just the couch and blanket that had called out for you to sit down and enjoy the snow day. Maybe there had been a certain someone, who conveniently made the drive over to your place right before the storm to help with hanging a few decorations on the porch despite your reassurance that you were more than capable of doing it yourself, and was now unable to drive home due to a stay-at-home order because of how heavy the snow was coming down.

The power was still running thankfully, so for the last three hours the two of you had enjoyed – and critiqued – a variety of Christmas movies that Netflix offered. Despite them all being similar, there was no desire to exit out and find something different. It hadn’t felt like Christmas at all this season, and after a rough breakup last year around the same time, you were desperate to find the love and joy for the holiday that you once had.

Fate must have been against you however, because as Hongjoong picked up the remote to press play, a loud boom echoed outside, and the power shut off, cloaking the two of you in darkness. You waited to see if the TV would turn back on, but when the house remained silent and the only light suddenly appearing was the flashlight that Hongjoong turned on from his phone, you sighed, feeling defeated once more.

“This isn’t good,” Hongjoong said.

Even without the light on, or looking in his direction, you felt his lingering gaze on you. He knew how rough the last year had been for you, which is why you figured he offered to come out and help with decorating. There was no fun in doing it alone, and with your best friend by your side, it would at least be entertaining.

“It’s going to get cold,” you said instead, leaning forward, to set the hot chocolate on the coffee table. “Sit tight, I’ll get us some extra blankets.”

“Do you need some help?”

You shook your head, momentarily forgetting that he couldn’t see. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Turning on your own flashlight, you pointed it towards the floor and walked down the hall to the bedroom. You kept the best blankets in your room of course. Out of habit you glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting the white fairy lights that Hongjoong had helped you tack along the crown molding to be on. The plan was to keep those up all year long, because there was no way in hell that you were going up and down a ladder a hundred times every November, only to take them down at the end of January. Even standing on chairs, both you and Hongjoong had to stretch to reach the top.

As expected though, the lights were off, and you sighed once more while disappearing into your bedroom, beginning to gather the blankets. Setting the phone done to fold up the blankets, your mind wandered away from the present and took a trip down memory lane.

Christmas used to be your favorite holiday. From the bright lights, to the small village displays, even hanging up stockings and dealing with relatives who you had long forgotten where still alive, there was never a moment about it that didn’t make you smile. The entire season was full of magic, and as an adult, it felt like there was a secret law that made it forbidden to make it known that you still liked to believe in something that was considered so childish.

But when it snowed and suddenly the entire world fell silent, the fresh snow glittered under the moonlight, and the stars danced brightly in the night sky, magic felt like it was the only possible answer to it all.

You had been dating Hyunjin for almost two years, and at one point, you swore that he was going to be the one. Up until him, relationships never seemed to last, and the fact that you were getting ready to celebrate your second Christmas together appeared to be a promising sign. The only issue had been that Hongjoong never cared for him. Sure, he’d listen when you talked about him, or asked for advice. He wasn’t going to tell you no. But that didn’t mean he didn’t keep it to himself whenever Hyunjin messed up or didn’t do the right thing.

“I don’t think he’s the one,” was Hongjoong’s famous line. And every time you asked who he thought the one was, he’d just shrug and change the topic before adding in a quiet, “someone who’s always been there, who doesn’t make you cry,” afterwards. You always heard it, and while you knew he never did it to hurt you, it always felt he was trying to focus on only Hyunjin’s not so great side.

No one was perfect, and that included Hyunjin and his tendencies to go out drinking with his buddies and come home drunk either by his own methods or someone driving him. Or that he had a habit of flirting with anyone who talked to him, and his gaze always lingered on someone else for too long. Sure, he had his flaws, but being with him was to love a bottle of whiskey. The more of him that you had, the easier it was to swallow back the sting and forget about the broken shards he left in his wake.

