#Are people on dating apps supposed to become friends first before they even consider dating?

[wenellyb]

The funniest anti-Bucktommy takes I've seen have to be the people who complain that Buck and Tommy started dating eachother without knowing eachother....and????

That's how most people start dating!!! They feel an attraction, connection, something and get to know eachother.

Friends to lovers is great but that's not how most relationships start.

[fluffyf0x]

꧁༒☬𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓛𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 ☬༒꧂

Akaashi Keiji x f!Reader

In which you discover a curious app in your email. It claims to be able to find your perfect match.

However, you don't know who this guy is.

At the same time, your oh so sweet rival is more annoying than ever.

Link to series navigation list(+songlist) here

꧁༒☬𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓞𝓷𝓮☬༒꧂

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ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ!

Welcome to Love Letters!

To continue, please sign in….

Name: …. y/n l/n

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𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍!

Searching for your perfect match!

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑!

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

Y/n almost threw her phone. Seriously? Even here she didn't have any chance when it came to love? God forbid she even falls in love!

Y/n huffed, placing her phone on her lap as she leaned back on the hot wood of the bench she was sitting on. The ice popsicle that was on her hand was starting to melt. The shade of the tree kept her cool under the blazing sun.

Y/n watched the couples that were walking around the campus. Laughing, holding hands, being tooth rotting sweet to each other. Her eyes followed several different couples as she sat alone on the bench, only a strawberry ice popsicle in hand and nothing else.

Y/n glanced back at her phone. Looking at the “Try Later” text that was plastered on the screen. She had received a curious email that promoted finding their true love through an app called- Love Letters. The email included her name on it and a password she was supposed to use on the app. Y/n ignored it at first. Thinking it was another stupid dating app.

Y/n had a few reasons why she even considered, and later ended up downloading, this odd application.

Reason number 1: Her friend found her supposedly ‘true love’ thanks to this app. She was so enthusiastic about it she was ringing Y/n’s phone day and night. Giggling and kicking her feet every time she interacted with her pair, who was now his boyfriend.

Reason number 2: It’s become quite popular with high school students. For some reason, It was only high school students who bothered with it or even had the app. Y/n expected that it would be popular even with university students and adults. However, it was just high school students who had it.

Reason number 3: Y/n was utterly, pitifully single.

Staring at the same screen again, she exited the application and threw away the popsicle stick that remained from what previously was, an ice pop. Y/n stood up, leaving the nice cool spot from the bench to walk to her next class. Even though she had a remaining 15 minutes to her break time, her class was on the other side of the campus. And the campus was huge.

Y/n had heard rumors and stories that the school was originally a mansion of a wealthy family a century ago. Others say that it was a university, which Y/n thought would be impossible because you definitely get more money from a university rather than a high school. The school was known to house hundreds upon hundreds of students. Almost everyone went to this specific school. Too many people went here. It almost sickened Y/n with the sheer amount of people. How does the faculty even manage that?

A good side to this school, it had amazing views and architecture. The garden was well managed and utterly stunning. Y/n could spend the rest of her days in the garden if she didn’t have any classes where her attendance was an absolute must. As she arrived at her class, there were a couple of minutes left before the session started. The loud chatter from her classmates seemed to fall deaf to her ears when she noticed a man taking the seat next to her. Her eyes glanced to the side to check who it is, despite fully knowing the identity of the person.

“Rather than giving me a side eye, a simple ‘hi, hello, how are you?’ would be nice, you know?”

Y/n rolled her eyes and scoffed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “Useless chatter would be impossible with you, Akaashi Keiji. Since you always like to talk so smart”

A soft laugh erupted from the man, as if mocking her. “Right, as if you don’t do the same every single time”

The conversation between the two was cut short by their teacher entering the class. There was a quick greeting led by Akaashi before the class session officially started.

Y/n seemed to be exasperated everytime she was with Akaashi. She always ended up arguing with him, might it be over simple matters or even on important decisions. There was barely ever a time they would agree on something without a constant debate. Tiring and energy consuming. But boy, do they work well together once they’ve finally reached an agreeing conclusion.

“Ah right, speaking of which, we have homeroom later at 3. We need to decide who’s our representative for the school sportsfest.” The teacher advised. Y/n seemed to notice that the entire class's gaze seemed to be directed at one table.

Y/n felt like she would like to be buried 6 feet under.

The man beside her sighed. He leaned back on his seat as his eyes narrowed.

“Are you all suggesting the class has Y/n and I be selected as the sportsfest rep, again?” Akaashi massaged his temples. He didn't seem pleased about the entire ordeal. The entire class was awfully silent.

“Akaashi I think we should expect this….” Y/n said, trying to lighten the mood.

Akaashi scoffed. “I don't mind being sportsfest rep, I mind being the representative with you”

Y/n glared in response. Her eyebrows furrowed. Their advisor sighed.

“Two of you, cut it out. We'll decide later.” Their advisor quickly dismissed the class, not wanting to deal with another argument between his students. Students quickly fled the class, hurriedly moving to their next class. Akaashi took a quick glance at y/n before leaving. Letting Y/n be alone to her own to be buried in her own thoughts.

—

As lunchtime rolled around, Y/n found herself in the cafeteria, surrounded by her friends, and ultimately, Akaashi Keiji…again.

Bokuto Kotaro, a good friend of both Akaashi Keiji and Y/n L/n. He was huge, even compared to Akaashi, who was already tall and lean. However, no matter how huge or scary he can sometimes look, he’s just a big kid at heart.

So sometimes he feels like a child of divorce every time it's only the three of them.

Bokuto found himself leaning closer and closer into the table like a small ball. His eyes glanced back and forth between the Y/n and Akaashi who were seated beside him. No words were spoken, the silence was deafening even with the constant chatter in the cafeteria. The two didn’t even look at each other.

“Did you two fight again today?” Bokuto whispered, barely audible to the two. Y/n shook her head, patting the man in the back.

“Nothing too important Ko,”

“What's going on here?” A voice pierced through the cold, awkward tension. Bokuto looked over to his savior.

With his usual judging gaze, tall stature, signature white mask and a food tray in hand, Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bokuto felt that the heavens have blessed him.

Sakusa raised a brow at Y/n and Akaashi, noting that the two were in an incredibly sour mood. He shook his head and sighed, taking the seat next to Akaashi. Not soon after, another man decided to join the table.

“Sheesh, I could feel the tension from a mile away”

“‘Tsumu shut up” Y/n was first to reply to him. Miya Osamu, rolled his eyes at his brother. Sitting next to Sakusa and started eagerly munching on his onigiri. The blonde simply shrugged and sat next to the woman. “Where's Yachi and Hinata?” She asked.

“Im here!” Yachi smiled sweetly. Hinata followed soon after. Rambling and grumbling about how Atsumu left Yachi and Hinata. Atsumu argued he would be blocking the way.

“Excuses” Hinata retorted.

Yachi eyed the seat that was next to Y/n, unfortunately occupied by Atsumu Miya.

Atsumu sighed. “Okay okay, I'll move”

Yachi seemed happy, giddily sitting on the seat next to her best friend. Y/n smiled widely too. Y/n bit her lip, unsure if she should bring up the fact that she gave in to the bandwagon and tried the app in her email. Somehow, Yachi beat her to it.

“Oh! Y/n! Have you tried the app yet?” She asked. Y/n stiffened. Should she tell the truth? Or should she lie her way out of this and save her face from the embarrassment that, yes she has tried it, and no, there was no match.

“App? You mean the Love Letters app that’s popular lately?” Atsumu asked. Hinata’s eyes lit up.

“Oh yeah! That one! I actually got an email and tried it too! Funny enough, my match was Kageyama.” He scrunched his nose at the mention of Kageyama. The table seemed to hold their breath. “Would never date him though” Everyone groaned.

“I don’t see what’s all the hype with it though? Just say you can’t get a girlfriend” Osamu played with his chopsticks. He shrugged. “But whatever”

Y/n mirrored Osamu’s actions. Slumping her shoulders as she fiddled with her spoon. Yachi quietly and patiently waited for Y/n’s response. In which the latter girl sighed. “Yeah, I tried the app” She mumbled, quiet, yet audible to the people at the table. Osamu dropped his chopsticks.

“YOU ACTUALLY?” Atsumu screamed, standing up and slamming the table. The cafeteria quietened for a moment, as everyone glanced over to their table. Sakusa glared at the man, who was starting to feel the embarrassment creep to his face. He sat down awkwardly, giving a quiet ‘sorry’ to everyone else in the cafeteria.

Sakusa shook his head and sighed. Bokuto spoke up. “You actually tried that app Y/n? You don’t seem like that type of person though” He said, mouth full of food. Akaashi looked at Bokuto in contempt, but didn’t say anything.

“I dunno, I just tried it…” Y/n started to lose interest at her food, but was still mindlessly picking on it.

“Well? After you log in you’re supposed to get a match within a couple minutes.” Yachi pointed out. Y/n tried to avoid eye contact.

“I didn’t get…a match”

The table fell silent.

Y/n swiftly stood up, Taking her tray as her ears turned red. “Not that it even matters-”

“So what? It’s just an app. You don't actually think that you're forever doomed to a pitiful love life if that happened?”

Everyone looked over to Akaashi, who simply continued eating. The man glanced over to Y/n.

“I didn't take you to be stupid L/n”

Y/n gripped the food tray. “Are you picking a fight again Akaashi?”

There was a brief look of surprise, but Y/n ignored it. Bokuto stood up, patting Y/n's shoulder in an attempt to prevent a fight.

“guys come on!” Bokuto pleaded. Y/N huffed. Turning away as she hurriedly left the table. Sakusa sighed, standing up and taking his tray.

“I'll go after her.”

—

Y/n sat on the same bench she was this morning. She didn't feel sad- or embarrassed. She felt more annoyed. Utterly pissed, furious, enraged, vexed. All the synonyms you could find in the dictionary. Miriam Webster thesaurus would be real helpful. Y/n groaned, leaning back and letting her arms fall to her sides.

A carton of milk was suddenly being offered to her. Her eyes trailed up to see Sakusa holding the milk on one hand, and a bottle of soda in the other.

“You don't like soda, went with milk but I didn't know which flavor you liked” He said. Y/n wordlessly took the milk. Sakusa sat beside her. He cracked the soda can open and took a sip.

“Why do you always argue with Akaashi? There was never a day the two of you went along with each other.” Sakusa took another sip. “Unless the two of you already agreed on one thing after an hour of arguing.”

Y/n sighed. Sipping on her milk. “I genuinely don't know. We just- can't get along properly. It's annoying”

The two of them stayed silent for a moment. Y/n could feel the heat of the sun on her shoes and legs. There was a soft blow of the wind. Her hair followed with it. Y/n tucked her hair behind her ear so it won't flow into her face.

Y/n's phone buzzed. Her screen lit up. Showing a notification on her homescreen

▀▄▀▄▀▄🅈🄾🅄🅁 🄿🄴🅁🄵🄴🄲🅃 🄼🄰🅃🄲🄷 🄷🄰🅂 🄱🄴🄴🄽 🄵🄾🅄🄽🄳!▀▄▀▄▀▄

Y/n widened her eyes. She quickly showed the notification message to Sakusa, who's eyes also widened in response.

Y/n stifled a laugh. Unlocking her phone and opening the app.

*Congratulations! Please select a username before you can finally meet your match*

Sakusa leaned in a bit, trying to get a good view of Yns's phone. The girl fiddled with the case of her phone, biting her inner lip. She softly tapped at her screen upon coming up with a nickname.

Sakusa raised a brow. “‘schoolgirl78’? You're not serious are you?” Y/n giggled, shaking her head.

“I can't think of anything, and no, I'm not serious.” Y/n watched patiently at the loading screen. Which soon switched into an image of a closed letter addressed to her. Tapping on the letter, it opened and revealed a letter.

Sakusa tapped her wrist. “Read it out loud, I wanna know what he said too…or she” Y/n glared at him. Tilting her phone away from his view. Sakusa clicked his tongue.

“Just tell me gosh, do you always have to be difficult?”

Y/n rolled her eyes as she sighed. “Fine Fine. I'll read it”

Y/n cleared her throat. Tapping on the folded letter once more.

“Hey.”

The two of them stared at the phone screen in silence.

“...That's it?” Sakusa hesitated. Y/n tried to scroll and tapped on her screen, hoping there was something else written and that really wasn't all that was sent to her.

Sakusa shook his head. “Try sending a letter back?” He suggested.

Y/n nodded her head, tapping on the “send a letter” button. She quickly wrote up a greeting letter. Excluding a couple details like her name, age and school.

After sending, Y/n received a popup.

“The hell?” Y/n exclaimed, furrowing her eyebrow together.

“What? why?”

“You can only send and receive one letter every three days” Y/n read aloud the notification. Sakusa narrowed his eyes.

“That's a shitty app. Might as well just use an actual dating app” He said.

Y/n groaned. “If he seriously messages like this, it's gonna take forever for me to figure out who he is.”

Sakusa twirled with his soda can before taking another sip from it. “Unless he says it on the next message”

“He won't do that, if he received my message he might withhold telling me his name since I didn’t. Unless he's stupid.” Y/n said, looking through the settings of the app, in hopes of trying to look for a way to change the duration of receiving and sending letters.

“In which, you wouldn't like him. You hate men like that”

“Exactly”

Y/n let out an exasperated sigh. Aggressively shutting off her phone and putting it on top of her lap. She took her milk and finished it in one go. Sakusa sighed.

Misery, Utter misery.

All rights reserved. Please dont repost or copy my work without permission.

[wonderfuldeath]

.o| Seasonal Calendar |o.

Prickly

• July 4 •

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

The weather was hot, the wind was dry, the drink between his fingers tasted of something that was going to cost him the small sum of twenty dollars, so the day wasn't starting out as he'd imagined.

Even so, he didn't care, the terrace was almost empty given the late hour, and he looked at his phone to make sure he hadn't missed the appointment, or arrived too early, and yet he could read, purple on black, that he hadn't. In fact, he was right on time. In fact, he was right on time. A light breath passed his lips as he stretched his back with difficulty, cracking it back into place, his eyes scanning around in the hope of finding the unfamiliar face he'd been waiting for. Min Yoongi had no idea what he'd gotten himself into, when the user by the name of: V the victory's man, suggested a crazy plan. Said V was a famous photographer, married, according to what he had told him, to one of the most popular men, a rabbit-faced model, whom Yoongi had never seen. Jungkook, if he remembered correctly. Anyhow… Yoongi had been accosted by this unscrupulous man, while he was doing his favorite thing: Watching time go by and cats being saved on Youtube. So, V had come to accost him on an app he didn't remember having, that his best friend Hoseok, who obviously hated knowing he was single, had installed for him, to make him a strange proposition: Come on a date, with a photographer looking for a muse. Whose name he didn't know, nor his face, nor even what kind of photos the guy took. In short, Yoongi didn't know much about what he was doing with his life, but he was always being told to do things a little different from his usual routine. So here he was, at the seaside, around eighteen o'clock, doing a photo shoot with a stranger he'd met on a dodgy website. Maybe not the best idea after all, but now that he was there, sitting on the terrace of the bar he'd chosen, he might as well enjoy the last milkshake of his life.

“- Kitty Cat?”

Yoongi jerked up as he straightened his cat eyes, mentally telling himself that he should gut Hoseok with his stupid nickname. He remains silent long enough to discover the stranger. Smaller than he'd imagined, but his pair of shoes with heels told him not to comment. Yoongi was almost disappointed to find out that he was a photographer rather than a model. His outfit was of an adolescent: a simple red vest over black jeans, candy-pink hair, the very cliché of the artist, and Yoongi wondered if he had any other secrets hidden beneath the layers of clothing. Yes, the Min was gay, or rather Bi, he liked everything, as long as the person in front of him had a character that matched his ideal, the physical for him? A face could quickly lose its resemblance over time, while a personality remained stagnant. He snapped out of his torpor, wondering how long he'd been staring at him, learning the features of his face, and Yoongi finally nodded, inviting him to settle down.

“- I suppose you're V?

- Ah… No, V is my best friend. I'm Jimin, Park Jimin. But people just call me Jimin.

- Yes, they do. Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi was often described as being like a cat, not very talkative, not very affectionate at first sight. But life had wanted it that way. Unscrupulous parents, a life on the streets, trying not to sink, he had learned to toughen up, to become a rock without emotions, never to complain. In his thirties, he'd seen a lot, not all of it pretty, not all of it good. But he remained polite, so Yoongi ordered Jimin the drink of his choice, a glass of alcohol, a cocktail with exotic names, before the photographer snapped out of his torpor, as if Yoongi had made a great impression on him.

“- As V says, I'm looking for a model for my new portfolio. I'm an art student at Seoul University. I can pay you! It would be a three-year contract.

- What line of work do you do? Male model?

- You could say that, yes. I do sensual, nude photos. I showcase a body, to prove that no matter what may have happened in your life, you can still be beautiful.”

Yoongi didn't know what to say, remaining silent while he took in all the information, he didn't like himself very much, there was nothing special about him. He was an ordinary Korean, with eyes more slanted than some others, nothing more. He took his time to think things over, before Jimin came up with a real contract, and truth be told, the price was more than acceptable for this kind of thing. To tell the truth, Yoongi couldn't really afford to be choosy: he was also an artist, and music was everything that made him tick. But it was hard to make a real place for himself in this kind of place, the competition was tough, so he couldn't really say no to easy money. Three years would give him enough to get a decent apartment, save up, and leave his best friend's apartment once and for all.

“- Where will the shoots take place?

- In my apartment, I'll give you the address, in a reliable setting.

- It's a lot for a student. How can I be sure I'll get paid?

- The checks will be issued by Jeon Jungkook. You can always check to see if they're real."

Panic in Jimin's eyes, he pinches his lower lip as he digs into his satchel a second time, pulling out the first paycheck with two zeros more than on the paper, signed by the obviously masculine hand of Jeon Jungkook. The famous model married to V. Yoongi looks at it, takes it between his fingers, inspects it like a tax inspector, looking for the slightest trace of forgery, but he was no expert, far from it. So he just takes it, looking at the small lines of the contract, everything seems legal, so he signs, sure and certain that he's not risking selling a kidney. The young man looks reassured, finally blowing out his breath and letting himself go in the seat of his chair, as if a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“- At a price like that, you must have had quite a crowd, right?

- Well, not really. People are terrified of having photos of themselves in a vulnerable position. If you hadn't signed, I'd probably have had to write off my year. Thank you.”

The kid seemed polite, genuine in his gestures. Yoongi paid for the two drinks, before returning to Jung Hoseok's small studio, a veritable dance machine, having opened his own school which was all the rage, the young man was behind the kitchen counter, straightening a curious gaze at the good humor of the cat sliding onto the bar stools.

“- Someone's got good news, obviously.

- You'll be able to resume the rhythm of your sexual frolics with your girlfriend, the cat takes off.

- You got a job? You know I would have if you hadn't told me not to.

- Exactly. I don't want to take advantage of you anymore. Besides, my boss is pretty cute.”

It hadn't taken Yoongi long to find a furnished studio apartment that he could afford. After all, he wasn't a fussy man who settled for very little, so as long as the residence was quiet, the neighbors were silent and he got his five hours' sleep, it suited him perfectly. The school year only took a good month, giving Yoongi the chance to settle in comfortably, and get his bearings in his new home, before receiving the first message from Park Jimin, called just Jimin, which made him laugh every time his eyes fell on the contact name. Yes, he could be a bit of a brat when he wanted to be, but Jimin had even sought him out, a bit. Jimin's apartment was bigger than his own and much better maintained. It was always strange to walk into a lived-in apartment that looked like the magazines, impersonal, tidy, an apartment of a guy who had to go out on the street and watch people while they lived. One of psychopaths. Yoongi couldn't help the shiver that ran through his body as he nipped at his lower lip, Jimin indicating that he should take a seat in his office, a large desk filled with various accessories, a bed in the center, chairs arranged perfectly straight, Jimin must have had a few knocks.

“- Excuse the mess, I haven't finished setting up my office yet. Take off your top, we're going to start soft and go from strength to strength.

- Okay.”

Yoongi settles down, takes off his leather jacket, and hesitates for a second, before taking off his shirt, in a slow gesture, as if he wanted to take as much time as possible, finally his white skin is revealed in front of a slightly surprised Jimin. A hiccup passes his lips and Yoongi almost feels bad about this reaction, as he rushes to grab his top, Jimin holds him back, apologizing half-heartedly.

“ - You're beautiful.”

The words had passed his lips unintentionally, to the reaction of the photographer, who apologizes half-heartedly, before taking on a more professional air. He indicated that he should strike a pose, before the session began, and Yoongi finally agreed to play along. The more time passed, the more the clothes slipped off the pale skin, the months ran by like grains of sand, and Yoongi had never asked to see Jimin's work. He trusted him, after all. A year goes by like that. And Yoongi is called in again for a shoot, a sweet habit that makes him smile softly, but he pauses in front of the new painting at the entrance to the house. Yoongi's features are recognizable, he's from the back, the curve of his hips almost touchable, while his bulging buttocks can be made out beneath the veil. It was in black and white, which brought out the scar on his shoulder, a flowing line from a distant operation that no one can forget. Jimin let him contemplate, in silence, before opening his mouth.

“- Do you like it?

- I'm not sure.

- If you want, I can take it off. I'd put it somewhere else. So I could look at it.

- How often do you look at this kind of picture?

- Every day. When we're not working together.

- Well, that's good. I'd feel less guilty then.

- Guilty?”

Yoongi approaches Jimin, kissing his lips with infinite tenderness. Time turns and stops at the same time, as the younger man responds with equal tenderness and feeling, making the older man smile. Realizing that perhaps, finally, he had hope at the beginning of this summer, that their contract would last more than three years.

[scuttling]

Those Who Wait

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Word Count: 4,985 Tags: 18+, Loss of virginity, Insecure reader, Fingering, Protected sex Summary: When you let it slip to the team that you've never had sex, they make it their mission to help you find someone who will make your dreams a reality. *Requested by anons!

Link to A03 or read below! “I don’t know how many times I have to reiterate this, but I am not a virgin,” Spencer says, palms up, and it’s clear this is something he’s reminded the team of on more than one occasion. You’re on the jet on the way home from a case, all of you gathered around chattering mindlessly to decompress, with the exception of Hotch, who is in his usual seat, working on his computer.

“And I never said I was talking about you,” you reply, with a tone just shy of smartass. You regret bringing it up already, because this will open the door to a topic you did not want to discuss with the team, ever, but you can’t put the cat back in the bag.

“Hold on. Are you…?” Emily grins a little, but her face drops into a frown when she notices the change in your demeanor, the tension in your shoulders. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, at all.”

“You’re a virgin? Really? You’re almost thirty,” Morgan says, leaning forward to look at you, and you nod, shrug. “Is it a religious thing? Saving yourself for marriage?” You scoot back in your seat, blow out a breath, use the casual posture to try to mask your discomfort.

“Nope, it’s not a religious thing. I’m just waiting for someone who’s worth it.”

“If you’re waiting for the perfect person,” JJ says, folding forward, hands clasped in front of her, “you’re going to be waiting forever.”

You sigh, because this is exactly the reason you didn’t want to bring this up.

“I’m not waiting for the perfect person. For a long time, I didn’t have time to date, and I was—you know, satisfied, without it, so it wasn’t an issue.” Your cheeks heat a little when you say it, and you rub a hand over the back of your neck. “But lately I’ve kind of shifted toward wanting to have sex, to find someone to make the connection with. It doesn’t have to be perfect, but I do have standards.”

“Don’t put pressure on yourself to do it. You’ve waited this long, why rush into things?” Emily says with a soft smile, and you reciprocate, grateful.

“I actually think it might be better if she just goes for it,” Morgan disagrees. Why aren’t you surprised? “Get it in, get it on, and get it over with. Then you won’t feel like it’s hanging over your head.”

“I’m trying. It’s not that I’m not trying. I’m going on dates; they’re all just really, really bad dates—like, the worst I’ve ever been on.”

“How many dates?” JJ asks with an arched brow, and you grimace.

“In the last month? Twelve.” Morgan laughs out loud, and you kind of want to punch him.

“Twelve first dates in the last month and you can’t get laid? Where are you finding these guys?”

“This stupid dating app Garcia convinced me to sign up for. They all seem fine on their profiles—”

“Oh, no, you can’t go by their profiles. Complete bullshit,” Emily says, and you throw your hands up in frustration.

“How else am I supposed to know what they’re like? They’re strangers.”

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a stranger.” You’re a little surprised when it’s Spencer who chimes in; everyone turns to look at him. “You’re a lot like me, and I know that I was nervous and insecure, and waiting for the right person made it a really great experience for me. I think you should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful.”

“She’s going to be waiting ‘til she’s eighty,” Morgan says with a grin, but he pats you on the back. “And if you do, I guess that’s okay. Not every guy can be a catch like yours truly.”

“Oh, spare us,” JJ says with a laugh, and you move on to other topics for the rest of the flight.

When you go to grab your luggage before heading back to the office, it’s just you and Hotch left on the jet; he’s been quiet for most of the trip, but when he steps up next to you, he says your name, low, to get your attention.

“I just wanted you to know, you deserve to be treated well… your first time. You should wait for someone you know will make it meaningful, like Reid said.” You just look at him for a moment, not sure what to say.

Part of you knows what you want to say. You want to say, is it worth it? You want to say, how will I know? You want to say, would you make it meaningful?

What you say is, “Thanks, Hotch.” He nods, hands you your bag, then takes his, closes the luggage compartment; he gestures for you to go ahead of him, and the two of you exit the plane.

You all go back to the office. Everyone hangs around for a few minutes, but Hotch goes up to his office, turns on the lights, sits down at his desk, and takes off his jacket. He’s in for a long night, then. You’re just getting ready to leave when Garcia strolls over, bag in hand.

“Hey, girl. How was that date the other night? Haven’t gotten to talk to you about anything other than murder the last few days.” She notices that your eyes are on Hotch’s office, looks up at him and back down at you. “Is everything okay, hon?” The concern in her voice snaps you out of it, and you look to her, smile.

“Yeah, everything’s okay. The date was not, though. I’ll walk out with you.” You grab your things, throw your jacket over your arm, and take one last look up at Hotch’s office before making your way to the parking garage. You go on seven more dates over the course of three weeks that are a complete waste of time and effort. Who knew having what you consider relatively basic standards would make losing your virginity so goddamn difficult? You know you’re not a knockout like JJ or Emily, and sometimes your nerves get the best of you, but you’ve been pretty charming, funny, all dolled up and putting out clear, but not desperate, DTF vibes.

The longer your quest drags on, the more embarrassing it gets. It actually becomes a part of the morning meeting: as soon as you enter the briefing room each day, Morgan raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head. He’s keeping a tally. You want to die a little bit.

Finally, you’re sitting at home one evening when you get the call from JJ that you’ll be heading to Miami for a case first thing the next morning. You thank her for letting you know, but before she hangs up, she says, “Bring a dress, something sexy. If we have an extra night, we’re going to a club and getting you laid.”

You stammer, a little embarrassed at the directness, but you pack a short, light, red dress, something appropriate for a humid Miami night, on the off chance you’ll actually get to go out.

The case is solved in a day and a half, and you are going to stay the night again, so JJ and Emily make it their mission to get you ready for a night out, and Morgan and Spencer make it their mission to scope out your potential partners and check for red flags before you even get close to them.

It’s sweet, kind of wholesome, when you ignore the fact they’re trying to get you fucked.

You have a drink at the outdoor bar, try to loosen up a little; the place is swarming with gorgeous, supermodel looking women with very little clothing on, breasts and ass everywhere you turn, and you feel inadequate, self-conscious in your little red dress. You freaking hate Miami.

You get glances from Morgan and Spencer, nudges of encouragement from Emily and JJ—even Hotch is around somewhere, part of the red flag detail, which you hadn’t expected—and you’re so close to giving up when a song comes on that you know and absolutely love.

Sex is outside your realm of knowledge, but dancing you can do, and you wrap your hand around Emily’s wrist and tell her you want to. JJ takes your drinks, sets them on the table, and the three of you head out to the dance floor.

It’s clear they didn’t expect much of your dancing, because they looked surprised as hell that you know how to work your body to the music, putting your arms on JJ’s shoulders and moving against her. She looks up, grins at Emily over your head, and cocks her eyebrow, impressed.

“Not that innocent after all,” she says, and you toss your head lightly, laugh.

“Said I was a virgin, not that I was innocent.” The three of you dance together, and you’re approached by several guys who try to get behind you, in between you, closer anyway they can. JJ and Emily are selective with who they entertain and who they give the brush off, and you’re grateful, because despite the outcome, you’re having a good time, and you never would have done this alone.

Eventually, a man comes over, wants to dance with you specifically; the girls exchange looks, give you a nudge, and you put your arms around his neck, let him rest his hands on your hips.

He’s pretty hot, you have to admit, a little under six feet tall, with dark hair and eyes and a nice smile, and dancing against him feels good. If it’s any indication of what if would be like to have sex with him, you’d let him take you home in a heartbeat. Of course, it’s been pre-planned that you’ll go back to your room upstairs if you hook up, so your people are nearby in case anything goes wrong; it’s maybe a little weird, the thought of your coworkers being cheerleaders while you lose your virginity, but what about this isn’t weird? At this point, you’re just going with the flow.

This guy is nice enough, doesn’t go straight for your ass like other guys you danced with, but you can’t help feeling like something’s missing; you pull back, get his attention so you can tell him thanks for the dance, but you’re going to go back to your friends.

You don’t get a chance to say that, because you’re guided away from him by two strong hands on your waist. You turn, ready to tell someone off for getting handsy with you, but it’s Hotch, so the defensive posture you’d slipped into softens.

“Oh, hey. What’s going on? Is everything okay?” you ask loudly; his expression is serious, his brows pulled down in a frown. He shakes his head, leans in closer.

“I can’t let you go through with that—with him,” Hotch says in your ear, still hard to hear over the thrum of the music, and you put your hand on his shoulder, lean up so you can speak into his.

“What? Why not?” you ask, breathless from dancing and the heat. “JJ and Emily thought he seemed alright.” You didn’t actually want to go through with it, but that’s not important at the moment, not when Hotch is clearly trying to get some kind of point across.

“It’s not that, I just—you deserve better.” You frown, not sure you heard him right, and one of the hands on your waist moves lower; he presses you closer. “I don’t know if you would consider it, but I could do it. I could be the one.”

“The one?” you breathe. You need to hear him say it to confirm it’s not all in your head, that you aren’t taking anything out of context.

“The one you sleep with. The one to show you how good it can be. The one who will treat you well.”

You take a step back, have to see his face; is this pity, kindness, genuine interest? Because for the last few weeks, after every bad date, you’ve come back to the thought of Hotch kissing you, touching you, taking you apart. You know his hands are capable, you know he is kind and gentle, and it’s only the thought of him that keeps you from leaving with the first guy to show you attention. You’re so frustrated, never more desperate to feel than you have been since he told you you deserved something good.

He swallows when you look up at him, and your heart races.

“If you want to, I want to. No pressure if you don’t,” he assures you. What he’s saying is so unexpected, but so perfect, and you nod, wet your lips, lean back up on your toes to put your mouth to his ear.

“I want to. I trust you.” Feeling bold, you brush a hand over the back of his head, press your lips to the side of his neck. “Please?”

“Are you sure?” He sounds as tense as you feel, holds you tightly, like he needs to make sure this is really happening. You cling to him just as tightly, nod your head against his throat, and he squeezes your waist, ushers you across the crowded patio and inside the cool air of the hotel. You both sigh, because it’s quieter, more comfortable, and your gaze lingers over his body until he pulls you in for a gentle kiss.

You’ve done your fair share of kissing, and Hotch is so good at it, his hands on your face, his lips softer than you would have imagined, but firm in the way they press against yours. When the kiss breaks, you bring your hands to his wrists, breathing heavily, and then lean in to follow up with a kiss of your own.

He smiles softly, and you smile back, then slip your hand into his and let him lead you to the elevator. You’re not sure if it’s the night of dancing, the heat, the thrill of not only having sex after waiting so long, but having sex with Hotch, or what, but you feel changed; you’re a grown adult, you know that losing your virginity doesn’t mean much, doesn’t change who you are fundamentally, but the thought of experiencing it gives you a stomach full of butterflies in the best way possible.

“Would you like to go to my room, or yours?” he asks when you board the elevator, and he presses the button for the third floor. You plan to say it doesn’t really matter to you, but a thought crosses your mind.

“We can go to mine. I have condoms.” You’re not shy about using protection, know it’s just plain stupid not to, when you've been essentially searching for a new partner whose sexual and medical history you know little to nothing about, but telling Hotch makes your face heat a little. “I bought a variety pack—you know, when I started going on the dates.”

“Good. That’s good,” he says, nodding, and then he bends to kiss you, brushes his fingers over your jaw. “How are you feeling? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Good,” you clarify. You feel so much better than okay you barely know how to say it, but there is one thing you didn’t think to ask before. “Hey, are you… are you attracted to me?” You look him over curiously, and the elevator dings; you step forward to get off, walk down the hall, but Hotch puts his hand out to stop the door, which stops you.

“I’m attracted to you. You’re gorgeous, and ever since you mentioned on the jet that this was something you were looking forward to… I can’t deny I’ve thought about being the one you share it with. Are you attracted to me?” You wet your lips, ready to reply with an emphatic yes, but he must take it for hesitation. “I understand why you want to do this, but if you aren’t attracted to me—it’s important that you want this with me, not just that you want this. I don’t want us to do anything that will make you uncomfortable.”

His words make you lose a little of the nervousness you were still holding onto, and you decide to show, not tell, how you feel about him; you wrap your fingers in his shirt and guide him down for a kiss that is hotter than before, still soft and slow, but wet and deep, too. After a moment, the elevator dings—likely due to the door remaining open for so long—and you break apart, breathless, and exit the elevator to head down the hall to your room.

Your interaction isn’t exactly awkward at first, but a little stilted: you both take off your shoes, and you grab waters from the mini fridge, hand him one and take a long sip of the other. It’s almost as if you are delaying the inevitable, but it’s not because this isn’t something you want to do; if pressed, you’d say the idea of having this time with Hotch is actually something you want to savor, not rush into too quickly. You aren’t delaying, but prolonging, and eventually you have to snap yourself out of it and just enjoy what you have while you have it.

You cross the room, walk over to him, and put your hands on his stomach, look up at him with clear eyes. His fingers ghost over your bare arms, and for a moment you just share breath, a lingering stare, until you stretch up to meet him in the middle for a deep kiss.

Hotch moves his hands to your hair, tips your head up, and you wind your arms around his back, pulling him closer and stepping forward until his legs hit the foot of the bed. He is warm, broad, solid beneath your hands, and you push them up the back of his shirt, skim them over his skin.

“Can I take this off?” you breathe when you separate, and he nods, helps you work it over his head and drops it to the floor.

Your hands rest on his stomach again, glide up his chest, and when you kiss this time, he turns you so your back faces the bed, eases you onto it. He lays between your legs, kisses until you’re both panting with need, and when you lean your head back to catch your breath he moves his mouth to your neck, trails it slowly up, then down, softly bites at the base of your throat. You hum softly, clutch his shoulders, bring your knees up around his waist.

“God, I want you.” He pulls back, looks down at you, his chest heaving, and you nod, brush fingers through his hair. “I want you, Hotch. Please touch me.”

He begins with the slow drag of big, careful hands down the outsides of your thighs, over your hips, pushing your dress up around your waist. You can’t stop looking at his face, serious and handsome, even though the rest of him is perfect too; you like that he looks affected by this, like it means something to him as well, like you’re not alone in feeling a bit overwhelmed. He moves his hands to the soft insides of your thighs, squeezes them, then leans up on his knees so he can pull your panties off, sets them on the bed beside him.

“I’m just going to rub. Tell me if it’s too much, not enough.” He curls over you for a kiss and slides his fingers along your pussy, three of them, long and thick. You close your eyes immediately, because the first touch is so good, his fingertips gliding through your slick and spreading it over your lips and clit; you are both breathing heavily, mouths hovering over each other, and you clutch at his biceps while he rubs where you are soft and aching.

It’s not that it’s not enough—you could get off this way, easily, you’re halfway there already—but you want more, imagine yourself clamping down around his fingers, digging your nails into him when you come.

“Can you…” You trail off, bite your lip, and he smooths a palm over your cheek, your hair.

“Ask me. Tell me what you want, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.” A soft, needy noise leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, slips the pads of two fingers over your clit, rubs circles against it. “Is it this? Is this what you want?” You wet your lips, think no but yes, move a hand to his face.

“Can you put your fingers inside me? I want to feel you inside.” Your voice trembles over it, not used to being so direct, not used to asking for what you want, and his answering kiss is deep, wet; he pulls back to look at your face as he presses one finger inside, and you feel your expression shift, from desperate to intensely pleasured, your mouth open, eyes wide. “Hotch, oh.” He pulls it out slowly, nearly all the way, and pushes it back in, rubs your cheek, brushes his thumb over your lips.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” Good is an understatement, and you clench around him, slide your hands down his forearms, nod. “Good. It’s okay if you’re just quiet, but if you’re nervous about how you’ll sound, don’t be. I’d like to hear how you’re feeling.” Another reason to feel so good about this—because you are self-conscious of the way you’ll sound, and you should have known he would pick up on it, try to ease your insecurities. You wet your lips, nod, and he moves the finger slowly in and out, adds another when you ask him to.

“Mmm. Mmm.” You bring a hand to your covered breast, squeeze it, and he moves to push your dress up further, to bare it, maybe, but you tense, then instantly feel silly.

“What is it?” he asks gently, running his hand over your stomach instead, and your muscles relax, you sigh.

“Just a little self-conscious… about my breasts—especially after everything I saw downstairs,” you say, huffing a laugh, and he chuckles, nods.

“Miami is a bit much. But you’re so beautiful, sweetheart, just as you are, and it’s clear they bring you pleasure. If you’ll let me, I’d like to take your dress off all the way, touch them… kiss them.” The prospect sounds so tempting—your nipples are sensitive beneath your own hands, but under his? His mouth?

Your breathing picks up again, and you nod, rest your arms over your head so he can pull it up and off. You swallow, trembling and bare beneath him, and he steps off of the bed to push the rest of his clothes off, too; you know you feel vulnerable, so maybe he sensed it, wanted to make you more comfortable? Either way, he is gorgeous, and you’re so grateful to be doing this with him.

“Where are the condoms?” he asks, bending over the edge of the bed to kiss you with a hand on your cheek. You direct him to your bag, and he opens the box, takes out the one he needs, walks back to you; you lean up on your elbows to watch him intently as he tears the package open, rolls it onto his cock. When he climbs on top of you again, when he pushes your knees gently apart and makes himself at home between them, you shudder; you can feel his dick for the first time, hard against your thigh, and he leans in to kiss your throat, your shoulders, and eventually, your breasts.

His mouth covers one, his hand covers the other, and you gasp when his lips close around your nipple, suck softly. “Hotch, oh my god.” You lift your hips, looking for contact, and he removes the hand from your breast, uses it to line his cock up so it can slide over your pussy as you rock against him, wet, perfect pressure, as he pulls your breast more roughly into his mouth, nibbles it.

You arch your back, pushing your chest closer to him, and he moans, slowly glides his hands over your throat, into your hair. He shifts the angle of his hips, and he slips out from between you, making you sigh at the loss. Now that you’ve felt him, it’s maddening to be without, and you wet your lips, touch his face.

“I’m ready.” He leans in to kiss your cheeks, your chin, rubs his nose softly against yours, and you meet for a deep, slow, wet kiss.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Please.” You move your hands to his waist, guide him closer, and he pushes slowly inside, lets you get used to the stretch it brings. It just feels good, not really a new sensation, since you’ve put toys inside before, but he is so much thicker, more satisfying to feel along your sensitive channel, his body warm on top of yours.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, lips grazing yours, and you curl your hand around the back of his neck, just kiss him, enjoy the fullness and the slide of his tongue.

“So good. You can move,” you say, and your voice sounds strained, but it’s with arousal, not discomfort. You hitch your knees up higher, put your hands on his arms, pull him in so he’ll know that. “Want to feel you, Hotch.” You share breath for a few moments, and then he pulls back and thrusts forward, repeats it a few times, slow and steady, looking into your eyes.

You moan, carefully roll your hips in time with his, and he pumps inside a little deeper, a little quicker. You grip his arms, move your hands to his face, unsure what part of him you want to touch, anchor yourself against. He leans down for a kiss and you press your fingers to his cheeks, kiss him more passionately, less timidly than you’ve been so far. He groans against your mouth, and you pant as your bodies work together; it’s almost instinctual, the need to take him deeper, to meet, thighs hard against each other.

“Are you okay?” he asks, sliding his hands over your sides, hips, and you nod, gasp when he shifts up, gets his mouth on your breast again, kisses it wetly while his cock glides inside. That’s enough to have you moaning, loudly, head back, your hands on his body now, to feel his muscles flex while he thrusts inside you.

“Hotch, oh. Feels so good, I—” He bites down, lightly, just the edge of his teeth, and your legs snap tight against his body, shaking while you come around him. “Oh, oh. Mmm.” Your muscles contract so hard he grunts, your pussy all but trapping him there, and he grinds against you, grips your thighs.

“So perfect. You feel so good coming for me, so tight.” You ride out the pleasure, rolling your hips against his, and when you’re a little looser he thrusts again, slides an arm behind yours, his hand carefully around the back of your neck, kisses you until he comes, groaning, in your ear.

You look up at him as he gathers himself, wets his lips, and you curl around him for a hug; he holds you tightly, rubs gentle palms over your body, murmurs that you’re incredible and he hopes you know that was special. It's the connection you were looking for, intimacy, and you are so incredibly happy you found it, even if you did find it in the unlikeliest of places.

You lay together for a few minutes before he pulls out, ties off the condom, takes it into the bathroom, and then you go in to pee. You look yourself over in the mirror—again, fully aware that losing your virginity changes almost nothing—but you can’t help feeling like a missing piece has locked into place.

If makes you wonder if the missing piece maybe wasn’t sex, but Hotch.

When you head back into the other room, you expect him to be dressed, or at least getting dressed, but he’s laying back on the bed, covers turned down, body still bare—what you can see of him is bare, anyway, because crisp white sheets cling to his waist, make him look only that much more delicious as he waits for you.

You suddenly ache with desire again, touch your chest at the rush of emotion, of sensation, and then you climb on the bed, slip into his lap, kiss him again. This time it’s different, because your lips and tongue are all saying what you can’t, and it’s intimate, passionate, vulnerable, intense.

Except, maybe you can say it, because he kisses back just as furiously, and it translates into something as strong as what you’re feeling, his hands on your face and lower back holding you close.

“I want you,” he whispers, looking into your eyes, and you’re panting hard, desperate for more. “Not just tonight—I want every night to feel like tonight. I know you weren’t planning for anything more than this, but if you like, maybe I could take you to dinner when we get back. We could see if there’s something more?” He looks nervous, like the offer won’t be well received, but you just nod, smile, lean close for a gentler brush of lips.

“I’d really like that. I don’t want to only feel like this tonight.”

You kiss a little more, softer, sweeter things, eventually moving from his lap to curl against his side; the two of you cuddle, talk—it’s not awkward in the slightest, just feels right, and you drift to sleep warm and content in his arms.

Maybe Miami’s not so bad after all.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of the Once Upon a Holiday... collaboration with @underthejoon , @fantasybangtan​ , @lamourche​ , @hobidreams​ , @suga-kookiemonster​ , @junghelioseok​  

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight made this ridiculously gorgeous moodboard TT

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader (female)

Genre: Ex-Best Friends to Lovers / Rom-Com / Angst (?) / Holiday

Word Count: 36,243

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Fingering, Hoseok has a dirty mouth, Y/N semi-jokingly offers to slap him & he’s into it, condom-less sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, rough sex. Multiple friends/family members mention the reader has lost weight, but the reader’s exact weight isn’t specified. Seokjin uses a spatula as a microphone.