You had loved Christmas, and had loved Hyunjin, but you didn’t love walking in on him playing bareback roulette with one woman, while another sloppily kissed him as she got satisfied by woman number one at the same time.

It was the girl who had been kissing Hyunjin that noticed you, and when he looked over his shoulder at you, there was no explanation. No excuse. No apology.

“Are you going to join or just stand there?” Hyunjin had asked instead.

Despite it being your house, you were the one who left and spent the night at Hongjoong’s, crying your pathetic self into his chest because you had given Hyunjin your entire heart, and he returned it smashed into tiny shards in a Ziploc bag. When you went back a few days later, all of Hyunjin’s belongings were gone, all except for a red thong that didn’t belong to you, was left on the floor by your bed.

The neighbors must have thought you were crazy when you stomped outside with sheets and pillowcases being dragged in the snow as you threw them in the trash bin in only leggings and a shirt that Hongjoong had let you borrow. The Christmas lights were yanked out of the light sockets, and you nearly threw out the tree as well, but it was heavy and when you plopped on the couch to try and warm your feet up from walking in the snow, the tears came out again.

When you woke up the next day, it was Christmas, and the magic was gone.

“Please don’t think about him,” a soft voice suddenly said.

Flinching at the sound, you looked up to see Hongjoong standing at the doorway, his phone held up to let him see what was holding you up. You dropped the blanket you had been folding as he entered the bedroom, his footsteps quiet as he reached out and slipped his hand into yours. It was a gentle and quick tug, one that allowed him to wrap you in a hug against his chest before you had a chance to pull away.

“I didn’t want to,” you whispered, fingers curling into the brown flannel he wore.

He leaned his head against yours, choosing the better option of not saying anything. Instead, his arms tightened around your waist for a brief moment as he sighed. “Come on. Let’s go back out to the living room. Your hot chocolate is waiting for you.”

With one arm remaining around you, Hongjoong grabbed the blankets with the other and led you back out to the living room. He had been over so many times that he didn’t need light to see where he was going. The path had been memorized long ago. Since the breakup, it wasn’t usual for Hongjoong’s touch to linger, and when the two of you sat back down on the couch, he pulled you into his side before layering the blankets on top. It was only when he was satisfied that he relaxed with one arm on the back of the couch as the other laid over your waist, that he turned to face you. Thanks to the light coming from the snow and the flashlight on the coffee table, you were able to see him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Do you miss him?”

“No.” Leaning the side of your head back against the cushion, you felt fingers smoothing back your hair before they slipped through the locks. You lightly hummed at Hongjoong’s caress, eyes briefly closing as you leaned into his touch, his soft scoff making the slightest smile appear on your face. When you opened them again however, you looked at the white light coming from his phone. “It’s just…hard to forget when the memories are tied with the holiday.”

“Sounds like you need new memories.”

You laughed then, focusing back on his face. Brown bangs covered his forehead and the sides of his undercut were starting to grow out, but even in the dark his eyes held a softness that you had been told he only had for you. His friends said he never looked at anyone else like that, and while you denied it, you couldn’t help but notice the warmth and tenderness in them this time.

“Guess I’ll have to go buy new memories next time I go grocery shopping,” you teased.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes, lips curling into a grin as he shifted once more. You were all too aware of how close he got when his arm settled around your shoulders. This wasn’t out of the norm for him. He was always touchy and a cuddle bug just like you, but right now with no power and sharing about half a dozen blankets, you were all too aware of his warmth that seemed to envelope you and the sudden butterflies flying around in your stomach. Coaxing and full of promises, all you had to do was trust it.

“You know what I mean,” Hongjoong said, leaning towards the coffee table to grab his mug. “One good memory will help lessen the pain of previous ones.”

Yours was still sitting where you left it, untouched, but after drinking what he wanted, he held it out for you to take like he knew what you had been thinking about. Not wanting to disturb the blankets too much, you carefully slipped your palms out from underneath to cradle the mug.

“Who?” You asked, tracing the rim of the mug with a finger. It wasn’t burning hot to the touch, a little more than warm, and when you looked up to see his curious frown, it was like that same warmth spread all the way up and down your body. All because of just one look from Hongjoong. “You always said he wasn’t the one for me. So, who is?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it right now.”

“You never liked him, or any of my exes,” the hot chocolate was rich when you took a sip, the mini marshmallows that he had added to his were long since melted and resembled long, thin white clouds. “Someone who’s always been there. You were always talking about yourself, weren’t you?”

He didn’t meet your gaze. Instead, he focused on the window that was behind you and the thumb that had been running along your shoulder stilled. The fact that he wasn’t answering you, in a way, answered the question by itself. Hongjoong pressed his lips together and when he finally looked back at you, you got to see for yourself the way his expression softened and how despite his little secret coming out in the open, he sheepishly smiled.

“They weren’t right for you,” he simply said.

“Then why didn’t you ever say anything?”

His thumb began moving again and he took the mug away to set it back on the table. “Because you loved them. It wouldn’t have been fair to drop such a thing when you were dating other guys.”

“It wasn’t fair to you.” With nothing to hold on to, you started to lace your fingers together when Hongjoong gently swatted them away. When he slipped in his hand into yours and ran his thumb against the back of your palm, you swore you all but melted into him.

“I mean, from where I’m sitting,” he started to say, even lifting your intertwined hands to tilt your chin up so you were looking at him, suddenly much closer than before as he gently pressed his forehead against yours. “It seems pretty fair now.”

He spoke softly, and despite his confidence over his actions, he hesitated.

With only a tilt you leaned forward, closing the distance to kiss him. His lips tasted sweet from the hot chocolate and even as he kissed you back, he started to smile, forcing the two of you to lean back with matching grins. Hongjoong made up for it though, going back another, and then a third, until the kisses finally melted together. It was only when the audio from the TV filled the room that the two of you broke apart to see that the power had come back on.

“I guess there’s still some magic out there,” you softly spoke, glancing around the room to see that the tree was once more lit up.

Hongjoong merely smiled as he shut the TV off and reached over, turning you back around to face him. “The magic’s always been there,” he promised, “you just didn’t know where to look for it.”

You weren’t sure if he was talking about the magic of Christmas, or this, but when he brought you closer and kissed you again, taking his sweet time to show how much he loved you, you liked to think that it was both.

Outside the window, the snow had slowed down, but it was too late to go out and begin digging out cars and clearing driveways. That could be done in the morning, or even the afternoon. As Hongjoong cupped the side of your face and sweetly kissed you like he had been destined to do so all along, the tainted and painful memories of last Christmas melted away as new ones took their place.

With Hongjoong, there wouldn’t be any more tears, or a shattered heart for Christmas this year. Maybe the magic is finding someone special who’ll treasure, and love a heart, that’s been broken and patched up without a second thought.

[just-a-cheese-stick]

Naeleon Week day 7

free day

Clear, cold droplets of rain and ice could be heard as it splashed onto the ground, which was slightly frozen from the mix of the downpour and the cold front, which was moving in rapidly.

It was a chilly November evening, and a certain brown-haired boy by the name of Makoto had been walking back from a shitty day at school, and headed to his apartment, which he shared with his boyfriend, Leon.

Every step trudging him across the wet, cold sidewalk pricked the poor boy’s feet through his shoes and wet socks, sending chills up his exhausted body.

By the time he had arrived at the door of his apartment, his hair and clothes were already drenched, much to Makoto’s displeasure.

Letting out another shiver, Makoto fiddled slightly with his keys before placing one in the keyhole and turning it.

Almost instantly as the door flung open, Makoto felt the warm air from the apartment against his body, providing relief for the overwhelming cold he felt throughout his body.

At this time, Leon, who had gotten home an hour earlier, sat on their couch mindlessly scrolling through his phone — stress visible in his expression.