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

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you for taking the time to send our team your screenplay for One for the Money. It was a pleasure learning about your characters and ideas.

Unfortunately, we did not select your spec script at this time for further consideration.

Not wanting to read the rest of the rejection email, you returned to your inbox and moved the message to trash. Releasing a sigh, you slumped in the hard, plastic airport chair underneath you. This had to be your fifteenth rejection email this month, which didn’t bode well for your screenplay’s future.

The screenplay in question was your self-written TV series – One for the Money. You’d been working on it for years and had just begun sending it out to studios. When a screenplay was written outside a studio and shopped around after, it was often called a spec script. This stood for speculative screenplay and you supposed that right now, this was the best descriptor.

A screenplay without a studio was practically nothing. Speculative, indeed.

Glancing up from your phone, you saw the flight’s status on the board had moved from green to red – delayed. Stifling another sigh, you switched apps on the screen and checked the weather. Winter storms were sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in a delay of holiday travel. This was precisely the reason you hadn’t wanted to go home this year.

Well, it wasn’t the only reason you dreaded your return to Josen Falls. You hadn’t seen your family in over a year but had still planned to stay in LA over Christmas. A wrench had been thrown in these plans when your sister, Sara, became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi.

Yoongi had only had one request when it came to wedding planning – for them to be married in the same church his parents had been, a beautiful venue north of the city. Of course, the only available date within a three-year time frame was June 30th. Seven months was practically nothing to plan a wedding, but Sara was determined to make it happen; hence the need to have you at home.

Don’t get you wrong – of course, you were excited about Sara and Yoongi. You’d been the one who introduced them, after all, through your former best friend. They were perfect together and you were nothing but ecstatic to see your little sister so happy. The only unfortunate part about her life coming together was it happened to come at the same time as yours falling apart.

A year ago, you would’ve said you were on the right path. Things had been going well in nearly every part of your life. Your TV show was on its second season, you’d been dating Darren for nine months and had found a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment in a coveted neighborhood. Everything had been looking up, considering your previous year in LA, where paychecks had been scarce, and you’d been dangerously close to asking your parents for money.

Now, you found yourself in the same situation. Uncertain where your next paycheck was coming from, recently single and unsure how you were going to make rent next month.

Your coveted Hollywood job had been as a screenwriter for The Drop, a critically acclaimed show which ended abruptly this year after a dispute with the main actor. The third – and final – season was set to air in the new year on Netflix, but after that you’d be out of a job.

Hence the desperate pitch of your spec script to every mainstream television producer with an open inbox. Suffice to say, things were not going well.

This was evidenced by the uncomfortable chair you’d squeezed yourself into, having been forced to give up your pass to Admirals Club. The cost couldn’t be justified right now. Forlornly, you stared at the ticket sticking out of your purse.

It had been nearly a year since you’d last visited home. At first, this hadn’t been a purposeful decision. You’d been swamped with work, preparing for the Golden Globes and seasons one and two of The Drop. Your ex-boyfriend, Darren, had been nominated for an Oscar last year, resulting in a lot of holiday parties to attend.

Last year, you’d been too busy to come, but all that had changed in a matter of months. It began back in March, when contract negotiations stalled with your leading actor, Tory River. Tory fancied himself a method actor, so when you refused to pay him the GDP of a small country, he decided to walk. Without him, the studio had to scrap the show. Better to leave things at three solid seasons than add a lukewarm fourth without the main star.

You were told in May the third season would be its last and were highly encouraged to seek out other shows. Nothing had panned out since and then, at the end of the summer, you were dealt another blow.

You should’ve known things were bad when Darren, your ex-boyfriend, called you himself instead of Molly, his assistant.

When you first met Darren Carmichael in LA, he was a struggling actor from Des Moines, Iowa. The Darren of September 2020 was no longer the Darren of early 2019, though – he’d long ditched the Midwest accent in favor of designer shades and loafers. High off his Oscar nomination and with job offers to spare, you should’ve suspected something was wrong from his genuine contriteness of tone.

The first thing he said to you was, “Did you pass a newsstand today?”

At first, you’d been baffled because no one walked past newsstands anymore. Logging into Twitter, you immediately saw why your boyfriend had been worried.

DARREN CARMICHAEL AND CO-STAR, JESSICA AVEC, CAUGHT CANOODLING ON SET OF RECENT MOVIE!

Frozen, you’d barely listened while he pleaded his case. Instead, you scanned the article and felt your insides tighten with each word. Darren and Jessica had been caught making out when no cameras were rolling. You were only mentioned as a footnote, and not even by name.

Darren was previously dating a screenwriter in LA, although this seems to have ended several weeks prior.

You had wanted to scream, wanted to call up the author and berate them for proper sources, but you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you sat dejectedly while Darren yammered on and on about why he’d done what he’d done.

That had been the worst part. He hadn’t apologized to you – not really. Instead, he’d gone on about how hard it had been for him to be away, surrounded and worshiped by more available people. You had your career, he’d argued. You had other things, you didn’t need him and what he felt for Jessica seemed like the real thing.

Darren thought you should break up so he could begin dating her.

Numbly, you’d hung up the phone and immediately blocked his number. That had been nearly three months ago, but the sting of the breakup remained.

It wasn’t as though Darren had changed overnight. When you first met, he’d been the super-cute barista at your favorite coffee shop. You two bonded over being unable to find appropriately caffeinated beverages in LA and the rest, as they say, was history.

Then Darren landed a role as a recurring character on a popular Netflix show. What seemed like overnight, he became America’s heartthrob. Still, Darren didn’t change right away. He went to work every morning, came home in the evenings and continued to attend the same parties, run in the same circles.

Soon though, Darren was invited to more exclusive gatherings and slowly, his invitations transitioned from “Darren plus date” to “just Darren.” You hadn’t protested at the time, not overly interested in canapés and pretentious conversation. The time you did spend together dwindled, going from Facetiming each night on his movie set to a harried phone call every other day.

Maybe you should’ve been more suspicious. In hindsight, all the warning signs had been there, but you’d been too busy and worried about The Drop’s future to do anything about it. Darren had become distant and withdrawn, but you’d been okay because you’d become distant, too.

After you blocked his number, you kicked him out of your apartment. Packing everything he owned in boxes, you set these on the lawn and shut the door. It was unfortunate it rained before he could pick them up, but that couldn’t be helped. You refused to see him again – you even went so far as to have your assistant, Jimin, pick up Darren’s keys.

Jimin had done so gleefully, perhaps too gleefully, but you didn’t care. Darren had tried to contact you a few more times, but eventually he got the hint and the last time you’d checked, he seemed blissfully happy with his vapid co-star.

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled. That wasn’t fair – you had no idea what Darren had told Jessica about you. For all you knew, she could’ve thought you two had been broken up.

Regardless, things had gone steadily downhill for you over the past year. Single, nearly unemployed and running low on your savings, you could easily call this a low point in your life. Worst of all – your family didn’t know the full extent of things.

They knew you’d broken up with Darren, of course – that had been front page news. They also knew your TV series was ending but had no idea you struggled as much as you were. Each time they called, you meant to tell them, but something managed to choke you every time.

Maybe it was how excited your mom was about the upcoming nuptials. Or maybe it was how diligently your dad watched The Drop. Admitting you didn’t have next steps felt like defeat, so you’d purposefully kept things brief until you had something to tell.

The problem was none of your next steps seemed to be panning out. Again, your mind wandered to the rejection email in your trash.

“Excuse me? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Blinking, you looked up and felt your heart sink.

The guy standing before you looked around college-age, dressed in a MORDOR FUN RUN t-shirt and wire-rimmed glasses. Clutching his laptop to his chest, he looked at you hopefully and you felt your heart sink even further. He had to be a film nerd.

“Um, yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “That’s me.”

This had happened to you several times before. Even if you weren’t an actress, your name appeared at the end of every episode of The Drop. It hadn’t taken long for starry-eyed screenwriting ingénues to find you on Instagram.

Usually, you were patient in your responses, giving them as much advice as you could without being discouraging, but Lord of the Rings here had caught you on a bad night.

“No way!” he gushed. “I’m such a big fan of your writing. I swear, I’ve memorized the entire first season of The Drop.”

“Not the second, though?”

His face fell. “No, well – I, it’s a long series and…”

“I’m kidding,” you said with a smile. “That’s really nice.”

“I want to be a screenwriter myself, someday,” he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m in a program at UCLA and am searching for a summer internship. Any advice for someone who’s just starting out?”

Hesitant, you looked him up and down and wondered how honest to be. He seemed nice, looked hopeful and you were one hundred percent sure the industry would crush him.

“You want some advice?” you said as you stood from your seat. The light on the departures board had changed from red to green.

Eagerly, the guy nodded.

“Alright, here it is.” Slinging your bag over your chest, you said, “Don’t be a writer.”

The guy’s expression faltered. “What?”

“Don’t be a writer,” you said. “Screenwriting is one of the most fickle, unforgiving jobs in existence. Job security? None. Creativity? Only as much as shareholders allow. The industry will eat you up, spit you out and no one will give a damn. The glamorous profession you’ve dreamt of doesn’t exist. The best advice I can give is run the other way.”

The guy stared at you, wide-eyed and for a moment, you felt a modicum of pity. Brushing this aside, you steeled your spine – better for him to find out now, while he could still change his major to something stable, like accounting.

“I, uh…” He paused, and then swallowed. “Thanks, I guess?”

“No problem,” you said, brushing past him as group numbers began to be called. At the last second, you hesitated and turned around. “Best of luck in whatever you decide, though. Happy holidays, and all that.”

“Happy holidays,” he mumbled, in a daze.

As you entered the line, you bit down on your lip and began to regret your outburst. Some of your bitterness was based on your own experience; maybe his would be different. The guy had seemed excited and you’d just crushed his dreams.

Narrowing your gaze, you forced yourself to straighten. It would’ve happened to him sooner or later – of that you were certain. Better to warn him now than for him to learn it the hard way. You only wished someone had been kind enough to tell you this years ago.

Actually – a sliver of discomfort entered your thoughts since someone had told you this last year. Someone had warned you about Darren, about your job and LA, but you’d chosen not to listen. Instead, you’d let your friendship crumble and hadn’t spoken to them since.

Just another reason going home for the holidays was going to suck. Going home meant you’d be forced to see Yoongi’s friends, which meant you’d be forced to see Hoseok. Yoongi and Hoseok were close, after all – they’d become friends in college, which was when Yoongi had been introduced to Sara.

It had been nearly a year since you and Hoseok last spoke, despite having once considered him to be your best friend.

So, there it was. Reason six hundred and sixty-six why the holidays would suck. You were single, jobless and facing the imminent prospect of two weeks with people who either had their shit together or were a constant reminder of why you did not.

As you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you pulled out your headphones and cranked up the volume. If you weren’t feeling particularly Christmas-y, you could at least try to numb the pain with alcohol and music.

Starting now, you decided, as you closed your eyes. Happy holidays, indeed.

Exiting the Terminal at LaGuardia airport, you found yourself shivering in the sudden cold. Despite having worn the warmest jacket you could find, nothing prepared you for the frigid blast of air on your face. Heat lamps were scattered beside the taxi stand, but this seemed to do nothing but attract hopeful crowds of tourists.

Bypassing them all, you dragged your suitcase to the end of Terminal B. This was the agreed-upon meeting place for all family members. Your sister, Sara, was on pick-up duty tonight. She lived and worked in New York City, so the airport had been an easy stop on her way to Josen Falls. Your hometown was only an hour outside the city, but it might as well have been Mars for how much cab drivers charged to get there.

Lugging your bag to the end of the row, you saw Sara’s black Subaru parked at the front. As soon as you were within view, the driver’s side door flung open.

“Y/N!” she yelled, exiting the car. “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, half-running the last several paces to crush her in a hug. Your sister squeezed you back, trying – and failing – to lift you from the ground. Once finished, she took a step back and adjusted her glasses.

“You look skinnier,” she said with a frown.

Re-grabbing your bag, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not skinnier.”

“Have you lost weight?”

“I mean, some but –”

“Nope,” said Sara, lifting the trunk of her car. “I’ll call mom on the way home. She can heat up mac and cheese, or something.”

Shoving the handle on your suitcase down, you heaved this from the ground to place in the trunk. As annoying as Sara’s criticism was, you couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of your mom’s mac and cheese.

“Ugh,” you said as you entered the car. Plopping in the passenger seat, you buckled your seatbelt. “Honestly, that sounds amazing. Even the mac and cheese on the west coast is low-carb and no butter.”

Sara looked at you in horror. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Beats me. Masochism?”

“Must be,” she said, shaking her head and putting the car in drive.

Pulling from the curb, Sara eased seamlessly into traffic. She waited until you’d reached the highway to turn on the music, just like dad did.

“Anyways,” she said, drumming her hands on the steering wheel. “Everyone’s super excited to have you home. It’s been what – over a year since last time?”

“Around that, yeah,” you said, shifting uncomfortably.

Slouching lower in your seat, you turned to look out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but it had clearly snowed within the past couple of days. A greyish-blue sludge remained on the highway.

Sara glanced sideways.  “Don’t slouch,” she said. “You’ll wrinkle those really cute pants – which, by the way, can I wear tomorrow night?” Beatific, she smiled. “Mom and dad are throwing me a tiny engagement party. Obviously, you’re invited.”

“Oh. Did you say tomorrow, because –”

“Nope!” Sara cut you off. “No excuses, big sis. You’re my maid of honor, so you have to be there. No ifs, ands or buts.”

Sighing loudly, you slumped in your seat. “Has anyone told you how annoyingly single-minded you are?”

“Often. I tell them I get it from my older sister.”

You snorted, but you knew she was right. You were equally stubborn – it was what had led to your current situation. Your family only knew the barest details about your life. If they knew the full extent of your failures, they’d instantly offer to help you out.

For you though, this would be considered the ultimate blow. When you moved to LA, they’d been hesitant about your career as a screenwriter. It had taken everything in you to prove you could do this. If you began to fail now, it would only prove them right.

You’d planned on telling them about Darren last month, but then Sara got engaged and everything was put on hold. Suddenly, your mom was consumed by the wedding; she barely had time for anything else. Everything was lace veils that, and yours forever that. It was hard being reminded of your singlehood in your own apartment, let alone each time you called your family.

As Sara continued to drive, her diamond engagement ring glittered in the lights of the highway.

“It’s even bigger in person,” you said, nodding across the console.

“That’s what she said.”

“Sara!”

“Sorry!” She cracked up. “You just look so tense. But yeah, I love the ring. Yoongi picked it out himself. Well, that’s not entirely true. He had some help from – uh, from no one,” she said, abruptly changing her tone.

“Oh, really?” you said, amused. “He had help from no one?”

“Yep.” Sara nodded.

You sensed bullshit on this but let it slide, reaching out to turn up the heat. If Sara didn’t want to say who, there was probably a reason. The reason you suspected made your heart twinge, but you didn’t want to think about him right now.

It wasn’t long before Sara pulled from the highway, street signs and buildings becoming familiar. You hadn’t flown much before college, so the trip from the airport to Josen Falls was still new. Just another way your life had changed since high school.

“So, where’s this engagement party happening?” you asked, glancing sideways.

“Where else?”

“Raffi’s,” you both said at the same time.

Sara grinned and nodded. “Where else? It’s our celebration restaurant. Mom and dad had to uphold tradition.”

“Obviously. Who all’s invited?”

Barely noticeable, her hands tensed on the wheel. “Oh, the usual. Mom and dad, a bunch of the neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Min, of course,” she said, naming Yoongi’s parents. “Some friends from high school. My bridesmaids. And uh, Yoongi’s groomsmen.”

“Oh.” You paused. “So, is –”

“Hoseok coming? Yeah.”

“Right,” you said, turning to look out the window.

Sara sighed softly. “That’s not going to be weird, is it?”

“Weird? Of course, not. Why would it be weird?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because of the whole ‘Hoseok thing?’” She made air quotes around the last two words.

“You mean how we once were best friends and now, I don’t even know what color his hair is?”

“That’s the one!”

“Hey, listen.” Reaching out, you touched her arm. “I promise things will be okay. Hoseok and I are adults – just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be in the same room together.”

“Promise?” she said, giving you a glance.

“Promise. It’s my baby sister’s wedding, after all. I have a contractual obligation to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“We-ll,” said Sara. “You can’t be held responsible for everything that goes wrong. Like, what if cousin Sybil decides to wear white to the wedding? That wouldn’t be your fault.”

“It would be if I didn’t bring a spare dress for her to change into.”

Sara cracked a smile. “Okay, but what if the florist mixes my bouquet up with a prom one? That wouldn’t be your problem to solve.”

“That’s what cars are for! I’d drive to the florist and make them switch it back.”

“Well, what if Yoongi suddenly gets cold feet and decides I’m not the woman he wants to marry? That definitely wouldn’t be your fault.”

“You’re right,” you said, examining your hand. “It’d be his fault, and then it’d be his problem because I’d murder him. Cold blooded. He can run, but I’d hunt him down, tear off his testicles and make you a potpourri bag.”

“Oh my god.” Sara cackled. “That’s so violent. You’re the best.”

“And as the best maid of honor!” you declared. “I promise your engagement party will go off without a hitch. Hoseok, or no Hoseok.”

“Alright, alright.” She grinned. “Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime.”

As you passed through the downtown of Josen Falls, familiar butterflies began to fill your stomach. Not ones of excitement though, but ones of dread.

Sinking lower, you hoped none of your neighbors were feeling particularly nosy. So little happened in Josen Falls, you were certain your breakup with Darren was still front-page gossip. You could already hear the neighborhood busybodies.

What a shame they cancelled that show of yours, dear. What’s the next project? Nothing? Well, what about that actor you were dating? What’s his name – Darren! He was wonderful in that one movie. He seems like such a nice boy. Oh, you’re no longer together? Well, are you dating anyone new? No? Well…

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the seat. Everything would be okay. All you needed to do was get through two weeks and you’d be back in LA. Your façade could last that long. Who knew – maybe if it held, you could apply to a few acting jobs when you returned.

Opening your eyes, you saw Sara drive past Whalen Court. Your home was two streets over, but Whalen Court was where the Jungs lived. Craning your neck, you watched their street disappear in the rearview mirror. You thought you saw lights were at his home but couldn’t be sure.

Before you knew it, you were entering your garage and Sara had placed the car in park.

“Home, sweet, home,” she sang, opening the door.

It took you a moment to convince your legs to work. Home, sweet, home was one way to put it.

The moment you stepped across the threshold you knew this had been a mistake.

“We’re home!” Sara yelled, shutting the door.

It wasn’t long before your mom rushed around the corner, beaming when she saw who had arrived.

“There she is!” she cried, crushing you in a hug. “Our star daughter, come home to visit us mere mortals for the holidays!”

Instantly, your heart sank. You should’ve known the first words out of your mom’s mouth would be a reference to your supposedly successful career.

“Hey!” Sara cried, dropping your bag. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” said your mom, squeezing you tightly. “But we just saw you last week, dear. You and Yoongi came over for dinner.”

“Well… fine, that’s true.”

Your mom laughed, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. Giving you a critical sweep head to foot, she frowned.

“Sara was right. You’re too skinny.”

Jaw dropping, you turned. “When did you have time to text mom?”

“At the stoplight,” Sara said, breezing past.

Your mom stared in alarm. “Well, I certainly didn’t know that. Sara, that was very dangerous. You shouldn’t be texting while driving.”

“There she is!” sang your dad, entering the front hall. “The prodigal daughter returned!”

“Dad,” you groaned, but laughed when he hugged you.

Pulling back, your dad wiped his forehead and realized he still held the spatula. “Right, dinner,” he said, turning around. “Got to stir the sauce every minute or it congeals! Put your bag by the stairs, Lucy and I’ll bring it up later!”

Lucy was your dad’s nickname for you, even though your name wasn’t remotely close to the moniker. When you’d been a child, you’d been an absolute terror, so Lucy was short for Lucifer. Your Grandma Jan nearly had a heart attack when she learned of the name’s origin.

As your dad disappeared into the kitchen, you returned to your mom. “You know I’m going to bring my suitcase up myself, right?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded. “Leave something for him to carry, though. You know your father likes to feel needed. Like he’s the man of the house, or something.”

Despite yourself, you grinned. Your dad was as far from toxic masculinity as a person could be. He sang only falsetto harmony to songs in the car, did all the cooking, and had a self-proclaimed ‘weakness for soft blankets.’

Your mom gave a shrug. “Sometimes,” she added.

Laughing, you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pushed it down. Lifting this up, you left your laptop bag in the hall for your dad to carry. You wouldn’t need it for work, anyways.

With this somewhat depressing thought, you began to lug your things up the stairs. Halfway to the second floor, your mom poked her head over the banister.

“Y/N?” she called.

“Yeah?” you said, struggling to balance your things as you turned.

“There’s toothpaste and shampoo in your bathroom, but you’re sharing a hair dryer with Sara. I put it in her bathroom! Just make sure you knock because, you know…” Your mom lowered her voice. “Yoongi may stay over some nights.”

“Mom,” you said, hiding your smile. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Alright!” She disappeared from view. “So happy you’re home!”

You heard her laugh when she entered the kitchen and for a moment, you stood there and exhaled. Darren had never come home with you for the holidays, so you couldn’t be sure how your parents would have reacted, but you doubted he would’ve gotten the same treatment as Yoongi.

Your parents had always liked Darren, but he’d been considered an outsider. Darren had grown up in the Midwest, while Yoongi hailed from the same town. Yoongi was also more down to earth than Darren ever had been. You couldn’t imagine Darren waking up early to help your dad cook pancakes, but Yoongi did that each time he slept over.

Shaking your head, you continued up the stairs. It didn’t really matter how Darren was different from Yoongi, since Darren wasn’t here, and he wasn’t your boyfriend.

As you continued to climb, the sounds of the first floor began to fade. Pictures were hung carefully on the wall, proof of your past your dad refused to take down. Photos of you with little league trophies, Sara in her cheerleading uniform and a terrible grouping of photos from middle school.

Passing the ones on the landing, you paused to trace over familiar faces. These photos were all from your Senior prom. Only one was the obligatory shot with your date, looking prim, proper and perfectly coiffed. The rest were of you and your friends – mainly, you and Hoseok.

Placing your suitcase on the ground, you stepped closer. Hoseok had the same mop of floppy, brown hair he had throughout most of your childhood. Grin wide, his right arm was slung over your shoulder. In one photo, you two were posed back-to-back, Men in Black style. In another, you did the classic 80’s roommates sitcom pose. The final shot had you dragging your smiles wide, eyes crossed and tongues stuck out at the camera.

When you were in elementary school, Johnny Ludowski had said if someone pushed you from behind with your eyes crossed, they would get stuck that way. Hoseok had been terrified of the idea ever since, but you’d managed to convince him to do it on prom night – only for Seokjin to sneak up and push him from behind.

Screaming bloody murder, Hoseok had then proceeded to chase Seokjin around the yard, brandishing his boutonniere pin as a weapon. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, although this quickly faded. It had been a long time since you and Hoseok were that close.

Despite attending separate colleges, you and Hoseok had remained best friends throughout. You’d seen him each holiday, summer and even during long weekends at home. Except for the drought sophomore year when you began dating Ren What’s-His-Face, of course. Ren hadn’t liked your friendship with Hoseok, which ended up being one of the reasons you eventually broke up.

It was after college when things began to fall apart.

You’d lived on the east coast for a year and a half, staying in New York as a copy assistant for the New York Times. This job left you feeling thoroughly disillusioned by anything to do with the media. Craving creativity and distraction, you began applying for screenwriting jobs on the west coast.

Hoseok had been in grad school at the time, working two jobs and nearly as busy as you were. The little free time you had was spent together; that summer in the city was one of the best of your life, aside from the whole hating-your-job thing.

When you landed a screenwriting job at the start of the next year, the offer took Hoseok fully by surprise. He was on the cusp of graduating to start his PhD for behavioral psychology. You’d thought the timing was perfect – Hoseok would be so busy with school and research, he’d barely have time for you in New York.

Hoseok saw things differently. That was your first big fight – admittedly, you may have waited too long to tell him about the move. It had just been so difficult to figure out timing. You kept putting things off until finally, it was a week before Christmas, and you needed to move in two weeks.

You bit the bullet right before you went home, curled up on your sofa while you watched a movie. During a commercial break, you told him and Hoseok went still, though you saw him trying to hold it together. This was your dream job, and he’d wanted to be supportive.

Well – dream job was a loose term. It had been a crappily paying job writing for a kids television show, but you’d hoped it would lead to bigger things down the road. Hoseok had been remarkably calm until you said when you were leaving. Then he froze, staring at you in shock as you repeated the date.

Even that though wasn’t enough to end your friendship.

You patched up that fight quickly, unable to stay mad at each other for long. Hoseok had even helped you to move, packing up your New York apartment and flying with you across the country. He was the first guest you hosted in your new apartment, although apartment was a loose term for the hovel you lived in.

A four-bedroom apartment with only one bathroom and three other roommates. Hoseok had taken exactly one step inside before he turned around and said, “Absolutely not.”

Grabbing you by the wrist, he’d semi-jokingly tried to drag you to the curb. You’d laughed, managing to convince him that yes, this was your place and no, it wasn’t dirty and yes, you’d look for a new apartment as soon as you could afford to. Hoseok had begrudgingly agreed, making your room look as homey as possible before he had to leave.

That year was one of the hardest for you on record. Living on your own in LA, twenty-four and surrounded by unfamiliar people. Your roommates were nice, but they weren’t your friends, and they had their own problems with crazy jobs to boot. It was rare you saw them outside the house.

When you first met Darren, it had felt like fate. He’d also been lonely, a recent transplant from the Midwest and you’d instantly bonded. This had been March 2019, right after you’d begun writing for The Drop. Your PBS show had ‘released’ you – a fancy term for fired – in July and you’d waffled for a while before The Drop picked you up in November.

The Drop’s success had turned your work life around, but your personal life didn’t pick up until Darren. All throughout this, you were still best friends with Hoseok. Despite being an entire country apart, you continued to text, call and visit when you could.

As luck would have it, Hoseok planned on visiting at the end of the summer, so you were excited for the chance to introduce him to Darren. Darren’s career had begun to take off and he was in the middle of shooting what would be his first Oscar nomination. You found yourself thoroughly smitten and had recently begun saying the l-word to each other.

By the time Hoseok’s visit came, you felt as though you were on top of the world. Finally, your life was going as you’d imagined. Perfect job, perfect boyfriend – everything was beginning to fall into place.

You picked Hoseok up on a Thursday, balmy wind whipping his hair as he exited the terminal. When he saw you, he broke into the biggest smile and you remember feeling your heart twist a little. For the first time, an inharmonious chord sounded and you began to grow nervous about Hoseok meeting Darren.

Even the ride from the airport felt strange, with Hoseok quieter than usual after putting his things in the trunk. He’d rolled down the window when you entered the highway, soaking up the Los Angeles sunshine. As you passed a familiar exit, he’d frowned.

“Hey.” Hoseok had sat up, squinting out the window. “Am I going blind, or did you just pass the exit you usually take?”

Uncertain, your fingers drummed the wheel. “You’re not going blind.”

Hoseok looked at you suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

What was going on was you’d moved in with Darren about a week prior. It was still new and had been impulsive, but one of your roommates had stayed up fighting with her fiancé again and you’d simply snapped. Darren had suggested you move and it had seemed like a reasonable option.

“Okay,” you’d said, grip tightening on the wheel. “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” Hoseok had said, wondering. “I wouldn’t freak out, unless…” Trailing off, he looked at you sharply. “Are you… living with this guy, Y/N?”

“First off, his name is Darren and yes. I’m living with him.”

“Are you serious? You’ve known him for what, five minutes?”

“We’ve been dating for five months, actually –”

“Oh, so much better.”

“Don’t be an ass,” you’d said as you scowled.

Hoseok had rolled his eyes and settled back, but the tension between you lingered. He was quiet when you parked at Darren’s place, warming a little when he first met your boyfriend. Hoseok had always been good at putting on his mask when he needed to.

Later that night, Darren needed to run to the studio, so you and Hoseok had sat on the patio and made homemade margaritas. Begrudgingly, Hoseok agreed Darren’s apartment was nicer than the shithole you’d lived in and given his approval.

It had been tentative, though – you could tell. Deep down, you knew something lingered between you. Resentment, maybe because you hadn’t told him and anger from you, since Hoseok couldn’t just be happy for you and Darren.

The silent truce held until his last night of the trip. That night you went for drinks with Darren and his friends, who were quickly becoming your own. Except for Jimin, who hated Darren because he once saw him litter, and rarely chose to attend the same events.

At some point, you’d gone to the bathroom and when you came back, you found Hoseok with an odd look on his face.

“What’s up?” you’d said, sliding into the booth. Darren had wandered off, grabbing another round of drinks at the bar. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Hoseok had slowly turned to face you.

You’d hesitated, stomach dropping because you knew that expression. Jung Hoseok was usually the nicest, most positive person you knew. When he decided to be serious, it was no laughing matter.

“Y/N…” Hoseok considered his next words carefully. “Are you happy with him?”

“What?”

“With Darren,” he’d clarified. “Do you love him?”

“I… what’s with the third degree all of a sudden?” you’d said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Hoseok had paused. “Look. This is super awkward, but I think Darren was texting someone earlier.”

You had frozen, staring at him with blank eyes. The bar around you seemed to blur into nothing.

“I… Darren?” you’d said finally, shaking your head. “That’s impossible. Who was it?”

“I didn’t get a good look at the name,” Hoseok said. “I just saw him type ‘u up?’ to someone. He angled away when he noticed me looking. I asked him who it was, and he said a friend. Then he left for the bar.”

Mind whirling, you’d glanced at the bar. Darren laughed with his friends, chatting as though nothing were the matter. When he’d seen you, he’d grinned and shot you a wink. Your heart flip-flopped in your chest because his actions just didn’t match with what Hoseok said.

Unwittingly, resentment uncurled in your stomach. At one point, you would’ve overanalyzed Hoseok stepping in to be your white knight. Back in high school, you’d fancied yourself to be in love with your best friend, but that had been a long time ago. When years passed and nothing happened between you, you’d forced yourself to move on.

It was never a sign of anything more when Hoseok didn’t like your boyfriends. He was a protective friend and you could live with that, but not when it got in the way of you making life choices.

Defensive, you’d turned back. “Well, maybe it’s not what you thought it was.”

Hoseok’s eyes had widened. “Come on, Y/N. You have to admit that doesn’t look good.”

“Well, no,” you admitted. “But I’m not about to ambush him in a bar, Hobi. Not over something you may or may not have seen on his phone.”

Annoyance clouded his expression. “Are you seriously going to trust him over me?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Hobi. He deserves for me to at least hear him out. I promise I’ll talk to him later.”

Looking away, Hoseok gave a harsh laugh.

“Talk to him. Sure, that’ll work.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hoseok returned to you, gaze fierce. “I guess I’m just not surprised. You’ve been so distant ever since you started dating Darren – just like you were with Ren. Whenever you date someone, Y/N, you get so caught up in them you forget who you are.”

You had reeled backwards, staring at him in shock. “Are you… serious, Hobi? Have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe I’m not the problem here – maybe you are?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re unreasonably protective!” you’d said. “Every time I date someone, you don’t like them and then you butt in until they break up with me. That’s what happened with Ren, you know. He thought you were in love with me.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “Can I not tell you what I think? I’m supposed to be your best friend! Of course, I want the best for you. And Ren was an ass! If he felt that threatened by you having guy friends, he didn’t deserve you.”

“Sure, but Darren isn’t like that!”

“You’re right,” Hoseok said with a scowl. “He’s worse. I think he’s cheating on you, Y/N.”

Abruptly, you’d stood from the table. “You’ve been weird ever since you got here,” you’d said, fighting back tears.

Hoseok had stood as well. “Yeah, well maybe if you’d told me what I was walking into, I wouldn’t be acting weird. You said Darren was just some guy! Said you barely saw him between all your work on The Drop. How in the hell are you living together?”

Cheeks heating, you’d shrugged aside his words because you didn’t have an answer. Hoseok was right – you’d downplayed your relationship each time you two had spoken and you didn’t know why.

“I think you should go,” you’d said stiffly, folding your arms over your chest. “I’ll talk to Darren, I promise, but I think you should go.”

Hoseok had stared at you a moment, breathing ragged. “Is that… is that really what you want?”

No, it had not been what you wanted. You hadn’t wanted to see Hoseok leave, but you couldn’t fathom a response which didn’t hurt either one of you more.

“Yeah,” you’d said softly.

Hoseok had swallowed. “I… alright, fine.”

Finishing the last of his drink, Hoseok had set his money down and called a cab. You’d mumbled an excuse to Darren later when he asked, saying Hoseok hadn’t been feeling well. By the time you returned home from the bar, Hoseok was asleep. You barely talked the next morning on the drive to the airport.

It wasn’t as though you and Hoseok had never fought before that night. You didn’t make it through nearly two decades of friendship without ups and downs, but this had to be the longest down you’d ever had. One of you usually broke down and called the other, but not this time. This time felt oddly final.

The distance had hurt you at first – really hurt. It felt almost like a break-up, that’s how strange it was to have Hoseok out of your life. Luckily, you’d had Darren to help pick up the pieces. Losing Hoseok had brought you closer to Darren and for a while, you’d thought that was how things were meant to be.

Obviously, you’d begun to rethink things lately.

You never did ask Darren about the text Hoseok saw and now, you realized Hoseok had probably been right. It was painful to imagine Darren cheating on you so early on. The idea of him falling in love with his co-star hurt a lot less than the idea of her being the latest in a long line of flings.

Swallowing hard, you picked up your suitcase and continued down the hall. Entering your old room, you flipped on the light and shut the door. Opening your suitcase, you began to unpack and then released a sigh, flopping down on your bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but smile. Glow-in-the-dark constellations speckled the paint, some of them nonsense and others mirroring the real thing. It’d taken you and Hoseok hours to glue them in place. He’d been obsessed with Greek Mythology at the time – talk about a behavioral psych project – and you’d been terrified of the dark.

Familiar constellations stared back at you. Cassiopeia, Orion, and your personal favorite – the little dipper. You loved the idea of Polaris, the North Star, calling you home. There were less conventional constellations there, too. Directly overhead was the outline of a dick.

It had been a joke at the time, intended to be moved, but Hoseok had used the Krazy Stick glue. Your parents had been furious, grounding you for a month in retribution. Still, the sight never failed to make you grin.

Your smile faded though, realizing how long it’d been since you last laughed with Hoseok. Rolling onto your side, you wondered what tomorrow night would bring. Sara had forwarded the party details to your calendar when you got home and you highly her saying it’d be a small affair.

You liked Yoongi a lot and were incredibly happy to have him in the family. He’d gone to your same high school as you but had been a year older and you hadn’t become friends until college. Yoongi and Hoseok attended the same University and had bonded over their shared hometown.

That was how Yoongi had met Sara. You, Hoseok and Yoongi had hung out one night when Sara decided to show up at the bar. The rest, as they say, was history.

It wasn’t a surprise you’d see Hoseok this weekend. You’d known as soon as you agreed to come home it would likely happen. You had hoped though, with weeks to prepare, you would’ve come up with something better to say.

It had been a year since you’d talked and during that time, Hoseok had been proven right about everything. It would be humiliating to face him, more so than anyone else. Nausea prickled your stomach and you sighed, closing your eyes.

You could do this, you told yourself. A week of polite chit-chat, skirting around important topics and pretending to everyone you had your life together.

Then, you could return to LA and fall apart again.

The next morning you found yourself seated around the breakfast table, wondering if you’d been wrong to dread coming home. Honestly, there was nothing better than your dad’s homemade omelets in the morning.

As soon as you began eating though, your mom asked what jobs were on the table and you instantly realized it had been a trap. You brushed her questions aside with vague remarks about choosing the right next step. Once you were finished, you hightailed it upstairs before your mom could pry any further.

Coincidentally, Jimin had sent over a bunch of job postings that morning. None of them were super interesting, but at least they were something. A Disney Channel show about a hidden princess, a reality TV dating show, and a crime-thriller drama. With a sigh, you pulled your laptop closer and sent your resume and examples.

At this point, you just needed something to make rent at the end of this month. You could figure out your career after that, but until then you had bills to pay. A few seasons of a successful show weren’t enough to guarantee success in this business. You couldn’t afford to have any pride.

Sighing again, you finished sending out emails and closed your laptop. Staring out your room’s window, you watched the street below.

Mrs. Haberdash power-walked on the sidewalk, jabbering a mile a minute to Mrs. Mum on her other side. Both were dressed in the latest Target athletic wear line. Seeing them, the corners of your lips lifted. Hoseok had always called them the tweedles – after Tweedledee and Tweedledum. This had been the height of hilarity for twelve-year olds, made even more hilarious by the fact that Mrs. Haberdash’s first name was Dee.

The Tweedles happened to be two of the most annoying creatures on the planet. Mrs. Haberdash was the neighborhood busybody, but Mrs. Mum was the one you really had to watch out for. She usually chose to garden out in her front yard, trimming the same bush while listening to all her neighbors.

You hadn’t missed them much in LA, but it was comforting to know they were up to the same old tricks. Josen Falls felt like this each time you returned. You didn’t realize how much you missed things until you were here, surrounded by people who’d shaped your early life.

Josen Falls never seemed to change in any of the ways that mattered. It was the land time had forgotten; a town where people bought name brand groceries only if they had a coupon. A place where Lou, the milkman, was more known than any Hollywood actor.

Indeed, your initial decision to leave for LA had always been met with confusion. It was bad enough a lot of your friend group currently lived in New York. They were viewed with vague suspicion, including Yoongi and Sara, whom Mrs. Haberdash called ‘hoity-toity’ behind their backs. This was Josen Falls’ version of the b-word.

Speaking of whom – Sara had greatly misled you when she said all you needed to do was show up tonight.

As it so happened, a lot needed to be done before the party started at 7:00 PM. You spent most of the day running errands, going down Sara’s checklist with painstaking precision Jimin would’ve been proud of.

Jimin was your only real friend in LA. You’d happened upon him purely by chance, working the shit PBS job you’d had for less than a year. Jimin had been the assistant for all writers at PBS, so when you began writing for The Drop, you’d managed to finagle him a job as well. Jimin had been your assistant ever since, taking on additional clients as his fame grew.

Currently, he worked for you pro bono, but this couldn’t continue for much longer. Jimin always waved aside your insistence of paying him back. He said you’d made his career, but you hated having this hanging overhead. Once you started working again, Jimin would be the first check you’d cut. Simply put, he was the best in the business, and he deserved to be paid.

Despite this, Sara’s list of demands would’ve made even him flinch. You needed to get floral centerpieces, the cake from the bakery, procure blue and silver streamers and drop baking supplies off at your grandma’s. This was only the front side.

By the time you returned home around six, Sara was in a tizzy. Everyone needed to leave for the restaurant in forty-five minutes, and you still needed to shower. Hurrying upstairs, you yelled that everything was under control. After the fastest shower of your life, you made good on your promise and rushed out the door at 6:40 PM.

Your mom had left earlier to ensure decorations were perfect, so when you got there, Raffi’s was a veritable winter wonderland. Blue and silver streamers hung from above, paired with elegant flowers and vases on the table.

There wasn’t much time to appreciate this, though, since guests began to arrive soon after you did. Yoongi was the first one through the door, following Sara’s detailed instructions down to the T. When he entered, Sara’s anxiety melted as she rushed to greet him. Yoongi let out a muffled grunt when she hugged him, but from the goofy grin on his face, you knew he was faking.

Yoongi was a man of medium-height, slight build, and an intense demeanor. Luckily, your sister was the type of person who instantly saw through that. When she first met Yoongi, he’d barely said two words to her, and she saw it as a personal challenge. She would get Yoongi to speak to her.

Little did she know, he’d been harboring a fat crush on Sara since she walked through the door. Sara tended to have that effect on people. When Yoongi did speak, it was to blurt out in frustration he fucking liked her. Sara had been the one floored at that point.

Pulling back from the hug, Yoongi removed his coat to hang on the rack. As he entered the main room, he spotted you and walked over. Sara stayed by the door to greet Yoongi’s brother.

“Y/N.” Yoongi grinned, coming to a stop. “Long time, no see.”

“The longest,” you agreed with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

You had missed him – that wasn’t a lie. Part of the downside to staying in LA was missing time with your friends from home. Of course, you still had the friend group chat, but it wasn’t the same.

“You don’t have a drink.” Yoongi observed your bare hands.

“Not yet.”

“Sara will fix that soon.”

As though on cue, your sister popped up beside you. “Here you go, Y/N!” she said, handing over a glass of red wine.

Yoongi winked and you laughed, accepting the glass you were handed. Catching this exchange, your sister pouted.

“Were you talking about me?” she said.

“Yes.” Yoongi squeezed her against his side. “Terrible things, all of them.”

“Good.” Sara raised her drink to her lips. “How boring would it be if people complimented you when you left the room?”

Snorting, you tried not to spit wine back in your glass. The other hardest part of living across the country was being away from your sister. Sara loved taking care of people – already, you saw her scanning the room for who else needed a drink. Even though she was the youngest of the family, she loved to play hostess.

As Yoongi sipped his whiskey, neat, you noticed his eyes continually stray towards your sister. It was sweet. His world truly seemed to revolve around her, and you couldn’t help but hope someone would look at you that way one day.

As another of Sara’s bridesmaids arrived, she squealed and darted across the room. Yoongi sighed and followed, taking his whiskey with. He waved goodbye, not seeming unhappy in the slightest as he followed your sister.

You watched them go, glad Sara could enjoy the party despite the small ache in your heart. As happy as you were for them, you couldn’t help but look at Sara and Yoongi and see yourself. Not long ago, you’d had someone to stand beside you at parties. Darren wasn’t that person to you anymore, though. If you were being totally honest – Darren had never been that person to you. Not in the same way Yoongi was to Sara.

Sighing quietly, you took a large sip of your wine and looked up as the door opened.

A gust of snow blew in, along with a familiar face, and all the blood instantly drained from your expression.

Whirling around, you chugged the rest of your wine as you made for the bar. The taste made you wince – no wine was meant to be chugged – but it couldn’t be helped. There was absolutely no way you’d be in direct line of sight when Jung Hoseok entered the party.

Setting your now-empty glass on the bar, you gave the bartender a weak smile as you ordered another. While he was busy with this, you tapped your fingernails against the counter. Quickly, you glanced over your shoulder.

Hoseok remained in the entrance, not looking in your direction – thank the lord. He was paused in removing his coat, nodding at someone who stood before him. Based on the back of their head, it seemed Hoseok was talking to Mr. Min, Yoongi’s dad.

His jacket was unfamiliar, a plaid pea coat thrown over a white button-down. As he bent, your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hoseok had dyed his hair black, which was something he’d always wanted to do – and was that an undercut? Shit.

When Hoseok laughed, his eyes crinkled, and you felt your heart tighten. As he fully removed his coat, you saw the outfit underneath. He’d paired the crisp, white shirt with navy pants and those dumb Balenciaga sneakers he loved to wear. When you saw them, you nearly groaned but caught yourself just in time.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked up.

Instantly, you turned and saw your wine before you. “Thanks,” you said, sliding a dollar across the bar as a tip.

Grabbing the glass, you immediately moved as far as you could from the entrance. All you needed was a group of people to disappear into. You picked the first one you could find, wedging yourself between two older women who moved aside easily.

As soon as you looked up, you realized you’d chosen wrong.

The Tweedles stared back, along with a few other neighborhood busybodies. Mrs. Haberdash seemed thrilled, while Mrs. Mum looked – well, she looked how she always looked. Barely awake.

Weakly, you smiled. “Hi,” you said with a wave.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Haberdash clapped her hands. “Home for the holidays, I see. What a surprise!”

Although it wasn’t a question, you found yourself nodding as though it was. “Yes,” you agreed, taking a sip of your wine. “Had to be home for all the celebrations.”