This mundane daze was immediately broken by the sound of the front door flinging open. Startled, Leon turned his head to see Makoto, soaking wet from the rain standing in the doorway.

Just by his facial expression, it was easy to tell Makoto was drained, and a little frustrated.

“Hey babe,” Leon greeted his boyfriend, still slightly taken aback from the sudden crash made by the door when it flung open.

Makoto didn’t even acknowledge him, but trudged straight to the kitchen after closing the front door, nearly as aggressively as it was opened.

Leon stared at him, visibly concerned, and a little surprised.

“Are.. you ok?” Leon hesitantly questioned, not wanting to add to Makoto’s pre-existing frustration.

Makoto paused, finally glancing up at him.

“Yeah I’m fine. Sorry,” he replied, his voice dull and brittle.

Leon got up to accompany him, seeing as he had nothing better to do.

But, just as he was going to join him in the kitchen, Makoto walked back to sit on the couch. Leon sat back down.

“How’d your day go?” Leon asked, already aware of the answer.

Makoto didn’t respond. He didn’t want to think about it. He flopped down onto the couch, burying his face into the cushions before letting out a muffled groan.

“That bad, eh?” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder.

“Yeah,”

“You should change before you get sick. You’re probably feeezin’”

Makoto could feel his heart melt at this. Leon was so.. caring. This wasn’t a normal reaction from Makoto’s goofball boyfriend. But Makoto wasn’t complaining. He quite liked this side of Leon, actually.

“Yeah. Lemme go do that.”

When Makoto came back out in some dry clothes, he could see Leon walking towards his room.

Leon noticed Makoto walking back from the laundry room when he was struck with an idea.

“Better?” He asked, wanting to first check in on the well-being of his companion once more.

“Yeah. Thanks,” Makoto replied drowsily.

“Y’know, when I have a bad day, I usually go take a nap. Dunno if that sounds any good, but since I’m going for one right now, maybe we could take one together? Thought maybe I should throw that option out there,” Leon offered, somewhat awkwardly.

Makoto’s expression softened into a smile. Quite frankly, there was nothing he wanted more than to curl up with his lover and take a reset from the crappy day he was having.

“I would love that,” he said with a sigh, which, if anything, was more of an exhausted one.

“Sounds good.”

Makoto fallowed Leon into his room, taking a corresponding pause upon seeing the other stop in his tracks.

“So would ya like to cuddle or just sleep?”

“God, I would do anything to cuddle right now,” Makoto replied with an exhausted sigh.

“Aight. Just making sure.”

Whenever the two cuddle, they often fluctuate between big and little spoon, but with naegi’s mood being what it was, he was able to melt into Leon’s arms quite easily.

“So what happened? D’ya wanna talk about it, naeggs?” Makoto blushed at the nickname.

With a light groan, Makoto began explaining.

“Well, I lost my phone this morning, and took three hours trying to look for it. Then, we had this big assignment that I completely forgot about. Byakuya wouldn’t lay off my case about it. Then, I had to tutor someone, but she was really impolite. Didn’t even listen. And on top of all of that, I didn’t know it would rain, so I didn’t bring an umbrella. But that backfired.”

Leon gazed at his boyfriend, sympathy visible on his face. He was quiet, not exactly knowing how to console him without being awkward. At a lack for words, he pulled naegi closer to him.

“Damn. I’m sorry dude, that really sucks. But you’re here now, and I’m not gonna get mad at you.”

Makoto gripped the back of his shirt, burying his head into his lover’s shoulder, receiving a hand cupping his head. “Thank you.”

He shifted his head slightly to be able to hear Leon’s heartbeat, which was no doubt calming to him.

The hug began to relax as they both listened to the steady breathing of the other.

Leon nervously started playing with Makoto’s hair.

“I noticed that you were going to take a nap earlier,” Makoto mumbled, sleepiness present in his voice.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“Are you ok?” Makoto raised his head slightly in attentiveness.

“Ehh. Had a rough day, man.”

“Oh? What happened?” Makoto shifted up slightly, pressing their heads together.

“Practice was shit. They made us play in the rain, and coach was just being a huge dick. But whatever. Nothing a nap can’t fix.”

“I’m sorry.”

”nah you don’t need to apologize. It’s cool.”

Makoto rested his head back on his boyfriend’s chest, once more deepening his breathing.

“Anyways, I’m probably gonna get some shut-eye if that’s ok,” Leon mumbled.

“Sounds good.”

Leon pulled the blanket over the two of them. It was a large gray one, and quite fuzzy as well. It seemed to chase away the remaining cold that seemed to still linger around naegi. He immediately melted under it.

Leon placed his hand in Makoto’s hair, running through it lovingly.

Pretty soon, Makoto could feel his eyelids become heavy, quickly pulling him into a dark, heavy abyss, as sleep fallowed him soon after.

and in a short amount of time, quiet snoring could be heard coming from Leon as well as they had fallen asleep in each others arms.

Nearly four hours had passed since the two had fallen asleep. But soon, Leon could feel himself slowly emerge back into consciousness, but he kept his eyelids shut in attempt to fall back asleep.

He tried opening them at one point, but the window next to them emitted a bright light from the sun beginning to set. So he sat still for another minute.

Slowly, he tried opening his eyes once more. This time, he was successful. He took a half-lidded glance at the familiar surroundings, re-engaging his senses after a long rest.

But unexpectedly, he felt something, or someone, shift.

That was when he remembered he had fallen asleep with Makoto. He glanced down to his chest to see the brown-haired boy still sleeping peacefully, snuggled up to him.

Careful not to wake him, Leon placed a gentle kiss on the other’s forehead, seeing his expression soften.

His limbs were still loosely entangled with Makoto’s from when they both laid down together a couple hours back.

Leon couldn’t help but to smile at how cute his boyfriend was. “God.. what did I do to deserve you?”

[hollenka99]

The Life and Times of TommyInnit

Summary: Tommy was born into a loving family. He dies long before he should have with no-one there to help him.