“Oh, of course, of course. But how awkward,” she said, lowering her voice a pitch. “Why, we all saw the tabloids. Your mother told us not to say anything, but you’ve been through such an ordeal. That actor boyfriend of yours… what’s his name again? Derek?”

“Darren,” you said with a tight smile. “We broke up over the summer. I don’t see how that’s related to Sara and Yoongi, though.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Mrs. Haberdash assured. “It’s just so brave of you to show up here, all alone and –”

“She’s not alone,” said a familiar voice, stepping into the circle. “She has me.”

Kim Seokjin slung an arm around your neck, pulling you close in a semi-chokehold. It was less a romantic gesture than a modified wrestling move, but that was Seokjin. One of your closest friends growing up, he now lived in Seattle, so you were pleasantly surprised to find him home for the holidays.

“Oh!” Mrs. Haberdash looked between you. “I apologize. I didn’t know the two of you were, um, well…”

“Lovers?” Seokjin supplied helpfully.

Mrs. Haberdash nearly spit out her drink.

Turning around, you plucked a mini quiche from a passing tray. “Here, sweetums,” you said, lifting this to Seokjin’s lips. “Open wide!”

Before he could oblige, Mrs. Mum cleared her throat. “I’m out of wine,” she said, much to your relief. “Dee, why don’t we…?”

“Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Haberdash. Shaking her head, she seemed to compose herself. She’d been staring, a bit dazed, at Seokjin’s open mouth. “Well, it was lovely to see you, Y/N…”

Trailing off, she practically ran from your presence, the rest of her group following within seconds. Once they’d all disappeared, Seokjin snorted.

“Damn,” he said, looking at you. “I really thought you were going to feed me that mini quiche. You know what food play does to me, Y/N.”

“Gross,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. Stepping out of his chokehold, you gave Seokjin a hug. “It’s good to see you, despite your weird kinks.”

“Same.” Seokjin pulled back to give you the swift onceover. “Yoongi was right. You’ve lost weight.”

“Will everyone stop discussing my appearance?” you wondered out loud. “Guess what – my weight? Off-limits!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Seokjin laughed. “I mean, you look hot whatever weight you are. Yoongi had to issue a group ban to his cousins, telling them the maid of honor was off limits.”

“Really?” you said, glancing around you with interest. “Why’d he do that? Maybe I want a rebound.”

“Take that up with Yoongi,” he said. “But seriously, Y/N, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile since you came home.”

Exhaling softly, you glanced down at your glass. “Don’t make me give you the same excuses as Mrs. Haberdash,” you said quietly. “I’ve been busy. Out in LA, getting my heart stomped on, you know. The usual.”

Seokjin was silent a moment and when you looked up, his gaze was shrewder than he had any right to be.

“You’re right,” he said at last, plucking the empty drink from your hand. “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s talk about what alcohol we want to drink next. I think I saw Namjoon at the bar.”

“Joonie?” you said, perking up as you followed.

Seokjin was right – as you approached the bar, you saw another childhood friend, Kim Namjoon, leaning against the counter. As a rising civil rights lawyer in New York, he was now considered to be something of a Big Deal, but this didn’t stop Seokjin from trying to give him a wedgie.

Namjoon dodged. “Thanks,” he said, only to spot you behind Seokjin. His eyes widened. “Y/N!” Namjoon said, nearly spilling his drink to wrap you in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming home tonight!”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning as you pulled away. “Just got in last night.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Namjoon beamed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Seokjin leaned on the counter. “An appletini for me and for the lady, a glass of your cheapest red wine.”

The bartender stared, baffled and you came to his rescue.

“Chianti,” you said, then returned to Namjoon. “Ah, seriously. I’m so glad we’re all together again.”

“Same,” he said, looking you up and down. “Wow, you look –”

“I swear to god. If you say one thing about my weight.”

“… cheerful,” finished Namjoon weakly. “Must be the holidays.”

Seokjin snorted, turning with a green martini in hand. You accepted the glass of red wine he handed you and glanced around. Despite your earlier threats, it was good to see them. Like most things about Josen Falls, you never realized how much you missed them until you were here.

Scanning the room, you realized the restaurant had started to fill. You spotted Sara and Yoongi walking in, stopping to chat with Lana, who owned the local coffee shop. Just behind them stood your mom and to her right – your stomach swooped.

To her right was Hoseok.

He was chatting with one of your aunts, making her laugh in a way she rarely did. Dimly, you hoped they weren’t talking about you.

Forcing your gaze to Seokjin and Namjoon, you took a sip of your wine. “Wow,” you exhaled. “So, how long has it been?”

“Let’s see.” Seokjin swirled his appletini. “I think the last time we were together was for Namjoon’s sister’s wedding. So, what was that – last spring? Damn, that feels like forever ago.”

“It’s been nearly eight months,” Namjoon agreed. “Seems longer. Especially since Y/N was only there for part of the weekend. She left early to be with – uh, to go do something. I don’t… remember what, exactly.”

Shutting up, Namjoon’s cheeks turned pink and you tried not to laugh. He’d been about to say you left to be with Darren on the set of his movie. This, of course, had been before you knew Darren was cheating on you.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “Don’t feel like you need to tip-toe around it. It’s just the Mrs. Haberdashes of the world I’d rather avoid.”

“Tweedledee?” Namjoon made a face. “Is that who Seokjin rescued you from?”

“The one and only.”

“She was asking Y/N about that douchebag,” said Seokjin. “Acting like Y/N needed to be pitied when really, this is a good thing! Y/N is free from all that hair gel and we have our Y/N back.”

Blinking, you stared at him for a second. You hadn’t realized how your friends felt about Darren. Sara had alluded to something similar when she was drunk, but you hadn’t realized the true extent. Possibly Hoseok had been right – you did tend to get blinders when you began dating someone.

Glancing around, you began to panic when you realized Hoseok had moved. Covertly scanning the premises of the bar, you failed to spot him anywhere else.

Leaning casually backwards, you glanced at the hall – no Hoseok. This put you on edge, the same way being in the room with a dangerous animal might make one nervous if they couldn’t see it.

“Crick in your neck, Y/N?” Seokjin said pleasantly. “Namjoon went to school for a long time. He probably knows how to fix that.”

“I went to law school, Seokjin, not med school.”

“Are the two different?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced before Namjoon’s eyes could bug out any further. Placing your glass on the counter, you turned and patted his arm. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

Both of them nodded, Seokjin taking a long sip of his drink before frowning. As you left, you heard him say, “But seriously, Namjoon. What do you do for a living?”

Namjoon sounded vaguely insulted in his response, so you slipped to the hall. Continuing to scan the restaurant, you found yourself distracted by the sheer amount of people around you. Hoseok was nowhere to be seen, which only served to increase your nervousness.

You were so busy looking for him, you failed to notice where you were going. As you turned the corner, you tripped on a rug and stumbled – straight into Hoseok, who exited the next room.

Both of you reeled, trying and failing to right yourselves.

“Shit!” you blurted, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt not to fall.

Hoseok’s right hand encircled your waist as you fell against him. His back hit the wall, your chest flush to his while you stared at him, wide-eyed.

Meeting your gaze, Hoseok froze underneath you. His hand remained on your waist; your body curved against his in a way which felt strangely intimate. Heat radiated between you for a moment, and then you came to your senses, remembering who you were and what you were doing.

“I – I’m sorry,” you said, scrambling backwards. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Me neither,” said Hoseok, sounding hoarse.

Hearing his voice, you forgot what to say. You thought you’d been prepared to see him again, but now you realized how woefully wrong you’d been. Nothing could prepare you for standing before him, with Hoseok holding himself like that – as though you were a stranger.

Swallowing away your discomfort, you met his gaze. You could do this, you told yourself. You could smile, thank him for coming and then move past.

“You look good,” you blurted out.

Or – you could do that. Inwardly, you cursed.

Hoseok blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, you began to feel foolish. Wishing the earth would swallow you whole, you glanced past Hoseok and stared at the door.

You hadn’t been lying, though – Hoseok did look good. Had you been through a breakup, you would’ve said he was the winner. You two hadn’t been dating, though. You’d only been best friends; he’d only been the most important guy in your life before your friendship had ended.

The pain of this burned, stinging the back of your throat.

Hoseok slowly exhaled. “So. Yoongi said you’re Sara’s maid of honor?”

Surprised, you glanced back. You’d nearly forgotten. “Yeah,” you said. “You’re going to be Yoongi’s best man, right?’

“Yep.”

“… Cool.”

Silence fell between again and, somewhat miserable, you looked away. Hoseok clearly had nothing to say and you couldn’t think of anything better to say than cool. He seemed so unmoved, so unruffled by your presence and you could barely hold it together.

You couldn’t help wondering what Hoseok had heard about you. You wondered if he knew you’d broken up with Darren, if he knew The Drop was ending after this season. You wondered if he knew you thought about him way too much to be considered normal.

While you were wallowing in self-pity, Hoseok cleared his throat. This time when you looked, he seemed vaguely uncomfortable.

“Look,” Hoseok exhaled, but you never found out what he was going to say, since Jungkook came barreling around the corner.

“Y/N!” he yelled, rushing forward.

You let out an oof, laughing as he hugged you. Jungkook was one of your sister’s best friends from high school and had since become one of yours by default.

Pulling back, Jungkook glanced between you and Hoseok. “Oh, hey Hobi,” he said, as though nothing was wrong. “Yoongi was looking for you a minute ago. Said something about cufflinks in your car?”

“Oh, shit.” Hoseok winced. “Which room is he in?”

Jungkook pointed and Hoseok, after a glance in your direction, nodded and left. He didn’t say goodbye before he disappeared and you stood there for a moment, staring at his back.

Deep down, you’d known this was how things would go. Nothing had changed since you stopped being friends except, you’d broken up with Darren. While that may have started the fight between you and Hoseok, it had been over a year since. Lots of hurt and confusion had come between you. It was foolish to imagine something might have changed.

“Want another drink?” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts. “Namjoon and Seokjin are inside at the bar.”

Nodding gratefully, you followed Jungkook into the restaurant, realizing belatedly you hadn’t gone to the bathroom. Not that you’d needed to go. That had only been an excuse to escape Hoseok, which had majorly backfired.

As you rejoined the group at the bar, you ordered another drink and tried to forget. It was strange to be in the same room as Hoseok and not stand beside him. Some basic, molecular part of yourself refused to accept the fact you were no longer friends. This part of yourself longed to cross the room and tell Hoseok about your run in with the Tweedles, but you couldn’t.

Still, you forced yourself to keep smiling. This was Sara and Yoongi’s night, after all. Pushing Hoseok from mind, you drank and attempted to forget the mortification you felt each time you caught sight of him in your peripheral.

It was in this way the night passed. By the end, you were relieved to make it through without major incident. Your friends were the last to go, Seokjin shrugging on a bomber jacket you deemed completely inappropriate for the temperature outside. He kissed you on the cheek, loudly calling you his lover again for Mrs. Haberdash’s sake (who had left an hour prior) until Namjoon physically pulled him out the door.

You helped your mom clean until she shooed you away and told you to leave. Your dad, who’d been labeled designated driver, grandly bowed before leaving to heat up the car.

It was your job to wrangle Sara, who had her arms wrapped around Yoongi’s neck and was refusing to go. Yoongi, whose cheeks were pink with alcohol, didn’t seem to mind, but he flushed a darker shade once he realized your dad was waiting.

“C’mon babe,” he said, handing Sara over to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Promise.”

Sara sighed, but allowed herself to be extricated and led out the door. Hoseok had left around the same time as Seokjin and Namjoon, so he wasn’t there when you entered the parking lot. It had begun to snow again, so you walked as fast as you could towards your dad’s car.

Placing Sara in the backseat, you entered the passenger side and turned on the radio. It was tuned to the Christmas station, which made you think about holidays when you were children. The night felt largely the same, with Sara singing in the backseat while your dad harmonized in falsetto.

You laughed and joined in but couldn’t seem to shake the heavy weight from your chest. If this were really like your childhood, Hoseok would have texted at least twice by now.

As it was, your phone remained empty the rest of the way home and you fell asleep that night wondering what he’d been about to say.

The next day passed uneventfully, with Fridays being low-key around the house. Both your parents were working, only taking off the next week for Christmas, so you and Sara lounged until your dad’s conference calls became too distracting.

Heading up to your room, you opened your laptop and sat at your desk. Staring at the screenplay pulled up on the page, you sighed. One for the Money was your pet project, something you’d worked on the past few years whenever you had spare time. It had been on hold for a while due to The Drop, but you’d had more time to work on it lately.

The spec script was finished, but each time you sent it out, you received negative responses. It would’ve been helpful had the studios given you critique, but nothing so far surmounted to anything more than a corporate template.

You had re-read the script many times, hoping to spot whatever it was everyone hated. Unfortunately, you seemed to be having about as much luck with this in your bedroom as you had in LA – aka, no luck.

Maybe this had something to do with your surroundings. Each time you glanced up you spotted another reminder of Hoseok. Beneath your desk was a stain from the night you’d dared Hoseok to fit as many marshmallows in his mouth as he could. He’d gotten to fifteen before he nearly choked and spat the glob on the carpet. As it turned out, marshmallow goo was surprisingly hard to clean.

That had been the only time your mom had gotten mad at Hoseok. Normally, he walked on water at your household, but your mom had gone so far as to gently admonish him that day. Hoseok had been extremely apologetic, scrubbing on both hands and knees, but the stain refused to come out.

Glancing away, you tried to think of something else, but your gaze found your bed and you were gone once again. You recalled the night your Grandma died; you’d refused to answer Hoseok’s texts. He’d been so worried he’d climbed up the trellis beneath your window and knocked until you let him in.

Hoseok had stayed the entire night, holding you and letting you cry into his grey hoodie.

Shutting your laptop, you let out a sigh. This room was too distracting – every other room in the house would be distracting, as well. Shoving your things in your bag, you slung this over your shoulder and stood from your desk. What you needed was a fresh change of pace.

Hurrying downstairs, you paused at the landing to yell you needed the car. Your dad yelled back, “Sure, Lucy!” and you grabbed the keys from the hook. Throwing on a coat, you got in his sedan and – shivering violently – drove the several blocks over to your favorite coffee shop.

As you entered Lana’s Corner, holiday bells jingled overhead. The woman behind the counter looked up, breaking into a smile when she saw it was you.

“Y/N!” Lana gushed, rushing forward. Wrapping you in a warm hug, she squeezed and took a step back. “You’re home! I heard you went to LA and made something of yourself. Way to go!”

Shaking your head, you attempted a smile. “Well, tried to, anyways.”

“No, no – none of that,” she said, shaking her finger as she returned behind the counter. “You’ve done wonderful things and there’s more to come. I can feel it. The usual?” she asked, stopping at the register. “Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows?”

You paused, since this had been your favorite drink in high school, but you rarely drank hot chocolate these days. As much as you hated to say LA had rubbed off on you, it was a lot of sugar for mid-afternoon.

Deciding, fuck it, you shrugged. “Sure,” you said, heading to your old table by the windows. “Thanks, Lana!”

Shrugging from your coat, you draped this over your chair and sat down. Lana was odd in that she insisted people eat and drink before paying a dime. Said she didn’t want to charge people if they didn’t enjoy her food – you’d fought this for a while but had eventually given up. Lana was even more stubborn than you.

Pulling out your laptop, you opened your email and saw Jimin had sent more jobs. Releasing a sigh, you opened the first one.

Lana brought your hot chocolate within minutes, placing it beside your laptop to cool. You continued to work while you sipped the confection. There was something about your screenplay you clearly weren’t seeing, but you had no idea how to take a step back and be more objective.

Midway through editing, you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Digging around in your bag, you pulled it out to answer.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello!” a bright voice chirped. “Y/N?”

“Yes, this is she. With whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, you’re too much!” the other person said with a laugh. “No need to be so formal, darling. This is Daisy from MTV. You applied to our screenwriter position yesterday?”

Frantically, you racked your brain for which TV show this was.

“Uh, right,” you said, scrolling through your inbox. “Thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly!”

“Of course, of course. I have to say, we were surprised to see your resume! Someone who used to write for The Drop isn’t exactly our usual suspect.”

“Oh, well… I have a varied interest across all forms of media.”

“Mm, is that so?”

There was rustling on the other end, as though Daisy were sifting through papers. Biting down on your lip, you scanned more of Jimin’s emails while she paused.

“I assume your assistant told you about Roulette?”

Immediately, you stopped looking and felt your heart sink.

Roulette was a terrible reality dating show Jimin had sent your way. Its premise was the following – someone went on three dates and was asked to choose one person at the end. The catch was one date was someone they’d passed over on a dating app, one was someone who’d passed over them on a dating app and the third was the ex of someone in their real life.

You hated the premise for multiple reasons, but mostly because you couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t recognize any of these people. Especially the supposed ex of someone they knew.

Teeth gritted, you said, “Right, of course. Jimin told me about the concept and I found it so interesting. Lots of room for conflict.”

“Bingo!” Daisy laughed. “Conflict is reality TV’s bread and butter. I like to think of it as the new recipe for storytelling. Rather than the classic rising action, climax and falling action – it’s all rise. You know Shakespeare was considered uncultured in his time, right? He wrote plays which appealed to the masses and now, our kids study him in lit class. Maybe one day people will study the Kardashians.”

Lips parted, you struggled to keep up with her dizzying rhetoric. Honestly, someone probably should study the Kardashians if they hadn’t already. Say what you wanted about their culturally appropriating asses; they knew how to make money.

“That would be… something,” you said, realizing she wanted an answer. “Anyways, what questions did you have for me?”

“Oh, nothing so formal as that.” Daisy laughed. “Why don’t you just pitch me a few ideas for the show? Where would you suggest for a first date?”

Networks sometimes did this, asking writers during the interview if they had ideas. Normally though, you at least were given a heads-up this was coming. Staring into your hot chocolate, you scrambled for concepts.

“Um, let’s see,” you said, stalling for time. “They could go to an arcade?”

“Hm.” Daisy tsk-ed. “That kind of thing has been done to death. Anything else?”

“Sure, uh… there are bars where you can go axe-throwing. It’s supposed to be oddly therapeutic.”

“Interesting, interesting… any other ideas? Something a bit more… original?”

Vaguely annoyed by her tone, you straightened in your seat.

“Okay, well,” you said. “If it’s a dating show, there’s no time for pining. I say you throw them into situations where emotions are heightened. Make them fall for each other faster. Maybe something with a shark cage, or skydiving, or cliff-jumping.”

“Adrenaline is always good!”

“Yeah,” you said, relaxing a little. “My ex-boyfriend and I repelled down a waterfall on vacation and it was terrifying, but super romantic after. You feel closer to someone after escaping a near-death experience.”

“Love that!” Daisy sounded interested for the very first time. “Was this with your ex-boyfriend, Darren Carmichael?”

Blinking, you weren’t sure how she knew that about you. It seemed the screenwriting world was smaller than you’d thought.

“I – uh, no,” you said, lying through your teeth. “Someone else.”

“Oh.” Her voice fell flat. “Well, these are all great suggestions, Y/N. I like your style. What do you say we end things here, and someone will call you in a few days with the offer?”

“I – so soon?” you said, eyebrows shooting up.

“We like to work fast around here. I hire based on gut feeling.”

Wincing a little, you stopped yourself from telling her this was a poor hiring practice. Research had shown hiring from ‘gut feeling’ led to discriminatory practices, since it almost always led to hiring people who looked and thought like you did.

“That’s… great,” you said, however weakly.

“So, we start shooting the second week of January. We’ll need you onsite the first week though, make sure everything is lined up and ready to go.”

“Oh. That’s so soon!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Ah – no, not at all,” you hastened, trying to remember when your plane flight back to LA was. “Just excited to get started.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Alright, tell your assistant to keep an eye on his email and we’ll be in touch. Any questions for me before I go?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “None here. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Listen to you.” Daisy chuckled. “So cute. Talk to you soon, darling! Happy holidays, and all that.”

She hung up, leaving only a dial tone as you stared at the wall. Slowly lowering your phone, you let out a sigh.

You didn’t want this job. The show sounded terrible, but there was nothing you could do. You needed to work to pay rent and put food on the table. You could afford to be picky once you’d managed to save a bit more.

Rubbing your temples, you brought your now-empty cup of hot chocolate over to the counter. Setting this down in the bin, you glanced around the café. Lana sometimes disappeared to make the baked goods herself.

Craning your neck, you glanced towards the back room as the door behind you opened.

“Y/N?”

You whirled, elbow hitting the cup and nearly knocking it from the counter. Catching this just in time, you exhaled in relief and looked up to see Hoseok.

He hovered just inside the door, unwrapping his scarf. Snowflakes were scattered across both hair and coat, quickly melting in the warmth of the room.

“Careful with that.” Hoseok glanced at your cup. “You’ll take someone’s eye out.”

Against all better judgement, you grinned. “A Christmas Story?” you said, naming the movie he misquoted. “Really?”

Hoseok simply smiled. A Christmas Story was his dad’s favorite holiday movie – as a result, Hoseok knew every line and could quote it by heart, even though he hated the movie. Forced osmosis, he liked to say.

“What can I say?” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Tis the season. Hey, Lana!”

“Hoseok!” Lana bustled out of the back room. “It’s been too long since I last saw you. I hear you’ve been up to impressive things yourself.”

Hoseok looked vaguely embarrassed.

“Nah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Just the usual, you know.”

“Your mom says you’re working on your dissertation? And that there’s talk of you working at the University once you’re done?”

Surprised, you glanced at Hoseok. You hadn’t heard that, but then again, you wouldn’t have. Of course, Hoseok wouldn’t have told you he was after his dream job.

Indeed, his cheeks were faintly pink while facing Lana. “Ah, yeah.” Hoseok gave a little laugh. “We’ll see what happens. I still have a little while before I get my doctorate.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” Lana said. “You and Y/N, the unstoppable couple.”

Instantly, your cheeks began to heat. “Oh, we weren’t –”

“Not a couple, we –”

Both of you stopped and looked at each other.

Eyebrows raised, Lana began to back away. “I left some dishes soaking in the other room – just came out because I heard the door chime. Y/N, I’ll ring you up when I’m back!”

She disappeared, leaving you and Hoseok alone. Resting your hip on the counter, you glanced again at Hoseok. He seemed a bit flustered, but didn’t say anything more, looking instead at the specials overhead.

Releasing a sigh, you turned around to wait.

Hoseok cleared his throat behind you. “So, listen,” he said, surprising you into looking. “I wanted to talk to you last night about something.”

“What about?” you said, turning fully to face him.

Hoseok pushed a hand through his hair. Cut black strands fell about his face, making you stare. Quickly, you snapped yourself out of this.

“I can’t believe you got an undercut,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok froze. “Huh?”

“Your hair,” you said, gesturing loosely. Great – another awkward remark about Hoseok’s appearance. “You always said you wanted to do that. I guess I’m just surprised you did it.”

Hoseok paused, then gave you an odd look. “Yeah, well. There’s been a lot of things I wanted to do but didn’t. Figured an undercut shouldn’t be one of them.”

Feeling oddly thrown by this statement, you nodded and turned back around. Leaning over the counter, you searched for Lana and saw no one. With a sigh, you drew back and pondered whether to just place money on the counter and leave.

Lana calling you a couple hadn’t been a coincidence. Ever since you were little, most people in town had assumed you were dating – at first, it had been funny, but now it was something of a sore spot for you. Especially because you’d liked Hoseok back in high school and nothing had happened.

“Right,” you said tightly. “Okay.”

Hoseok hesitated.  “Anyways, I wanted to apologize about last night. I know I was abrupt in the hall. I just… Yoongi hadn’t warned me you’d be there. I thought you were still in LA.”

“Ah.”

“Not that that’s an excuse,” he continued. “I was rude to you, and that’s not okay.”

“No, Hobi, I – I mean, Hoseok,” you corrected, cheeks heating when you said his nickname. “It’s understandable. It’s been… a long time since we’ve talked.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The silence between you few and this time, you were the one who looked away first. If Lana didn’t return soon, you were going to leave a ten on the counter and call it a day.

“That’s not all I wanted to say,” Hoseok said, surprising you.

Brows raised, you turned back. “It wasn’t?”

He slowly shook his head.

Some people might have been unnerved by this version of Hoseok. Usually, Hoseok was the loudest person in the room. Always laughing, smiling, or telling someone a joke. He was the life of the party, but this side of him existed, too. The quieter, more serious version of Hoseok. The version who laid on your bed and made-up random stories about the time Orion fought your giant dick constellation.

Lips twitching, you smothered this thought. Hoseok wasn’t your friend anymore and you weren’t reminiscing together.

“Look.” He paused. “This is awkward.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Hoseok gave you a look.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, trying hard not to smile. “Please continue.”

He rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so normal, you felt the slightest of tension drain from the air.

“Anyways,” he said. “I know we’re not friends anymore, but we’re going to be in this wedding together. You’re Sara’s maid of honor and I’m Yoongi’s best man. We’re probably going to cross paths at some point.”

“Maybe literally, if we’re forced to walk down the aisle together.”

Hoseok’s lips twitched. “This is serious, Y/N.”

“I know,” you said, smile disappearing. “You’re right, this is weird. But you’re also right – this isn’t about us. This is about Sara and Yoongi.”

“Exactly.” Hoseok nodded. “Which is why I think we should try and get along. You know, for the sake of the wedding.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you said. “Bloodshed never looks good in wedding photos.”

“It’d clash horribly with their color scheme.”

A snort escaped you. “No one wants that.”

“Okay, cool.” Hoseok paused. “So, it’s settled? We call a truce for the wedding.”

“For the wedding,” you agreed. “And then… after?”

“What about after?”

Hoseok seemed genuinely baffled, which made you want to sink through the floor. It was just having him here, bantering with him like you used to – you couldn’t help wondering why you were fighting. It didn’t make sense for Hoseok to ignore you like this.

It wasn’t as though you were still mad at him about last year. You weren’t holding a grudge about the way Hoseok had cut you out of his life, treating you as though two decades of friendship could be easily tossed aside.

Okay, maybe you were a little mad.

“I… don’t know,” you said at last. “Never mind.”

“Alright.” Hoseok hesitated. “Well … that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay.”

By this time, all the snow had melted in his hair. It made the strands look a bit damp, mussed by his scarf and you fought the sudden urge to smooth them down. His appearance annoyed you. Hoseok never took proper care of himself, yet he continually butted into your life and tried to fix all your problems.

Not wanting to stay any longer, you reached into your purse and pulled out a ten. Placing this on the counter, you turned away.

“Well. See you around,” you told Hoseok.

“I heard The Drop got cancelled.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back to see him. “What did you say?”

Hoseok had the nerve to look sympathetic, which you found to be maddening.

“I heard the show was cancelled,” he said, sliding his hands in his pockets. “It’s a shame, really. I liked it. Second season was even stronger than the first.”

Blinking, you found yourself taken aback. Hoseok had been your friend when the first season aired – he’d had nothing but good words to say about it at the time, but you didn’t know he’d watched the second. Obviously, the two of you had never discussed it.

“You did?” you said, tentative.

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. I… could tell which parts you wrote, you know? It was cool. You always had the best lines.”

Warmth blossomed within you, even as you did your best to stamp it out. Of course, Hoseok could say a few words and thaw all your ice. He knew exactly which compliments meant the most to you and knew how to wield them. The direction with The Drop had always bothered you – some of the twists had felt stale – but Hoseok knew which lines you’d written. He’d liked the lines you wrote.

“Thanks,” you said, a tingle spreading down your spine.

Hoseok smiled. “So, what are you doing now?”

Equally fast, the warmth within you fizzled. Glancing at the board, you scrambled for something to tell him which wasn’t Roulette. Hoseok would hate the idea of you doing a reality TV show – he knew you; he knew your ambitions and he’d know this to be a step backwards.

“Well, I…”

“It’s also cool if you don’t have something lined up,” Hoseok said, far more astute than he had any right to be. “Life doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I know.”

“Of course.” His smile disappeared. “Well, I hope you like whatever you do next, then.”

You highly doubted this but forced yourself to smile. It didn’t make sense to burden Hoseok with your problems – it wasn’t as though you were friends anymore.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “I hope you get that teaching job.”

“Thanks.”

Hoseok didn’t expand further and you shifted your weight, sensing you had nothing more to say. You’d exchanged pleasantries, set the stage for wedding interactions and somehow managed not to tear each other's heads off. That was a start, at least.

“Well,” you said, turning around again. It seemed Lana wasn’t coming back out. “I have to get going, but I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Same.” Hoseok nodded. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before leaving.

Returning to your table, you began packing your things. Sliding your laptop into your bag, you buttoned your coat and grabbed your gloves. Too much had happened in the past hour for you to even consider continuing your screenplay.

Faltering in your movement, you wondered why you hadn’t mentioned that to Hoseok. He’d always used to read your scripts before you went to LA. Even when you worked for PBS, Hoseok was your first sounding board before you hired an editor. Tentatively, you wondered if he’d do that again for you.

There had been many nights in New York when he’d lounge on your couch, listening to you make up stories over copious glasses of wine. Silly stories, where Hoseok was a superhero with the ability to turn water into wine – and only that. Thinking about ways for lame, wine-drinking superhero Hoseok to save the day had been one of your favorite pastimes – one of his, too.

Shaking your head, you put on your hat. It would be weird to ask him to read. The two of you hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Things would need to be warmer to ask him for a favor and in order for that to happen, you’d need to talk to Hoseok about what had happened.

As you left the shop, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Hoseok scrolling through his phone at the counter. He didn’t seem affected by your conversation, and you wondered if you were the only sentimental one between you.

Sighing lightly, you pulled your bag higher and walked out the door. You didn’t look back, so you didn’t see Hoseok glance up when you left, his gaze lingering.

Outside, you tugged your hat lower as you walked to your car. It had begun snowing while you were inside, forcing you to scrape newly formed ice on your windshield. As you entered the driver’s side, the car came to life and you remembered Hoseok’s comment about bloodshed not matching the wedding colors.

Stifling a snort, you backed out of your spot. It was hard not to slip into the same repertoire you once had. Just being around him made you feel more like yourself, made you remember times when you knew who you were and what you wanted from life. Lately, you’d been feeling so lost.

You could do this, though. You could navigate the holiday season intact and return to LA where you could work on pulling yourself together. You didn’t need to see Hoseok much more before leaving.

There was the neighborhood holiday party, and a few more outings related to Sara’s wedding. Heart sinking, you realized you were forgetting the most important event. Tomorrow was the holiday cookie baking championship – quite possibly the most anticipated event of the season.

Kim Namjoon and his family hosted every year, and things usually got competitive. You would obviously see Hoseok then, since he’d been one of the inaugural participants. This realization made your heart instantly sink.

The neighborhood holiday party was one thing – that party was for grown-ups, kids, and everyone in between. The holiday cookie baking championship was for you and your friend group. Attending with Hoseok would feel like old times, which could only serve to worsen the hurt.

With a sigh, you pulled out of the lot. It wouldn’t do to worry about that now. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Still, you stopped at a grocery store on the way home to pick up some goods. Like hell were you going to be shown up by Hoseok on your own turf.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Seokjin paused, frosting-covered spatula held before him like a microphone. “Friends and family, children of all ages – except that’s a lie. No children should be participating in today’s adults-only activities. They should all be in the basement watching Elf with Namjoon’s grandma. Anyways, NOW!” he said, lifting the spoon overhead. “Now, is the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

“Is the moment the one where you stop talking?” said Taehyung, lounged by the fireplace.

Jungkook snorted. “Burn.”

“Wrong.” Seokjin leveled the spoon at them both. “Just for that, Taehyung, you only get the brown sprinkles from Halloween. Namjoon!” he cried. “Take note.”

Namjoon looked up, alarmed. “Take note of what?”

“Henceforth, Taehyung only gets the poop-colored sprinkles.”

Jungkook leaned over to Taehyung. “I’ll give you some of mine, bro.”

“Tight,” he said.

They fist-bumped.

Seokjin looked at the ceiling. “Anyways, where was I?”

“You were telling us the moment we’re waiting for,” said Hoseok, hip leaned against the counter. “We’re all waiting with bated breath.”

Namjoon snorted and you laughed, as Seokjin glowered in frustration.

“I expect this from the rest of these hooligans,” he said, shooting you a disappointed look. “But not you, Y/N.”

Weakly, you shrugged.

The annual holiday cookie competition was a longstanding tradition, hosted by the Kim house each year the weekend before Christmas. It had begun when your high school hosted a holiday bake sale and required each student to bring one kind of cookie to sell.

You’d all gathered at Namjoon’s to bake and somehow, this had turned into an annual tradition. Seokjin – who was competitive about the most mundane things – assigned ratings the second year, which led to Hoseok declaring revenge in year three. For two months, he’d practiced making madeleines, but Seokjin stubbornly declared him only second place.

Ever since then, the cookie making had become an out-and-out war. More people joined as word of the event spread. Jungkook and Taehyung became contestants during college, along with Sara. This added unforeseen stress to the proceedings, since neither one of them could bake. Taehyung set his cookies on fire his second year, leading to a famed three-year ban he constantly sought to erase.

Yoongi was the last person from your group to join, but this was just as well, since Yoongi was an actual chef. It was usually down to him and Seokjin to win the grand prize. You’d been the one absent most recently, choosing to stay in LA over the holidays the last year.

Despite this, it was nice to gather in Namjoon’s home again. His mom greeted you with the warmest of hugs, making you feel guilty you hadn’t been around sooner. For two years, you’d been so concentrated on work and your life in LA, you’d barely thought about what you were missing.

Last year when you hadn’t come home for Christmas, you’d made sure to visit at a different point in January. It meant you missed all the holiday traditions though, which were usually when you saw everyone else.

Seeing all your friends in one place sent a surge of warmth through you.

“The moment,” said Seokjin, pausing for emphasis.

“Will you just get on with it?” Yoongi groaned, seated beside Sara at the kitchen table.

“The annual holiday cookie baking championship has begun!” Seokjin cried. “Namjoon, ring the gong.”

Again, Namjoon looked baffled. “What gong?”

A tinny gong noise rang through the room, courtesy of Jungkook holding up his phone.

“Begin!” Seokjin said, brandishing his spoon like a sword.

Everyone began moving, standing from their chairs to fall into line. Namjoon and his mom had carefully pre-packaged cookie-making kits the night prior, although many contestants chose to bring their own tools.

You’d only bought decorative touches, so you joined the line, ending up at the back behind Namjoon’s sister. Pulling out your phone, you checked your email and frowned. Daisy had said she’d send over an offer, but nothing had come through. There still was time, but you’d imagined her to be one of those people who worked at lightning speed.

“Bored already?” said Hoseok, interrupting.

Startled, you glanced up. “What – no!” you said, returning your phone to your pocket. “Just checking my email. Nothing important.”

Hoseok arched a brow, clearly not believing you, but wisely choosing to remain silent as you moved up in line. Seokjin pressed play on his holiday music playlist, filling the kitchen with Mariah Carey’s holiday vocal runs.

“Got anything special planned this year?” Hoseok said, spotting your empty hands.

“Not really,” you said with a frown. “I stopped at the grocery store to get some decorations, but nothing as show-stopping as years past, I’m afraid.”

Hoseok made a tsk-ing noise with his teeth. “Hope you’re ready to lose, then.”

“Hey!” Despite yourself, you laughed. “I’ll have you know my cookies are based on substance, not flash.”

Hoseok shook his head sadly. “Flash is literally a category, though. Remember? Seokjin added it five years ago.”

“Oh, shit. He did, didn’t he?” You paused. “Damn, I guess it’s been a while.”

“I guess so.”

Hoseok fell silent as you took another step forward. Glancing around, you saw people already staking out their claims for baking. Seokjin had snagged the table by the stairs, Taehyung and Jungkook were in the kitchen and Yoongi rolled out utensils under the window. Yoongi never used the pre-made kits, choosing instead to bake from scratch every year.

Collecting your bag, you wound through the kitchen and came to a stop. There were only a few tables left, and only three chairs remaining. While you scanned the room, you saw Jungkook pull out a bag of cookie cutters shaped oddly like –

“Are those penises?” you said as Hoseok came to a stop alongside you.

Hoseok squinted at him with interest. “Huh, yeah. Guess so! Can’t imagine Mrs. Kim will rate those highly for style. Definite risk.”

Namjoon’s mom was one of the judges every year, having been roped in after Seokjin continually declared himself in the top three.

Shaking your head, you entered the living room and realized only one table was left. Hoseok followed suit, seeming to realize this at the same time. Awkwardly, he hovered while you set down your things.

“You can work here if you want,” you said, nodding at the open space.

Hoseok glanced at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure. I think we can be civil for an hour of baking cookies, don’t you?”

Hoseok’s lips twitched, setting down his things. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I seem to remember the year you threw a knife at Namjoon when he burnt your cookies.”

“Okay, I didn’t throw the knife. I accidentally dropped it.”

“While?”

“… While I was threatening to castrate him.”

Hoseok cracked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Even you couldn’t help but smile, arranging your supplies in the order you’d need them. In the corner of your eye, you saw Hoseok doing the same and for the first time, took in what he was wearing.

Hoseok was dressed in an emerald sweater and black jeans, along with those same Balenciaga sneakers. A few strands of dark hair hung over his forehead; brow furrowed while he worked on his layout. The sight made your stomach swoop.

Like always, you banished the feelings immediately. Hoseok was good-lucking and the sky was blue – neither one had anything to do with you. Back in high school, there’d been a period when Hoseok’s good looks would have been crippling to you. Hoseok had gone through puberty seemingly overnight. One day, he’d been your nerdy best friend and the next day, girls whispered about him whenever he walked past in the halls.

Jung Hoseok, with the infectious laugh. Jung Hoseok, with the devastatingly sharp profile. Jung Hoseok, who could effortlessly make someone feel special. Freshman year of high school, you’d had glasses, braces, and terrible acne while Hoseok had been the golden boy. It had been unthinkable for him to look at you like that, so in self-preservation, you’d learned to tune the emotion out.

Once you began dating Ren, you got over your crush on Hoseok. That was when you realized falling for someone else was only antidote in existence for your best friend. Hoseok was too charming for his own good – he caught people in his web without having to try. He could never know you’d once been in love with him. Honestly, you would never live such a thing down.

You’d tried distancing yourself from Hoseok even before Ren, but it hadn’t really worked – not even when Hoseok began dating Fiona. Fiona had been nice, or so you thought before she became jealous of your and Hoseok’s friendship and demanded he stop hanging out with you. Hoseok didn’t follow her instructions exactly, but your friendship definitely took a blow.

When you went to college and met Ren, you only drifted further until Hoseok broke up with Fiona due to long distance.

When you began to date Darren, things had felt safe but now you were single and all those same, unwanted feelings came rushing back. Hating how easily Hoseok did this to you, you fixed your gaze on the table and tried to trap the emotions.

It was hard not to notice how good Hoseok looked. He’d changed since you’d last seen him. Jaw sharper, shoulders broader, he filled out the sweater better than before. The slope of his nose remained unchanged, though – this had always been your favorite thing about him. Hoseok’s profile could bring people to their knees.

Of course, the idea of Hoseok on his knees made your face heat, so you hastily began measuring out the ingredients. Carefully reading the instructions, you dutifully followed the steps Mrs. Kim had laid out. You knew Mrs. Kim had been the one to write them, since Namjoon also couldn’t bake for shit.

“So,” you said, scooping flour into a bowl. “How’s the research going?”

Hoseok glanced your way. “I – uh, really good. I like it.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” you said, echoing Lana’s statement.

Hoseok gave a small laugh. “Nice of you to have such faith. The world’s a pretty fucked up place.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Hoseok fell silent, measuring and mixing ingredients before him. Silence fell between you – a more comfortable kind than before and for a moment, it felt like old times again. Hoseok beside you, your friends laughing in the next room and Christmas cookies on the table.

After a few minutes, he looked up.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Can I ask what really happened with –”

“Y/N,” Sara gasped, appearing at your elbow. “You have to come quick. Seokjin stole Jungkook’s penis cookie cutters and it’s about to be world war three in the kitchen!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, but laughed, nonetheless.

Glancing apologetically at Hoseok, you brushed off your hands and hurried after Sara. Inside the kitchen, Seokjin held Jungkook’s penis-shaped cookie cutters above his head in the air. Jungkook didn’t seem pleased in the slightest, rolling up his sleeves in a menacing matter. You’d seen them play-fight enough times to know the situation would end with something probably broken.

“Whoa – hey,” you blurted, stepping between them. “What’s going on?”

“Seokjin stole my things.” Jungkook pouted, crossing his arms.

Your head swiveled to Seokjin. “Care to comment?”

Seokjin sighed. “This is a holiday cookie baking competition,” he said. “Penises aren’t holiday inspired.”

“Not true!” Jungkook cried. “I was going to decorate them in red and white stripes, like candy canes. Holiday dick is a thing.”

“He’s right,” agreed Sara. “It’s a thing.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched. Seokjin seemed like he was seconds away from losing his shit though, so you shot Sara a look which said be quiet. Yoongi was laughing his head off somewhere in the back, utterly unhelpful.

“Since this is Namjoon’s house,” you said. “We should let him decide. Namjoon?”

Namjoon pretended to think. Shoving glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, he left a streak of flour behind.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “As much as I’m inclined to agree with Jungkook – holiday dick is, indeed, a thing – my mom’s one of the judges. It’s a no-go.”

Jungkook groaned as Seokjin fist-pumped the air.

“Fine, fine.” Jungkook snatched the bag of cookie cutters from Seokjin. “I’ll make them normal – and boring. Far be it from me to ruin the holiday spirit!”

One crisis down, you relaxed and glanced at Sara’s cookies. They looked like unappetizing blobs, but Sara had a knack for making them taste good. Yoongi’s would be both, of course – beautiful in appearance and delicious to eat.

As you surveyed the kitchen, you felt that same sense of rightness within you. It had been too long since you’d last seen your friends. The aching loneliness you got in LA didn’t exist here. Dimly, you thought it’d be nice to somehow combine the two.

It was mostly your fault things were this way. Once you fought with Hoseok, your friend group had been forced to make separate group chats. People always forgot to give updates in both, so it usually ended up being a mishmash of miscommunication.

Without meaning to, you’d slowly drifted from your favorite people in the world. Out of sight, out of mind, as they said. Being home made you realize how much you’d missed them. It was easier to convince yourself you were fine when you lived in LA, surrounded by LA people, places and things.

The sound of your phone interrupted your train of thought. Pulling it from your pocket, you recognized an LA number and started.

“Excuse me,” you said, squeezing past Sara. “I have to take this.”

Heading out the side door and onto Namjoon’s patio, you exited the kitchen. It was cold outside and you shivered, but you didn’t expect to be out here for long. Breath frosting before you, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Darling!”

Daisy spoke in the same, too-bright falsetto which made you wince. “Hi – Daisy!” you said, attempting to smile. “So good to hear from you again.”

“Yes, of course – listen, Y/N, I’ll get right down to it.” Someone laughed in the background, and you wondered where Daisy was. “I wanted to tell you we’ve decided to go in a different direction.”

The air seemed to constrict and the holiday music, which had once seemed so cheerful, felt suddenly mocking. Staring straight ahead, you felt your grip tighten on your phone.

“I – what?” you breathed.

“Your interview was great, and we loved you, but we’ve decided to hire someone else.”

“I…” Trailing off, you shook your head. “You said I had the job, though?”

“Things change, darling. You know the industry.”

“But… we only spoke yesterday!”

“Yes, and things have changed since then. We had the most unbelievable interview this morning – you won’t believe their date ideas. So creative. Shocking!”

Something sallow and bitter curdled in your stomach. “Shocking, for a dating show?” you heard yourself say. “What could possibly be creative about that?”

“Ouch.” Daisy laughed. “Don’t be bitter because someone else’s ideas were better than yours. Well, I must get going. Wrap party, you know! Just wanted to call, so you knew not to wait for the email. Toodles!”

She hung up, leaving you alone on the patio.

Numbly, you lowered your arm to your side. It was still cold, and you knew you should head in but somehow couldn’t bring yourself to move. Staring at the darkness of Namjoon’s backyard, you fought back the rising tide of panic.