Warnings: Death, abuse, manipulation, violence

Tommy is born into a loving family. He has grandparents, an abundance of aunts and uncles, not to mention even more cousins. All of them ready to welcome the newest member of their family with affection. In the first week or two of his life, a number of his neighbours from their village make brief visits too. When he learns to walk then subsequently run, his father prepares to tell him once he's older of how he regretted letting Tommy discover his legs. Permitting his son to figure out how to control his mouth and tongue in a way that forms words is something else he will one day jokingly claim he shouldn't have done either. If the little boy isn't playing with nearby cousins or local children his age, he is making himself heard. Most of the time, he does both. Tommy is an incredibly happy toddler. It comes to an abrupt end during the late autumn he is three. Pillagers arrive and with them comes trouble. Both of Tommy's parents are good fighters. In a world like this where danger could appear from any dark corner, you somewhat have to be. But Tommy is far too young to have their skills imparted upon him through lessons in their garden like he was due to begin years from now. So his mother takes several supplies, grabs him and leaves him a relatively safe distance away. On a hill overlooking their village, he is handed an iron sword and instructed to stay safe while he waits. She tells him it will be all over by nightfall, that the weapon is only a precaution, that she loves him and will be back soon. A peck on the forehead is the last interaction they will ever have because unfortunately for everyone involved, these pillagers have developed a tactic to deal with those who are harder to suppress. His parents and their families before them have traveled far from a place known as Spawn. With no sufficient bed to rely on anymore, anyone who doesn't permanently fall to an arrow will be too far to interfere as it is. Night does come with no rescue for the three year old in sight. His parents are fine, they're still resisting the assault on the place they call home, but from the darkness mobs arise with the intent to harm any individual unfortunate to cross their path. Tommy is one such individual. He had been advised to make a hole in the dirt if worse came to worst but he has no time to do so when faced with the skeleton that will destroy the life he knew. When he respawns, he wakes an inconceivable distance from home. His parents will look, oh how they will search, but it will all be for naught. He will grow up with no real recollection of them and no awareness of how the initial realisation that he is truly gone causes them to crumble. By the time an 11 year old boy with a brown fringe long enough to potentially warrant a trim stumbles upon him, spring is starting to get underway. Tommy himself isn't quite sure how he managed to survive the winter months. There was a great deal of trespassing on people's property and eating whatever he could get his hands on though, he knows that. Yet here was this much older boy speaking gently, offering shelter and decent meals if Tommy trusted him enough to follow him back home. He risks allowing himself to take this chance. Besides, he's made himself into a child that's faster and more agile than a stranger would expect from someone his age, all for the sake of survival. If really necessary, he could escape back to this spot by the stream and find a new place where 'Wilbur' can't find nor hurt him. He tells himself as they walk that he's only going because he's being living in a state of perpetual hunger, cold and with an anxiety he can't place because it hasn't left him since he first respawned. Gaining a few hours' reprieve from that can't be an awful idea, right? The truth is that he is on the cusp of 4 (although he had no way of knowing this) and he needs someone to take care of him, he should not be responsible for his own survival at this age. So yes, he goes with Wilbur, meets the boy's winged father, gets handed a mushroom stew which he scarfs down too quickly for his stomach not to ache shortly thereafter before being directed to Wilbur's bed for the night where he cries because wow, this truly seems like luxury after months on the ground. Phil and Wilbur insist that he remains in their care. With nothing to lose, he doesn't say no. Before getting separated from his family, he had been an only child who hoped for his parents to give him a sibling. They hadn't, at least not by the time the raid happened. Wilbur, however, was the brother he had longed to have. Better yet, Wilbur was older so the responsibility of being the eldest fell on him rather than Tommy. He could be a nuisance and, so long as he didn't push his luck too much, he was allowed to get away with it for the most part. Phil wasn't always present as a father figure so that role subsequently fell on Wilbur as well. His brother shows him a cave in a cliff face that he'd made his secondary base for when the rations Phil had left ran too low to last however long this trip would go on for. By the time Tommy is perhaps 8 or so, once Phil has met Technoblade and chosen to make the piglin his travel companion, he and Wilbur visit that cave so often it is practically their new home. No, that place was home. With its small fireplace, the colourful beds by the wall and sign declaring it theirs positioned next to the exterior of the front door, it was where he felt most safe. That is why, when the time came