This had to be it – a new lowest of the low. A job you hadn’t even wanted but had decided to take because you needed money was reneging their offer.

Fingers trembling, you shoved both hands in your pockets and tried not to cry. Already, you felt the tears threatening to spill on your cheeks.

Everything had been so shitty lately. You’d barely been able to mourn your dream job before Darren had cheated. Just like that, your entire support system in LA had crumbled and you’d been left alone.

Eyes closed, you forced yourself to exhale. Maybe if you’d listened to Hoseok you wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d tried to warn you about Darren, and you’d pushed him aside. You hadn’t wanted to believe him – hadn’t wanted to bring that lie crashing down yet.

Darren had fit in with the life you’d envisioned for yourself. He’d fit with the new version of you, the version who wasn’t in love with her best friend and who hadn’t fled halfway across the country because she was escaping said feelings.

If you were being honest, your crush on Hoseok hadn’t ended in high school.

It returned after college, reemerging with a vengeance during the time you lived in New York. Hoseok and you were both single, the first time this had happened since high school. You’d fallen for him all over again – feelings he didn’t reciprocate, which partially led to your decision to move.

It wasn’t as though Darren had been the perfect boyfriend. You weren’t mourning him as the love of your life, or anything like that.

There had been times during your year and a half together when you weren’t happy at all. Darren had drunk a lot, oftentimes to excess and had often collapsed on the couch rather than make it to your bed. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but cruelly honest at other times.

In fact, when you first discovered he’d cheated, your immediate response had been shock, rather than hurt. The public manner of his split had been the worst part, not the actual cheating itself. You’d barely thought about Darren since you two had ended things, which seemed to beg the question of whether you’d loved him at all.

Shaken by the thought, you hugged yourself tighter and felt your lip start to tremble. Everyone inside seemed to have their shit together. They had friends, families and jobs they enjoyed. You’d given up the first two in order to have the last and now, you had nothing.

Without meaning to, a tear fell to your cheek.

At that moment, someone pulled open the sliding door to the patio. Frantically wiping the tear, you turned your head and saw Hoseok.

Hoseok froze, uncertain, the holiday music louder behind him.

“Hey,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I – what’s up?”

His gaze roamed your face. “Nothing,” he said at last. “I just hadn’t seen you in a while. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He was being nice, you thought, stomach plummeting. Nicer than you deserved, so you turned around and resumed looking at the forest. It was pitch black beyond the tree line, which seemed fitting for your current mentality.

“Oh,” you said dully. “That’s nice of you.”

Hoseok paused. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Weakly, you snorted. “What gave you that idea?”

Not choosing to respond to this, Hoseok stepped outside and shut the door. The glass muffled the music, making it seem as though you were in your own world. As Hoseok walked closer, the crunch of snow beneath his sneakers grew louder.

Hoseok came to a stop. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He released a low laugh. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve known you since we were five. I think I know when you’re pretending not to cry.”

“Don’t do that,” you muttered, still facing the yard.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t pretend we’re friends again, all of a sudden.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment. “I’m not,” he said. “I just… I can’t pretend not to know you, okay? I know we fought and haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t let you cry out here alone. I’m not an asshole, Y/N, no matter how much you want me to be.”

Of course, he wasn’t. You’d never thought he was but weren’t sure Hoseok would believe you if you said that. Hoseok was the most caring, selfless person you knew. He’d be standing out here even if you were his most bitter enemy, let alone someone he cared about.

Slowly, you turned. “Things aren’t… going as well as I let on.”

“No?”

“No. You know Darren broke up with me, right?”

Hoseok’s lips thinned in the darkness. “I saw the headlines, yeah.”

Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Did you hear what I said, though? Darren broke up with me. I didn’t even notice he… well.” You paused. “You warned me about him, I guess. And I did nothing about it. Who knows how much longer I would’ve stayed if he hadn’t done what he did.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing it happened, then.”

You opened your eyes to stare at the woods. “I think I loved him, at some point. I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

“It mattered,” Hoseok said.

“Did it, though? I loved him, and he broke up with me. I gave up so much for him,” you said, gaze narrowing. “Coming here has made me realize how much, I guess. I tried so hard to fit in with his idea of the perfect girlfriend and now, I just feel… kind of stupid.”

“You’re definitely not stupid, Y/N.”

“No?” You glanced at him blankly. “You saw through him right away. Must’ve been nice to find out you were right, after all.”

Hoseok’s face tightened. “I would never be happy to hear that,” he said quietly. “I hoped I was wrong, Y/N. Of course, I did. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“Then why’d you hurt me?” you said, turning to face him fully.

Hoseok’s eyes widened, wind whipping his hair.

“Why’d you hurt me?” you said, still holding back tears. “Why’d you cut me out of your life? Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Hobi?”

“I…” Hoseok faltered. “I didn’t… realize you felt that way.”

“Didn’t realize?” you whispered. “Hoseok, you were my best friend.”

Something unreadable crossed his expression, gone before it could fully be formed. Hoseok turned to look at the forest.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, breath frosting again. “Well.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment, staring at the tree line and then he glanced sideways. “Who was the phone call?”

Surprised, you looked over. “What?”

“The phone call,” he said, glancing at your hand. “Who called and upset you? You seemed fine inside, making cookies.”

You knew he was changing the subject, but you let him. Talking about the past seemed too real to face right now.

“Oh,” you said. “Well. The job hunt isn’t going as well as I said. I wrote a screenplay, but no one is interested. I also applied to a bunch of random shows, but nothing’s panned out. Oh – except,” you said bitterly. “Yesterday, I got an offer to write for this reality dating TV show.”

“You?” Hoseok arched a brow. “The professed self-hater of reality TV?”

“I guess that came out in my interview, since they retracted the offer. That was them calling to tell me.”

“Well, they’re idiots, then.”

“Or maybe they realized I’m a sinking ship and they should probably jump before my bad luck spreads to them.”

“Y/N,” he chastised.

“I know,” you sighed, some of the fight draining from you. “I guess it’s a good thing. I didn’t want that job anyways. But it’s just… it was my last option, you know? That was it, that was the bottom of the barrel and I couldn’t even get that. How pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he insisted.

“No? Because I feel pretty pathetic right now.”

Hoseok was quiet a moment. He shifted his weight and then, out of nowhere he said, “I puked on my first day of student teaching.”

Your head whipped to him in surprise. “You – what?”

“I puked.” Hoseok nodded. “I was so nervous I’d say the wrong thing, I ran to the bathroom and hurled my guts out. I’ve never gotten stage fright, but something about teaching brought that out in me. I don’t know if that’s what I want to do with my doctorate.”

“I…” You stared at him wonderingly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok half-smiled. “You can want something a long time, and not have it end up being what you thought. It’s not a bad thing to change direction, Y/N.”

“That’s… true.”

“I’m not saying to stop applying,” he warned. “I think you should because you’re ridiculously talented and those west coast assholes are lucky to have you. Just… maybe apply to something different.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

You waited, truly wanting to know his opinion. Hoseok had always been the one person who could make sense of your spirals. Something about him made you automatically respond.

Hoseok shrugged, the light from inside playing over his features.

“You said you wrote a screenplay?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He paused. “You should send it to me.”

Both your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, a hint of a smile to his lips. “I mean, I used to read your stuff before, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Then it’s settled.” Hoseok nodded. “You’ll send me your screenplay and I’ll let you know what I think. Okay?”

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Maybe I will.”

Before he could respond, the sliding door opened again.

“There you are! They’re out here, guys!” Jungkook yelled, turning over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, returning to you. “It’s cold as balls out.”

Leaving the screen door wide open, he retreated to the kitchen. The holiday music was louder now, but slightly less mocking than before. When Hoseok met your gaze, you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Want to head back in?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing him as you breezed past. “I heard it’s cold as balls out.”

Hoseok laughed as he followed, and you felt the smallest weight lift from your chest. You still didn’t feel like you had all the answers, but at least Hoseok didn’t seem like he hated you anymore. That was a step forward if nothing else.

As you entered the kitchen, some of your earlier despair seemed to lessen. Hoseok crossed the kitchen to Yoongi, grinning at something he said, and you felt another strange wave of sadness.

Just being with him made you feel better. Even with hard conversations, even with Hoseok telling honest truths, you never got the feeling he wanted to hurt you. It made you long for how things were before and not for the first time, you knew you’d made the wrong decision last year.

Choosing Daren over Hoseok had been the worst mistake of your life. Not because Darren had cheated or because things between you had ended, but because Hoseok meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life.

Maybe ever would.

The next morning you were awakened by a pillow thrown at your face.

“Get up loser,” Sara said from above. “We’re going shopping.”

Groaning at the bad Mean Girls reference, you rolled over. Sara laughed, throwing another pillow which lamely hit your back.

“Seriously,” she whined. “It’s ten in the morning and the cake tasting is at eleven. Unless you don’t want to come anymore…?”

Remembering today’s plans, you bolted upright in bed. Today was the one wedding planning event you really did want to attend – today, Sara was going to taste the cakes.

“No!” you blurted, throwing your covers aside. “I’m in! Just give me ten minutes!”

Sara laughed, retreating and closing the door to your room. Hurrying into your bathroom, you brushed your teeth, washed your face and made yourself presentable. As you entered the kitchen for breakfast, you found everyone seated around the table.

“Y/N!” Your dad grinned at the stove. “I’m making omelets again. Do you want one?”

Warily, you glanced at Sara, who nodded.

“Yep,” you said, heading for the coffee pot. “Sounds like a plan.”

Pouring yourself coffee, you inhaled the steam. Your dad’s omelets were always a risk because he tended to throw whatever he’d made for dinner the night before into the eggs. Sometimes this resulted in momentary brilliance – his crab cake and blue cheese omelet was a thing of legend. Sometimes though, things fell flat. The spaghetti omelet came to mind.

Once you were seated, your mom began to go over the plans for today. She wouldn’t be able to join the cake tasting but would meet you later at the invitation store.

Before long, you were being shoved out the door since Sara was suddenly concerned about Sunday morning traffic. You didn’t bother to point out Josen Falls didn’t have Sunday morning traffic. By now, you recognized signs of your sister’s stress enough to know when to be quiet.

As you entered the cake shop, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Ignoring this, you hurried inside and began to unwarp your scarf. Chimes jingled above the entrance, causing Paul to pop out of the back room.

Paul had owned the shop for what seemed like forever, ever since his dad had passed and he’d taken it over. His cakes were a thing of legend up and down the east coast.

“Sara!” He beamed. “And Y/N! What a surprise! Are you two ready for cake?”

“Hell yes,” Sara said, undoing her coat. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, Paul. Honestly, this is the main reason I’m getting married.”

Paul laughed, retreating behind the counter. “I won’t waste your time with pleasantries, then,” he said. “Let’s get right into it.”

Sara settled on a stool, patting the one beside her for you to follow suit. As you did, you remembered the buzz in your pocket and pulled out your phone. There was a notification on Instagram, which made you frown. Maybe Lord of the Rings airport guy had found you.

Opening the app, you saw the username and froze.

DarrenToLive had sent you a message. Reading his name, you felt the world tilt. It had been months since you’d last seen Darren in your inbox. You’d tentatively unblocked him on Twitter at the start of November and then, when nothing happened, unblocked him on everything else. It seemed Darren had realized this now.

As though your hand had a mind of its own, you clicked read.

DarrenToLive: hey, y/n… I saw on your story you went home for the holidays. How are things going?

Immediately, your gaze narrowed. The message blurred, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Darren had some nerve to reach out to you over Christmas – and while he had a girlfriend, no less. Because when you went to his profile and clicked on the first photo, it had been taken by Jessica Avec. Your jaw clenched.

Fingers hovering over the message, you debated whether to delete, block or cuss him out, but then Paul emerged from the back room holding a tray of cake.

“Alright!” Paul set the tray down. “We’ve got a lot to taste here.”

Slowly, you slid your phone back in your pocket. You could deal with Darren later, you decided. He was unworthy of your attention at the moment. Folding both hands on the table, you tried not to salivate at the treats before you.

“I went through your list, Sara,” he said with a nod. “And I think we’ve got some good options here. First up is almond cake, vanilla bean frosting and fresh raspberries. Second is chocolate fudge cake, chocolate crème brulee and salted caramel sauce. Next is pink berry cake, dark chocolate mousse and berry preserves. Last, a hazelnut cake with milk chocolate mousse and bittersweet ganache.”

“Oh,” said you and Sara in unison.

Paul laughed at your faces. “And of course, champagne,” he said, placing two glasses before you. “I won’t hover and make things weird, so feel free to taste and I’ll be back in a half hour. Keep in mind we have plenty of other cakes, too! This is your day!”

Sara stared at the tray, her eyes shining as Paul left.

“It’s just so beautiful,” she said, sounding a little choked up.

You laughed, placing a fork in her empty hand. “What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

Sara obeyed, pulling the plate towards her, and taking a large bite.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “This is heaven.”

“It really is,” she happily agreed, hazelnut crumbs on her lips.

Reaching out, Sara took a sip of champagne and dug feverishly into the pink berry cake. You continued this way for a while, switching between cake and champagne until there were only crumbs left.

Leaning back, you surveyed the wreckage. “So?” you said, turning to Sara. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They’re all delicious. If I pick one, the rest will feel left out.”

“They’re cakes, Sara. They don’t have feelings.”

“Spoken like an emotionless rock.”

“Hey!” you said, swatting her forearm. “I have emotions, I’ll have you know. I was devastated I didn’t win the holiday cookie competition yesterday.”

Sara laughed. “Oh, please. You weren’t even listening by then. No one was except for Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Well, that’s because they’re the only two real competitors every year.”

“Not true! There was that year Hoseok decided to take things seriously,” Sara said. “He almost won.”

“Wasn’t that the year Yoongi made pizzelles?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so Hobi had no chance.”

Sara laughed again. “Alright, fair. Yoongi can’t help being blessed with so many skills.”

You mimed retching.

“Honestly! He’s good-looking, smart, clean, knows his way around the kitchen. Knows his way around other things, too.”

“Sara!” you yelped, shoving her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear about my little sister’s sex life, thanks.”

Giving you a devious grin, Sara returned to the cake. Taking another bite, she chewed thoughtfully around a mouthful of frosting.

“Did I see correctly last night, though?” she said, sounding curious. “Were you actually talking to Hoseok again?”

“I… not really, no.”

Sara gave you a look. “So, your mouth was just moving, and nothing was coming out?”

“We’ve decided to be cordial.” Blithely, you took a sip of champagne. “You know, for the sake of your wedding.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It’s true!” you said. “I’m your maid of honor and Hoseok’s Yoongi’s best man. It would be weird if we just refused to talk.”

“I guess,” Sara said slowly. She sighed. “What happened there, anyways?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is,” you said, staring at your plate. “I don’t know. It was a lot of things, I guess. We’d started growing apart when I moved to LA. And then I began dating Darren… you know none of my boyfriends have ever liked how close I am to Hobi.”

“Well, that’s because all your past boyfriends were trash, Y/N.”

“They haven’t been – alright, fine,” you admitted. “They were trash. Anyways, Hoseok came to LA when I had just moved in with Darren and I, um… I hadn’t exactly told Hobi yet.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“It had just happened!” you protested. “My roommates were shit, Hoseok knew that. When Darren suggested I move in with him, it just made sense.”

“So, why didn’t you tell Hobi?”

Falling silent, you stared into your glass of champagne. In all honesty, you had no answer to that. It’d always been hard to talk about your relationships with Hoseok. Maybe some messed up part of yourself still hoped he had feelings for you. Maybe the same, messed up part didn’t like the idea of Hoseok knowing you were really taken.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Every time I thought about telling him, I just couldn’t. I knew Hoseok wouldn’t like it.”

Sara nodded, picking at the crumbs on her plate. She so clearly wanted to say something, it almost made you laugh. Say what you wanted about your sister – she wasn’t subtle.

“What?” you said, arching a brow. “What is it you want to say?”

Sara hid a smile. “You know me too well. All I was thinking was…” Trailing off, she shook her head. “Maybe there’s a reason Hoseok’s never liked any of your exes.”

“Because they were assholes?”

“No – well, yeah,” Sara conceded. “But also, I don’t know. We always kind of thought you two would end up together.”

You froze.

“We?” you managed to squeak out. “Who’s we?”

“You know.” Sara waved a hand. “Me, Yoongi, Namjoon. A bunch of us actually. We always thought you were perfect together.”

“Me and… Hoseok.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You spent so much time together growing up! You were always holed up in your room, always inseparable at parties. It just seemed natural you’d start dating.”

“We were just friends, Sara.”

“Yeah. I guess I see that now.”

Returning to your plate, you pushed the cake around. Other people thinking you’d end up with Hoseok was news to you. You wondered if they saw something you didn’t. Even if they did though, they’d been proven wrong time and time again.

Hoseok had never felt that way about you, despite your on and off feelings for him over the years.

“Hoseok thought Darren was cheating on me,” you said quietly.

Sara looked up. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, pushing your plate away. “That’s what led to our big fight. Things already weren’t great between us and when Hoseok visited, he suspected Darren of cheating. I took Darren’s side and Hoseok left the next day.”

“Y/N,” Sara said softly.

“I just… Hoseok was right, in the end.” Looking down, you swallowed. “Maybe he was back then, too. I should’ve listened to him, but I didn’t. And now I don’t know how to apologize. It’s been so long.”

“It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” you said, looking up. “How can I even start?”

Sara hesitated. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t apologize to him, Y/N – but isn’t there blame on his end, too? Sure, you fought, but he could’ve reached out as easily as you.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” said Sara, scooping up the last bite of cake. “Definitely. Look, you don’t need to be friends with Hoseok again. That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just… it was nice seeing you together again. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“But look at me.” Sara straightened. “Going on about Hoseok when we have much more important things to discuss. Namely, are there any other cakes to try?”

“Paul did say he had more flavors in the back.”

“I feel like it would be a disservice to this establishment and to ourselves if we didn’t take full advantage of that offer. Paul!” she called, leaning over the counter. “You said something about other cakes?”

Paul laughed, disappearing to grab the next tray. Although you appreciated the change of subject, Sara’s words continued to run through your mind.

The idea of all your friends thinking you and Hoseok would be together was more shocking than it probably should’ve been. You couldn’t help but mull over this for the rest of the day, in the car ride home and throughout dinner that night.

Later, when you sat at your computer and stared at the screen, you made a sudden decision. Opening your email, you typed Hoseok’s name and sent him your screenplay. Pressing send, you shut the laptop and slid into bed.

It took you a while to fall asleep, staring at the little dipper above you.

Wedding planning was put on hold the next day, everyone’s attention shifting towards the holidays. With only two days left until Christmas Eve, it was time for the annual neighborhood holiday party.

The neighborhood holiday party had been a tradition ever since you were little – even before the holiday cookie competition caught on. It was formal attire, hosted by a different family in the neighborhood every year. This year the Jeons were the hosts, which was a good thing because they only lived a few blocks away.

On the drive over, you stared out the window and tried to silence the butterflies in your stomach. Seated in the middle seat, you felt like a high schooler again. It certainly didn’t help that, once again, you found your thoughts entirely consumed by Hoseok. Just like in high school.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Sara had said, how everyone in your friend group thought you’d get together. Truthfully, you’d thought the same many times prior, but nothing had ever come to fruition. Sometimes it had been because of him – and sometimes because of you.

The last time had been because of you.

Before you left New York for LA, there had been a moment between you and Hoseok you’d done your best to forget. You’d been close at the time, always at one or the other’s apartments in between classes or work. Your job back then had been terrible, even worse than the PBS one after.

When you texted Hoseok on Friday you needed to work Sunday, he’d showed up at your door holding red wine and take-out. You spent yet another evening watching dumb movies and drinking, but this one had ended differently than the rest.

As the credits rolled on the movie and you finished your last glass of wine, you’d sighed and rolled over on top of the couch. Hoseok had been seated on the floor, legs splayed and leaning against the cushions.

When he turned to face you, he was mere inches away. You remember the muted light from the TV playing over his features, making your heart skip for a second.

The movie had been tense, which had caused Hoseok to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result, the strands stuck up every which way, making you smile.

Hoseok had smiled in return. “What?” he’d said, a bit lower than usual.

“Nothing,” you’d laughed, making his smile widen.

“Seriously, what?”

“Nothing!”

Reaching out, you’d tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Hoseok went still, staring at your hand resting near his cheek. You’d moved to retract this, but Hoseok had reached up and caught your hand in his.

You could still remember that feeling. That dizzy, pulse-pounding feeling of his hand in yours. You’d felt it at various points in your friendship, but never so clearly as lying on the couch, inches away from his lips with your hand in his.

Hoseok’s thumb lazily brushed your wrist, causing a warm jolt of pleasure to shoot to your core. His lips parted, as though to speak – and your phone had rung in your pocket.

Scrambling upright, the moment broke when you answered the call. Hoseok fell back, looking stunned and he made an excuse to leave after that. You hadn’t discussed it the next day and it wasn’t long after you announced your move to LA.

The two events weren’t necessarily connected – or maybe they were.

Now, even you were beginning to have doubts. After that night, you’d realized you were developing feelings for Hoseok again. Maybe a tiny part of you thought that by moving away you’d force yourself to move on.

As you approached the Jeon’s, you found those same butterflies emerging. You and Hoseok had never talked about that night. Maybe there had been something there, something he’d felt, and your act of self-preservation had simply been running away.

“Y/N,” your mom said, returning you to the present.

Startled, you looked up. “Yeah?”

She smiled in the rearview mirror. “We were just saying your Aunt called the other day to say she’d started watching The Drop. She loves it! Can’t wait for season three.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking lower. “That’s great.”

“I’ll admit,” your dad laughed. “We were kind of nervous when you said you were quitting your job to move to LA and start writing, but you’ve really made a name for yourself, Lucy. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Oh… good. Thanks, dad.”

“It’s nothing short of incredible!” added your mom.

You nodded, unable to respond as you looked out the window. Saying they’d been nervous was a bit of an understatement. Your parents had tried their best to dissuade you from moving to LA. They had meant well, but to your parents, the best career path was a stable one. Dreams were nice, but they mostly belonged between the pillow and sheets.

Just once, you wished your parents would say they were proud of you without needing an accomplishment attached. Of course, it was great to be successful and make money, but it was hard when it often felt like those were the only things valued by your family.

As your parents parked, you exhaled and unbuckled your seatbelt. Narrowly avoiding stepping in a snowbank, you followed your parents up the sidewalk and into the Jeon house. Their front door was open, holiday music spilling into the night.

Steeping inside, you unbuttoned your coat and glanced around. Jungkook’s parents were well-off, which showed in his mom’s Christmas decorations. Garland twined up every bannister, and you spotted no less than three Christmas trees from your place near the front door.

Hanging your coat up in their closet, you fought back a shiver as you turned around. You may have gone a bit overboard on the dress code, but it had been a long time since you’d wanted to look nice. For the two months following your break-up, you’d mostly wallowed and slept in your sweatpants.

In November, you’d started dating again, but it had only ended in disaster. One guy, after you had successfully dodged a goodbye kiss in his car, had the audacity to text you saying you’d left something. After you’d searched your things in a panic, thinking you’d dropped something in his car, he finally texted back ‘a kiss from me.’

You stopped going on blind dates after that. All this to say tonight was your first night dressing up in a while and you were determined to make it count. And if a certain someone happened to eat their heart? That would only be a benefit.

Smoothing the red velvet of your dress down, you glanced up and spotted Hoseok.

He stood in the kitchen, back to you, but you’d know his profile anywhere. He wore a purple suit which on anyone else would look tacky, but on him looked effortless. Trust Hoseok to show up in a jewel-toned suit and completely steal the night. When he turned, you saw his hair had been styled so that only a few pieces fell over his forehead.

When he saw you, he froze. The bowl of limes in his hands went forgotten as Hoseok’s gaze slowly traveled your frame. Each place he lingered caught fire, leaving embers in his wake when he finally met your gaze.

Before you could speak, the door opened again, and a cold breeze blew in. You shivered, jumping forward and the moment was broken.

Namjoon looked up while undoing his scarf. His jaw dropped. “Y/N!” he said with a whistle. “You look ridiculously good tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you joked, squeezing Namjoon around the waist when he hugged you.

By the time you turned around to face Hoseok, he was already gone.

“And all other nights,” said Namjoon, wrestling free from his coat. “But especially this one. You look like you’re here to break hearts, which doesn’t seem like the best use of Christmas spirit.”

“No?” you said, linking arms to travel into the kitchen. “Pity.”

As you entered, you realized with some disappointment Hoseok had left for the next room. The look on his face had reminded you of senior Prom, when you’d exited the limo and Hoseok had stammered something about how you looked like an angel. You’d brushed it aside but secretly, had daydreamed about it for months.

Jungkook’s mom stood near the stove, removing a tray of appetizers. She waved with her oven mitt, which you returned with a smile. Namjoon didn’t allow you to linger though, pulling you into the family room.

“We’re here!” he called.

This seemed to be the room people your age had claimed. Your parents disappeared into the dining room, all kids went to the basement and you landed in the family room with other quasi-adults.

“Y/N!” Sara called, already perched on Yoongi’s lap.

“How did you get there so fast?” you wondered aloud – only to choke, realizing Yoongi had worn a red suit and Santa hat.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” said Seokjin, appearing alongside you. “Since only one person is allowed to sit on Santa’s lap.”

Laughing, you shook your head as you turned. “It’s something I would’ve expected from you, honestly,” you said.

“It crossed my mind,” Seokjin admitted. “But then Yoongi and I did rock, paper scissors and I lost.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Seokjin walked with you across the room to stand before Jungkook’s makeshift bar. Jungkook wore a holiday sweater which consisted of a t-rex chasing two gingerbread men across the front.

Only one other person stood before you in line. When Seokjin saw Mrs. Haberdash, he grinned and pulled you into his side.

“Stop trying to sext me!” he said loudly, ensuring she heard. “I don’t need this right now!”

Mrs. Haberdash turned around and froze, then mumbled something about being needed in the next room before she scurried off. Rolling your eyes, you took a step forward.

“I don’t think that was necessary,” you said to Seokjin, although you were laughing. “She hasn’t said anything since the party about my being single.”

“Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Drink order?” said Jungkook, shaking a cocktail shaker in each hand. “We’ve got everything! Gingerbread mules, candy cane cosmos, rum punch... you name it, I’ll make it.”

“I didn’t know you could bartend,” you commented, spotting the bowl of limes Hoseok had carried behind the table.

“I can’t.” Jungkook shrugged. “My motto is – the drunker you are, the less you’ll care about how the drink tastes.”

You stared at him a moment. “Yeah, I’ll have wine.”

Namjoon laughed, waiting while Jungkook poured you a glass. It didn’t take long for the rest of your friend group to arrive. Taking a seat on the couch beside Seokjin, you entertained a conversation about whether The Witcher TV series was great cinematography or merely a guilty pleasure.

Around your second glass of wine, Taehyung bounded in from the kitchen to announce a holiday drinking game. Turning on the Hallmark Channel, he taped a large poster board to the wall – “When did you make that?” said Hoseok, appalled – and began to explain the rules.

“Rule number one!” Taehyung tapped the board. “If a character’s name is related to Christmas, you drink. I’m talking Noelle, I’m talking Holly, I’m talking Kris, Tinsel – yes, there was once a character named Tinsel. If any of those names appear, you drink. Rule number two! You spot mistletoe, you drink.”

Jungkook groaned, settling cross-legged on the floor. “We’re all going to be wasted.”

“Yes,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hopefully, it makes your drinks taste better,” said Seokjin from the couch.

Jungkook held up his middle finger.

“Jungkook!” scolded his mom, walking past the door.

Embarrassed, Jungkook put his finger back down. His ears turned bright red, much to the laughter of everyone else in the room.

“Right, anyways,” Taehyung said. “Here’s a new rule that I just made up on the spot – whoever isn’t paying attention to the movie and is the last person to drink has to take two sips.”

Laughter ensued, but once the movie began, you realized Taehyung had been serious. He and Jungkook dubbed themselves the Christmas Patrol and traveled around the room to ensure the rules were being followed.

This resulted in Seokjin tackling Jungkook midway through the movie, insisting he had not been the last person to drink when a magical deal was struck with an angel. They nearly knocked over your glass of wine and so, extricating yourself from the sofa, you told Namjoon you needed to use the bathroom.

Hoseok had stayed away ever since your arrival. He’d barely said anything besides a brief wave and hello. You wanted to ask him if he’d gotten your screenplay but didn’t want to pry. If Hoseok had read it, he would’ve told you already. Likely, he was busy with other holiday things.

As you entered the kitchen, you paused at the window. Thinking about your screenplay made you think of the other night, when Hoseok had checked on you at Namjoon’s and you’d completely broken down. He had just been trying to be nice and you’d completely embarrassed yourself, going on about Darren and how difficult work was.

You needed to remind yourself you weren’t friends anymore. Hoseok couldn’t be there for you the same way he used to be, and you shouldn’t expect that. Releasing a breath, you set your wine glass on the counter.

“Y/N?”

Whirling, you found Hoseok on the threshold. He’d wandered into the kitchen, a stack of dirty plates in one hand.

“Oh – hey, Hoseok,” you said.

He nodded, walking past to set the dishes down in the sink. Turning around, Hoseok wiped his hands on a tea towel. He glanced at the wine glass you’d set on the counter.

“Didn’t want to chance one of Jeon’s holiday drinks?”

You managed a smile. “Didn’t want to risk it.”

Hoseok nodded, silence falling between you, but he still didn’t leave. Glancing past him, you wondered if you’d ever get over this terrible awkwardness. There were so many things you wanted to say but didn’t think were appropriate.

You needed to be careful because it would be too easy to fall back in love with him. Once those floodgates were opened, you weren’t sure how to close them. It was easier to linger in this half-state, where you weren’t really friends, but Hoseok didn’t hate you, either.

“I read your screenplay,” Hoseok said.

Startled, your gaze moved to his. “All of it?”

“Well, you only sent me the first episode,” Hoseok said with a smile. “But yeah, all of it.”

“And? What did you think?”

Hoseok paused.

“Oh, no,” you groaned, leaning against the counter.

You’d known Hoseok long enough to know his pauses were never good. Hoseok was a careful speaker when he gave criticism – excruciatingly honest, but he took the time to say what he meant; no more and no less.

Hoseok laughed. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“No, but I know you,” you said with a shake of your head. “When you don’t love something, you pause before deciding how best to crush my spirit. Go on, then. Get on with it.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I don’t purposefully crush your spirit.”

“Just an unintended side effect, then.”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or no?”

You mimed zipping your lips. “Yes, please. Continue.”

Hoseok paused again, and you hid your smile. For a few seconds, it had felt like you were friends again. This used to be your routine whenever Hoseok read something of yours – his hesitation before he critiqued, your endless moaning and Hoseok asking if you wanted him to stop.

“I liked it a lot.”

“Liar.”

“Let me finish!” Hoseok laughed.

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up both hands.

“I did like it,” Hoseok said, fixing you with a glare. “It was bright, smart and full of hilarious one-liners. The friend group was relatable and fun. It’s just… the main character.”

“Jaimie? What about her?”

“She’s…” Hoseok hesitated. “She’s just unlikable.”

“What!” you blurted. “What’s unlikeable about her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s too perfect. It’s too hard to relate. She’s got everything under control, you know? Who wants to watch a show about a person so perfect they make you feel like an idiot in comparison?”

You closed your mouth, realizing it had fallen open. “That’s not… she has flaws!”

“Name one.” Hoseok arched a brow. “And overly clumsy, or having unruly hair aren’t flaws.”

Your lips twitched. “Damn.”

“I meant everything else, though,” said Hoseok. “I really do like the premise. And the friend group is hilarious but real, you know? They’re not trying too hard. I just think the lead could be more realistic. People like that, you know. They like it when a person has flaws.”

“Oh, please,” you said with a sigh. “People always say that, but they’re so quick to turn on a character the second they do something wrong.”

“I still think it’s better to show someone relatable,” Hoseok argued. “Someone who’s real. Someone who keeps trying, even when they’ve messed up.”

He’d moved closer during the course of his speech, close enough for you to smell his shampoo. It wasn’t the same one he’d used back in high school. It was odd, the things you remembered about the past. You could recall the smell of Hoseok’s high school shampoo with vivid clarity but didn’t remember the last time Darren had made you smile.

“Someone who keeps trying,” you said, tracing over his features. “Is that really what you think, Hobi?”

A shadow crossed over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because.” Looking away, you set your jaw. If you didn’t ask him now, you never would. “Why… didn’t you call me back, then?”

“What?”

“I called you,” you whispered, barely audible. “So many times after you left. I kept calling you and trying to talk, but you just ignored me. Why, Hobi?”

He swallowed at the nickname. “I… Y/N…”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, finally looking at him.

All your frustration finally rose to the surface. Sara’s words came back to you with sudden clarity – yes, there was blame on your end, but there was also on his. You hadn’t told anyone this, but you’d called him so many times after he’d left for New York. You’d tried to patch things up and Hoseok hadn’t let you.

“We’ve had fights before, but nothing like this,” you accused. “A year, Hobi. It’s been a year since I’ve seen you. That’s not a fight! That’s you deciding we shouldn’t be friends and that hurt, Hoseok. It fucking hurt.”

“I decided not to be friends with you?” he demanded, eyes flashing.

Gone was the sunny, cool Hoseok of earlier and in his place stood a stranger. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Hoseok this mad. Maybe the day you’d fought in the bar.

“Yeah,” you said.

“That’s rich,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “Considering you’d stopped confiding in me long before I visited you in LA. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know you’d moved in with your boyfriend. You refusing to listen about Darren was just… the last straw.”

“The last straw?” You laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound. “You’re acting like I was a difficult child, or something. You were my friend, Hoseok. My best friend! And the second things got difficult between us, you ran.”

“It wasn’t only that night,” Hoseok snapped.

He was inches away now, the air between you so thick with tension, hurt and something unknown. He looked so good and you were so angry – it all swirled in your chest, becoming the perfect storm.

“Then, what was it?” you demanded.

His gaze darted towards your lips. “I – I had to put distance between us, Y/N. It was better that way. Healthier.”

“Healthier?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are you saying? I was toxic to you, or something?”

“No,” Hoseok groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “God, Y/N, no. What I’m saying is I –”

“Y/N?”

Both your gazes shot towards the door, finding Sara hovering over the threshold. She glanced between you and Hoseok, and you realized belatedly how little space there was between you. Hoseok’s chest practically touched yours, his lips inches away from your own.

Dizzily, you exhaled and willed your heartbeat to slow.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to clear your head. “What is it?”

Exhaling slowly, Hoseok took a step backwards.

Looking as though she wished she were anywhere else, Sara glanced at her phone. “Um,” she said, lifting it up. “I just wanted to tell you Darren is calling…”

Confused, you stared at her a moment until it sunk in.

Darren – your ex-boyfriend – was calling your little sister. Brow furrowed, you attempted to make heads or tails of this news. It made about as much sense as her barging in to say yellow snow had been declared a health supplement by the FDA.

“I – Darren?” you said, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Sara shrugged. “I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered and that’s what he said. He said you never responded to his last text and he got worried. Honestly, I didn’t even know he had my number.”

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

You’d decided not to respond to the Instagram message the other day, re-blocking him from all your social media. This was a gross invasion of privacy to reach out to Sara like this. Dimly, you recalled giving him Sara’s number the time you lost your phone in case of an emergency.

Before you could speak, Hoseok let out a soft laugh. “Of course,” he said quietly. “You’re texting him still?”

Your eyes flew open. “Hoseok, no, I –”

“Yeah, okay,” he said roughly, brushing past you to walk down the hall.

You stared at his back, too stunned to move. Everything Hoseok said about needing distance came back to you. He said your break-up wasn’t just about the last fight you’d had. Questions began to burn in your mind, but aside from that you felt angry.

After everything you’d told him, after everything you’d confessed about Darren, Hoseok still thought you’d gone crawling back.

Suddenly livid, you pushed yourself off the counter. As you passed Sara, you paused. “Block him,” you said. “I didn’t answer him earlier, so I definitely don’t want to answer him now.”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “You got it, sis.”

You walked past, catching Hoseok at the door as he pulled on his coat. Grabbing him by the elbow, you turned him sideways to face you.

“Hey,” you said. “What the fuck?”

Hoseok stared at you, bewildered. “What?”

“Why did you leave?” you demanded, gesturing at the kitchen. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Hoseok glanced in the direction you pointed. “I think the conversation was over.”

“It was not over.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.” Hoseok rubbed his temples. “We always do this. We’re best friends until you date someone and then – poof! You’re gone. That’s why I didn’t call,” he said, teeth gritted. “It was easier not to be friends with you while you were dating.”

“Okay, but I’m not with Darren anymore!”

“Who was just calling you, then?”

“That’s not – that was a coincidence!”

“Right.” Jaw tight, Hoseok looked away. “Look, Y/N. You can date whoever you want, but you deserve better than that guy. You deserve someone who looks at you and sees someone real, not just whatever they can get from your career.”

“What’s that… that’s not what I had with Darren,” you said, reeling a little.

Hoseok returned to you. “Maybe not. Maybe he really did love you, but he never deserved you, Y/N. None of them have ever deserved you.”

“What do you even care, anyways?” you said hotly.

Hoseok went still. In the background, you could hear distant laughter and holiday music but, in that moment, all you could hear was the beating of your own heart.

Eventually, he shook his head. “If you don’t know that by now,” Hoseok murmured. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Finishing buttoning his coat, Hoseok opened the door. He paused for a moment, snowflakes drifting past as he glanced back to see you.

His expression softened a little. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said, and then he was gone.

You were left staring at a closed door, a chill in your veins which had nothing to do with outside.

Wandering inside, you poured a glass of wine some might call ‘obscenely full.’ What you really wanted to do was leave, but your parents had been the ones who’d driven and were, unfortunately, your only way home.

Besides, it would only hurt more to go home alone and cry in your bed. Instead, you forced yourself to stay and seated yourself on the couch beside Seokjin. He shot you a concerned look, but you shrugged it aside and took a deep sip of your drink.

Ignoring your phone, you tried to focus on the drinking game you were playing. Hoseok’s words continued to occupy your thoughts though, making you wonder what he had meant.

If you don’t know that by now, then I guess it doesn’t matter.

That’s all he’d said, as maddeningly unclear as he usually was. You wanted to find him and shake him, to clarify what he meant. Of course, it mattered. It mattered what Hoseok thought because he was the only person you ever thought about.

That was twice now you’d asked why he’d cut you out, only to receive a vague answer. It had hurt you – you hadn’t been lying about that. Compared to your break-up with Darren, losing Hoseok had been far worse.

It had hurt so bad in the months after, you’d briefly lost your mind and last October, you’d flown out to New York to see him.

You had never told Hoseok that, but you did. It had been two months since he’d left in LA and you were growing desperate, trying and failing to get him to return your calls. At the last minute, you’d booked a plane flight, hopped in a cab from LaGuardia and shown up at his apartment – just in time to catch Hoseok coming home from a date.

You had stood there on the sidewalk, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while he laughed at something his date said. Vision blurring, you could still recall the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had remained long after they went inside, then hailed a cab to the airport and flew home that night.

On your way, you’d realized Hoseok had been right. Possibly, your time as friends had come to an end because you were acting insane. It was insane to fly across the country on a moment’s notice. It was insane to feel this wicked, burning jealousy each time you saw him with someone else.

Deep down, you knew something was wrong. It was wrong to have feelings for Hoseok while you were dating Darren and so, you hadn’t contacted Hoseok again after that. You’d cut him out of your life the same way he did to you – only yours hadn’t worked out, because here you were.

Eyes shut, you leaned back on the sofa. Even now, you heard Hoseok’s critique in your mind. He’d called your main character too perfect, not flawed enough. Hoseok had always been the one who said your flaws were okay. Growing up, he’d been the one who encouraged you to be messy, to make mistakes and fail if you wanted.

Opening your eyes, you felt the raw pain of missing him hit you again. It was even worse now because last time, you’d assumed Hoseok had left because of Darren. Now, you knew he’d left because of you. Hoseok didn’t want you anymore.

As the night came to an end, your emotions hovered close to a breaking point. You stood in the foyer, smiling bleakly while you thanked the Jeons. They disappeared inside, leaving you and your family to pull on your coats.

Gently, Sara leaned over to touch your arm. “Is everything okay?” she murmured.

Dimly, you realized you hadn’t touched base after Darren called her.

“Yeah,” you said, then paused. “And no.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “I saw you talking with Hobi. What happened? It looked as though you’d been fighting.”

“A little,” you said, giving a weak smile. “Long overdue, I guess. He made some good points. I’ve been… caught up in things lately.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Y/N!” your mom interrupted, pulling on gloves. “You know who I spoke to tonight? The Donoghue’s! Their son is thinking of moving to LA, so I told them you’d reach out. I thought it might be nice, since you’ve done so well for yourself out there.”

Any other night, you would have smiled and nodded. The Donoghue son was probably nice, but right then, you found yourself at a breaking point. Everything for the past year had been piling on and suddenly, the frayed knot in you snapped.

“That’s not a good idea,” you snapped.

Your mom stopped, looking at you in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not doing well,” you blurted out. “I’m barely hanging on, and LA is terrible. My boyfriend cheated on me, I’m about to be jobless and every major studio keeps rejecting my spec script. Everything is falling apart, and I can barely keep it together anymore!”

Eyes wide, your dad stared with his fingers stilled on his zipper. Sara froze as well, one arm in her pea coat.

“Y/N?” your dad asked, sounding tentative. “What’s going on?”

“I was about to say the same thing,” said your mom, a bit stiff. “Why don’t we have this conversation in the car?”

“Oh, sure,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Because it’s embarrassing to talk about my problems in public, right? It would be terrible if the neighbors heard I’m struggling. Well, I’m done pretending everything is okay.”

“Now, Y/N,” your dad started, but you cut in.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come home for the holidays,” you huffed. “I didn’t want to pretend I was fine for two weeks. Didn’t want to pretend to be perfect. Because that’s the only daughter you want, right?”

Both of your parents stared as, tears brimming, you pushed open the door.

“I’ll be in the car,” you muttered and walked outside.

Sara was the first one to move, pulling on her coat and hurrying after. Your parents soon followed, keeping a wary distance between you while entering the car.

Most of the way home, you stared out the window. At some point, Sara reached out to squeeze your knee. Sara had always been the oddball of the family. The only one for whom emotions came easy, the only one well-equipped enough to have the tough conversations. Everyone else pushed things aside, shoving them down until they blew up in their face.

It seemed your problems were large enough now to blow up.

When you parked, you made to exit the car, but your mom cleared her throat. She looked over the front seat and, to your surprise, you saw tears in her eyes.

“Y/N.” She exhaled. “We never… we never wanted you to feel like you had to be perfect. Or like you couldn’t tell us things. Of course, we’ll always have our opinions, and they might not be what you want to hear – wait, let me finish,” she said, seeing your face. “We want what’s best for you and we don’t want you to struggle. Like you’re doing now. That doesn’t mean if you are struggling though, we won’t love and support you. I’m so, so sorry you thought that.”

Now, you were the one who had tears in their eyes.

“She’s right,” said your dad. “Of course, we’re proud of what you’ve done. But we’re also proud of you for taking risks, for not being afraid and going after what you want. We’re just as proud of you now as we were before. Maybe more so.”

“Oh no,” you mumbled, wiping your cheek.

“Yeah, oh no,” said Sara, also tearing up.

Snorting, you turned to laugh at her through your tears.

“You and your sister,” said your dad with a meaningful glance at Sara.

“You know I can’t handle emotional speeches!” said Sara, blowing her nose on her sleeve.

“We love you both,” said your mom with a faint smile. “I’m sorry if we don’t say that enough.”

Opening your door, you got out and hugged your mom tightly. Walking into the house, you began to relax for the first time in ages. Telling your parents was such a massive weight lifted from your chest.

You hugged your dad as well, burying your face in his coat. Your parents loved to tell the story of the first time you saw fireworks. You had been a toddler, mad at your dad for some reason when the first rocket had launched. Terrified, you’d immediately forgotten your anger and scrambled into his arms. There, you’d hidden until the fireworks had subsided.

You were no longer a child, but you couldn’t help wanting that shelter sometimes. People always said when you grew up, you’d need your parents less and maybe this was true, but it didn’t mean you stopped needing them entirely.

When you finally went upstairs, you found you couldn’t sleep. Lying on your back, you stared at the constellations and both your words and Hoseok’s continued to run through your mind.

Sitting up, you turned on the light and pulled out your laptop. Frowning at your screenplay, you opened a new document and slowly exhaled.

Leaning forward, you began to write.

For the next day and a half, you were lost in your work. Despite it being the day before Christmas Eve, there really wasn’t anywhere for you to be. Once you told your parents you were writing, they left you alone, making themselves scarce on the main floor of the house.

Locked in your bedroom, you made mug after mug of hot chocolate and slowly tore down the block in your mind. Something Hoseok had said set a fire beneath you. Your main character was unlikeable and unflawed. You could change that – you could write someone inherently flawed and still somehow likeable.

As you began the new script, a familiar world bloomed in your mind. At the top of the screenplay, you wrote Untitled: An Unlikely Superhero Story. The main character’s name was changed from Hoseok to Carlos, but you kept most of the story the same.

Carlos was a college student in his senior year. He came from a long line of famed superheroes but somehow, the genes seemed to have skipped over him. The only power Carlos had inherited was the power to turn water to wine. Very biblical, and a fun party trick, but not exactly the crème of the crop.

That is, until disaster strikes the country, and Carlos is the only available superhero to stop a new super-villain.

Head bent to your keyboard, you lost yourself in the new story. You added yourself without thinking, as Carlos’ best friend, Raya. Ray is hopelessly in love with Carlos and everyone around them knows except him.

Unlike with your prior screenplay, the words seemed to flow from somewhere deep within. While you were writing, you no longer found yourself concerned about whether people would like Carlos and Raya. Instead, you simply focused on the story you had to tell.

You were so busy writing you almost didn’t hear the soft knock at your door. Continuing to type, you wrote several more lines before someone said your name.

“Y/N?”

Glancing up, you realized Yoongi stood at your threshold. Surprised to see him without Sara, you dropped your hands from the keys and sat back.

“Yoongi!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Yoongi nodded and glanced about your room. It had been a while since he’d last been here. He and Hoseok became friends during college and by then, you’d mostly moved out of your parents’ house. Still, Yoongi and Hoseok had hung out with you on breaks, so the room wasn’t unfamiliar.

“Sure.” Yoongi glanced at your laptop. “You seemed pretty invested in what you were doing.”

“Writing my screenplay,” you said, and then paused. “I thought of something I wanted to change, and things kind of spiraled.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “I hope your writing goes well.”

You waited, but he said nothing more and after a moment, you glanced at the screen. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were kind of on a roll. If Yoongi wanted to talk about wedding plans, Sara was right downstairs.

“Is that… all?” you asked. It wasn’t like Yoongi to interrupt you for nothing.

After a moment, he sighed and glanced down the hall. Downstairs, you could hear a Christmas movie playing. He was probably in the middle of watching it with Sara. Somewhat uneasily, Yoongi looked back.

“That’s not all,” he admitted.

“Is it… do you want to come in, or something?”

Yoongi considered. “I saw you talking to Hoseok in the kitchen last night.”

Uncertain, you froze. It seemed your argument with Hoseok had been less private than you’d thought.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Oh? I’m sorry if we were being loud… I didn’t mean to interrupt the movie, or anything.”

His upper lip twitched. “You didn’t. I went to the bathroom and heard you two arguing.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yoongi sighed. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking to you about any of this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you said. “I have no idea what ‘any of this’ is, so it’s almost like we’re not talking at all.”

“What did you and Hobi fight about?”

You paused. “I… that’s kind of personal, Yoongi.”

Folding his arms, Yoongi leaned a shoulder against your door. He didn’t look away, which made you feel oddly on display.

“What’d you say to him?” he asked.

Immediately, you bristled. “Why does everyone assume I said something?”

“Because you tend to be the more clueless one.”

“I am not clueless,” you sputtered.

Yoongi gave you a look. “Well, what’d you fight about then?”

“I – I don’t know. A lot of things,” you said, falling back in your chair. “I got mad at him for cutting me out last year and he kept saying things were better this way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frustrated. “A way where we’re not friends, I guess.”

“Well. Were you ever really friends to begin with?”

Startled, your eyes widened. “Of course, we were!”

“Y/N.” Yoongi stepped forward. “Think back. Really think. Why did all of your past boyfriends hate Hoseok so much?”

“I… I don’t know. Toxic masculinity? Guys always are threatened by male-female friendships.”

“It’s because Hobi was in love with you,” Yoongi said bluntly. “Always has been. He’s been in love with you for so fucking long and all your boyfriends knew it. Hell, everyone’s known it but you.”

Although you opened and closed your mouth, no noise came out.

Staring at Yoongi, the room started to spin. What he said made no sense. Hoseok couldn’t be in love with you. He couldn’t be in love with you because you would’ve known. Somehow, you would’ve known. He had been your best friend for nearly two decades. There was no way you would’ve missed something important like that.

“Hobi…” you managed to say. “Hoseok is in love with me?”

Seeing your expression, Yoongi softened. “I don’t know about love, present tense,” he corrected. “I know it destroyed him when you left New York. When you first told him about Darren, I think it finally scared Hoseok into doing something. He was coming to confess to you that weekend, you know.”

“He was what?”

“He was coming to confess,” Yoongi repeated. “He wanted to tell you he loved you, but you picked him up from the airport and said you’d moved in with Darren.”

“I – no,” you said, horrified.

Something like pity entered his gaze. “Yeah. He’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but you’ve both been idiots for so long. You’re not even speaking to each other, which is just stupid.”

“But…” Dizzily, you shook your head. “Why are you saying this, then? You don’t even know if Hoseok feels the same way.”

“Please.” Yoongi scoffed. “Hoseok might be your best friend, but he’s also mine. I saw the way he looked at you at my engagement party. Hell, I saw the way you looked at him.”

“How… did I look at him?”

Yoongi paused. “Like you’d come home.”

Swallowing hard, you looked away. You had no words left to say because Yoongi was right – Hoseok was home. He meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life, more than anyone ever would, and you were a fool for thinking this could be friendship.

There was a reason you’d wanted to skip an entire season rather than see Hoseok again. Why losing Hoseok had hurt worse than losing Darren; why seeing Hoseok last week had instantly crumbled your defenses, and a phone call from Darren could easily be dismissed.

You loved Hoseok. You always had.

“If you don’t love him,” Yoongi continued. “I honestly have no idea what’s going on. Haven’t you ever wondered why neither one of your relationships last?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “We keep picking crappy people?”

“True.” He raised a brow. “But maybe the reason you keep picking crappy people is because you both know you’re right for each other but are too cowardly to say anything. It’s easier to say nothing and keep being friends than risk losing each other completely.”

You stared at Yoongi over your laptop. “Let’s say that’s true. Let’s say Hoseok used to love me. Why are you telling me this now?”

Yoongi hesitated. “You’re both clinging to the past so desperately, I don’t think either of you see what’s in front of your noses. Hoseok went after you last time. I think it’s about time you knew and decided what to do next.”

“And what if you’re right?” you said softly. “What if the idea of losing him is too much to bear?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Yoongi gave a sad smile. “You don’t really have him right now, do you?”

With that, he turned to leave your room. Halfway into the hall, he paused. “Hope the rewrite goes well,” Yoongi said, then disappeared.

You stared at the empty door frame for a long time after that.

Letting the influx of emotions you felt after Yoongi’s visit fuel you, you finished writing around 3:00 AM Christmas Eve. Falling asleep in the light of your laptop, you awoke groggily around 4:00 AM and moved to your bed to continue.

Your alarm went off early and for a moment, you thought you were under attack and nearly fell out of bed. Then you remembered that, in a moment of stupidity, you’d done this to yourself. Wearily rolling from bed, you padded into the bathroom and washed your face.

Around 8:00 AM, you pulled on your coat and rushed out the door, yelling to your dad you needed to borrow the car. Luckily, he was fine with this and soon you were seated in the car on your way to Kinko’s. It was the only copy place open on Christmas Eve, which you sorely needed since your dad’s printer was broken.

After printing out your screenplay, you drove all the way to Hoseok’s and parked at the curb. Here, you took several deep breaths and stared at his house.

It was as familiar to you as your own. There had been a point back in high school when you may have spent more time here than at your own house. You’d even had sleepovers because, to quote your mom, ‘it was only Hoseok.’

This thought made your cheeks heat because he had been anything but ‘only Hoseok.’ You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him that way in high school. You had often thought about Hoseok naked, and then immediately felt guilty because he was supposed to be your best friend.

If what Yoongi said was true though, you were the biggest pair of idiots because you’d liked Hoseok at the same time Hoseok had liked you. You’d both wasted so much time, love and energy on other people.

Removing the key from your ignition, you pushed open the door and promptly stepped in a snowdrift. Groaning out loud, you glanced down. Shaking your shoe free of snow, you limped awkwardly up Hoseok’s driveway. Shoe squelching, you muttered some choice words about snow and where it could shove its puffy, white ass.

“… Y/N?”

Startled, you whirled and saw Hoseok emerging from his garage, snow shovel in hand. He stared at you in confusion, having seemingly overheard everything you just said. When he realized you were limping, his gaze dropped to your foot.

“Oh.” Hoseok paused. “Sorry. I hadn’t shoved yet.”

“Hi. It’s okay,” you said, air frosting before you.

Hoseok nodded but didn’t add on and you felt suddenly nervous. This was Hoseok standing before you. It was Hoseok and yet, it wasn’t, because your Hoseok was completely untouchable. Your Hoseok was your ex-best friend, your childhood crush, and the man you were desperately, unrequitedly in love with.

This Hoseok – the one who maybe loved you back – was a stranger.

Remembering why you’d come, you tucked the papers under one arm and hurried forward. Hoseok was wearing a red puffer jacket which matched his cold cheeks. Coming to a stop, you fought the sudden nausea within you.

“Hey,” you repeated.

Hoseok stared at you, a little bewildered. He seemed like he didn’t understand why you were here, and you wilted a little, remembering how you’d left things at the holiday party.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked, echoing your thoughts.

“I wanted to give you this.”

Awkward, you thrust out both hands with the papers. Hoseok stared blankly at the pages, then looked at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my screenplay,” you said. “Well, my new screenplay. I came up with a different idea after we talked.”

Despite himself, a glimmer of curiosity entered his gaze. Hoseok glanced once more at the pages. “And why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I want you to read it,” you said.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked to yours. “I don’t think you really want my opinion, Y/N.”

“I do, though.”

Something uncertain seemed to enter his gaze the longer he looked at you. “Y/N…” Hoseok said lowly. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be friends.”

“Hoseok… please,” you said quietly. “Please read it. Just this once?”

Hoseok looked at you another moment, then nodded and took the papers. Your hands touched for the briefest of moments and you felt your heart skip, but then he pulled back and the cold settled in.

No matter how much you wanted to blurt what Yoongi had said, you stopped yourself. This was what you’d decided sometime around midnight. It would be cheating to simply relay to Hoseok how Yoongi had said he felt. You needed to show him in your own way what he meant to you.

Hence, the screenplay and ungodly hour.

Hoseok looked at the papers, then back at you. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try to read this sometimes this week, okay?”

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Okay.”

That was all you could hope for, really. One thing was for certain – your friendship couldn’t continue the way it currently was. Something needed to change, one way or the other.

After another look, you nodded and turned towards your car. Sliding into the seat, you cranked up the heat and pulled from the curb. You tried not to look in the rearview mirror but failed as soon as you reached the stop sign. Glancing up, you saw Hoseok turn the papers over in hand.

Then you turned the corner and he disappeared.

Christmas Eve was fairly typical in your house.

Christmas Day was the main event; you usually spent this at your grandma’s house. All your aunts, uncles and cousins would gather, and you’d spend the day drinking mimosas and unwrapping gifts by the fireplace.

There was tons of cooking to do, so your mom usually went over the night before to help. Usually you, your dad and Sara watched Christmas movies at home but this year, Sara was spending Christmas Eve at Yoongi’s. Your dad had volunteered to help your mom cook, which left you alone in the house for the evening.

You’d been invited to your grandma’s place, of course, but it was a halfhearted invitation, and you knew it. Your grandma was nothing if not a perfectionist and had zero patience for your brand of burnt toast. Besides, someone needed to make sure the Christmas lights were turned on.

In this way, you found yourself alone on Christmas Eve. Weirdly, this didn’t upset you at all. Wrapping yourself in your fuzziest blanket, you made yourself a cup of hot chocolate and settled in to watch the Grinch. Everyone else in your family refused to watch with you because you could quote every line by heart – and often did.

You tried not to think about Hoseok but kept coming up short. Every few minutes, a memory would drift to the surface and you’d wonder if he’d read your screenplay yet, if he’d understood what you’d meant and if he had any thoughts.

Frown deepening, you turned up the volume and tried to drown out your thoughts. It was Christmas Eve, and you had the entire place to yourself. You’d be damned if you let Hoseok –

A knock sounded at your front door.

Pressing pause, you sat up and listened. Someone knocked again and, setting down your mug, you stood to pad down the hall. It was around 7:30 PM, but you weren’t expecting either your parents or Sara back until 11:00 PM, which meant it had to be someone else.

Maybe a neighbor. It wouldn’t be the first time a strand of lights had come loose from your roof and landed on someone’s lawn. Halfway to the door, the person knocked a third time, and you noticed a shadow on your doorstep.

“Coming!” you yelled. In your haste, you’d nearly forgotten about the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “Hang on!”

Undoing the lock, you opened the front door to find Hoseok before you. He stood on your porch, clutching your papers and looking indignant.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting them forward.

You stared at him in alarm. “Um. My new screenplay?”

“Right.” Hoseok paused. “Let’s start there. This person – Carlos. Is he based on me?”

“I…” Suddenly hesitant, you tugged on the blanket. “A little. Maybe.”

“Okay. And his best friend – Raya,” Hoseok said. “Who’s that?”

Awkward, you shifted your weight to your other foot.

This was what you’d intended by giving him the screenplay. You’d wanted Hoseok to understand how deeply you felt about him, how much you’d missed having him in your life. Hoseok had always been a superhero to you, even if he didn’t know it.

“She’s…” Helpless, you looked at Hoseok. “She’s Carlos’ best friend.”

Hoseok stared at you a moment. “Alright.” Looking down, he flipped through pages until he found the one he sought. A page scrawled with your handwriting. “And what about this?” Hoseok demanded, turning it around. “What’s this?”

Slightly cross-eyed, you read your own writing.

To the only person who’s ever seen the real me. Here’s how I see you.

Swallowing hard, you looked up. “It’s dedicated to you,” you said, a bit hoarse.

Slowly, Hoseok lowered the page.

Something uncertain entered his gaze, as though he didn’t dare to believe what you said. The idea of this made you want to laugh – the idea of Hoseok not understanding how you felt for him. He was so indescribably out of your league and somehow, he thought you didn’t want him.

“Alright.” Hoseok spoke quietly, taking a step forward. “I’m going to ask this again, at the risk of sounding like an absolute idiot. Who’s Raya, Y/N?”

He was inside now, across your threshold and still, you fought back a shiver. Mistaking this for cold, Hoseok turned and shut the door. In the warm glow of your hallway, he turned back, his cheeks red with cold.

“Me,” you whispered, gathering all your courage. “She’s me, Hobi.”

Hoseok seemed to stop breathing.

“I didn’t know how else to explain,” you said in a rush. “I just… Hobi, do you know why I didn’t want to come home for Christmas?”

Mutely, he shook his head.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you confessed. “I could barely hold things together in LA, where I had my own life which didn’t involve you. Coming home and seeing you, knowing you weren’t mine and not being able to do anything about it? I couldn’t stand the idea,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t.”

Hoseok paused, and then said, “You were with Darren, though. You loved him.”

“Maybe,” you said softly. “Or maybe he was someone I could keep at arms-length. Someone who couldn’t really hurt me. Do you know how I felt after he cheated?”

“I – I don’t.”

Roughly, you exhaled. “I was hurt. But more than that, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed I’d stayed with him for as long as I had. What does that say about how fucked up that relationship was? When you love someone, you care about what they do. You care if they love you back, or not. You… you want to cross entire countries just to say how you feel,” you said, all in one breath.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “I – how did you…? Yoongi,” he breathed as he realized.

For a second Hoseok looked so livid, you nearly smiled.

“Don’t hurt him,” you said, stepping closer. “He’s the only reason I’m telling you any of this. I had no idea… I mean, you were certainly no help.”

“I was no help?” Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many times I tried to tell you?”

“I’m guessing zero,” you scoffed. “Seeing as I never realized what you were trying to say.”

Hoseok looked at you a moment, still wearing that giant, red puffer jacket. It reminded you of one he had in high school, one he saved up all winter to buy. He lost it that spring at a party – the same one you had your first kiss at. That night was also known as the first time Hoseok got drunk.

“The first time I tried to tell you I loved you, I was eleven,” Hoseok said softly. “It was the first time you slept over at my house and you fell asleep playing mario kart. You looked so pretty, even though you drooled on my pillow. I whispered I love you.”

“You… you told me you loved me when I was asleep?” you said, stunned.

Hoseok’s upper lip twitched. “The next time, we were fourteen. You got food poisoning at Wild Fun Land and I spent that night holding your hair over the toilet. After a really gross bout, you looked up and mumbled, ‘Hey, Hobi. Can you call Sara and tell her I won’t be home for dinner? Tell her… something came up.’ Then you looked at the toilet, wiggled your brows and I lost it. I told you I loved you, but I don’t think you understood.”

You realized then your mouth was hanging open, but somehow couldn’t find the strength to close it. You also remembered that day, but Hoseok was right, you’d thought he meant it in a friend way, not in a real I love you way.

“You… you tried to confess after I made a vomit pun?” you squeaked.

“The third time,” Hoseok continued, as though you’d said nothing. “We were both sixteen. It was that time Jungkook convinced everyone to go camping. We were the last ones outside, star-gazing in that field and you told me you loved the little dipper. You said you loved the idea of something guiding you home. I said–”

“You said I was that to you,” you whispered, remembering.

A strange, fluttery feeling began to take flight in your stomach. You remembered that night, too. You’d been deeply in love with Hoseok at the time but lacked the courage to tell him. His words that night had sustained you for weeks, but when you’d returned and nothing happened, you’d slowly lost hope.

“Then there was prom,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “That was the last time I tried to tell you – for a while, at least. Do you remember? Your asshole date made out with someone else on the floor, and I found you crying in the family restroom. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“You said you hoped his eyebrows fell off.”

“After that.”

“You said,” you whispered, suddenly parched. “You said it didn’t matter what my date thought, since I’d always have someone who thought I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Me,” Hoseok said quietly.

Staring at him, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid. When he said it like that, it all fell into place, but you remembered being so confused at the time.

“That was the last time?”

Hoseok hesitated. “When you began dating Ren, I tried to keep my distance. I tried to move on, but then we were together in New York… I don’t know. I realized I’d never stopped loving you. I didn’t know how to stop loving you.”

“So, you came to LA,” you murmured.

He nodded. “The night we almost kissed haunted me for months. I wanted to say something so badly, but then you said you were moving… I figured it was a sign. But then you left, and my feelings wouldn’t go away. I needed to tell you, or I’d never move on.”

“But I’d moved in with Darren.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightened. “I… I couldn’t handle being friends with you like that,” he said quietly. “I was in love with you and it was killing me. I needed to try and get over you. The only way I could think to do that was to cut you out of my life.”

“It makes sense,” you whispered, even as your heart lodged in your throat. “Did you know I came to see you?”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Last October. I missed you so badly, I flew to New York. I don’t even know what I meant to say, but then I got to your place and saw you coming back from a date. I – I realized you were right. We couldn’t be friends.”

He looked at you quizzically and you buried your face in your hands.

Slowly, you shook your head side to side. “It sounds so stupid now that I’m saying it out loud. God, how did I not realize? I loved you, Hobi. I loved you so much and it was all right there! I hated all your girlfriends. Not because they were stupid – although they were – but because I couldn’t stand the idea of you being anyone else.”

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok said, gently taking your hands in his.

He lowered them to your sides, waiting until you looked up. When you met his gaze, you tentatively traced over his face in a way you hadn’t before.

He was so beautiful.

You’d always thought this but hadn’t let yourself linger because it hurt too much to see him. It was dizzying to look at him now, to have him so near and know you were allowed. Hoseok wanted this as much as you did.

“So.” Hoseok still hadn’t let go of your hands. “If I’m Carlos and you’re Raya, does that mean…”

“I love you, Hoseok,” you said without skipping a beat.

Happiness bloomed in his gaze. You’d said it during your rambles, but this time felt different. This time felt real – a moment in the present and not a regret from the past. Hands slipping to your cheeks, Hoseok thumbed your skin before he lowered his head to yours.

His lips were cold at first, warming as they moved against you. His hands slid into your hair, repositioning your mouth to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he walked the two of you backwards, letting your hips hit the wall as the blanket fell from your shoulders. Your head started spinning when you pulled him closer, clutching his waist and opening your mouth.

Grinning into his lips, you reached for his jacket to try and unzip him. The puffiness was getting in the way and you wanted to feel him against you. Hoseok obeyed, refusing to stop kissing as his right hand found yours, tugging down the zipper.

When his coat hit the floor, you realized he was dressed in a dark suit and button-down. His head bent, determined to pick up where you’d left off, but you pushed him back.

“Hang on,” you said, sweeping him with your gaze. “Holy shit.”

Hoseok paused, breathing hard. “What?”

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“Yeah.” He looked at you, bewildered. “I came straight from mass.”

“Hm.” You cocked your head. “I should probably talk to my therapist about why I find that hot.”

Hoseok chuckled and leaned in. Rather than kiss you, he pressed your hips to the wall and rested his hand by your head. Slowly, his gaze trailed your frame.

“I… Hoseok,” you said, heart beating faster. “I’m wearing pajamas.”

You were. They were matching flannel – short sleeves and short-shorts, but still hopelessly Christmas-y and endlessly dorky. Your sister had insisted you wear them on Christmas Eve, so you could wake up in them tomorrow morning.

Hoseok’s gaze glinted. “Mhm. What’s your point?”

“Stop… stop looking at me like that,” you said, a bit breathless.

His gaze flicked to yours. “Like what?”

“Like…” You swallowed. “Like you’re undressing me in your mind, or something.”

Hoseok grinned.

“Stop,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Instead, Hoseok lowered a finger to your clavicle and slowly dragged down. Equally gently, he undid a button. The top of your pajama shirt parted and Hoseok exhaled.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hand curling on the wall. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you naked.”

His voice made you shiver, pressing closer when his arm slid around your waist. Hoseok swallowed and lowered to kiss you again. His lips were softer, more tentative and you found yourself melting. Arms finding his neck, you pulled him even closer to feel him flush against you.

“So.” Hoseok pulled back, kissing the corner of your lips. “I hate to say something which might break the mood, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Your parents aren’t home, are they?”

Snorting, you buried your face in his neck. Hoseok smelled good, like citrus and linen. After breathing him in for a second, you looked up to see him.

“No,” you told him. “No one will be back for hours.”

“Good.”

Without further preamble, Hoseok resumed kissing you. You lost yourself in the feel of his hands, the touch of his lips and the delicious way Hoseok tasted. Sucking on his lower lip, you nibbled a little before you pulled back. Hoseok groaned, thumb stroking your neck as you opened your mouth.

Your hands slid under his suit jacket, trying to pull him even closer. Hoseok undid another button on your top to leave it half-open.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking down.

“Hobi.” You pushed your hips to his. “Take it all the way off.”

Sharply, he looked up and his jaw clenched. “Are you trying to kill me?” he said, sliding a finger down your chest. Hovering over your breastbone, he awaited further instruction.

Watching him, you reached up and undid the final two buttons. Inhaling, Hoseok pushed off your top until it fell to the floor. You were left standing in only your shorts, which had ridden up in a somewhat obscene manner.

Hoseok wet his lips.

“Hobi,” you groaned. He looked up. “Touch me.”

“God.” He slid both hands up your ribcage. “You are, aren’t you? You’re trying to kill me.”

Palms cupping your breasts, Hoseok flicked over each nipple. He stared appreciatively as they hardened, aroused by his touch.

“You had this bikini,” he said suddenly, looking up. “A white string bikini you wore to the pool senior year. Every guy in our grade loved that bikini,” he confessed, dipping his head. “We all used to pray the AC would be on, because then your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

“Hey!” you blurted, losing all train of thought when Hoseok’s lips closed around a nipple. “Oh,” you said breathlessly, head hitting the wall.

Hoseok continued, merciless as his tongue swept upward. He teasingly brought one to a peak, then the other, flicking the first with his thumb.

God, you were wet – so fucking wet, you were surprised Hoseok couldn’t tell as you ground on his leg. Hoseok had wedged his thigh between yours, giving you the perfect seat while he played with your breasts.

“H-hobi,” you whimpered.

Lifting his head, Hoseok smirked. There was something about seeing him fully clothed while you ground on his leg which set off a needy, primal part of you.

“We should go upstairs,” you said, glancing past him.

Hoseok went still. “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “I need you. Now.”

Without another word, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and made for the stairs. You laughed when he pulled you along, remembering to scoop your top from the ground as you went. Slapping his ass, you followed his lead and Hoseok paused on the landing to press you to the wall.

Beneath your terrible middle school photos, he kissed you, unable to keep from smiling.

“No more,” you whined, pulling back. “I want to see you naked.”

Hoseok snorted but followed you down the hall and into your bedroom. You walked inside but he paused, choosing to linger on the threshold instead.

“Fuck.” Hoseok glanced around. “I can’t believe you’re inviting me up to your room. Sixteen-year-old me is reaching through the time continuum to give me a high five.”

Taking a seat on your bed, you threw the shirt to the ground. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“What are you talking about?” you said, baffled. “You’ve been in my room plenty of times.”

His eyes gleamed as he walked closer. “It’s not the same,” Hoseok said, beginning to undo his belt. His jacket, then his pants found their way to the floor. “Do you know how many times I jacked off to the idea of you touching yourself in this room?”

“Oh,” you whispered, a bit breathless.

Without breaking his gaze, you slid the shorts from your waist and pushed them to the ground. Now, you were entirely naked. Spreading yourself on the sheets, you let Hoseok see you. Normally, you weren’t this aggressive in bed. Normally, you went along with whatever your partner wanted, but this was Hoseok. You needed him to know how badly you wanted him.

Eyes widening, Hoseok undid his shirt. As soon as this was gone, you sucked in a breath. Hoseok was gorgeous. You’d known this of course, but his body was all lithe muscles and golden skin. His hips had an indent you loved – you saw this only briefly before he unzipped his pants.

Still looking at you, he lowered them to the floor, and you forgot how to breathe for a minute. You forgot everything but the sight of Hoseok standing naked before you.

Walking towards the bed, he lowered a knee to the mattress and slowly pushed you back. Your lips met as you inhaled, pulling him closer, grabbing a hold of whatever you could. There was so much to see, so much to touch – hands trembling, they slid down the broad panes of his back. Hoseok’s legs nestled between yours, your arousal getting all over his thighs.

Mouth opening, his tongue swept forward as you whimpered his name. Lowering you to your back, Hoseok kissed slowly down your front to close over a breast. Sucking into his mouth, his hips rolled against yours.

Gasping, your pelvis rocked forward, feeling his cock at your thigh. You needed him inside you so badly. Needed his length, his fingers, his mouth – it didn’t matter.

“Please, Hoseok,” you said, pulling up on his shoulders until he kissed you again.

“This isn’t fair,” he protested.

“What isn’t?”

“You.” He pulled back to sit on his heels. With one hand, Hoseok fisted his cock and stared at your dripping cunt. “We’ve been making out for ten minutes and already, my balls feel so tight, I’m going to come the second I get inside you.” His eyes widened. “I mean. If that’s… I don’t want to assume…”

Melting a little, you reached up and pulled him down to your chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged his cock with your center. This had to be the wettest you’d ever been in your life.

“You feel that?” you whispered, biting his ear.

Hoseok shuddered, fighting to keep still.

“That’s me saying I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Inhaling sharply, Hoseok reached down and slid a finger into your cunt. You groaned, clenching as you fell back on the bed. Hoseok pulled his finger back out, closing his mouth around the digit to suck it clean. Eyes closed, he exhaled.

“Mm.” He opened his eyes, dark with arousal. “God, I can’t wait to make your legs shake. Lick your whole pussy clean while you ride my face.”

Unwittingly, your eyes widened. “Hobi!”

Grin wicked, he leaned to cage you with his arms. “Yeah?”

“You…” Your face felt like it was on fire. “I’ve just… never heard you talk like that before.”

“Did you like it?” he murmured, brushing your neck with his lips.

“Yeah,” you said, arching upwards. “Tell me what else you want to do to me.”

Reaching down, Hoseok slid his finger back inside you. Sinking in deeper, he made wet, squelching sounds as he slowly fucked you. His thumb began rubbing your clit.

“Well first,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you like this – looking at you. Watching you come.”

You shuddered when he added a second finger, working you open. Hoseok curled his fingers in a forward gesture, brushing a spot deep inside you which made you moan.

“I wish we were somewhere else,” he said, adding a third finger. “I wish we had all the time in the world so I could do everything I have in mind. Eat your pussy like the meal it is. Lie back and let you ride my face. Have you hanging off the bed while I fuck your throat.”

“Shit,” you breathed, eyes slightly glazed.

Glancing down, Hoseok saw your arousal dripping around his hand. He smirked. “You like that, huh?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Want me to fuck your throat, baby?”

“Yes,” you groaned, head thrown back on the bed.

He made a noise partway to a growl, then abruptly pulled out his fingers. You gasped, clenching hard around nothing while you looked at him in dismay.

“I was so close,” you groaned. “Hobi!”

“I know,” he said, returning to rubbing your clit. “I know, but fuck – I can’t wait any longer to be inside you. I need to know what your pussy feels like around me.”

“Oh,” you exhaled. “Okay.”

Hoseok’s lips found yours, moving slowly as he thrust between your legs to get his cock wet. Each time he slid past your pussy, you whimpered and Hoseok grinned, pulling back.

“Hoseok,” you said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, if you don’t –”

He laughed. “Okay, okay,” he agreed and pushed his tip inside you.

Immediately, he froze.

“What?” you said, searching his face.

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed.

“What?” you whimpered, genuinely distressed at feeling him so close but not inside you. If he didn’t move – and soon – you might cry or come.

“Condom,” he blurted. “I didn’t grab one before coming here. Do you have one?”

Stomach sinking, you shook your head.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Hoseok hung his head. “I’m sorry, baby. We don’t have to–”

“I’m clean,” you said, and he froze. “I got tested after the breakup and I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m on the pill, too. So…”

Slowly, Hoseok looked up. “You want me to fuck you… raw?”

“If you want…”

You said this, uncertain because Hoseok had the oddest look on his face, as though your words physically pained him.

“Fuck, yes I want,” he whispered. “I’m clean, too. I promise. Got tested last month.”

“Okay,” you said, slipping your arms around him. “I trust you, Hobi.”

Gaze melting, Hoseok nodded and bent to kiss you again. With each roll of his hips, he worked his cock deeper. Lips parted, you groaned and enjoyed the feeling of him filling you. Hoseok moved slow, rubbing your clit with his thumb the entire way.

Somewhat dazed, you imagined what it would’ve been like to lose your virginity to Hoseok. It probably would’ve been much more pleasurable than the way it actually happened.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled as he bottomed out. Lowering himself to his elbows, he gave an experimental roll of his hips.

“Oh,” you whispered, clutching him closer.

Hoseok’s eyes shone in the darkness above you. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… how nice it would’ve been to lose my virginity to you.”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t just… fucking say things like that, Y/N.”

“Why not? You said way dirtier things to me earlier.”

“This is different, though,” he argued. “I actually could’ve been that person. I’ll never forgive the asshole who made you bleed.”

Heat rose to your face. “I should never have told you that.”

Hoseok shifted on top of you, causing his cock to go deeper. “No,” he exhaled, gaze roaming your face. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll just try and erase that experience from memory.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Hoseok thrust his hips forward. Your lips parted as he filled you, gasping a little as your hands found his back. Slower, he pulled out and pushed back inside. Spread out underneath him, Hoseok kept you at his mercy with each roll of his hips.

His cock was – oh my god, you’d never felt anything like this. Each toe-curling thrust of his hips had you biting back moans. You’d had sex, but you didn’t think you’d ever been fucked like this. Like Hoseok knew what he was doing and wanted to make you come – needed to make you come. Already, you felt yourself tightening, unable to withstand the steady thrust of his cock.

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

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok said, trying to see you. “Slower?”

“No. I – I’m gonna come soon.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Already?”

“Stop it,” you groaned. “Who knew you were a fucking god amongst mortals?”

When you looked up, he smirked and slid his palms to your thighs. “Hold these open for me,” he said, thrusting in slow, shallow strokes.

You obliged, holding your thighs open so he could see you fully.

“Fuck.” Hoseok’s breath hitched a little. “About to come and I haven’t even done this.” Dragging his knuckles to either side of your clit, he squeezed and made you gasp. “Or this,” he added, moving to cup your breasts.

Tugging your nipples between fingers, he deftly pulled down and made you moan. Hoseok did this again before letting go, lowering himself to his forearms with a wicked smile.

“But baby already wants to come,” he said, kissing you softly. “This gorgeous pussy just wants to come on my cock. Is that right?”

“I can’t decide if I want to slap you,” you groaned, chest heaving. “Or tell you – fuck yes, it does.”

Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Shit. Both sound good to me.”

You moaned again, and this time Hoseok had pity on you. Hand sliding between you, he began to fuck faster and roll your clit with his thumb.

“That’s it,” he grunted, hips slamming against you. “Such a good girl, about to come so hard on my cock. Relax, baby. Let me take care of it,” he said, moving faster.

He began to fuck harder, deeper and everything within you tightened to a breaking point. Everything was too much, so sensitive – whimpering his name, you shuddered apart. A fresh wave of arousal soaked the sheets and Hoseok went still, hips faltering against yours.

Dazed, you managed to open your eyes. You wanted to tell him to keep going. You wanted to tell him to come inside you, but before you could utter a word, you saw Hoseok’s face.

“Oh,” you said, wincing as you looked down. “Sorry. I squirt sometimes – is that weird?”

Hoseok stared at you like he’d won the fucking lottery. “Is it – weird?” he breathed. “Weird? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.” Gaze glinting, he pushed your thighs upwards and onto your chest. “Wanna see if I can do it again.”

You nodded, trembling – and then gasped when Hoseok let go for real.

Back arching, you moaned as he began to fuck you. Hoseok moved hard and fast, his cock pounding relentlessly into your needy pussy. You could barely catch your breath but somehow, this just made you want it more. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it as you tightened around him.

He seemed determined to make good on his promise, giving in to the mind-numbing feeling of fucking you hard. You began to see stars, so whipped for the feeling of his cock pounding into you. Crying out his name, you arched your hips up to his.

He slammed into your g-spot, making you tremble beneath the force of his onslaught. Unyielding, he drove you towards your second orgasm of the night. Everything was overwhelming, making you clutch at him harder. The sensation was nothing but pure lust and pleasure – and then you broke, seeing black as you came for the second time.

You felt yourself clench, arousal gushing from your pussy to soak the sheets again. Hoseok groaned, saying your name when he finally came. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt and when he was finally done, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Eyes fluttering, you let out a shaky laugh. Hoseok exhaled, chest pressed to yours as his expression softened.

You grinned up at him, still breathless. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He smiled dreamily back. “Wow.”

When he tried to roll but keep himself inside you, you laughed.

“Hobi –”

“Shh. Let this happen.”

“Hobi!” you snorted, smacking his chest.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

Although his lips turned downwards, he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Once he’d pulled out, you rolled from bed and hurried into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you wandered into your bedroom and froze.

Hoseok had pulled all your sheets from the bed and stood helplessly in front of your closet.

“Uh.” You leaned your shoulder to the door. “What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to change your sheets, but your mom must keep them someplace different now.”

Unwittingly, you started to grin. It was just so strange having Hoseok in your room, trying to clean up after giving you the best double orgasm of your life. A good weird, though. The best kind of weird.

Heading into your bathroom, you returned with fresh sheets. “Here,” you said, handing them to Hoseok. Scooping the others from the floor, you stood. “I’ll throw these in the wash and be back.”

“Right back!”

You rolled your eyes at the demand but hurried to the laundry room and back. When you returned, you found Hoseok waiting for you in bed, sheets freshly changed. Slipping under the covers, you snuggled against his side.

Hoseok kissed the top of your head, leisurely stroking your arm with one hand. You stayed there for a while, happy to just be together again.

Then, Hoseok cleared his throat.

“What?” you said, looking up.

“I don’t remember if I said.” He sleepily smiled. “I loved the new script.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“The lead isn’t too perfect?”

Hoseok laughed, a bit sheepish. “I may have been projecting a little.”

“You were right, though. She was terrible.”

His gaze softened, looking at you. “No,” he said quietly. “But also, you can have the best screenplay in the world, Y/N and it’s still a game of chance. You’re talented and one day, everyone will see that. If not this screenplay, then the next one.”

His words were warm, settling over you like a blanket. Hoseok always believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself. You had more confidence in yourself now but sometimes, it was nice to have someone who supported you unconditionally. Someone without an agenda or anything in it for themselves. Someone who loved you and whom you loved back.

“Hobi?” you said, laying your head to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Are we dating?

His chest shook as he laughed. “If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

“Good. Me too.”

You nodded, waiting a little longer and then said, “Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned. “If my parents come home and find you naked in my bed, you won’t live long enough to see the honeymoon phase.”

Hoseok snorted and you laughed, rolling over to kiss him again. Eventually you got out of bed, put on your clothes, and went downstairs to watch the Christmas movie, but nothing seemed to change the ear-splitting grin on your face.

With Hoseok beside you and hot chocolate in hand, you begrudgingly admitted it may have been a good idea to come home for the holidays, after all.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 HAPPY HOBI-DAYS, ALL!

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

[softomi]

Catfish

prompt: mother says to be wary of people you meet on the internet, especially since you never know who’s on the other side of the screen. 

pairing: atsumu x reader

the unpaid extras: osamu, suna

general taglist: @graykageyama

Osamu liked to mess with his brother and lately he’s been planning the largest prank. It originally wasn’t supposed become a huge thing, but then Suna just kept edging him on; adding more things one by one and it just spiraled. Osamu was catfishing Atsumu with your pictures.

Now, Osamu knows that it sounds bad but technically you were in on the prank. You had never met nor even knew Atsumu, heck, you didn’t even know who Osamu was. You had been part of the prank merely through text messages and the occasional meet up with Suna.

To put it simply, Suna met you through one of his teammates; coincidentally you ended up in one of his classes and the two of you built a tiny friendship. Which was why, when Suna was thinking of the perfect person to catfish Atsumu with; your face lit up in his head.

You were the perfect candidate, exactly Atsumu’s type literally to a tee. When Suna pulled up your contact, the first thing he did was offer to pay you. Every picture you sent used for the prank, he’ll send you cash through an app and as a broke college student who needed cash fast, you agreed as long as the photos weren’t used for anything weird or sexual. He made sure to send you proof of each photo in use.

This brings it all back to dear Osamu catfishing his brother. He had created an entirely new Instagram for you, complete using your name and a cute description that him and Suna had spent two hours thinking of. They decided to even spend a few days perfecting it, posting pictures a few days apart with captions, following random groups, liking posts, essentially creating a whole new personality using your photos. Osamu had even developed a fake occupation for you; a foodie blogger to which some posts were dedicated to food reviews for restaurants Osamu deemed worthy of a post.

And when Osamu says that the prank spiraled; it fucking spiraled. Originally it started with Suna and Osamu following the account, suddenly Suna’s teammates began following the account. Osamu made the mistake of tagging Onigirl Miya in one of your photos, ultimately adding a few random people to follow the account. Suddenly after two weeks of having the account, you gained over two thousand follows.

It was no worries though, because Osamu can quickly catfish Atsumu, take down the account, and call it all good.

Safe to say, Atsumu accepted the friend request rather quickly. Osamu and Suna snicker to themselves, it took Atsumu less than five minutes to accept and he was already liking all of your photos. Not even ten minutes pass and he’s sliding into the DM’s.

The two men looking at the phone and burst into laughter. They spend five minutes cackling at Atsumu’s random ‘hey’ message that followed with a smiling emoji.

Osamu was absolutely entertained, it was hilarious that his own brother had fallen for his catfish and honestly, Osamu was ready to give up the act after three days but then Atsumu said something that just really pissed him off. He doesn’t remember what it was, he just suddenly ended up two more weeks later still having the fake Instagram account and still having Atsumu believe that he was falling in love with some girl.

Somehow the account ended up with over five thousand followers, Atsumu messages the account religiously, and Osamu for some godly reason is still managing the account three months later. It’s spiraled.

“I have a girlfriend!” Atsumu doesn’t know why his friend and brother are laughing. He’s scrolling through your Instagram, the catfish Instagram.

Osamu almost chokes on his food, “So what, have you guys gone on a date? Have you even seen her in real life?” Suna snorts into his drink, he coughs when he accidentally inhales the water sharply.

Atsumu slumps in his seat, his voice small, “No, but we talk every day and she likes me!”

Suna is coughing even harder now, tears threatening to leave his eyes to the point that he excuses himself to the bathroom. Osamu has a shit eating grin on his face, “How do you know she’s actually not some old dude catfishing you?”

“She’s not!” Atsumu stutters, “She’s real!”

“Prove it.”

Osamu was about to learn a harsh lesson about the world; the world loves to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

Atsumu leans forward, an eerie grin on his lips, “Happily.” Atsumu whips out his phone, quickly presses a number and holds the phone to his ear. He holds a finger up to his brother, even gesturing for the returning Suna to remain quiet. The phone picks up, “Hey babe, you wanna meet me here at Onigiri Miya?” Atsumu looks at the watch on his wrist, “Twenty minutes? Perfect.”

Osamu’s believing his brother is bluffing. There was no way in hell he’d be able to somehow magically bring the catfish to life, heck, Atsumu would be a god if suddenly he could. Thirty minutes pass, Osamu is exchanging looks with Suna. It’s absolutely silent between the three.

Osamu is suddenly feeling guilty, Suna is uncomfortable to the point that he’s even texting you to make sure you weren’t actually coming, and you confirmed with him that you weren’t.

“Should we tell him?” Osamu whispers when another five minutes pass.

Suna is deadpanned, “I don’t know, we’re kind of reaching a sad territory now. Let’s just break up with him and ghost him.”

Osamu groans, “But do we want to deal with a sad Atsumu, I’ll take getting my ass kicked over him crying in my apartment.”

The door chimes and their jaws smack the floor. You walked through the door, eyes roaming the place before landing on the three huddled into the corner. Is he a fucking god? Atsumu stands from his seat, he meets you halfway, pulling you into a heartfelt kiss that has you swooning.

The closer you approach with Atsumu’s arm around your shoulder, the more they truly begin to believe that Atsumu is a god.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend.” This time it’s Atsumu who has a shit-eating grin, “Ain’t she a beauty, the pictures don’t do her justice.”

It takes everything in Osamu to not scream, “But, you said you’d never even met her before.”

Atsumu gazes into your eyes, hearts practically floating above his head, “I mean I guess technically this is our first-time meeting, right?”

You nod, a puppy like expression on your face, “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet. You must be Osamu.” You point to him then your fingers drag to the other male, “Suna.”

“Oh.” Suna sits straight up, “Oh!” He catches the glint in your eyes, the conniving little minx of a look. Suna was no longer calm, “We’ve been double crossed!”