for him to leave in order to see more of the world than the view from the windows, his heart was afflicted by a bittersweet pang at the sight of it. He loves Wilbur, would follow him anywhere by this point. So when he shows up on the SMP, talking about making drugs in a van and fighting to gain freedom from tyrannical oppressors, Tommy can't help but be his ever loyal right hand man. He is 16 and ready to go down with a fight. He's made friends, Tubbo especially, all of whom are in it together. Until Eret decides they do not believe in the revolution. While dealing with the aftermath, Tommy's mind refuses to stop reminding him he was the one to press the button in that dreadful room. Perhaps if he hadn't but no... rationally, he knows full well someone else, likely Eret themself, would have simply done it instead. But when has trauma ever been rational? Besides, it's hardly like Eret's betrayal has ended the conflict so he hasn't got the time to dwell on what could have gone differently. He is a teenager who is down a life yet refuses to let that stop him. He challenges Dream with no intention of forfeiting his second life. He does anyway. Then L'Manburg finally wins the right to be free so any sacrifices he's made to get to this point are internally deemed worth it. By now, Dream has stolen two of his lives, reduced him to a point he's been more mortal than anyone his age should be. Tommy has suffered fatal trauma to his head and later bled out following a fight. There's a pattern here to be seen yet he'd rather ignore it. Dream's backed off anyway so what threat would he be? The owner of this place can return to the guy who enjoys the company of his friends, separate from Tommy and his own circle of friends, once more. Tommy will stay out of his way for obvious reasons however, there is less reason to now. A part of him hopes it will stay that way. He senses something has begun to change with Wilbur during the elections, That said, he isn't entirely sure and waves it off as the consequences of Wilbur leading the war effort. His excuses are not permitted to remain for long. Schlatt wins, they sprint away from the home they made only for Tommy to be left with the task of carrying Wilbur's invisible temporary corpse before the duo settle in a ravine he'd discovered. Pogtopia is where things truly go to shit, he thinks. Or perhaps they'd already been going downhill but their exile accelerated it all. Techno grows an abundance of those stupid potatoes shortly after his arrival and Dream is promising stacks of TNT for the sake of obliterating the newly rebranded Manberg. Meanwhile, Wilbur has gone off the rails in a big way. Try as he might, Tommy can't seem to figure out what the right words or actions to get him stop are. So Wilbur deteriorates further into paranoid, pyromaniacal madness. When things get worse and he wishes, though god knows he would never allow himself to openly admit it to anyone else, that he'd never left that faraway cliff face. Wilbur has them trespass on the festival in Manberg with the intent of it being the nation's final hour. All that comes to pass is Tommy watching his best friend be executed for being a spy then listening as Wilbur cheers while Technoblade triumphs over him in a fight. In a messed up way, he is somewhat glad when mid November comes. They fight, win, witness Schlatt's pathetic demise, feel as though they can look to a better future, lose Wilbur as well as a huge chunk of land, protect themselves against Techno's withers and get left with the task of rebuilding their home. It's an eventful day which Tommy is happy to leave behind him. Although, he isn't quite so pleased to deal with its aftermath. It's... two or maybe three weeks, he believes, before shit hits the fan as it inevitably was due to once again do. It would seem that Dream wasn't satisfied with messing with people's lives from the sidelines anymore. He drives a wedge between Tommy and Tubbo with his threat of sky-high walls, as if the weak points in their friendship were always easily accessible for the purposes of exploitation. Then he's being led away to a far off location with only the ghost of his brother and the man who will immediately take advantage of the situation for company. Ghostbur is nice yet Tommy yearns for him to be different, for him to keep his disarmed personality while regaining the memories that would allow for them to resolve the pain Wilbur left him with. Whatever... it's not like he stays. Dream confuses his mind with all his assurances of friendship as he robs him of his right to property. When it finally ends (on his own terms but thankfully not the ones he was planning to go through with hours before), he attempts to find a new beginning with Technoblade. He should have known it would end badly. Everything always seem to do so nowadays. Even L'Manburg. Or should he call it something akin to L'Mancrater after the events of Doomsday? He's pleasantly surprised when he is granted the ability to sit on the bench by his house, Tubbo by his side, and listen to the discs he's fought to regain for so long. He'd nearly lost so much in that room far below the earth. Part of him wonders if it's a cruel prank, whether something will come later in the week to say 'ha, look at you getting your hopes up'. It... doesn't. He begins work on his hotel with the help of Sam Nook. The tasks come across as menial and he complains yet finds them oddly satisfying. Nook is building the actual thing but he's playing his part. It's going to be