There’s screaming, fingers are being pointed at each other, Atsumu is gripping Osamu by the neck of his shirt, Suna is literally calling your phone to make sure that it’s actually you, Osamu is pulling his brother’s hair. The customers of the restaurant stare with their jaws dropped at the scene.

Everyone is squished into Osamu’s small office. Suna is sitting on the desktop, Osamu in his chair, Atsumu in the spare seat, and you lean on the arm of Atsumu’s chair. His arm dangles around your waist, pulling you to lean on him with a cheery grin.

Atsumu leans forward, taking in the expressions of the two bewildered boys, “I guess let’s start at the beginning.”

While the story technically began three months ago with Suna asking for your cooperation, the story of you and Atsumu began two months ago.

The extra cash from all the pictures you sent Suna was giving you enough to be able to go out and live a little on the weekends. Originally the bar was dead, you and your friends were tucked into the corner in a booth when a rowdy bunch of men came in. Your friends gasped having recognize them as members of a sports team and with their excitement, they must have won a game.

It didn’t affect your group that much until it came to split ways; being in your last year of university, you excused yourself, insisting that you needed to go home to finish a project. As you stood at the register, card tapping against the counter, that was when he showed up.

At this point, Atsumu had spent the past hour believing the gods were on his side. He practically walked by your table ten times just to make sure the face matched the one in his instagram’s DM. After forty minutes of the constant back and forth, your quick gazes at him walking by the table seem to do nothing. Were you unable to recognize him?

He took his shot watching you stand alone at the counter. He finishes off his drink and smoothly strides to you.

“Hey!” Atsumu leans on the counter, flashing a smile despite alcohol dripping from the side of his mouth, “Wouldn’t you consider this fate?” He gestures between the both of you.

You’re confused, shooting him a puzzled gaze, “Sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.” You hand the card to the worker, anxiously eyeing the male who’s increasingly invading your space.

Atsumu places a hand on the small of your back, it was something Instagram you had mentioned you liked, instead it triggered a fight or flight. Your hand makes harsh contact with his cheek, he retracts his hand immediately.

“Don’t touch me!” You bark at him, “Perv.” You’re aggressively signing the receipt, storming out of the door while other men seem to ooh at Atsumu’s situation.

“Hey!” Atsumu catches your figure outside of the bar, you’re waving a hand to catch a cab, “I think we got off on the wrong foot there.”

You don’t give him a second glance, “Look, I don’t know who you think you are.”

“Atsumu.” He stands right in front of you, blocking your sights for a cab. He’s got the widest smile on his face as he holds out a hand, “Miya Atsumu. Volleyball player. Setter for the Black Jackals.”

“Okay.” You run a hand through your hair, oddly taking his hand into a shake while eyeing him, “Miya Atsumu, volleyball player, setter for the Black Jackals.”

You step to the side, arm out still trying to catch a taxi but he blocks your way once more and he looks at you with such wonder. His eyes practically having stars coming out and his smile warm and inviting. He was wondering if you were a twin, maybe he had actually gotten the wrong person.

“You are?”

The wind is causing your hair to blow in your face, he wants to so bad to brush the strands behind your ears but the way you gave him a slap earlier makes him think that’s a bad idea. Your fingers pull your hair back, “Y/n. I don’t have a fancy title like yours but, I guess I don’t know, senior to be graduating at the university.” You sidestep him once more, “I’m just trying to catch a cab home.”

Once more he blocks your way and you look at him with defeat. He was persistent. He laughs, “Sorry, last time, but do you not know me?”

You’re still as confused as ever, “Look if you’re going to pull some cheesy line about seeing me before, it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, just hold on a second.” Atsumu pulls out his phone, his fingers are shaking as he presses onto the app. He pulls up your profile, handing you his cell phone, “This is you isn’t it?!”

Your eyes scan the social media page, your mouth falling open, there’s a hidden laugh itching in your throat. These were all the picture you had taken for Suna and somehow, you’re being shown by a stranger your fake profile.

“We’ve been messaging for like a month, I can’t believe you don’t recognize me.”

I don’t recognize you because I’m not the one talking to you.

You’re perplexed, you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, if you told him he’s being catfished you’d lose the flow of side cash you’ve developed but if you didn’t, isn’t that just wrong. And the more you look at him from under the stars, he’s rather cute; you suddenly feel bad for slapping his face earlier.

“Do you want to get some coffee?”

Your offer sends him over the moon, he’s walking alongside you to the nearest convenience; Atsumu is rather talkative, bringing up topics of everything and anything that comes to his mind. As the two of you look over drink options in the cooler, his hands pull two cans of black coffee.

“You’re favorite right?” He holds one out to you.

Your actively smiling, biting your lower lip and wondering if you needed to play along with the role but as he stares at you with such adoring eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat just taking in the fact that he would remember something trivial over text.

“Actually.” You place the drink back, opting for a sweeter caramel macchiato, “I would say that this is my favorite.”

Atsumu quirks a brow, “Are you saying you were lying to me?” He places a hand over his heart, “And here I thought we were soulmates.”

Your hand smacks against his arm, “Shut up.”

“So what are you studying for?” Atsumu sips his drink, the two of you leaning against the windows of the convenience store. There’s a slight sway in his body and you’ve unknowingly followed his movements.

“Literature. Once I graduate, an internship is probably where I’ll start but I’m hoping I can get hired into a publishing company.” He’s comfortable to be with and you aren’t sure if it’s because he thinks he knows you or because his presence is just like that; comfortable.

Atsumu finishes off his canned beverage, “And you do that, all on top of running a foodie Instagram.”

From what you gathered on a quick skim of the account; they have your occupation as a lower level food blog; it’s rather funny. You can only nod to him, “It’s just a side hobby really.”

“Well maybe I could join you on one of your little adventures.”

You try to suppress the immense grin that wants to grow on your lips, there’s an internal battle happening of whether you should tell him or not but once again, the way he looks at you, the cute doe eyed look; it puts butterflies in your stomach.

“How about tomorrow?” He lets out a small gasp, your hands pull out your cell phone and offer it to him, “Your number?”

“I’m free for lunch, just text me when and where.”

You press the number he’s inserted into his contact; in a second his cell rings and he’s showing off his screen, “Don’t message me on Instagram though, I’m detoxing from social media for a bit. Just, text my number.”

He walks you to the curb, helping you flag down a cab, and you give him one last gleeful glance before getting into the car. As you sit, you’re quick to dial Suna’s number. You know he’s probably sleeping but the light feeling in your heart overrides his sleep schedule.

“What?” He’s groaning.

“Suna listen to me carefully. The prank that you guys are doing.” You hear a small snore, “Suna!” He jolts awake and you groan, “You know what, go back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up immediately.

Your phone dings, Atsumu’s name pops up. Can’t wait for our date. You bite on your thumb, a smile on you before you respond.

Although having just seen him forty minutes ago, you two text back and forth. First he wondered if you arrived home safe, next he sent pictures of himself insisting it’s for you to choose for his icon, then he proceeds to narrate his way home. You wonder if you’re responding like catfish you but the more he brings up random topics, the more you forget about that stupid prank.

Wait let me call you.

Your heart beats faster, your phone lighting up with his name. You press the answer button slowly, “Hello?” You giggle.

“You’re telling me that you like spikers more than setters.” His voice is nearly screaming and you lean back on your chair laughing into the phone.

The quick research you did on his team had you watching short videos, and while you had to admit it was amazing to watch, your eyes drifted more to one of his teammates than him, “What’s his name?” You lean to look at your computer screen, “Bokuto Koutarou?”

“No!” He’s whining out into the air, “If I had known you were a spiker girl I would have changed positions.”

Your eyes catch the time on your laptop, “Woah. It’s three in the morning.” That meant you had spent over four hours total texting him and now you were on the phone with him, “What are you doing awake?”

He blows out a breath of air, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well.” You draw out the word, dragging your self to your bed, “I’m going to go to sleep now.” There’s a pause on the line, “Atsumu?” He hums tiredly, “Good night.”

There’s a small snore from him before he shifts around, “Good night.”

The morning light urges you awake, for a second you peak at your phone’s time and it nears ten in the morning. You’re about to throw your phone back onto the bedside table until Atsumu’s name catches your eye. For having gone to bed at three a.m. he shot you a text at seven.

Morning beautiful.

It was sweet, simple, and it made you smile; giving you the extra push to get out of bed. You stalked your own catfish page, there hadn’t seemed to be any updates so there was still time. A quick search of the internet has you picking out a random restaurant nearby and you send off a text to Atsumu about a meeting time.

You were late, pushing through the doors of the restaurant, your eyes scan the place to see him raise a hand for you. He’s dashingly handsome despite being in casual wear, you wonder if he spent time like you did just trying to pick out an outfit or if he spent forever gelling his hair as long as you tried to get your strands into the perfect waves.

“Sorry, did you wait long?” You pull into the seat in front of him.

He’s smiling and you hope to god that when you break the news to him, he’ll still smile for you, “I just got here not too long ago too.” He looks over the menu quickly, “What do you think you’ll get?”

You inspect each dish, a light hum on you as you dance around the option, “The spaghetti sounds nice.”

Atsumu tilts his head, “It has red meat in it.” You stare blankly at him, “Aren’t you allergic to red meat?”

“Oh.” You set the menu down, “Actually.” He follows your actions, you’ve become nervous at what you’re suddenly about to do, “There’s something you should know.”

“Fuck this!” Atsumu throws the napkin on the table, you jump as he harshly stands, throwing the chair back.

“Atsumu.” You stand.

“No! Don’t. Were you just messing with me then? Did Osamu tell you I was going to be at the bar last night?” Atsumu’s fist ball, “You know what, whatever.”

“Wait.” You follow him behind, “Atsumu. I’m sorry.”

He harshly turns to you, god, even in sunlight you were beautiful to him. He wants to laugh, the month he spent talking to the fake you; yeah that was all bullshit to him but honestly when he saw you last night, when he spent over four hours actually talking to you; he actually felt that maybe this could be something deeper.

“I’m really sorry, I know I should have said something right away.” You have a soft pout on you and it makes him outwardly groan.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Okay, it’s fine. I probably deserved this prank too anyways; must have pissed him off somehow.” He waves a hand, “You can just go back to doing whatever.”

Your hand pulls on his wrist, “I owe you a meal.” You bat your eyes with a cheeky grin, “If you take pictures of me, we can send them to Suna and use the money for our food.”

“Oh.” He begins to smile, “I like that idea.”

Back into Osamu’s office, Atsumu has now pulled you onto his lap, your head resting on his shoulder with arms hanging around his shoulders. The two bachelors stare at the sickly loving sight.

A lightbulb goes off in Suna’s head, “Wait! My money!”

You snort a laugh into Atsumu’s shoulder, “Hey, I earned that fair and square. You paid for goods.”

Osamu is having a staring contest with his brother, “So you two have been actually dating for two months? Why would you still message the catfish account then, why not just kick my ass when you found out?”

Atsumu taps a finger on his chin, “Well, I was just originally going to ghost you guys but then babe here and I discovered that we could fund all of our dates with Suna’s money. We even started setting aside leftover cash from our dates to plan a trip.”

You giggle, “We’re going to Disney next weekend.”

“All the pictures.” Suna whispers.

There’s an amused hum in your throat, “Honestly I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out. We were dropping hints in the photos.”

Indeed, the two males looked at the pictures you sent them. If they backtracked to two months ago, there wouldn’t be any hints but the closer they get to the present; it was painfully obvious. They were just too caught up in their excitement to even notice. In one photo, part of Atsumu’s shoulder and hair was just barely in the picture; another had his reflection vividly displayed in the window of the restaurant, and somehow Osamu and Suna missed the obvious Black Jackals jacket sitting on the back of the chair next to you.

The two boys were having a mental breakdown.

You shifted on Atsumu’s lap, leaning forward to tap against the top of Osamu’s phone, “Now, if you’d please deactivate the account since this whole charade is over.”

Osamu ended up not deleting the account. He set the account to private because seeing how his brother was so deeply entranced by you, Osamu had a feeling this one was going to last and he was right; on Atsumu’s wedding day, his little best-man speech had him whipping out the catfish Instagram to display on the monitor for everyone to see.

[mel-the-fangirl]

The Escort

Walter Marshall x Reader

Words: 2,064

Warnings: none

Happy super late Valentine’s, Cavillry! As usual, this is a very very late upload but in my defense, it does say in my bio that I am a procrastinator soooo... Anyway, I’m really excited about this miniseries because I love the movie (The Wedding Date, 2005) and I really wanted to write Walter, I hope I do him justice!

Feedback (good and bad!) means the world to me as rookie writer, so I hope you’ll like, reblog and leave me some replies!

---------------------------------------

You could not believe you were doing this. You just couldn't. But there you were doing it, even though your mind screeched at you to stop and save a little dignity for yourself.

The fact that you even considered doing this was already a serious loss of dignity points, so what the hell. People did this all the time, didn’t they? There wouldn’t be a whole network of people clumped into this app if it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

It just wasn’t a normal occurrence for you.

Once you filled your head with rationalisations to make yourself feel better, you took a deep breath and began browsing through what the great city of New York had to offer.

Z, 6’, loving hands, fit, athletic, good manners, for water sports, caramel complexion.

For water sports? What in the hell did that mean? And that single initial in place of an actual name? Serial killer vibes. No, thank you.

Lenny, 6’2”, pretty fit Italian, excellent dinner companion, all occasions catered.

Alright. Okay. Now we’re talking. Tall, European, excellent dinner companion equals to good conversationalist, accommodating. Lenny goes on the list of possibilities.

Terry, 6’, my soft voice will arouse you, my strong hands will pleasure you,  let me show you how a woman should be treated, hourly/overnight rates.

Oh no no no. Major creep vibes from Terry. That ad alone had you reaching for another long swig of wine.

Joey, 5’8”, are you into champagne?, bodybuilder, will treat you like a queen.

“If you like piña coladas…” you sang in not even remotely the right key, topping off your drink

Josh, 5’9”, I can make you feel sexy and wanted. Fit, sensual, strong.

“Well!” you exclaimed drunkenly, almost spilling wine on your couch, “Tough beans, Josh! I don’t need a man to make me feel sexy and wanted!” you faltered a bit, your drunk mind still seeing the holes in your logic

“I just… Need a man to help me not look like a tragic spinster in front of my family and my ex...”

With that thought fresh in your mind, you reached for some more wine.

The ads went on and on as you scrolled through your phone, it was all a little overwhelming, how were you going to make sure you weren't hiring some psychopathic serial killing pervert to pose as your date to your sister's wedding?

The groan you let out bounced off the walls of your apartment. The reality of your situation was sinking in little by little. 

Yes. You were hiring a male escort for your sister's wedding. It was your baby sister's wedding, by the way. You were a hundred percent aware that what you were doing was completely and utterly pathetic but you’ve already weighed the pros and cons in your head countless times.

Showing up alone: pitying looks, whispering behind your back, having to face ex by yourself, staggering levels of embarrassment.

Showing up with handsome -hired- date: mother can finally get off your back, date is more handsome than ex, ex will want to shrivel up and die, no one will know date is male escort except you and him.

Now, let’s break down some of the guests just for the sake of being thorough. 

There’s your slightly overbearing mother (slightly meaning every call you have with her opens with the question: “how's your love life, dear?” or “I have the most amazing man to set you up with!”), all of her judgy eagle-eyed friends (mostly rich widows whose sons your mom shamelessly shoves your way), your extended family (some terrifyingly old school great aunts and uncles who will definitely ask if you’re married and smile sympathetically when you say you’re not), and last but certainly not the least, Jeffrey, your ex-fiancé (best man, but apparently not the best man for you, his words not yours).

"Lordy fuck." you exhaled hard, chugging your wine straight from the bottle

How on earth did you get here? Sitting alone in your apartment, working your way through your second bottle of wine (or third? Who was keeping count?), clicking on ads that spoke of "hot single males in your area" waiting to meet you.

Would it be fair to pin it all on the end of your engagement?

Picturing that moment, you decided that it was only fair. Those were five years of your life you would never get back, you were prepared to sign on for more but, yeah.

You were blindsided, that's the only way to describe it. All the while, you thought that you and Jeffrey were on the same page, at the same place in life. You were the golden couple, the couple that all the other couples wished they could be, when you two walked past, girlfriends would give their boyfriends a slap on the shoulder that meant, "Why can't we be more like them?"

It was so out of nowhere, one minute you were discussing wedding cake options over dinner, then suddenly you're putting the ring in his palm, completely in shock. 

After that, you threw yourself into your work despite the fact that you were already a budding workaholic to begin with. That's how you ended up earning six figures a year. 

Six figure salary, check. Doing pretty well in life all things considered, check.

But even with all that, there weren't any conversations over casseroles and cobblers about your many achievements. Nope, your mother and her friends would much rather discuss their worries that you would essentially, die alone.

Your little sister, Amy, getting married before you didn't exactly help to put a lid on all the chatter. And with Jeffrey being the best man? And you being maid of honour? 

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Maybe you could make up an excuse believable enough to get you off the hook so you wouldn’t have to go?

Were you really thinking about bailing on your little sister’s wedding? If she wasn’t taking cues from your mother, it would be the only one she ever had.

Not one of your finest moments as a sibling.

With the complications of your situation fully realised, you took to reading the ads with a little more effort. Luckily, you didn’t have to look for long.

Nick, 6’, male, tall, good looking, strong build. You will not be disappointed.

The ad was considerably less flashy than the others but you supposed that’s what drew you to it in the first place. It was understated, simple, and his ad wasn’t entirely made up of overcompensating flexing pics.

Mostly because he didn’t need them.

Call off the search, send the boys home. You had a winner here!

Staring up at you from your phone screen was the most handsome man you have ever seen in your life. Literally.

A mane of thick, artfully disheveled curly hair, eyes that were a light shade of blue that had a sort of dark intensity and intelligence that you could spend days trying to understand, and a smile. Oh, that smile was absolutely suckerpunching. It was odd though, something in your head was telling you that this man did not smile often.

You couldn’t tell if the warmth blooming in your chest and creeping towards your cheeks was from all the wine or from examining this prime specimen. Jeez Louise!

“Phew!” you fanned yourself upon stumbling on a photo of him crossing his arms in a tank top. Good God, you hoped he had a license for those guns!

You had to set your phone down for a minute to think things through although it seemed absolutely nuts that you had to think twice at all. It’s just that after the initial excitement and hormones wore off, it was becoming more and more evident that this man was too good to be true.

Just look at him! Were there actually men that looked like that? And why didn’t they live closer to you? A quick sweep of his profile placed him in Minneapolis.

What were the crime rates like there? And did they have a high rate of murders relating to escort services?

Before you could even google anything related to that, you stopped yourself. If you kept at this rate, you would never get anything done! Finally, after a methodical deliberation (aka ogling the pictures on his ad), you saved Nick’s contact number to your phone.

Aaand that’s as far as you’d go for the night. You could call him tomorrow when you weren’t a floundering drunk. It was like your mother always said, “Always be sober for a business transaction, but anything else calls for a cocktail.”

-------------------------

The following morning, you sat at your little breakfast nook, eggs still piping hot and untouched, and a hangover in full effect. You’ve been staring at the phone number for so long, you could say it in your sleep.

Come on, Y/N, the wedding is five freaking days away.

What if this guy was fully booked? You didn’t want to spend five days surrounded by family with Mr. my-soft-voice-will-arouse-you, did you?

You slammed your finger down on the call icon and stuck the phone to your ear. Your heart beat faster and faster with every ring and your palms became so slick with sweat that you almost dropped your phone a couple of times. 

Maybe you should have taken your mother up on the multiple occasions that she wanted to set you up with someone. Alright, on second thought, you didn’t really want to be with someone who only looked good on paper but was actually an insufferable mama’s boy.

“Hello?” a male voice answered, catching you off-guard

Oh, God. Okay, you’re really doing this.

“Yes, hi! Hi. Uh, I’m looking for Nick!” you chirped, in a startled high pitched squeak you didn’t dare recognise as your own

The silence on the other end was starting to make you sweat behind the knees. It suddenly dawned on you that you didn’t mention any specifics.

“Uh, sorry! I got this number from the, uh, the ad. I’m looking for Nick?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s right, but Nick isn’t in right now. This is his manager.”

Was that a good sign? That a male escort had a manager? Did all male escorts have managers? You clearly didn’t know enough about this stuff.

“It’s a pleasure, Mister..?”

There was another beat of silence before the person on the other line answered, you tried your hardest not to overthink about what that could have meant.

“Foley! I’m Foley, Nick’s manager.” Mr. Foley’s voice returned to your ear, sounding much too bright for your liking. 

Christ, what were you, a cop? To be honest, you were exhausted. Despite all the alcohol in your system last night, you barely got any sleep. You spent the rest of the night reading through some reviews of Nick’s service as an escort.

He had a glittering five star rating.

One woman hired him to pose as her husband at a high school reunion and by the end of the night, she ended up proposing to him. He respectfully declined and even bought her dinner afterwards.

That review alone was enough to convince you that you would be in good hands. So, it was time to buckle down, swallow the nerves, and handle your business like the adult you were.

“Mr. Foley,” you shook your hair out and put on your professional voice. “I’d like to book your client for five days, give or take. I need a plus one for a wedding. Is he available to leave on the-”

“Please hold. I’ll check his schedule.”

“Oh. But I didn’t mention when I-”

“He’s available. Would you prefer to pick him up at JFK or will he meet you at your place of residence?”

“Oh. Uh, I guess I could pick him up. Do I pay for his ticket or..?” you were feeling a teensy bit of whiplash at how fast this was all going

There was some rustling on the other line and the muffled sounds of bickering. You tried not to let that concern you.

“We’ll handle that, Ms. Y/L/N. We have your number, we’ll be in touch for further details. Good bye.”

The line went dead and you were left staring at your phone in confusion. Did you tell him your name?

[kurowrites]

au + trope + prompt game = 1. roommates!au 8. exes 3. “i don’t even think i want to know.”

And another case of terminal dumbassery.

---

Wei Ying couldn't say that this entire scenario was how he would have liked or imagined things to go. Unfortunately, life rarely cared about what you wanted. More often, in his experience, life was looking for a good way to fuck you over. So when his relationship with Lan Zhan went down the drain, it was only to be expected that it was at the very moment where he didn't have the finances to move out and get his own place. And seeing that the apartment they were living in was actually Lan Zhan's, he couldn't exactly kick Lan Zhan out and stay.

So between the threat of homelessness and Lan Zhan's all too gentle offer to let him stay in the apartment until he had found his own place, the decision had been an easy one. Of course he would take Lan Zhan's offer over ending up on the street, regardless of his personal feelings! Luckily, the apartment was large enough that each of them had a private room, so they could stay out of each other's way if necessary. Otherwise this arrangement would have been way too awkward.

Jiang Cheng kept repeating that exes still living together was weird as fuck, but Jiang Cheng had no romantic experience and therefore no idea what he was talking about. Wei Ying and Lan Zhan had been friends long before they had ever become a couple, and they would find a way to get back to that relationship and stay friends forever. Even without romantic entanglements. Eventually.

It wasn't like they didn't get along well, after all! They were very used to sharing the housework, and Lan Zhan would still sometimes share the food that he cooked with Wei Ying, who always gratefully accepted any opportunity of not having to cook himself. Wei Ying, on the other hand, knew how to keep Lan Zhan's white laundry a pristine white by now, and he would feed little Hei and Bai whenever Lan Zhan was busy. They really worked quite well as roommates.

Or they would have, if there only hadn't been the pesky little fact that they had been lovers until a short while ago. The problem with being roommates, and being in close proximity to each other all the time, was that it was hard to break certain habits that they had established while living together as a couple. Wei Ying frequently found himself tempted to hug or kiss Lan Zhan whenever he was in his proximity, or found himself craving his support or affection when he was feeling stressed. Those obviously weren't things that Exes were supposed to do, and Lan Zhan shouldn't have to take care of him now, after they had separated. He was probably getting impatient to get rid of Wei Ying once and for all.

Now that Wei Ying thought about it, this whole situation was really bad for Lan Zhan. It was his home, after all, and if Lan Zhan wanted to bring someone home, wanted to date or even sleep with someone, this new person would be greeted with Wei Ying hanging around the apartment for no reason at all. It would just be supremely embarrassing for everyone involved. Obviously, Lan Zhan couldn't bring anyone home as long as Wei Ying was still around. So Wei Ying had to stop making a nuisance out of himself and remove himself from the situation.

He thought about how to do that, but considering that he didn't have the money to move out, that mostly left one other avenue. (Asking Jiang Cheng to room with him was absolutely out of the question, Jiang Cheng the traitor had made that pretty clear already.) The answer was using a dating app, of course. He just needed to find someone to date that came with a big enough apartment that he could move into. And then he would be out of Lan Zhan's hair.

Wei Ying had never used a dating app (after all, Lan Zhan and him had known each other long before they had ever started their romantic relationship, and there had been no one else), so he needed some time to figure out how dating apps even worked, and how to figure out which dating app was the right one for him.

The process was really annoying, though. There was so much he needed to do, add information and mark preferences, before he even got the first suggestions! And when he did, he rapidly learned that he really needed to curb his own expectations drastically. Few men could be called tall and handsome, particularly when compared to someone like Lan Zhan, and even the, well, not particularly attractive ones were hardly ever willing to cook for a partner. There were quite a few cute women, but inadvertently, Wei Ying found himself looking for someone a little... taller, more elegant still.

The ideal person should be funny, but not a clown. Confident when it came to voicing their opinion, but not overly assertive or overbearing. Able to deal with a teasing and the occasionally rowdy relatives. Affectionate. Good with animals. Culturally inclined. Not too much of a party animal, he was past that age by now.

These requirements were, apparently, almost impossible to meet, and the selection was accordingly difficult. A lot of people were superficially attractive, but checked none of Wei Ying's requirement boxes. Other shared Wei Ying's interests, but he still found it hard to build a connection with them. And then there were the people who just solicited him for sex. Those were often kind of creepy. And if he was honest, if he just wanted a good fuck, there was a Lan Zhan right here, whose abilities he knew only all too well.

(Not that he would ever do that. He didn't think Lan Zhan would ever want to sleep with an ex, and even if that was no issue, Wei Ying wasn't sure if his own already questionable emotional state would be able to handle that.)

He dithered around while using the app half-heartedly, not really able to settle on meeting any of the people he had talked on the app in real life. He wasn't sure if he really like anyone well enough to be ready for that commitment, and he wasn't sure if he was making good decisions, with his biased view.

But then he remembered that lived together with the possibly most unbiased person ever, and that he could always count on Lan Zhan's objective opinion. So, one day, he went to Lan Zhan and presented him with some of his potential choices, and let Lan Zhan study their profiles for a little while.

A short while later, the feedback came exactly as expected.

"This person is a workaholic and will not take the weekend off to be with Wei Ying."

"She spends all her income on luxury brands, be careful."

"This man is biphobic, Wei Ying."

The reasons were manifold, but always very reasonable, and Wei Ying found himself very grateful to have a friend like Lan Zhan. That left him only with one problem, however: he ended up pursuing none of the potential relationships any further, and was no closer to removing himself from Lan Zhan's apartment than he had been before. And that had been his primary goal, after all.

So his redoubled his effort to find a suitable new partner that would pass all possible hurdles. And then, almost by accident, he found a man who seemed to be his ideal type. He was tall and muscular, not ugly, but he often looked sceptical in many of the pictures he had uploaded. Still, he seemed to be a caring man with good friends and a good relationship to his mother. He knew how to cook, and when Wei Ying went out on a limb and contacted him, he was friend and respectful, and sent exactly zero unsolicited dick picks. All in all, this man seemed to be a good choice.

When he showed his newest choice to Lan Zhan, however, Lan Zhan looked at the profile for several minutes, put the phone down, and said simply, "No."

Then he turned around and walked away. Which was, for Lan Zhan levels, really, really rude.

"Lan Zhan?" Wei YIng cried, running after him. "Lan Zhan, what the hell?"

When he caught up with Lan Zhan, just before Lan Zhan could disappear into his own room, Lan Zhan levelled him with a flat look, and said, "I do not want to know."

"Don't want to know what?" Wei Ying asked, confused.

"Whom Wei Ying wants to share his life with," Lan Zhan replied, his answer clipped. "It is not me, so I do not want to know."

"Wow, Lan Zhan," Wei Ying gasped, actually feeling a pang of hurt blooming in his chest. "Is that really how little you care about me now? I just wanted to make sure I don't accidentally go on a date with a serial killer, and your answer is that you don't care?"

Lan Zhan looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"You broke up with me, Wei Ying, and now you want me to help you find someone else? That is too much to ask of me."

"You broke up with me, Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying shouted, getting more confused by this conversation by the minute. "What the hell? The least you could do is help me find a way to get out of your hair for good!"

"I never broke up with Wei Ying."

Lan Zhan's voice was quite, unlike Wei Ying's rather hysterical tone, but there was a sense of intensity in his words that made Wei Ying swallowed the rest of the tirade he had been gearing up for.

What the hell was Lan Zhan talking about, clearly he had been wanting to get rid of Wei Ying for a -

Wait.

Wei Ying looked at Lan Zhan again, really looked at Lan Zhan. He looked at the slight shadows under his eyes that showed that he wasn't sleeping well. He noticed the slight droop of his posture, which Lan Zhan would have considered unforgivable at any other time. The exhaustion dimming the shine of his beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Lan Zhan definitely looked stressed, and Wei Ying had thought it was because he wanted to get rid of Wei Ying; the sooner, the better. He had thought that Lan Zhan had stopped caring about him, and that Lan Zhan was happy to-

Lan Zhan had said he had never broken up with him. That was not how Wei Ying remembered things.

"Lan Zhan?" he asked with a small voice. He already felt tears prick in his eyes, both out of hope and sheer terror, the possibility of having his heart broken once and for all.

It couldn't be true, but Lan Zhan- Lan Zhan looked so- he looked so sad.

"Lan Zhan?" he repeated once again, and his own voice cracked. "Do you want to date me?"

Lan Zhan looked at him in silence for far too long, and Wei Ying felt the tears spill over.

God, he was so stupid.

But then, Lan Zhan said, "There is only Wei Ying for me. There has only ever been Wei Ying. There will be no one else."

And Wei Ying was in his arms before he even knew what he was doing, sobbing like a toddler that had just scraped his knees on the playground.

"Why did you break up with me then, you stupid fool?" he blubbered.

"I thought Wei Ying wanted to break up," was Lan Zhan's answers, which was all kinds of non-acceptable.

(He was slightly mollified by the way Lan Zhan's arms found their way around his waist without hesitation, though.)

"Why would I ever want to break up with you?" Wei Ying wailed. "Lan Zhan is the best! Why would I want anyone other than Lan Zhan? No one else can even compare! Have you seen the people on that dating app?"

"You seemed quite taken with that man," Lan Zhan observed rather resentfully, but when Wei Ying lifted his head to give him a trashing, he caught the impish little spark in Lan Zhan's eyes.

"You!" was all he managed to say, flailing for a moment before he remembered how to pull Lan Zhan in and give him a long-overdue kiss.

"Don't tease me, my heart is broken."

"There is still time to contact him."

"Lan Zhan, I swear, if you don't-"

He didn't get any further than that, however, because Lan Zhan picked him up, pressed him against the door of his room, and kissed him in earnest.

---

Two months later, Lan Zhan presented him with a neat little box, and in that neat little box was a elegant, silver ring that fit perfectly on Wei Ying's finger.

"This should should serve as a good reminder the next time you doubt whether I want you by my side or not," Lan Zhan said, the cruel man.

But he also gently kissed Wei Ying's temple and took Wei Ying's hand into his to admire the silver sparkle on Wei Ying's finger with the most happy expression that Wei Ying had ever seen on Lan Zhan's face. So Wei Ying deigned to let the tease slip.

There would be an opportunity to get back at him, after all.

As soon as his own neat little box had arrived, that was.

[skellebonez]

I AM SORRY FOR THIS SKELLE BUT I MUST: 5 (kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here),6 (let's make a deal, shall we?) and 41 (can you teach me how to do that) with the demon bull fam and mk with a little hint of 64 (I may have eaten seven of them already). NOW GO HAM MY DUDE

Oh I had way too much fun with this one. I took S2E4 (spoilers mentioned for that!) and some tweets made by one of the show producers on the same day as fuel for a very silly idea I had. I don't write what can be considered "Crack treated seriously" (or at least semi-seriously, this is not a 100% serious fic) often but when I do I go hard. This is more focused on MK and others than SpicyNoodles so it's a bit more gen fic than a full on ship fic as well.

Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here/Let's make a deal, shall we?/Can you teach me how to do that?/I may have eaten seven of them already.

"Red..." MK started off slowly, watching as his boyfriend's face flushed and twisted in embarrassment. "Can you tell me why your mother showed up at my apartment and used her wind vortex thing to teleport us here without an explanation? And then left us in your..." He looked around, noting that aside from the excessively large throne and two smaller thrones beside it this room looked like a... "Living room? On a couch?"

"I can-" Red Son started, raising a hand before pausing a frowning deeply. "Actually, no, I can't explain. This is just weird, even by my parent's standards. I have no idea what is going on, but since you're still here..." He shrugged with a hopeful smile, shaky through the uncertainty. "Maybe it's not bad? I mean, if Mother was truly upset or wanted to do something bad surely she would have not left us to our own devices. Maybe she’s... uh... happy I finally have a boyfriend?”

At the pointed raise of an eyebrow from MK that hopeful smile faltered a bit. Happy Red Son had a boyfriend for the first time in a couple centuries? Under different circumstances he wouldn't doubt that! Happy when that boyfriend was MK?

Oh he did doubt that.

He knew that they shouldn't have been sneaking around the way they had been. It had made sense at first, two people on opposite sides of a feud lasting centuries who discovered they actually enjoyed spending time together more than fighting each other. One who decided he very much would rather not follow through with any kind of domination and see his family hurt, who realized "actually my sworn nemesis isn't so bad", and another who decided "my life is already weird enough, why not give this befriending my enemy thing a shot".

And then one thing lead to another and before they knew it their secret friend meet up became a secret boyfriend meet up. They'd managed to keep everything under wraps for a while (except from Mei because, well... she was his best friend! He couldn't not tell someone and she would have found out fast if he wasn't obvious, and she had quickly become a mutual source of support for both of them), though MK knew Pigsy and the others knew something was up. They didn't question him, though, aside from the occasional good natured jab. "Wow MK, you seem happy today. Got any plans?" and that sort of thing. They seemed to trust him to make his own decisions, as long as he was happy and healthy and eventually told them. (Sun Wukong, however, may have caught in a little when he jokingly asked if MK had gotten a boyfriend and MK had choked on his drink. He never brought it up specifically after that but he was smart. Too smart.)

Red Son, on the other hand, was fantastic at keeping secrets when he tried. Or MK thought he was... the last few months gave no indication that either of his parents had discovered their little sneaky rendezvous. Then Princess Iron Fan broke into his apartment and, well, here they are. Clearly something had gone wrong somewhere along the line.

Before MK could follow through with any questions of whether or not there could be a fate worse than instant death that involved lulling him into a false sense of security, the two men froze at the sound of quickly approaching voices.

“Could this not have been done another way, my dear?”

“Kidnapping them was the only way I was going to get them here, you know that. Noodle Boy is not that gullible, contrary to what we first believed.”

Ah... shit... Red Son’s parents.

Mk quickly ran through all the possessions he had in his apartment and wondered if he had time to text Mei or Pigsy the world’s fastest will and testament and if that would be legally binding. He just hoped he had something for Pigsy to handle the Phantom Orderer they'd had for the last year.

They always ordered on the app and prepaid and managed to leave him a sizeable tip in his tuk-tuk after he dropped off the food at whatever random location they indicated.

"Good," PIF's voice rang clear, far faster than he could even attempt to pull out his phone, and MK turned to see that she was casually lounging on the shoulder of the Demon Bull King. She jumped down, her wind lightening her fall so much so that she barely made a sound when her feet touched ground. "You've made yourself comfortable."

MK couldn't bring himself to move, as much as he very dearly wanted to run away as quickly as possible. Yes, he was The Monkie Kid and had progressed far enough that he could probably escape without much problem. Yes, he and DBK had had an understanding after the White Bone Spirit and Lunar New Year Festival (though he still didn't know if PIF ever found out about that one). Yes, Princess Iron Fan had shown little interest in him before and had even worked beside him with no complaints (she didn't even care enough to attack during the Food Wars thing!). But that was all before she apparently found out he was dating her son behind her back while they were technically still enemies.

He was glad at that moment that she had grabbed them before they went to get lunch... his stomach was doing back flips that would make a gymnast jealous.

"Uh, yes Miss-Mrs-Muh-M- Princess Iron... Fan?" MK couldn't help but stutter awkwardly, holding onto the hem of his jacket and worrying it as he tried to keep his composure. He looked beside him, watching as Red sat straighter and kept an even expression on his face that he couldn't quite place. His hair seemed to spark softly.

Though she raised a brow at this, PIF didn't comment on that at all. Instead she made her way to the other couch across from them as opposed to what was clearly supposed to be her throne, leaning forward right her elbows on her knees and her fingers laced together in front of her. DBK stopped behind her, seemingly content to stay standing.

"Noodle Boy... you prefer to go by MK, is that correct?" She started, and he nodded slowly in confused response. "Hmn... so. You've been dating my son for quite some time. Many months... no, a bit over a year if I am not mistaken in how long his behavior has changed." 'Oh shit' went MK's brain. "You must be quite serious, if you're willing to go through so much just to see each other. Late night meetings. Secret hideaways. Sneaking onto Flower Fruit Mountain, even." 'Oh SHIT' it repeated in horror. "That's quite the dedication to show toward anyone... I hate to admit it, but I am quite impressed." 'OH SH-wait what?'

"Bw-huh?" Was what MK managed out, half a sound that was almost a word and half a squeak of confusion.

"The fact I myself remained oblivious until only a few weeks ago is quite something. Let's make a deal, shall we?" She continued, sitting back straight and looking like the proud Princess she was and not like a woman sitting on a couch that looked comically small in front of her enormous husband. "You and Red Son no longer have to hide your relationship from us and in exchange..." she paused, as if relishing the building tension between herself and the couple before her. "You will come over at least once a week so we can get to actually know you properly."

MK froze. Red Son froze even more.

Then his entire head lit ablaze as he jumped up and gestured at his mother with a gaping mouth. "Th-that's it!? I-I was... I was RIGHT!?"

PIF barely reacted to this, merely lounging sideways as she put her elbow on the arm of the couch and rested her cheek on her hand.

"Whatever you were right about, I suppose you were. But yes," she shrugged, honestly looking... kinda happy? "Has this been about a year ago I perhaps would not have understood what you saw in Nood-MK. But I can see how happy you have been lately, and there's something about him that is like... what did you say he was like, darling?" She turned to DBK, who shrugged himself with an unreadable expression.

"A ball of sunshine given human form."

... that was not what MK ever expected to hear from the Demon Bull King's mouth...

"Yes, that's it," she nodded as if this was completely normal and ignored how Red Son flopped back down onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I'd hate to admit it, but you've grown on us through out sparse interactions. Somehow. And we have been eagerly waiting for the day we could finally welcome someone into our son's life. So what do you say? Do we have a deal?"

She seemed... serious. MK may not know her that well, but it was clear to anyone when she wasn't being so.

"Uh... o-ok? Sure?" MK said softly, nodding in amazement as DBK and PIF actually smiled at this.

This was the strangest day of his life, beating our every single demon fight and even the day he got the Monkey King's staff. But he'd take this strangeness over the alternative 500 times over.

"Excellent," DBK nodded himself, there was a lot of that about. "That seems to have worked out n-"

Everyone paused at a loud grumble echoed the room, all turning to Red Son as he flared up in embarrassment this time.

"Don't look at me like that, we were supposed to eat half an hour ago and I am starving," Red Son grumbled as he sat up, not looking anyone in the eye. "I don't suppose we could. Eat now? Please?"

Despite the situation, MK couldn't help but smile at his pouting.

"I could bring us some food from Pigsy's?" MK offered in an attempt to contribute. Something. "I mean, I know Red likes it and you kinda seemed to like it the one time you tried it and... uh... yeah."

"Actually... I may have eaten seven of them already..." PIF admitted, looking away in embarrassment. "l've tried not to give into the temptation, but your father's noodles from the Food Wars were so... I just can't resist ordering some secretly after 5 or so weeks!"

"So you're the phantom orderer!" MK gasped out in shock, but after a moment he frowned and rubbed the back of his head. He had a bit of an idea. "Well... I could... make some for us instead?" He ammended his offered softly. "I may not make it exactly like Pigsy does, but I can get pretty close as long as you have the ingredients! And you wouldn't have to worry about me going there and coming back! We can eat like. Immediately!"

"I think that sounds acceptable," PIF said with a nod as she stood, but MK could see a bit of excitement sparkling in her usually cold eyes. "Come, Red Son. I need to discuss some upgrades the Bull Clones have been asking for with you. Your father can assist him in the kitchen until we are done."

Red looked over at MK and only stood to follow his mother once he nodded, giving his father a pointed look before exited the room. MK, in the meantime, looking up at DBK with a gulp and followed him as he lead the way toward their kitchen.

It was... well, bigger than he was used to. But pretty normal, regal size and decor aside. And it seemed, once he was given the nod of ok from his host (and wasn't that a bizarre thing, DBK and PIF being his hosts on a home visit to his boyfriend's parents... he was going to need to get used to that) he checked the fridge and counters and found he had just about everything he needed to make what he had in mind.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" DBK asked after a moment, startling MK into nearly dropping the sauce he needed for the broth. "Not the recipe itself, just..." He gestured to the counter. "Red Son has a bit of a proclivity toward cooking and he's been trying to get me involved, but we've never cooked anything like. That."

His words were awkward and stilted, but MK could tell he was trying. The same way he could tell PIF wasn't kidding with her offer. They just seemed to... want to get to know him as a potential... son-in-law... huh.

"Sure, but you're gonna want to shrink down a bit for this."

Lunch turned out amazing and, while awkward (much like most of the day)... it was nice not to have to hide their dating for once. And Red actually seemed pretty happy! Though he learned quickly that the Monkey King was still a bit of an (understandably) sore subject that was best avoided. For now.

Maybe not forever though.

(When PIF very not subtly dropped him and Red Son both off inside Pigsy's Noodles after their lunch, the only response he got was a "oh, so they finally found out huh? Looks like things went well" from Pigsy and Tang. Maybe he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was...)

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #27: The Lake: Bakusquad

In which you and Kirishima take a trip to the lake for a little class reunion.

Characters: primarily Kirishima / f!reader, but also Jirou, Sero, Kaminari, Bakugou and Mina / f!reader AND background Kaminari / Jirou

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro-hero Kiri, Bakugou, Denki, Jirou, Mina and Sero, group sex, polyamory, brief mentions of drinking, not a whole lot of attention paid to protection (sorry...)

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Orgy.” You can probably tell by how many fcking PEOPLE are involved lmao. I... had trouble with this one! This was tough. There are a lot of limbs to keep track of. But I wouldn’t be opposed to re-visiting this dynamic again soon, with more time to play around a little. 

I know it says 1-A on the masterlist, but it really did turn out to be more of a Bakusquad thing, sorry!

Kinktober Masterlist

You’re folding one last sweater into your weekend bag and zipping it up when Kirishima swings by to pick you up.

After a very long, hot summer week at the office, your boss let you go a couple of hours early on a slow Friday afternoon- just soon enough to catch the early train home. It turned out to be very lucky indeed, since Kirishima’s already here and you’re just finishing up your packing.

Then again, it’s not your fault you’ve been agonizing over what to bring.

The buzzer by your door sends your heart leaping into your throat, but it only takes a quick peek out the front window to confirm that it’s Kiri. He knows that you’ll look before you head for the door, so he’s stepped back from the front stoop a little and shoots you a bashful wave with one hand shoved into his pocket.

You melt. He’s cute enough to put your nerves to rest.

“Good afternoon, milady,” he greets with a sweep of charming enthusiasm when you pull the door open for him. He bows playfully before stepping into your apartment. “I will be your escort this weekend. Show me to your luggage.”

“I don’t think there’s enough of it to be called ‘luggage,’” you giggle. You slip an arm around his neck and push a kiss against his cheek.

“Hi.”

He gasps, pressing his fingers to the spot where your lips touched.

“Such unprofessional behaviour. I’m going to have to report this, you know.”

“Shut up.” You bat at his chest. The bastard, in all his well-muscled glory, barely flinches. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The threat’s playful, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t consider it, it in the darkest hours of the night before.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a little cabin out by the lake, drink, party, and catch up. You’ve been dating just under a year, so you’ve never been to one of these before. Even though you’ve met everybody who’s going to be there individually, it’ll be the first time you see them as a group.

And Kirishima’s known them for ten years. You like to think you know him pretty well, but compared to them, you’re strangers.

“It’s not too late to,” he breathes, pausing to glance at you with a moment’s sincerity.

“No,” you brush. “No, I’m fine.” You put your hands on his forearms and squeeze gently. “Nervous, but… that’s what the drive up is for, right?”

“Yeah.” He flashes you a grin that steals your heart over and over again, sweeping you and your little suitcase out the door.

The drive is breezy and surprisingly quick, given the expected level of weekend cottage-country-traffic. You blast the radio and turn it down during the commercials. But you can’t help the sinking dread that pits in your stomach when the ETA in your navigation app drops from an hour and a half to forty-five minutes to five minutes.

The drive was supposed to be your chance to settle your nerves. You’re not ready to be here yet.

When you pull down the sloped gravel driveway of the cabin, there are already three cars there. You recognize Bakugou’s sleek Audi, but you can only assume that the other two belong to the rest of the crew.

So everyone else is already here. Makes sense. Nobody else works 9-5, so they probably cut off early to get here.

Doesn’t make you any less freaked out.

Kirishima insists on grabbing both of your bags. He shoulders his way into the cabin with excitement building in every muscle. You can see it from ten feet away. He’s thrilled to be here. That thought honestly helps, for a hot minute.

Until you hear the voices that drift from inside.

The whole cabin’s lit up with savoury, beautiful smells when you step inside. The kitchen’s crowded- Bakugou’s chopping vegetables and doing his best to shoo everyone out of his way while he sautés and chops and glazes and bakes.

“Jesus Christ. Finally. Will you get these assholes outta my way?” Bakugou snarls, waving his knife around as soon as he catches sight of the two of you.

Before you can even laugh properly at Bakugou’s temper, there’s a high-pitched squeal of your name from behind him, and he’s abruptly shoved against the edge of the counter as a bright pink blur streaks around the island and launches herself at you.

“Hiiiii,” Mina coos, pressing a kiss to your cheek after she’s given you a tight squeeze.

The rest of the party filters in around you- Sero and Denki crowding not-so-subtly around the new addition to their little crew while Jirou makes her way over at a respectful pace. It becomes obvious to you almost immediately that you’re the first girl Kirishima’s ever brought to one of these.

You want to let that feel special. Instead, the intimidation only spikes.

You need to relax.

“Here, babe,” Mina sighs, shooing the boys away from you. “Kiri’ll take your bags upstairs. Let’s get you a drink.”

She grabs your hand and drags you toward the bar cart in the living room. Kirishima disappears up the stairs, but before you know it, he’s re-appearing. So is everybody else. The smells from the kitchen are growing unbearably tantalizing.

Bakugou hollers when dinner’s ready.

He’s done glazed pork chops with some kind of gorgeous mango slaw- indulgent and delicious, but light enough that none of you will be too stuffed at the end of the meal. You sit between him and Kirishima and everybody catches up.

Mina and Sero are starting an agency together. Denki and Jirou found a place together just outside of the city. And Bakugou, of all people, has just taken on his first U.A. intern.

You feel sorry for the poor kid already.

Once the dinner dishes have been cleared, you’re starting to feel more at ease. The conversation flows easily between the group of you, and you’re kind of killing it with the one-liners. Even Bakugou gives a dull chuckle when you land a particularly good one.

But the real purpose of this weekend can’t be put off forever.

“Babe,” Mina coos eventually, leaning over Kirishima to settle a hand on your thigh. “I am so excited that you’re here. Do you know how long it’s been since we had anybody new to play with?”

“Mina,” Kirishima scolds. “Don’t scare her.”

“What?” Mina sits up. “You said you were gonna tell her before you brought her here. Kiri, tell me you talked to her.” She looked up at you with wide eyes. “He told you, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” you promise, holding your hands up to settle her. “He talked to me. I agreed to come knowing full well what we’re here for. But… I’m still nervous as hell over here.”

“Don’t worry,” Mina promises. “We’re gonna take good care of you, sweets. Besides, you and Kiri and Bakugou have before, right? So between them, it’s basically like you’ve already slept with all of us.”

She’s got a point. But that doesn’t change the fact that your cheeks are like molten lava just thinking about it.

Every year, on the last weekend in July, Kirishima gets together with some old friends from UA. They rent a cabin out by the lake, drink, party… and fuck. You’ve shrugged monogamy with him before. Mina’s right- Bakugou’s joined you on a few different occasions. But this is something you’ve never even thought of trying before.

Still, Kirishima makes you want to take risks. He’s always been good that way- encouraging you to push your comfort zone without compromising your boundaries. When you first talked about this weekend, he’d framed his little pitch with the promise that if you weren’t comfortable with it, he was happy to miss out on it, too.

But you know his friends. You know his character. You trust him.

So you jumped.

“She’s so cute when she’s embarrassed,” Denki chuckles, propping his chin in his hand. He’s got his other palm on Jirou’s thigh under the table. In fact, everybody’s starting to get closer, now that dinner’s been taken care of.

“Let me kiss her. Please, Kiri?” Mina leans over again, resting a palm on Kiri’s lap as she bats her eyelashes at you.

“You’re gonna have to ask her yourself, Mina,” Kiri chides. He folds his arms behind his head and leans back in his chair, ready for the show.

Mina purrs your name again, smiling indulgently as she leans a little closer.

“Can I kiss you? Pretty please?”

You’re suddenly bashful, biting your lip. But you want this. You do.

“Sure. Okay.”

You release your lip from your teeth as Mina leans forward. Her lips are soft and so plush, and she’s a careful kisser. Out your right ear, you can hear Kirishima give a little sigh as he watches, and he rests a hand on each of your backs, rubbing soothingly.

“Come on,” Bakugou grunts as the two of you break apart. His chair scrapes harshly across the tile when he stands. “Get your asses to the living room before shit gets messy.”

Before you know it, you’re in a tangle of bare and sweaty limbs. You started out between Bakugou and Kirishima- the two boys you’re most familiar with. You’re stroking both of their hard cocks while they kiss each other, then you, then each other again. All the while, in the background, Mina, Sero, Denki and Jirou are stripping each other down, sprawling across the couch, letting a symphony of moans and sighs drift across the living room to your ears.

Before long, you’re pulled backwards into Denki’s lap as he fucks diligently up into you. Your pussy’s sloppy, slick from Mina’s tongue, and she’s perched right next to you, riding your boyfriend’s cock as the two of you let your hands drift.

You can see that Kirishima has a tight bond with all of these people. But you feel no jealousy towards them. If he can be so closely bonded with so many from his past, then why not you, too? Every time he catches your eye, no matter how many bodies there are between the two of you, he shoots you a loving little wink.

And at the end of the night, it’s you who’s going to be falling asleep beside him.

At some point, Bakugou pulls up a nearby chair, stroking himself while he watches the six of you drive each other to the edge, over and over and over again. By the time you’re all finished, you’re certain at least two dozen orgasms have passed between the lot of you.

And it shows. You’re exhausted.

After sharing such intimacy, you’re reluctant to break from one another. But inevitably you do, separating into your respective beds for the night. As you get ready for bed Kirishima’s full of energy.

“Holy shit, babe,” he raves, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you in for a tight kiss. “That was so fucking hot. You did such a good job, god damn.” He cups your jaw between both his hands and pulls your gaze to his.

He looks down at you with the Milky Way lit up in his eyes, fathomless love all for you.

“You looked so perfect,” he confesses, kissing your forehead, “in the middle a’ all my friends like that.”

You fall into bed together, feeling sore and spent and very loved, and sleep better than you have in weeks.

The next morning, in a haze of woodsy dawn, everybody fights over what to make for breakfast.

[thedragonemperess]

What's your personal opinion on why Elite Force was so bad? Since I've ranted about that a lot and started the 'elite discourse' tag.

Introduction

I don’t think it was really bad. Yes, it was terrible compared to Lab Rats and Mighty Med (of which both deserved more seasons since they both set up so much and than threw it all away), but it wasn’t too bad. Why it was bad, though? They undid all character development, overlooked some of the best characters, and so much more!

Chase

There’s a lot wrong with Chase. First of all, they undid all of his character development and reduced him to a self-centered smart guy. (I’m not gonna say a mini version of Donald because he’s really more like Douglas, but they really just threw away his character.) And for character archs. When AJ made his list, he put Chase at the bottom. A good thing to point out is that this list was based off of the number of powers each person has and the number of powers each person has alone. So lets count how many powers they all have:

Kaz: Pyrokinesis and Flight Oliver: Cryokinesis, Flight, and Super Strength Bree: Super Speed, Vocal Manipulation, Invisibility, and Super Agillity Chase: Molecular Kinesis, Force Fields, Super Intelligence, Super Senses, Laser Bo Generation, and the Commando App (technically Super Strength as well, but that’s only Spike) Skylar: Flight, Super Strength, Super Speed, Acid Spit, Regeneration, and 21 other abilities (10 after the whole thing with Bree, but that still leaves her with the most) CHASE SHOULD BE #2 ON THAT LIST!!

And even if this wasn’t based on only their powers, he’d still be at #2!!

Then we have the Arcturian. The Arcturian Space Rock will kill you if you make direct contact with it, key word being direct. So Bree, being NUMBER #3 on the list (did I mention they overlooked her abilities, too, with the exception of one throw away line?), decided to touch it. After a series of events, she gets superpowers from it.

Bree got superpowers.

Because she was insecure about her bionic powers.

THIS WAS CHASE’S ENTIRE ARCH FROM THE BEGINNING!

And he wasn’t only insecure about his powers, he was insecure about his appearance, self-worth, and a ton of other things.

This arch was engineered for Chase, and they threw it away in favor of Bree.

Skoliver

Skylar and Oliver was the main romance of Mighty Med. Oliver had a crush on Skylar and Skylar was a lesbian didn’t reciprocate. This didn’t stop Oliver from trying to get with her, though. But the difference between Oliver persevering in Mighty Med and Olvier persevering in Elite Force is that in Mighty Med, he did it in a healthy, respectful way. In Elite Force, he became a stalker!

He watched her in her sleep, recorded her without permission, had a pretend version of her that he was dating, and more.

They turned a really nice thing from Mighty Med into something terrible just so that they could put less time into coming up with actual jokes. (The writers of these shows never really handled healthy relationships and comedy well, if Adam and Chase’s relationship says anything, but you would think [I’m only saying this because its Disney] they would put more effort into a romantic relationship.) The worst part about this is that they got together somewhat in the end of Elite Force.

Reese

Reese existed as a way to lead us to the finale of the show. She also existed as a love interest for Chase. She had the potential to be Elite Force’s Marcus or Experion, but they just didn’t do it right.

The Lab Rats’ relationship with Marcus was built over the course of two seasons, which let both the audience and the characters get to know him. Sure, we knew he was evil before everyone else, but how evil he truly was changed up until Douglas’ plan was finally revealed. He was also really close to a lot of the characters, so that makes it really painful.

Experion was one of Skylar’s close friends, almost like a brother, and we saw that play out on screen. He was only there for a short amount of time, just as Reese was, but he was already in a predetermined relationship with him. Reese had literally only met Chase that day, meaning that connection just wasn’t there.

(Also, was Reese just there to degay Chase? Because that’s what it seems like.)

Representation And Other Things Of The Sort

Lab Rats was a show that had a family in which half of it was married into. Shows have done this before, yes, but this showed the kids really just excepting it and not getting mad at their respective family. This was also a mixed family, which watching now that I’m older and really understand the importance of it, is really nice. Especially as a mixed person myself.

As for Mighty Med, and I’m starting with family again, it had a father figure who, more or less, actually cared about his kid(s) and was active in their life. It also showed him, a person of color, in a position of power. Skylar, who is a woman of color, was a badass who wasn’t boy crazy. She didn’t care about boys and the one time she did chase after someone, it was an introverted girl whom she wanted to be friends with which is pretty gay but whatever Disney. She was pretty freaking powerful, too, even without her powers.

Now for Oliver and Kaz, they were geeks. That’s a recurring fact in the show. It’s also something that is constantly saving all of their butts and was the main thing that got them their jobs. They weren’t picked on or made fun of for it, that was just who they were.

And unlike Lab Rats, Mighty Med showed a healthy relationship between brothers. Additionally, Gus was a really weird kid, but no one ever made fun of him, either. They treated him like they treated everyone else. He even ends up as one of the popular kids a few times.

Elite Force really just threw that all away in favor of (what became) a bunch of bratty kids in a pent house together.

Backstory

Mighty Med ended off on a cliffhanger, with Mr. Terror escaping, Oliver and Kaz obtaining superpowers, Alan meeting his father for the first time, and Horace using his last revival. Not to mention, Mr. Terror is Oliver’s mother and was supposed to be Horace’s wife.

And then they completely forgot about all of that and destroyed Mighty Med, killing all of the people in it in the process while also forgetting about Mr. Terror completely?

As for Lab Rats’ ending, it was actually pretty fitting and satisfying, all things considered. Adam, Bree, Leo, and Chase split up after defeating Giselle, Adam and Leo going back to the island to help the students with the big change (an update that let them control their abilities, hence no need for them to be teachers anymore) while Bree and Chase joined the Elite Force.

But why Chase and Bree? Sure, I guess the fandom Chase, but we did care about Leo more than Bree if we’re looking at it from that stand point. Now if we’re looking at it from a logical, in-universe stand-point, it makes no sense. Bree and Chase were the smarter, more experienced of the four, so they should have gone back to the island, while letting Chase and Adam join the Elite force.

Also, Leo has just become a mentor, which was what he was striving for since the start of the season. He was always being overlooked, and now, when he finally gets his moment in the spot light, its taken away from. That just really bothers me.

What Was Good About Lab Rats: Elite Force?

Quite honestly, not a lot. But considering the target audience, it was pretty good. Having two well received shows come together into an, albeit poorly set up and attempted, spin-off where they can have their own battles and story lines together is pretty cool and different. There are some flaws, like how Mighty Med logic and Lab Rats logic really don’t intertwine, but you have to keep in mind that this is a kids show.

It also showed Douglas being a pretty good father, which is really nice. Sure, he’s their birth father and/or creator, but it also shows them mending their relationship.

There were some smaller things, too. AJ’s introduction, Skylar and Bree slowly become sisters, and Chase and Kaz becoming friends were all really fun to watch. (The characters growing relationships with each other, period, were fun to watch.) The villains had good motives, and the small cameos from other shows (Bob and Crossbow [she’s more of a piece of what Mighty Med used to be, but I’m counting it]) were really fun to see. The plot could definitely be better, but it was still pretty good. And, as much as I hate to admit it, the show was genuinely funny. The amount of times I’ve spit out my water while watching this show is surprising.

Conclusion

Was Lab Rats: Elite Force as great a show as the source material? No. Was it all we thought it would be at the time? That depends on how old you were when it came out. It was, and still is, a fun show to watch, though. Yes, it would have been better if it never happened and the shows continued separately, but I’m glad that we at least have an answer to what Mighty Med and Lab Rats alluded to in their finales. Am I upset about Elite Force’s finale? Yes, and I will probably die mad about it, but we didn’t have as much time to get to know the characters and connect to them, so is it really that much of a loss? That’s up to you. Is it a fun show to watch? Absolutely.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 31

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Taken a while to get here, huh? Officially less than 10 parts now though! If you enjoyed it, please reblog this and leaves me some comments or send me an ask. It helps to encourage me to get the motivation to write again :)

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Ow,” You whimper, wincing as the stiff fingers of the masseuse dug into a knot in your muscles. “I thought massages were supposed to be relaxing?”

The snort to your left comes from Chungha. You’d look over, but you’d learnt that the person working on you didn’t like that. Instead, you were stuck staring down at the floor through a cutout in the table. It wasn’t even hugely comfortable in this position, lying on your front and feeling like you had more in common with a corpse than a person.

“Sure they’re relaxing; if they’re coming from your boyfriend. But a real massage is only relaxing after the fact. Getting knots out of your muscles isn’t the most pleasant experience, as you’ve discovered.” She points out, causing you to pout at the floor. The masseuse doesn’t have any input to give, and you presume he’s used to hearing things like this.

“They make it look nice on tv and film.” The whine in your voice is apparent even to you, causing you to feel a little hot with embarrassment. You’d been flustered enough to find out that you would have to be almost naked for this massage, the very idea of having your body seen by a man other than Hoseok unnerving you. Until you’d seen how completely uncaring he was.

Soyeon had pointed out to you quietly that he’d probably seen more women’s bodies than a hundred men combined by now. Which was probably right, given he looked around 40. It made you feel a little better, but you still felt a little uncomfortable. This massage had better make you feel unbelievably relaxed to make up for all this pain.

Of course, your comment simply couldn’t be left alone, and Soyeon lets out a laugh from your right. “Yeah, and they also make it seem like a woman orgasms from three pumps every time. Curse the people who think it’s okay to put that in films and shows. The number of men who don’t even try anymore.”

You feel a little embarrassed at the subject, even if you know that Soyeon has never been one to censor herself. You and Chungha were now proudly in the knowledge that not only was Jungkook also bisexual like Soyeon but that they’d had a rather delightful threesome with a guy who had been in one of Jungkook’s classes last year.

She’d relished talking about it, and you couldn’t even ask her to stop out of worry for Jungkook; you’d experienced the fact that they seemed to be made for each other when Jungkook happily discussed his sex life with Hoseok when he came over. If it weren’t for the fact that you’d quietly texted Soyeon to ask if she was okay with him doing that and received an enthusiastic ‘hell yes and please give him tips’, you’d have been mortified to hear it. 

Even Hoseok had been bemused that day, giving you looks as Jungkook had described in detail how he’d gotten Soyeon to fuck him with a strap on. An image you most definitely did not need in your head of your best friend and someone who was becoming a close friend.

But again, it didn’t surprise you. Soyeon was always the most open sexually and believed that something so natural to humans should be celebrated and enjoyed. You just told yourself repeatedly that you were just happy she’d found love with someone who had the same interests and desires as her.

Plus, Jungkook was a complete sweetheart outside of his sexual interests.

Still, there was something mildly mortifying about her saying something so casually in such a public place. Sure, there was only the three of you in here alongside the masseuses, but the point still stands.

“Anyway,” Chungha says loudly, distracting the conversation away from whatever Soyeon might have been about to follow up with. “Have I told you that Dahyun and I are going to be moving in together? She asked me last night, and I said yes. And before either of you ask, we’re moving into her place. Being a trust fund baby must be awesome as that house is huge.”

You want to desperately sit up and look at her, shock on your face as your eyes widen in surprise. Things between Chungha and Dahyun had been going well obviously, but you hadn’t expected them to be going this well. Okay, that sounds bad, but you didn’t mean it like that. Just that they’d made this decision much faster than you’d decided with Hoseok.

But again, you had to remind yourself that there was no such thing as ‘normal’ when it came to relationships. Everyone worked at their own pace. Above all that, you were just happy for Chungha. You were satisfied that she’d found someone to love and was making steps towards a possible future with them.

“Oh my god! Congratulations, I’m so happy!” You say excitedly, your words overlapping with Soyeon’s equally enthusiastic comments. It’s only the pressure on your back from the masseuse that means you stay in position, recognising the subtle ‘stop moving bitch’. Pulling a face that no one can see, you force yourself to remain calm and relaxed.

“When are you going to move? You should get the guys to help; I’m sure they’d be happy to.” Snorting, you smile to yourself as you hear the certainty in Soyeon’s voice. She’d become a lot closer to Hoseok’s friends than you had, given her effervescent personality and you had no doubt that even if they complained, they’d be doing what she wanted. 

Jungkook was the baby of their friend group, and none of them seemed to want, or like, Jungkook being sad. Denying his girlfriend help when she asked would be a surefire way to make the adorable pout come out, so you did not doubt that they would be making their way to Chungha’s to move stuff.

That included Hoseok. It was incredibly amusing to you how a group of fully grown men were all so whipped for another grown man. Just because he had sweet eyes and the cutest whine. On second thoughts, you too would do anything Jungkook wanted to make sure he didn’t get upset.

How on earth Soyeon managed, you didn’t know. 

“I can’t offer up help because Yeonnie has just done that, but I can like...help decorate or something. Even if Dahyun has been living there for a while, so I don’t know. Or maybe I can just be like moral support?” You were probably better for moral support. From what Chungha had told you before, you knew that Dahyun had been living in her ridiculously beautiful house since she finished college.

It had been a present from her parents for graduating, which completely blew your mind. Hoseok’s parents were very wealthy, but Dahyun’s were the kind that made your eyes widen when you saw what they considered a reasonable purchase.

Thankfully though, Dahyun was a sweet and kind girl who hadn’t turned out nearly as spoilt as she could have been. Instead, she’d started work at a low position at the broadcasting agency she worked at and was working her way up slowly. You liked her. And you would like her for however long she remained a good, loyal girlfriend to Chungha. That was your main concern as one of her best friends.

There was no doubt in your mind that both your best friends held the same opinion when it came to Hoseok. If he made one wrong move, then their ruthless side would come out. It’s what friends are for, after all.

“That’s fine. Dahyun has said that we can decorate the whole place, so it suits both of us instead of looking like her bachelorette place. Which I’m glad about because I fucking hate the kitchen. Why she let them paint it mint green, I don’t know. But I can’t stand it.” Chuckling, you try not to move too much so that you won’t annoy the man kneading your back.

“Does she...know your opinion on the kitchen? I mean...it’s her kitchen.” 

“Yeah, but it was fucking ugly. She knows and doesn’t mind. Her mom was the one who had the place decorated at first, which explains why it looks like an interior designer's wet dream and has all the soul of my grandmother. That’s none, by the way. She’s a soulless husk of a woman sent by Satan, I’m sure. Dahyun is excited to get a choice in the decorating so...couple bonding, right?” You can hear the gentle note of confusion along with quieter uncertainty.

“I wouldn’t know, never lived with someone before. Y/N? As the only person here who has lived with a partner, is it normal to redecorate when moving in together?” Soyeon’s voice sounds curious, and you have a moment to wonder at it yourself.

The fact that you, out of all three of you, were the one who was now officially the most experienced in a relationship was bizarre. Not something you’d ever thought would happen. But then again, Chungha and Soyeon had been in longer relationships but hadn’t ever taken that next step; usually, because those relationships had petered out very quickly.

Still, you make noise without realising as you think. Scrunching your brow, you twist your lips and shrug, even though neither of them can see you.

“I mean...I don’t know? We redecorated everything, but that’s because we moved into a new place together. It’s not like he moved in with me or anything so like we had to. It doesn’t matter anyway, why are we talking about this? It’s not important! What’s important is that you’re happy. Happy enough to move in together!” 

You’re pleased that the attention leaves you quickly when Soyeon agrees cheerfully, giving a few thoughts as to what colour scheme they could go for instead of whatever Dahyun has now. It makes you think about your kitchen. You and Hoseok had decorated it before actually moving in so that everything was ready, deciding on a more neutral scheme.

As a result, the cabinets on the walls and the countertops were a dark walnut while the units on the floor were an off white, all with rustic style handles. It was easy to understand Chungha’s excitement about being able to go wild with her new home; you’d enjoyed being able to turn the house into something that would become your home with Hoseok.

To say that you’d felt closer with him after that was an understatement. You felt like you’d been able to understand Hoseok a little better, getting to see into his mind and how he thought. Even though he’d mainly just let you decide on everything, he had given plenty of options, and you’d made sure to keep his opinions in mind when picking.

There was no chance for you to give this advice though as the massage finally ended and the three of you were left alone in the room. Wrapping the towel around yourself tightly, you stretched carefully and let out a small sound of wonder as you felt almost no tension in your muscles.

“You were right; I do feel good. Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this relaxed before.” You almost purr, smiling at the other two. Soyeon accidentally flashes the two of you when she opens her towel to readjust it, revealing a slim and toned body that causes a small flash of envy within. But you push that thought away. The last thing you wanted was to get insecure over your own best friend.

Besides, she worked hard for her body. You were proud of her for it.

“Told you so. You should get one regularly; I promise that you won’t regret it,” Stretching her arms into the air, Soyeon grins at you before bringing one arm to her face, smelling the slightly shiny skin of her bicep. “And it leaves you smelling all nice too. If a tiny bit oily.”

“Yeah, I’m not really into the oily feeling.” You murmur, wrinkling your nose as you run your finger along your arm. The pad your fingertip slides easily, the massage oils that had been applied and carefully rubbed into your skin still a little slick. Though she was right, it did smell nice.

“Anyway, come on, you two. Let’s get our robes on and get these nails sorted! I’ve been dying for a pedicure for ages but held off when you invited me to this.” Chungha laments, lifting one delicate foot and wiggling her toes while she scowls at them. Chuckling, you follow along to the next item on your spa day itinerary, enjoying the fact you were spending time with your best friends while also pampering yourself.

-

“There’s not even four trillion bears on Earth, so how the hell would they manage to get to the sun?” The lakeside view is particularly beautiful right now, with the vibrant colours of sunset kissing the tops of the lush green trees that surround the crystal clear lake. Oranges clashed with reds before sinking into sultry pinks, mixing in a beautiful image that mirrors on the lake top.

It was almost pretty enough that you wouldn’t even realise the comment that had just been made by Jungkook. The only ones who’d come for this weekend break outside of you, Hoseok and the girls were Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi and Taehyung. Eden, Jimin’s fiancée, had to work a weekend shift and Namjoon was too busy with his kid and wife. You weren’t quite sure what Seokjin’s excuse was, to be honest.

All of the guys were currently sitting on the sandy beach that made up this end of the lake. It was entirely human-made and now and then there were fire pits and sectioned logs in circles for people to use. Unsurprisingly though, no one was sitting on one of those uncomfortable logs.

Instead, they were all sitting around on the sand with various brands of beer bottles stuck upright around them. They’d piled their empty bottles together into one of the beer boxes in an attempt to keep everything clean, and you nodded to yourself absentmindedly in approval at them keeping the space tidy.

“Fucking hell,” You hear Hoseok mutter, his colourfully tattooed arm on show as he rubs at his forehead. “It’s like I’m at home. This is something I end up talking about with Y/N.”

“Well, she’d be right. It’s an important question. The sun wouldn’t be able to fight off that many bears.” Jimin slurs slightly, his eyes squinting at the others and you realise he’s probably sauntering his way past tipsy and into a straight-out drunk. It explains why his question is said entirely seriously, and you can’t help the chuff of laughter that leaves you as you flop down into the sand beside your boyfriend.

He blinks at you for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair, the strands still a little wet from where he’d been in the lake earlier before he smiles at you sweetly. There’s a slight glaze to his eyes, and you recognise that he’s not drunk yet but instead just having a good time.

“He’s right; it’s an important question. However, the main problem here is that even with four trillion bears, the sun is still a giant ball of gas that’s on fire and is superheated to temperatures we can’t even comprehend. So, unfortunately, the bears would all die. Now, what we need to be doing is questioning how we can destroy the sun by cooling it?” You state, leaning against Hoseok’s body and enjoying the warmth from both him and the fire in the chill evening.

“Meeps, no...please no.” Hoseok whines softly, his chest vibrating against you and you laugh as you kiss his chin. He’s not being mean or anything; it’s just that he hears these kinds of conversations all the time with you. And he knows full well that once you start, you will happily keep talking until the topic ends up so bizarre that you’ll give even yourself a headache.

“Look,” Taking pity on him, you instead lean your head against his shoulder and flare out your fingers so he can see how pretty your nails look after your manicure. “They’re so nice until I bite them again and smell me! I smell so good, and I’m sooo relaxed.”

Chuckling, he takes care to make the right noises to you as he takes in the sight of your perfectly designed fingernails before having an obligatory sniff of your skin. A nod of approval is given to you before he wraps his arm around you, pulling you in even closer to his warmth. It’s beautiful and peaceful, with the soft sound of the waves lapping at the shore making an excellent background beneath the talk of everyone else.

Jungkook is currently in the process of pouting as Soyeon shows him her nails, her smile so pretty and her eyes so bright with happiness as he whines that he wants a manicure too. It makes you feel happy in turn to know that she’s content with herself and her relationship right now. She’d always been the wilder one out of you all.

“What have you guys been doing anyway?” You ask, the question louder than you intended and catching the attention of the others. Jimin goes to gesture towards you, only he’s not quite got the aim right, and he also doesn’t seem to realise he has a bottle in his hand.

As a result, half of the beer tips out and sloshes into the fire pit, the alcohol burning fiercely for a moment as his eyes widen and his lips form an ‘o’ shape of surprise. Yoongi snorts in amusement before carefully taking the bottle and placing it down next to him, looking over at you with long-suffering expression.

“We went quad biking earlier, and then we’ve just spent the afternoon in the lake. Swimming, fucking around. Even gotta go jet skiing. Your man made a rather spectacular re-entry into the lake. He can’t jet ski.” There’s a twinkle to Yoongi’s eyes as he glances over at Hoseok and you look up, your boyfriend's cheeks darkening slightly.

“'Apparently he can't jet ski'. Oh, I'm sorry. I must've missed that lesson in high school. What are you? A fucking Kardashian?” He mutters, lips puckering into a sweet pout and you giggle. Reaching forward, you accept the bottle of water that Chungha passes you from the blue cooler that had one of them had brought from one of the cabins you were all staying.

“With your parents and that education you had, I’m surprised you didn’t.” The snapback from Yoongi is quick, but you can tell he isn’t harsh. His small smile gives that away, and you can tell that Hoseok isn’t offended or anything. He’s way too relaxed against you.

“Sorry, between my fencing lessons and the lacrosse there just wasn’t enough time to fit the jet skis. Busy schedule, you know?” Snorting, you push at his side lightly while rolling your eyes. Everyone else seems to find his witty quip just as amusing, and there’s a wave of laughter that spreads around the others as they enjoy his easy-going comments.

Taking a sip of water, you relish the coolness of it and let out a small hum of appreciation. Hoseok hears you and looks over with a raised brow, lips quirking on one side before gesturing for him to have a drink. Without a word, you lift it to his mouth and carefully let him take a drink.

At least he was having something other than alcohol. Maybe you could even get him sober before bed if you tried hard enough.

“Ewww, you’re spreading germs.” Taehyung says quietly, his face wrinkled in disgust as he watches the two of you. Lifting a brow of your own at him, you can’t help but laugh at his reaction, mainly when Hoseok gives him a disbelieving stare of his own.

“You’re...that’s what you’re worried about? I don’t think a bit of shared germs between a couple is that big of a deal.” He mutters, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before accepting another drink when you lift the bottle back up to his mouth once more.

“It’s just...a bit gross.” The currently blonde-haired man pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and making his remarkably broad shoulders look incredibly small suddenly. You could tell he was a little embarrassed given the soft blush over his beautiful, golden cheeks.

Still, it makes Hoseok look at him with more than a little disbelief. Enough that it’s got everyone else giggling quietly as they have the same thought process that Hoseok is having.

“Tae...we’ve shared germs many times when kissing. If this shocks you,” He pauses dramatically. “Wait until you hear what we’ve done in the bedroom. You’ll be scandalised.” His words are so serious that you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering, instead of cuddling closer into Hoseok’s firm warmth.

“Stop teasing him.” You mumble, pressing a small but loving kiss to his impressive jawline. Before you get any further, Jimin starts to make some loud comments. What they are, you’re not quite sure because he’s slurring even worse. Yoongi sighs deeply and stands, lifting the drunk man and holding him steady as he sways.

“I think that’s our cue to end the night here everyone. I’ll take Jimin back if you guys clean up here?” Everyone nods in acknowledgement, watching for a moment as Jimin staggers ahead of Yoongi up the small sandy beach. Chewing on the skin inside your mouth, you frown in concern at the slight figure.

“Does he always get this drunk?” It’s asked quietly, but everyone hears over the crackling fire as they shake their head negatively.

“Not always, it’s just because we’re away and he has no responsibilities. He likes a good drink now and then. Or a good night of drinking I guess it would be. Don’t worry; he also doesn’t suffer hangovers.” Taehyung states, leaning back against one of the legs and stretching with a groan.

“Asshole.” Hoseok mumbles quietly, causing you to grin. You knew very well that Hoseok got hangovers, the poor man. Shaking your head in amusement at the memory, you stand up and carefully brush off any annoying sand before looking around at everyone.

“Come on then, let’s clean up. I want to see how good of a sleep I can get now I’m all relaxed.” Exaggeratedly rolling your shoulders, you smile as you manage to make them all laugh before they finally bring themselves to stand up as well.

It takes no time at all to clean up the small area that the guys have been occupying for a few hours now. The recyclable bottles are split into plastic and glass and disposed of in the appropriate bins nearby. At the same time, Jungkook puts the fire out carefully, making sure that there are no lingering embers that might cause it to spark.

Hoseok is carrying the cooler, now obviously lighter given the way he playfully lifts it like he’s at the gym. Though it could be heavy, he has been working out a lot lately. He likes the relief it gives him and helps him to destress.

Perhaps most surprisingly, you’ve been going with him. You still hate the knowledge that he’s seeing you all super sweaty, stinky and gasping for breath. Surprisingly though, you often feel quite invigorated with him there. Like he’s some barrier to any of the negativity that might be thrown your way by others.

It was probably silly. But you’d told him plenty of times that he made you feel safe, and that included being in an environment that had historically made you unhappy and self-conscious. There was something different about being there with someone who found you attractive anyway.

“Getting my gains for the day,” Hoseok smirks, letting out an exaggerated ‘oof’ of effort as he lifts and lowers the cooler. “Can’t forget arm day, even on vacation.”

Watching him for a moment, you shake your head before letting your smile take over. You’d discovered over the past year and a half that it was impossible not to be endeared by him. Somehow, he always found the right thing to say to make you smile.

It made being annoyed over something he’d done very frustrating because you’d regularly find yourself laughing at him. But at the same time, you loved that about him. He knew that you were easily lured into a negative headspace and that you didn’t like confrontation, so he always tried to keep things positive for you.

“Come on, Popeye, I’m hungry. They only had rabbit food at the spa. Which is great because it’s healthy and everything, which I’m all for. But I’m on a mini-vacation. I don’t wanna eat lettuce and cucumber. I wanna eat greasy crap that I will regret for a solid week after.” Whining, you slip around to his other side and link your fingers together with his free hand.

“You’re gonna complain to me in five days that you’ve put on some invisible weight.” His voice takes on a sing-song note as he teases you, causing you to poke at his side while glaring at him.

“That’s a problem for us in five-days, it’s not a problem for us now. Right now, I want some damn pizza or something. Do we have pizza in the cabins? Or can we order some?” Peppering the questions at him, he shakes with laughter slightly before tugging at your hand until you’re facing him.

Playfully, you avoid his affection as he tries to kiss you, causing him to whine quietly every time you shift back. Grinning at him, you take him in for a moment and simply pause, your heart warming with love as you see the sad pout on your tall, tattooed and pierced 29-year-old boyfriend. He’s got a slight tan from the day’s activities, the sun still strong enough as the year eases to autumn.

Giving in, you simply hold still when he leans slightly towards you. Upon seeing you’re not pulling away this time, he’s a little more forceful and presses a short but sweet kiss to your lips. It’s probably not what anyone would have expected given how much he’d been trying just now, but it was enough for you.

“Hey! Stop sucking face and come here already! Jungkook ordered enough pizza to empty Naples for us from some local pizza place so hurry up.” Soyeon’s shout interrupts you both, causing you to look over to where she’s standing on the porch of the cabin you’re sharing with her and Jungkook.

Grinning brightly, you nod and give her a thumbs-up as she stands with her hands on her hips, no doubt glaring at you both for being so far behind everyone else and wasting time. However, she should be okay with it all really, given what you knew about Jungkook and her.

“Sometimes, I think you and Kook are the same person. You’re far too similar.” Hoseok whispers, kissing your forehead affectionately before beginning to walk towards the cabin once more. Looking at him, you raise a brow and tilt your head in silent questioning.

“Food on the mind.”

[queenboudicaa]

From Graham Linehan from The Glinner Update grahamlinehan@substack.com

Played The Fool

Sue Donym

Sep 16

I remember my college days studying journalism, which don't seem so long ago, but actually are now, and as a young eighteen year old, a friend gives me something she says explains gender. It is Judith Butler's Gender Trouble. I have heard of this book. People treat it like The Bible. I eagerly open the book and attempt to read it.

I cannot make heads or tails of it. I conclude I simply am not smart enough or well-read enough to understand the religious revelation. I make it to page sixty before giving up, the constant mentions of ‘Althusserian’ and ‘structuralist’ and ‘reifying’ finally defeating me. I don’t feel like any of the book has actually managed to lodge itself in my head.

I give the book back to my friend, and then I pretend to everyone around me that I have read the book. No one figures me out.

When I get older, I realize they all did the same thing.

In my senior year, I win election to student government. I am to represent ‘LGBT’ people. I am proud. I am unaware I am now standing on a cliff, the ground beneath me slowly breaking. I bury my head in the sand as my position becomes increasingly precarious.

I meet with faculty during the first semester. I read through a policy. Suddenly ‘LGBT’ has morphed. It’s ‘LGBTQI+’. I don’t know what the Q and I stand for, let alone that seemingly erroneous plus sign. I am supposed to be the expert, and all these middle-aged people are looking at me to explain the youth speak which is even bedeviling I, the putative youth. I muddle through, using this surprise new acronym, and then I Google it surreptitiously in the meeting. It means ‘Queer’ and ‘Intersex’, and the plus sign appears to be decorative in nature. I wonder what the Q covers that ‘LGBT’ doesn’t, let alone the God-damned plus sign, and I wonder why ‘intersex’ needs to be included at all.

They talk enthusiastically about how everyone has a gender. There are women with penises, men with vaginas. Gender is understood to be how you feel inside. I contort my mind around this way of thinking as best I can. A man is someone who behaves like a man, and a woman is someone who behaves like a woman. That is the working definition you have, even though you paper over it with phrases like ‘identifies as.’

I don’t think about. You can’t. You are told this is how it is, how it has always been, to think otherwise is actually you replicating the kyriarchy, over and over and over again, and you nod and accept it, because you are given this set of facts and told to nod. Pseudoscience justifies it. People talk about ‘brain scans’ and ‘the wrong bodymap’, and ‘indigenous genders’. It’s all conjectural bullshit, but everyone goes along with it.

When I can’t perform the cognitive contortions, I simply don’t acknowledge contradicting evidence. To do so would be to jump off a cliff into an abyss. It is a reflexive thing, unconscious, and its origins lie in the instinct for self-preservation.

Everyone goes along with it. I am a coward, so I accept it and move on. I am twenty two years old, and I don’t know any better, and I want to trust the organizations that say they hold my best interests at heart.

Part of my role on student government was providing student-based pastoral care in my college’s LGBT center. By the time I get there, it’s morphed into the LGBTQI+ Center. I consider myself even-keeled and well-adjusted, perfect to help ‘my people’.

Many of the people that come see me have fairly normal problems. I speak to lecturers about not being homophobic, meet with faculty about LGBTQI issues, and sit through interminably boring student government meetings full of bloviating Young Democrats self-assured about their future self-importance. Increasingly, more people come to speak to me about trans issues. Walking through the center one day, someone assumes I am a ‘pre-hormones trans man’. When I correct them, and say I am a butch lesbian, they suddenly become hostile. I don’t know why, but I feel offended to my very bones about being assumed to be a man.

More and more of my fellow butches suddenly start declaring themselves to ‘truly be men.’ I don’t think about this. You’re not supposed to think about it, or question them, just accept and affirm and acknowledge and adulate their new found authenticity. I get a new package of fliers from an LGBT charity, open them up, and suddenly find that I, simply defined as ‘butch’ (forget the lesbian!) am now supposedly ‘trans’ and under the ‘trans umbrella.’ I call this ridiculous, and loudly.

Someone pulls me aside to ask why I’m being so transphobic.

I meet with a charity group. They have this young woman on staff who declares herself ‘non-binary’ and uses ‘they/them’ pronouns. She does not strike me as gay, and her entire purview of ‘LGBT’ seems to forget the first three letters. She assumes that I am a trans man. When I tell her I am a lesbian, she asks ‘are you sure? Maybe you’ll change your mind’. She then starts talking to me about her boyfriend.

I wonder why this straight girl with dyed hair is telling me what to do on gay issues. What gives her the right?

At the end of the meeting, someone I know from the charity group tells me that ‘Aiden’ is upset I forgot her pronouns. I hadn’t realized. I tell him that this dyed hair fag hag told me I’ll change my mind about being a lesbian. He says that doesn’t excuse messing up Aiden’s pronouns.

The next time I meet Aiden, she keeps calling me ‘he’. She gets upset when I get angry with her.

My student body president sends me a please explain email the next day about upsetting Aiden.

One day in the center, in walks a man in a dress. That’s what I thought in my unfiltered thoughts, before the cognitive dissonance kicks in. But the Aiden experience has taught me a lesson to not speak up. The man uses ~the magical pronouns~, ‘she/her’ and this means he is a woman. He dresses like a prostitute downtown and declares he’s a lesbian.

He says he is a trans woman. But Chloe is different from all the trans women I had met before. They would call themselves ‘gay men gone too far’, tell you hilarious stories, wingman for me at the bar, argue about ‘when Madonna went bad’, arguments that turned into handbag duels at dawn. Many of them were older, and many of them had stories about surviving in a homophobic world, surviving AIDS, dangerous johns, and the joy they felt now, that gay rights had gone somewhere. This man was very different to them.

My hair stands up on the back of my neck every time I deal with ‘Chloe’. It requires conscious effort to make sure I don’t mess up his pronouns, because my brain says that’s ‘a fucking man’, but my cognitive dissonance around the situation and my sense of self-preservation knows that if I don’t call this man a woman I will be in for it. I have seen the results - ‘Chloe’, all six feet of ‘Chloe’, screaming at a fellow trans woman, Clara, half his size, for saying ‘you’re a man honey’. Chloe himself came to me demanding I ban her from the space. I refused.

Clara stops coming into the center. I ask her why, and she says ‘those flipping transvestites, they’re not us.’ Clara never comes back to the center.

None of this thinking about Chloe’s pronouns is conscious. I feel guilty every time my thoughts use the ‘wrong pronouns’. My head is tied up in knots - not something freshman me would have considered, turning up to the center with the goal of getting laid, now trying to smile and put up with this man.

He makes every conversation in there uncomfortable. We relax when he is gone and only homosexuals are in the room.

Suddenly, my straight friends start asking if I’d ‘sleep with a trans woman’. I try laughing this off. One friend gets very insistent, and when I tell him that I wouldn’t consider someone with a dick, he starts wondering if my preferences are ‘rooted in bigotry’. I ask him if he’d sleep with a trans woman. He tells me that no, he’d prefer a woman who can have his children.

I smile and nod, and when the conversation ends, walk out of the room as fast as I can.

Chloe tells us at length about their sexual proclivities. Bondage and leather and ‘being a dom’. Chloe tells us about his lack of luck on lesbian dating apps. I keep to myself that I had ended up setting a height filter to filter out ‘the trannies.’ Nor do I tell him that me and a group of women had made fun of men like him on lesbian dating apps, swapping screenshots and Silence Of The Lambs jokes.

Soon there are more Chloes and fewer women. They all start talking about radical communism, about ‘sex work is work’, ‘cultural appropriation’, and about ‘TERFs’ and how hideous they are. One of them expounds to me at length why I shouldn’t read any feminist works from the seventies, because they hated trans women, and I wouldn’t want to hate trans women, wouldn’t I?