great once it's finished. He's recruited Jack Manifold to assist in running the place, Tubbo is safe in Snowchester, the Egg stuff is dumb but if he keeps his head down it will hopefully leave him alone for the most part. He's ready for closure and moving on from the pain that's been constantly inflicted upon him over the past several months. He believes the best starting point is visiting Dream in prison one last time. Just one quick trip then he can carry on with his life. Nobody, least of all himself, has any idea how much of a mistake this will be. The final days of his life, as oblivious to them being so as he is, are miserable. He does his best to stay strong, to defy Dream's attempts at worming his way back into Tommy's head with his verbal poison. Sam must be sick of him given how many times he screams to be let out already when the possibility of Sam being within hearing range arises. He hates it here. He doesn't want to look at the lava which acts as the main source of illumination, he wishes the cell was less confining, all he can taste is the starch from the potatoes. Perhaps the worst part is not knowing how far into the week he is. Then Sam, the bastard, announces it's been 7 days but due to the security breach still going unresolved, Tommy will have to hold on a little longer. An argument erupts between the inmates. It begins to get physical when the subject of Schlatt's resurrection book is brought up. He acts so confident that he will survive this hellhole, that he will endure it out of spite for Dream as well as sheer defiance alone. But in the end, he's crying, begging, pleading for Dream to stop. In the end, he's simply a 16 year old kid who is getting beaten to death by the man who has been abusing him for months with no-one there to conceivably rescue him in time. He remembers Wilbur once explaining to him that life wasn't fair. Not quite in a 'life sucks and then you die' kind of way. More like 'life isn't easy, especially not for people like us who were put at a disadvantage early on, but you persevere with your best effort since life isn't obligated to care... and then you die'. Life wasn't fair when pillagers raided his village, when he was forced to survive on his own, when the only adult figure in his life left a kid in his early teens to raise him, when he watched the man he considered a brother lose his way, when his best friend was executed in front of him, when another adult manipulated others so that he would be vulnerable to abuse and it certainly wasn't going to be fair when he wanted some semblance of closure from all the shit he was put through. He wishes he could be 7 again, back when he could easily wriggle his way into Wilbur's bed on the other side of their makeshift cliff home and be comforted without any resistance. As much as he hated it, he longs for that dumb piece of carpet in the corner where Wilbur would make him sit if he made too much of nuisance of himself. His brother used to tease him and bemoan his behaviour when he was sent there but if Tommy ever became genuinely upset, Wilbur would quickly cut it out and apologise. He misses the coziness of it and all the fond memories of him and his big brother growing up on their own terms since they were the only family the other truly had. He wishes he could be laughing with Tubbo and the rest of their friends. He knows he hasn't been the most present recently but for good reason. His brain is tired of figuring out whether he's alright and even when it's offered a chance for serotonin, it's hesitant. That day after they beat Dream and retrieved the discs, he'd been filled with so much euphoria. The stress of that day's events and the weird place Wilbur's disembodied voice had temporarily sent him to aside, he'd been happy. It had only been some 5 or so weeks ago that Tommy had been hopeful and looking forward to what came next. He had the BigInnit Hotel to return to. God knows how it's been faring in his absence. His best guess is that Jack has probably taken control temporarily which was good. He was going to leave, take a second to breathe then get right back into managing the hotel. There were so many things he planned to do once he got out. Pranks on guests, the ridiculous amount of overpricing he wished to get away with, the feeling of doing an MLG water bucket trick off the top floor... it was going to be a good time. Was supposed to, anyway. Despite everything, he has experienced happiness time and time again. He's had friends who cared and were willing to help him in their own ways. Sam had been on his side... he thinks. No, he's sure Sam has just been busy with all that was on his plate this week. He hopes so since he doesn't think he could stomach another realisation that he's placed his trust in the wrong person. Besides, Sam Nook was Sam's creation and why would he put the effort in to make something to assist Tommy if he didn't actually care at least a little bit? No, no, he feels Sam is genuinely good, he does. However, Sam's not coming. Even if he can hear the fight, the lava takes forever to drain and who knows where Sam was situated in this massive prison when he realised something was wrong. Even if Sam's attempting to stop this, there's not way he'll make it. Tommy wants to convince himself it's fine. It is not. If you're aware of them, there are a few spots around the human skull you can hit that will result in a fatal injury. And Dream, ever aware of what he's doing at any given moment, makes no attempt to avoid them for the final blow.