They all behave the same way. I keep getting reports about the Chloes harassing people in the center, particularly young lesbian women. Then there is an influx of ‘Aidens’, straight women declaring themselves to really be gay men. One of them tells me I am ‘appropriating the culture of trans men.’

One day I am in the center, and I look out the glass window of my office. There are a dozen people sitting in the common room of the center, talking animatedly. I realize none of them are lesbian or gay in the actual sense of the word. I feel uncomfortable, but I cannot articulate why I feel such discomfort.

One of the Chloes knocks on my door. This one wears a pink tube top and a pencil skirt. I am strongly reminded of Buffalo Bill. He asks me out for coffee. I decline. He asks why, as I am single. I say that I am busy that day. He tries asking for another day. I say I am playing club football that day. He keeps trying to cajole me. Eventually I dispense with the politeness and tell him I am not interested in him. He shouts at me that I am transphobic and leaves.

A few hours later, my phone blows up. His friends are calling me transphobic for not being interested in him. It’s just one date, they say. One little coffee. You might like it. You don’t know. Your last girlfriend dressed the same. You need to unlearn your genital preferences.

I think to myself my last girlfriend was a foot shorter and had a vagina, but I don’t say anything. I ignore the messages. He is allowed boundaries. I am not.

I am sitting in a class. It’s on sexual histories, a class I took to broaden my horizons from my journalism degree. I try not to think of the student loan I’ll be incurring from taking it.

Strangely enough, it is perhaps the first blow to the self-imposed contortions of my thoughts. The professor starts his lecture by pronouncing that sexual orientation is, in fact, a social construct. He explains that the word ‘homosexuality’ did not exist until the 19th century, and thus, homosexuals are a creation of repressive Victorian sexuality. I find this theory strange. I had grown up in the ‘born this way’ era, to be sure, but my homosexuality seemed biological, instinctual, basal to my very way of being. A powerful attraction to women came to me as naturally as breathing, or seeing, or farting inappropriately on the second date. Yet here was this man telling me, that in fact, my perceptions were merely constructs based on my surroundings.

It seemed strange to me. Someone from the class, notorious for asking questions, puts his hands up and asks about the Romans - you see, he is a student of the classics, and he remarks that the Romans knew of homosexuals. The professor gravely informs in that in fact the Romans were aware of a ‘behavior’, and that as ‘homosexual’ as a word did not exist at the time, there were no homosexuals. Only behaviors, that we codify and understand on a cultural basis.

This made less sense to me than before. It made even less sense to me when someone else asks about trans people. The professor remarks that ‘trans people have always existed’.

Yet homosexuals were invented by the first sexologists, rather than through self-definition? We had to have heterosexuals invent us, as other, first?

I am sitting with some gay friends, and one of them complains about the focus on trans issues when we still don’t have same-sex marriage federally yet. We talk about our disappearing spaces, and I voice that sometimes I am the only lesbian out of thirty people sitting in the LGBTQI+ student center (it had been renamed). I think of it in terms of getting laid - because suddenly all the ‘lesbians’ in the center had penises. It happened so quickly that it was easy to notice. I went to a lesbian group, and it was a sausage fest I made up an excuse to leave. The Chloes moved in, and the lesbians instantly left. I feel constantly uncomfortable, watched, stared at, envied. The Chloes all talk about their genitalia and violent pornography at length, in public, and it makes me feel gross and dirty, and I start to dislike most of them.

I post on my Tinder that I’m not into penis. I log in the next day to find out my account has been banned. Tinder never gives me a straight answer as to why I was banned.

I finish out my term on student government. I don’t run again. I’m a senior. I finish my degree and hurry off to the real world. One of the Chloes takes my place as ‘LGBTQI+ students representative’.

It is the one who tried getting me to go out on a date with him. He makes me feel uncomfortable throughout the whole handover.

I am upset, because he will destroy everything I worked for.

I go to the gay bar with some friends. But when we go, we feel like the only homosexuals in the whole god-damn bar. It’s full of people with dyed hair. A man in a dress tries grinding on me, and when I turn around and tell him no, he calls me ‘transphobic towards trans femmes’. When I declare I am a butch lesbian, people ask if I am a ‘TERF’. I don’t know what a ‘TERF’ is, other than ‘terfs’ are bad. I have been told terfs are bad, so it has to be true right? I don’t want to be a bad person.

I try going to other gay events, and suddenly I am outnumbered. Me, a few older lesbians, and some gay men huddle in a corner of spaces we once proudly called our own, as the Chloes and the Aidens declare it their own - and even worse, that they are just the same as us. It is unnerving, and they no longer feel like safe spaces for me. Gradually, we all stop going. There were no more gay people in the gay space.

I have a lesbian friend. She tells me excitedly about a first date. She meets them in a quirky coffee shop. It is a trans woman twice her size. When she tells the trans woman that she’s not interested, they lose it at her in the coffee shop, calling her a transphobic bigot and screaming and shouting and threatening to hit her.

She tells me, because she knows I don’t tell people things. But she cannot say anything in public. She’ll be transphobic. So she keeps it to herself, and this man gets to continue preying on women who think they’re safe, catfishing, coercing and abusing them.

To say otherwise gets you labelled a terf. And terfs are bad. Why are terfs bad? Don’t ask. Just accept that terfs are bad. Terfs hurt trans women, and you wouldn’t want to do that, would you?

Eventually, my friend hears of her date doing it to someone else. She writes a call out post, saying that you shouldn’t hide important facts about yourself on dating sites. She gets called a terf for saying that ‘lesbians don’t have dicks’, and being verbally abused in public was the rational response of an oppressed person to oppression. It’s a scarlet letter, and she is branded with it. I am a coward and I do not speak up in public. I hate myself. I am thinking of my personal prospects, and not my friend, and not my people. Because if I speak up, I can kiss the career I dream about goodbye. I fear that scarlet letter being branded on my forehead.

I tell my friend in private that I support her. But I daren’t say that in public.

I daren’t ask questions.

One day, I am aimlessly browsing the internet at work. I have written enough copy to cover my ass for the next few weeks. I wait until my boss leaves for the afternoon, and wait out the rest of the day mindlessly scrolling. I see a post in an LGBTQI+ students group on Facebook I’ve forgotten to leave. It’s a troll post, which is apparently ‘terf rhetoric’. The link is still there, and the comments are blowing up, united in performative outrage.

I click the link . I find myself laughing at the description of ‘men in dresses’. To these ‘terfs’, a man has a penis, and a woman has a vagina. Anyone saying otherwise is a damned fool. It seems such an easy way to think about it. I mean, what is a woman, anyway? It doesn’t seem evil, wicked or bad. It seems… sensible.

Finding out more about this new way of thinking becomes addicting. I keep my scrolling through it on my phone. I have always had a fondness for reading people being harshly critical about anything, and now I have an endless source of it, articulating things I knew instinctually but could never find the words to verbalize, could never find the courage to verbalize. I wonder if I am being radicalized - images of ISIS radicalizing fighters over the internet run through my head. But everything seems to make so much sense. I am no longer contorting my thoughts around the desires of others, but thinking freely, observationally, openly, fearlessly.

It felt like my mind had freed itself from chains, chains placed upon it all those years ago, when that naïve eighteen year old who wanted to get laid tried reading Gender Trouble.

The gunk on my mind slowly unclogged. My way of thinking suddenly changed. I was no longer denying what my eyes saw in front of me. No, now I saw things as they were. There was no more contorting my way of thought. For the first time in a long time, I felt clear-headed.

One of the links I clicked in my flurry was a link to Dr. Ray Blanchard’s paper on ‘autogynephilia’. I read it, and finally, I had an explanation. Homosexual transsexuals. And ‘autogynephiles.’ The two types of his famous and controversial typology.

‘Autogynephiles’ - men who had a sexual fetish for ‘being a woman’, a fetish for an alter-ego female self, a fetish for our bodies, our minds, our souls, our experiences. All reduced to jerk-off fodder for some blockhead man.

It explained why they were so desperate for lesbians to date them. They needed us for validating their sexual fetish. Our lives and experiences, our spaces, our dating apps, our culture, our media, our websites, every breath we took, as far as they were concerned, needed to be focused on validating them. Because otherwise, the fantasy was ruined! This straight man would not be able to jerk off over ‘being a lesbian!’. We were not people, we were non-player-characters in their video game. Actresses in pornography, extras in a film where they were the protagonist, and we were off script. We weren’t fully-formed people, with our own desires, we were things, objects, film props.

The entire gay movement, from the lesbians to the gays, to the homosexual transsexuals, reduced to nothing props in some straight man’s sexual fantasy. That’s all we were to them, ultimately.

And I was expected to go along with it?! We were all expected to go along with it?

Not only that, I had gone along with it. I had advocated for this.

What had I done?

Every moment you come close, every moment you start thinking something isn’t right, you start feeling a little foolish.

Of course this is fine. Everyone is telling me so. The media, the public, the people around you. No one voices concerns. When you have them, you don’t say anything, because no one else is, and because you are a coward.

You feel a little foolish because this is foolish. Saying some women have penises is foolish. You know it is foolish, from the minute that idiot phrase leaves your mouth, to the minute it dances across your tongue, to the minute your nerves send the signal to your larynx to make the required movements to produce the very sounds. But, you think, you are no fool.

You are no fool, you think, when someone says ‘biological women have XY chromosomes’, or that it’s okay for a man on the college track team to identify as a woman and take a place on the woman’s track team. You know that’s not right. But everyone else is going along with it, and you are no fool, and you shouldn’t feel foolish, because everyone says this is the right thing to do, the right side of history, doing right by an oppressed minority, so you go along with it.

You are frightened of realizing you are a fool. So too, is everyone around you. No one likes being played the fool, no one likes realizing they were sold a pack of lives as a naïve eighteen year old looking for other gay people. And no one plays you for a fool. And thus the dance continues, everyone one too frightened to admit that, perhaps, we are all fools, believing in something physically impossible, no different to the bible-banging megachurch attendee, with our owns chants, our own magic words, ritual knowledge, and ability to be born again. We are smart. We liberal. We are on the right side of history. We couldn’t be believing in something that isn’t scientifically backed. We’re smarter than that. We’re not fools.

And when it finally gets too much, and you drift over to the cliff’s edge, the cliff that you can see the bottom of, the cliff you know you can’t come back from, you pull away. Because to go over it would to be to admit that you’ve been played the fool. No one likes that feeling, the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear. What lies over that cliff is exile, a scarlet letter, fear and hatred and nasty women who just want trans women dead.

What lies beyond that cliff is a realization that you have been used. You have been used by something greater than yourself, to push medication on children. You have been used by straight men to participate in their sexual fetish without your consent. Your entire community, rendered a jerk-off prop for some straight man over night, and you were told that objecting was ‘transphobic’. You have been used to spread homophobia beyond your comprehension, to take part in the destruction of your own community, and you were told this was right and good.

To realize this, to acknowledge it, to move on and try and forge something better, that takes true strength of character. To realize this, to deny it, and obfuscate what you are doing, that I can understand. I too, was once a coward. I too, did not want to believe what my eyes told me was sitting in front of me. That cliff is scary, and to jump off it seemingly lies nothing but social death.

But eventually something pushes you over, without your consent. You realize you have been played the fool, because finally, something so gratuitous occurs that you must. Even the greatest cowards will eventually be blown off the cliff. The music will stop, and the dance will end, and you will finally feel the shame, the embarrassment, the horror, the fear, the guilt.

Because no one likes being played for a fool.

Perhaps, then, it is best to get this over and done with now, while you still have dignity to defend.

Some details have been changed to protect the identities of those concerned.

[stanzoeywade]

Poppy x MC Tinder AU

Summary: based off that one tumblr post about a girl who never experienced an orgasm and their friend hooks them up with their lesbian friend. aka, the au that no one asked for.

in which Veronica and Chloe find out that Poppy's never experienced an orgasm and they decide to help her out by creating a tinder account for her, cue MC finding her account and shenanigans happen.

Warnings: swear words maybe some smut but nothing too graphic. (OWO)

If anyone wants to be added to taglist please reply. As always these are only my headcanons so enjoy my take on that tinder au anon asked @somewillwin about. Your brain anon omg.

Taglist: @somewillwin @belvoiresqueenbee @origmansello @clownery-is-a-new-personality @kamilahtrash @poppysminion @poppysimp @captain-hanadeleine @poppysmc @iiizdumb @uselesslesbianfr @scattered-to-the-winds @idiot-justidiot @toyhenoctus

First of all this discussion happens one night where Poppy, Chloe and Veronica get their asses drunk at a frat party. Believe or not the top 3 girls of Belvoire actually care about each other, they just have a really weird way of showing it.

A heart to heart talk starts and the three of them start to confess things that they would never talk about when sober. Cue Poppy saying "I've never experienced an orgasm in my whole life."

Chloe and Veronica just look at Poppy shocked and their jaws drop. Veronica just looks at Poppy with a weird look of pity, whilst Chloe just stares.

After realising what she said Poppy quickly sobers up and clams her mouth shut. "What do you mean you've never had an orgasm before?!" Veronica all but yells. "Gee V, couldn't you have said that any louder, I don't think the whole school heard you." Poppy replies sarcastically.

Veronica just rolls her eyes and says "Girl, you're not getting out of this convo that easily. Now spill the tea sis." Chloe and Veronica look at Poppy expectantly, waiting for her to elaborate. Poppy just sighs and looks away cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed.

The two don't stop pestering her, so Poppy has no choice but to raise her hands in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll tell you" she says as her eyes narrow dangerously. "But if you tell anyone about this, I will actually erase the both of you from planet earth."

Poppy begins to explain that none of her exes made her feel good, and that whenever she had sex with any of them she always had to fake it, so much so that she's started to find sex boring.

Veronica and Chloe share a look and nod at each other. The both of them say "We're gonna set up a tinder account for you to find a good lay (basically the british version of saying good fuck), because that's just pretty fucking sad. Why didn't you tell us sooner, like bruhhh??."

Poppy just looks away and says "Its not like I can just go up to you guys and say 'I've never orgasmed before'". The two just nod their head in understanding before taking Poppy's phone and installing tinder.

They spend some time taking and choosing the best photos for Poppy to use on her tinder profile. (If anyone has seen Euphoria, you know that scene where Rue helps Jules take nudes, it's like that but PG-13) Considering that the three of them were pretty drunk, it was surprising to see how well it turned out.

Feeling sleepy, both Veronica and Chloe retreat back to their room, and Poppy just feels so tired that she falls asleep as soon as the other girls leave.

Waking up the next morning Poppy wakes up to the sound of her phone beeping numerous times and annoyed by the constant ping, she picks it up to see that almost all the notifications were from tinder.

Poppy is confused because wtf? When did she download tinder??? And then it hits her like a truck, 'Oh shit, we were all drunk as fuck last night, I thought that was some bizarre lucid dream but I actually have a tinder account. Fuck.' - she thinks to herself, embarrassed that Veronica and Chloe know her secret.

She sees a few messages from the group chat. Veronica sent her a message. "Poppy, istg if you delete tinder after all the time we spent making your profile look cute, I will post the ugliest picture I have of you on my insta." it reads. What surprised her is that Chloe actually backs Veronica up by saying "Yeah Poppy, it took our three collective brain cells to curate that account so you better use it."

Poppy giggles a little amused by her friends' reaction and she messages them back by saying "Fine, but if it doesn't work out you guys have to pay for my next shopping spree." Chloe and Veronica just agrees albeit unwillingly, but they know not to argue back.

Poppy decides to check the messages and matches that she got on tinder, disappointed but not surprised, most messages say "Send nudes" or a nude pic is attached to their messages. Poppy just rolls her eyes as she immediately unmatches them.

You were looking on tinder for your latest hook-up with no strings attached because ewww commitment and no one really caught your eye, except Poppy. Imagine your surprise when you find Poppy's profile on tinder, deciding that it was a troll account you decide to message them saying "Wow, of all the people you could choose to pretend to be, you choose the HBIC of Belvoire. Stop trying to catfish people, that's just shitty."

Poppy shocked at the sudden message that she gets from you scoffs and replies back "I'm not pretending to be anyone, Farmsville, in case you didn't know even I'm allowed to use tinder."

You just roll your eyes and text back "If you really are Poppy Min-Sinclair, prove it. I might hate Poppy's guts but trying to ruin her reputation by doing shit like this isn't funny."

This catches Poppy's attention, and suddenly she's curious. 'Why would she even stand up for me?' she can't help but wonder.

Poppy screenshots your conversation and sends it to Chloe and Veronica who have vastly different reactions. Veronica's response compiles of this emoji 👀, and the words "Farmsville likes girls, we been knew." and Chloe's response is more of a "WTF, I thought she was dating that Zoey girl."

The girls tell her that it would be fun to mess with you, and they tell her that she should prove that the profile is hers. Veronica also messages her privately saying "girl, her bio legit says 'not looking for commitment' this is like your chance to sleep with her and if you don't, I will." Poppy just grunts in annoyance and decides that fine, she supposed that you were attractive enough for a hook-up.

When you don't get a reply within the next ten minutes you scoff and roll your eyes. 'Damn, people really stoop so low huh.' - you think to yourself. There's a slight disappointment that crosses your mind once the account stopped replying to your messages. You were kind of hoping that it was the real Poppy after all.

Against her better judgement (gay denial right here folks, you're the first to see it), she decides to take a selfie and sends it to you.

Right as you're about to unmatch to what most likely seems to be a fake account, you're surprised to see a message from Poppy's supposed account. It was a selfie of Poppy, where instead of her usual pink fur coat, she's wearing something casual, and to be fair it's a really nice mirror selfie. (This is what I imagine) (I still stand by my headcanon of Poppy looking like Chungha but I couldn't find a good photo lolol)

Doubting that it's really Poppy, you decide to check your socials to see if she's uploaded any new images, and so far you haven't found anything. However you're nothing if not stubborn. You ask if she could prove that she's real and not some weirdo.

Poppy just rolls her eyes annoyed that she's being questioned, as a last ditch effort to gain your trust she sends another selfie, which is a bit more revealing than the last and once you see it your brain stops functioning.

Regaining your composure, you message her saying "I thought you had a boyfriend? What the fuck?" The only response you get is a reaction gif of some girl rolling their eyes. Being the little shit you are you decide to annoy her by sending selfies back, each photo more provocative than the last.

Poppy amused by the photos decides to get you back and it becomes a game of one-upping each other to see who takes better thirst traps. This continues on for an entire week (It's such a stupid competion and both of you know but you're both competitive af so yeah.) until Poppy snaps and contacts you using her actual phone number instead of the app.

Poppy's already frustrated and she's annoyed because she can't stop thinking about you and your stupidly hot, gorgeous body - oh my god I'm going insane she thinks to herself. She decides enough is enough and messages you. "FUCK YOU FARMSVILLE! BACK DOWN ALREADY!"

You wouldn't be yourself if you didn't have a sassy comeback ready so you reply with "FUCK ME YOURSELF YOU COWARD!" sending her yet another thirst trap, this one more revealing than the others.

Poppy snaps when she sees the message and she's quick to make a reservation to her favourite hotel in NYC, because as if she'd be seen taking you to her room. She gets the biggest room because she's extra like that and she knows she deserves the best.

The only response you get is a pinned location on the map, aptly captioned, "Meet me here Farmsville and I'll make you eat your words."

Still feeling feisty you reply with "Is that a threat or is that a promise? 😘😜" and Poppy just tells you to hurry up.

This is a really stupid idea - you think to yourself. You can't help but be suspicious of Poppy wanting to meet up, after all she can use this information against you. However none of that matters to your lust riddled brain, considering the last hook-up you've had was with Professor Kingsley and that was quite some time ago and you're really horny for some action.

You quickly dress in your best underwear, and choose something fashionable yet casual to wear because let's face it even if you hate Poppy, you don't want to look like a loser if you're gonna hook up.

Once you get there, you quickly make your way to the designated room that Poppy told you to go to. Knocking on the door, you're lowkey expecting Belvoire students to berate you, but once the door opens all you can see is Poppy.

Poppy is dressed in nothing but her underwear as she pulls you into the room. Feeling a bit awkward, you decide to break the ice by saying "I lowkey expected this to be some weird plan where you embarass me in front of your clique."

Poppy just looks at you and she scoffs as she says "As much as I hate you Farmsville, even I wouldn't stoop that low. Plus it's a crime to share nudes without a person's permission." You just look at her in disbelief jaw dropping as you take all of her in. I mean if you thought she looked good in the photos, then damn seeing it in real life was a different experience entirely

She notices that you're staring and she just flashes you a smirk and says "See something you like?" and all you want to do is wipe the smirk off her perfect face.

Stepping closer to Poppy, you make the first move and kiss her roughly, each kiss longer than the last and you can feel your heart pound as your nervousness dissipates and all you can focus on is the smell of Poppy's perfume and how it drives you wild. As well as how soft her skin feels against your hands and it's enough to drive you over the edge.

Poppy pulls away and you follow after her, annoyed by the fact that the kisses stopped. You can hear her pant as she struggles to breathe.

As soon as Poppy catches her breath, she says "I'm starting to feel under dressed so let's fix that shall we?" She pulls you towards the bed and she strips your clothing off, and you can't help but stare because holy shit this is actually happening. You start to wonder if you're dreaming until you feel Poppy kiss you again, this time slower and softer and you can't help the wistful sigh that escapes your lips.

You decide to take the lead until you hear Poppy say something. "Wait a minute Farmsville." You stop and listen because no matter how sexually frustrated you might be at the moment, consent is always important.

You wait patiently for her to start talking and she says "Don't make fun of me, but I've never known what an orgasm feels like." You can tell that she's flustered by the way she looks away and refuses to make eye contact.

Your eyes soften up and you kiss her gently on the neck and whisper "I guess that's something we can improve after tonight, but if you feel uncomfortable at any moment in time just tell me to stop." Surprised that you even cared about how she felt Poppy just nods her head softly at you.

"I'm gonna start touching you, okay Poppy?" you say your voice gentle, as you hope that it soothes her nerves. "Just relax and let me do the work, alright, I promise I won't hurt you." Poppy just shoots you a shy smile and your heart pounds because fuck that's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen.

Kissing your way to her inner thighs, you can hear and feel her squirm against your touch. In order to keep her still, you place her hands on your hair and assure her that it's okay if she tugs on it. You place your hands on her hips to keep her steady as you tease and suck on her clit.

Poppy's small moans of contentment makes you want to do more, so you try extra hard because you want to hear more. You can feel Poppy's body begin to shudder and you can tell that she's close and spurred on by that you insert your fingers into her core and thrust until you can hear scream in pleasure.

You can't help but stare as her body starts to spasm and you let her grind so that she can climax again and it's the most erotic moment of your life.

Poppy feels her whole vision turn white for a moment and she feels euphoric once she realises that she came.

As soon as she regains her bearings, she turns to you, who looks very satisfied, and omg did she just see you lick her juices off your finger. That sends a wave of arousal straight to her core and she looks away embarrassed from being turned on again just a few seconds after coming.

You put your hand on her chin and turn her face towards you forcing her to make eye contact. "It's not over yet, Princess. I'm pretty sure that we can wriggle more of those out of you and the night is young." you say your voice dropping an octave.

By the time that you've finished, Poppy's mind has gone blank and she feels so tired that she doesn't think she can move. She's got to give you props though, because goddamn that was the first time she actually enjoyed sex and she actually got to cum too.

Noticing that Poppy's too tired to move, you decide to lift her up in a princess carry and surprised by your sudden action Poppy's about to protest until you just tell her to be quiet.

Placing Poppy in the bath tub, you turn on the faucet and makes sure that the water isn't too hot or cold as it fills up. After the bath has been filled you slip into the bathtub behind Poppy as you help her clean up.

'Okay now she's just being unfair, why is she being so nice.' Poppy thinks to herself. Trying to make conversation Poppy says "Why are you taking care of me, I half expected you to leave after we fucked." You rest you chin on her shoulder and say "I didn't want you to catch a cold, and besides what kind of a person would I be if I just left you on your own? I like to think of myself as a gentlewoman." You start to place soft kisses on her shoulders and Poppy just sighs wistfully, feeling at peace as she leans back against you. "Don't tell anyone but this was actually the most fun I've had. Hell I don't think any of my exes would have compared against you." Poppy says shyly.

You can't help the smile that creeps it's way to your face. "You can't say shit like that Poppy, I'm pretty sure you're gonna give me a heart attack if you act this soft." you say teasing lilt in your voice and you can hear Poppy giggle. It sounds so soft and you realise that it's a sound that you want to hear.

Your relationship as enemies with benefits start and the both of you can't really keep your hands off each other, God forbid if you're in the same room.

Intense stares from across the room that everyone assumes to be glares, but little do they know that it's your own way of communicating.

One day Poppy calls you up and tells you that you're going shopping, but in reality it was just an excuse to spend more time with you. On the way to the mall, you guys get frisky in the car and before you can stop yourself you say "Babe" and you can't help but think that you've fucked up.

Poppy doesn't say anything but she likes the new pet name and can't wait to hear you say it again.

You guys go to a high end designer store and one of the staff approaches you and says "You guys look good together." While you're quick to deny it, Poppy just thanks them, but as she hears you deny it her eyes widen and you can see her heart break in front of your eyes. Poppy runs off and you're confused.

The employee looks at you and says "I probably shouldn't say anything else today but you should go after her. It's obvious that you both like each other."

Searching the mall, you're relieved once you see Poppy sitting down on a bench, and you approach her carefully. You see that her eyes are red and you feel shitty because you're the reason why she's crying.

Poppy notices you and she's about to run off again until you catch her wrist in your hand. "Poppy please look at me." you plead and she doesn't budge as she tries to get away from your grip.

Seeing that she can't outrun you considering you're holding onto her she just sighs and looks at you. Her face is covered in tears and you use your other hand to wipe them away.

"You know after you called me babe in the car, I was so happy because I thought that it meant that we were dating, but I guess I was just another girl for you to fuck." Poppy says and your heart breaks.

"I thought that you didn't like me that way, so I quickly denied that we were dating. I do like you Poppy, but you never made it clear that we were in a relationship. Though to be fair I should have tried to clear things up too. I guess we're both idiots huh?" You say as you hold her face between your hands.

Leaning in you capture Poppy's lips and she eagerly kisses you back, happy to resolve the misunderstanding.

Unbeknownst to the both of you a Belvoire student caught everything on camera and by the next day everyone on campus knows that you guys are dating.

No one dares to say anything because uhhh POWER COUPLE and they're highly scared of Poppy killing them lol.

Long story short Poppy sees your tinder account and you compete for better thirst traps and well you start fucking and it ends up with you two dating.

Well that was long, hope you guys enjoy, don't forget to like or reblog if you like it.

[tempestaurora]

FANDOMS: Marvel, Voltron: Legendary Defender, The 100, Harry Potter, The Raven Cycle, Community, Avatar: The Last Airbender, The Umbrella Academy

NOTES:

i tagged every tumblr i could reasonably find. if you have more than one fic on this list, i have tagged you more than once. some people may be tagged like five times. i’m not sorry.

where relevant, fandoms have been split into general (platonic) centric fics, and romantic/slash fics. this is just because it’s easier than splitting it up into specific relationships.

at the end of every fic title/author line is a list of core relationships; fics are split between gen and romance depending on what relationship is considered centric. otherwise, fics are in no particular order. All fics are completed unless otherwise specified.

i added a read more because there’s over 100 fics listed here.

anyway, enjoy, thanks for the 3k followers

M A R V E L

gen centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

K.I.D. by blondsak @blondsak | Tony&Peter

summary: “Hi K.I.D. Glad you’re awake. Do you know your primary objective?”

“To always look for ways to remind Mister Stark - that’s you! - that Kindness Isn’t Dead.”

“That’s right, K.I.D. Good job.” 

forty miles by peter_stank @peter-stank

summary:  the one where Morgan is sick and Tony is in way over his head, so he calls his spiderson for a little bit of help. Tony&Peter

from now on by peterparkr @peterparkrr |  Tony&Peter

summary: Peter’s sure that Tony and Pepper’s wedding will change everything. 

Machine Wash Hot; Tumble Dry Low by alice_in_ink | Tony&Peter

summary: Do you ever fall into sewers and then need your billionaire mentor to wash your super-suit? Peter Parker does too. 

Captain That by maddo | Tony&Peter

summary: Just a bunch of little anecdotes regarding our favourite spider and his Instagram account, feat. a meme-tastic Tony Stark.

Here's to all the new beginnings by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter

summary: Peter gets a job. Tony is less than pleased. 

to know, to protecc, and to fuck with by peterstank and floweryfran @peter-stank @floweryfran | Tony&Peter, Natasha&Peter, Sam/May

summary: peter parker convinces the responsible adults in his life to join him on the world’s stupidest stake-out. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

i used to have nothing and then by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Clint&Natasha

summary: “Clint,” Natasha said. “You’ve got to let me go.”

“Clint,” she said, and he let her go. 

the hearth by sagemb |  Tony&Peter

summary: What to Do When Your Wife Is Out of the Country: A Guide by Tony Stark

1) Gain partial custody of a child 2) Sleep on the couch 3) Have the child gain partial custody of you.

Love in Ones and Zeroes by forensicleaf @forensicleaf | Tony&Peter

summary: a boy, a bot, and a bond through the years. Tony&DUM-E

call you home SERIES by Madelinedear | May&Tony, Tony&Peter

summary: sometimes family is who you're born with. and sometimes family is a spider boy, a rich not-dad, and a kickass aunt. (or; tony, may, and peter find a place in each other's lives) 

Not-Uncle Tony by Jen27ny @jen27ny | Tony&Peter, Happy&Peter

summary: Happy is Peter's biological father, and Tony is there for the entire ride. 

Between how it is and how it should be by frostysunflowers @frostysunflowers | Peter&Bucky, Tony&Peter, Steve&Bucky

summary: ''Doesn’t Captain Rogers ever…wonder,'' Peter winced as he fumbled for the right word, ''where you are?''

Bucky smirked. ''Steve’s a regular mother hen. Used to be me that worried about him.'' He gave Peter a pointed look. ''Better question is, isn’t Stark wondering where you are?''

The Unfortune Teller by peterparkr @peterparkrr | Tony&Peter

summary: A woman in a carnival booth predicts Peter's death. 

all the things yet to come (are the things that have passed) by peterparkr @peterparkrr | Peter&Morgan, Tony&Peter

summary: The first time Peter sees Morgan is at the funeral. 

tony and peggy’s big day out! by floweryfran @floweryfran | Tony&Peggy

summary: “What’s happened this time?”

“Just a bombing,” says Peggy.

“At three in the afternoon?” says Jarvis. “Frankly, how rude.”

Blips on the Record by ambivalentangst @ambivalentmarvel | Flash&Peter, Tony&Peter

summary: Flash Thompson’s story is not simple, Peter Parker can always use someone else in his corner, and secrets are had and protected by all. 

aiding and abetting: a peter parker saga by floweryfran and peterstank @floweryfran @peter-stank | Peter&Avengers

summary: 5 times peter parker runs into the rogues separately + the 1 time they work together as a team. 

Tennessee Outreach for Spider-Man (and friends) by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Harley&Peter, Harley&Tony

summary: in an attempt to help Harley beef up his college apps, Tony offers Harley a remote Stark Industries internship to help Spider-Man. It easily becomes his worst nightmare. 

Allston Christmas by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter, Tony&Peter&Rhodey

summary: “You guys didn’t have to do this,” Peter says from where he sits squeezed into the middle seat of the U-Haul, sweat running down his back. The air-conditioning in the truck they’ve rented is broken, and even with the windows rolled down it’s hellishly hot inside.

“We wanted to,” Tony replies as he blasts the horn at a minivan with a “Harvard Mom” bumper sticker that is attempting to cut into his lane.

so happy together by floweryfran @floweryfran | Tony&Ben

summary: ben parker calling tony stark a twink for 13k words

LONG (20K+)

An Unofficial Introduction to the Avengers SERIES by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so @isnt-it-pretty-to-think-so-tr | Tony&Peter

summary: The Avengers meet Spiderman via the online world, and then meet Peter Parker in Stark's living room. It takes them longer than it should to put two-and-two together. 

what is and will be (is you and me) by momentofmemory @momentofmemory | May&Peter

summary: 5 times May was there for Peter, +1 time he was there for her. 

dear mr. fantasy by iron_spider @iron--spider | Tony&Peter

summary: He grits his teeth and turns around, and before he can even begin to trudge over towards Peter’s room, he’s stopped in his tracks. By a door. In the middle. Of the living room.

“Well that’s new,” he says, still rooted to the spot.

timshel SERIES by justanotherblond @blondieewritess | Bucky&Peter, Steve/Bucky

summary: The soldier doesn’t remember his son’s birth or how he came to be. He doesn’t remember bedding a woman and watching her belly swell, but they said the boy was his. He does know that he will protect and teach the boy within the confines of their cell walls. Even when the handlers berate him. Even when the good guys take him away. 

odd couple buddies SERIES by bysine | Peter&Bucky, Sam&Thor, Tony&Peter

summary: "You know you're not supposed to call him the Winter Soldier any more, right?" Peter says, while they handcuff him to a pipe. A pipe. "Also this whole thing is kind of messing up my schedule. My two overdue papers won't exactly write themselves."

i understand (i’m a liability) by floweryfran @floweryfran | Harley&Tony, Harley&Peter

summary: “I… am not being challenged in the right ways here,” Harley says slowly, carefully.

“Then move here,” Tony says, and Harley’s heart drops straight into his feet. 

Roundabout by Gruoch @groo-ock | Tony&Peter

summary: In which Peter attempts to survive long enough to graduate, Tony moonlights as a semi-professional party planner, and absolutely nothing goes according to plan. 

Uncle Steve's Fix-it Freelance Gig (and friends) SERIES by whowhotellsyourstory | Steve&Morgan, Tony&Steve, Bucky&Peter

summary: "You ever need help, and I'm not there-""Why wouldn't you be there?""You call Uncle Steve."

notes: probably my favourite post endgame fix it fic/series in existence

Dumpster Fires Verse SERIES by deniigiq @deniigi | Peter&Wade&Matt

summary: A collection of Team Red stories because they are all hot messes. Except Peter. Two-Thirds of them are hot messes.

Impression, Sunrise by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Peter&Morgan

summary: In Peter Parker's eyes, Morgan Stark is a lot of things: a terrible pancake chef, a top notch negotiator, the world's cutest six-year old. But above all, she is his family. He hopes he's enough. 

The Room Where It Happens by notapartytrick @notaparty-trick | Tony&Peter

summary: At 7:36 pm on the 12th of May 2016, Tony Stark is put in the Room.

A twelve-by-twelve-foot shed, soundproofed, double locked. It becomes his home. It has to be, because there’s nowhere else.

At 4:22 pm on the 15th of June 2017, Peter Parker is put in the Room.

They make a living under duress, fearing at every moment the entry of their captor. Confinement halts their lives in their tracks, changes them both for good: breaks them and brings them together simultaneously.

“If someone has everything they need, but nobody, do they have everything? Or nothing?”

romance centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

written in the star(war)s by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Peter/Michelle

summary: Michelle looks at the nurse one more time, and despite the evidence, asks, “Are you sure it’s twins?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the nurse points them out again. “One boy, and one girl. Due...May 4th.”

It only takes Michelle 2.3 seconds to realize the horror of that sentence. 

Steve Rogers is (Not) A Good Influence by stevergrsno @stevergrsno |  Steve/Bucky, Steve&Peter

summary: Steve Rogers' American Tour Of Waiting For His Brainwashed Boyfriend To Come Back And Blowing Up Hydra is interrupted when Tony Stark dumps Peter Parker into his lap.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America by mybrotherharry @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah | Steve/Tony, Steve/Tony/Bucky

summary: It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again. 

Soft Spot for the Hell Raisin' Boy by ifeelbetter @ifeelbetterer | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Winter Soldier takes an interest in Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes wants to tell him how to be Steve Rogers's best friend.

Cat’s Cradle by Traincat @traincat | Peter/Felicia

summary: The test was positive.

Felicia tilted it idly this way and that, sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the cupboard. The floors and the counter tops were marble, and the shower door was glass. Every one of Felicia’s moves seemed to echo in the large room, even though she knew that she was making no sound.

The test was positive. She didn’t bother to check the box to make sure she’d gotten the little symbols right. She’d known before she took it.

“Well,” she breathed out, tilting her head back to inspect the ceiling. “Damn, Spider.”

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

cross this river to the other side by defcontwo | Steve/Bucky

summary: In 1943, the Howling Commandos wrote goodbye letters to be given to their loved ones in the event of their deaths.In 2014, Sharon Carter finds those letters in a tin can in an abandoned HYDRA base. 

Tony Stark Googled The Thing by mybrotherharry @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah | Tony/Pepper, Tony&Peter

summary: When Morgan is six months old, Pepper goes back to work and Tony takes over as stay-at-home dad. Discovering the mommyblogosphere is the inevitable next step.

Winter Soldier Program by NocturneByChopin | Steve/Bucky

summary: Here’s the thing: he’s got a bit of a secret. It involves a boy that went and became famous when Steve wasn’t looking. 

i was found and now i don't roam these streets by hipsterchrist | Steve/Bucky

summary: Bucky relearns himself and how to be on a team, the rest of the Avengers try to get answers, and everyone watches too much Criminal Minds. 

Between a Rock and a Hard Place by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Michelle/Peter, Michelle&Happy, Tony&Peter

summary: Ever since her mother died a few years back, Michelle's relationship with her father became strained in their grief. One night, after she's forced to show up at Peter's covered in bruises and in need of stitches, she remembers that even the most unsuspecting dormant volcanoes can erupt.

Brooklyn by togina @toli-a | Steve/Bucky

summary: "Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?"

Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film by eleveninches, febricant, hellotailor, M_Leigh, neenya, tigrrmilk | Steve/Bucky

summary: Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

Project: Get Bucky Barnes a Dog by ruxian | Steve/Bucky

summary: Bucky Barnes does not have a dog. Bucky Barnes does not want a dog. Sam thinks that should change. Bucky does not agree. 

On My Radar by sprinkle_of_cinnamon | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Winter Soldier first noticed it when he was on the helicarrier.

The blonde’s shoulders were broad, incredibly broad.

They stretched the blue uniform in a wide span, drawing down to a narrow waist. It was a distinctly triangular silhouette. It was entirely improbable. And somehow it was strangely familiar.

The Winter Soldier raised his gun and fired. He didn’t have time for distractions, or Steve Rogers’ shoulders. 

LONG (20k+)

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter @praximeter | Steve/Bucky

summary: “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” 

notes: may i say a massive fucking HOLY SHIT??????????? incredible. iconic. life-changing.

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015) by fallingvoices and radialarch | Steve/Bucky

summary: The Associated Press @AP Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE 

Bucky Barnes: Former Disney Channel Star SERIES by mambo @whtaft | Steve/Bucky

summary: "The question the entertainment world is asking themselves today is... Who is Steve? Hollywood superstar Bucky Barnes was spotted at a wrap-party last night, serenading someone named Steve onstage.” 

Not Easy Conquered SERIES by dropdeaddream and WhatAre Fears | Steve/Bucky

summary: In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

notes: if you’ve read stucky, you’ve read this series. i know this. just like i know that its the most GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL series ever written. no topping it. it’s number 1.

Strays by snarklyboojum @snarklyboojum | Steve/Bucky

summary: After finding himself alone for the first time in decades, the Winter Soldier learns how to be a person again. Mostly through caring for an orphaned kitten, countless rounds of YouTube roulette, and stalking Captain America. 

hold me until we crumble by queenklu @queenklu | Steve/Bucky

summary: “Sam told me you were watching Antiques Roadshow,” Natasha says, shaking out her hair. “I assumed it was a national emergency.”

notes: one of my favourite standalone fics i’ve ever read

half awake in a fake empire SERIES by idrilka | Steve/Bucky

summary: In the aftermath of Steve's return to the world of the living and the battle of New York, the academia and the Internet react.

by the river potomac i sat down and wept by peterstank @peter-stank | Steve/Bucky

summary: bucky barnes atones.

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell SERIES by AnnaFugazzi | Steve/Bucky

summary: Captain America and Bucky Barnes were like brothers. Everyone knew that. 

Out of the Dead Land by orphaned account | Steve/Bucky

summary: Someone is building machines that look and act like people.

Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes.

V O L T R O N:  L E G E N D A R Y  D E F E N D E R

romance centric fics

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

called out your name (but it was too late) by arahir @arahir | James/Keith, Shiro/Keith

summary:  An old classmate watches Keith fall in love with someone else. 

so much for the after party by arahir @arahir | Shiro/Keith

summary: Shiro gets his groove back.

i breathe disaster by arahir @arahir | Shiro/Keith

summary: After the wedding, Keith leaves Earth in search of something he can keep. 

notes: what doES THIS M E AN?!!!??!!?!?! i cried over this ending. i cr i e d. actual real tears. it was so upsetting somehow. and i am so confused. and i went and found the author’s imagined ending in the comments to help understand the open one and it just made me SADDER. i think this is one of those fics that tries to teach me to read the tags and back away at the word “angst”. anyway, excellent, everything i’ve read from this author was incredible

LONG (20K+)

Alien Sex Fiend by Glossolalia | Shiro/Keith | WIP

summary: It started at a drive-in in the 1980s. Unfortunately, this is a love story; a love story about the frontman of Quantum Queef, a punk band, and a boy who rides a red motorcycle. Also, they fight aliens. 

notes: i’m OBSESSED with this fic. i have read it many times. shiro as a punk singer of a band called Quantum Queef????????? and the fact that it’s the only fic on this account???? absolute POWER MOVE.

T H E  1 0 0

romance centric fics

SHORT (0 - 5K)

golden gunned girls by littlearrows | Bellamy/Clarke

summary:  They’re not good girls. They have no reason to be. 

notes: i think about this fic approximately twice a week despite reading it five years ago. there’s a song called gold gun girls by metric that makes me absolutely feral and would be the dream theme song for the intro sequence of the girl gang tv show of my dreams

and then my soul saw you by synchronicities | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Lexa tells Clarke that love within the cluster is the worst kind of narcissism. Bellamy begs to differ. Sense8 AU.

givers prove unkind by emullz | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: a modern au in which bellamy is in a band, he writes an album about clarke, and she is his ophelia. also, marriage.

she sounds like sex on the radio by lecornergirl | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: “Wait, hold on,” Clarke says. “Are you suggesting I—in the booth?” But her tone is a lot sterner than she feels. Against her better judgement, she’s into it. 

notes: idk what to tell you. i have only bookmarked like three smut fics in my life. it deserves it ok.

the kids aren’t alright by opensummer | Multiple Relationships

summary: The Pacific Rim fusion seven ways. 

notes: probably???? my favourite? pacific rim au? i’ve ever read??? does so much with so little

Haven’t You Heard? The World is Coming To An End by Jenye @likcoln-blog | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: So where would you rather die? Here or in Jaeger? Pacific Rim AU. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

three points (where two lines meet) SERIES by PinkCanary | Bellamy/Clarke/Raven

summary: Clarke wears the two names on her skin like a badge of honour. 

Icarus Lives by karusarchive @cluelesskaru | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: No one could ever have predicted the kaiju were coming.  Clarke Griffin was in need of a new Co-Pilot. Bellamy Blake had just graduated. You can guess how that goes.

notes: if anyone knows me at all, they know i’m a MASSIVE pacific rim fan. like, own all the books and graphic novels and have multiple pacrim t-shirts kind of fan. THIS FIC was my first experience with that franchise. my first ever. i watched the movie BECAUSE of this fic.

Pony Regrets SERIES by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Octavia drags Bellamy to a My Little Pony tournament. Bellamy is deeply upset about the whole thing, but then the girl running the tournament is really cute.

The Internet Is Forever SERIES by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Apparently, the internet has been shipping Bellamy Blake (of Team Arkade) and Clarke Griffin (of Craven Cosplay). No one told Bellamy about it. 

Nothing Like Old Times by LayALioness @filmnoirsbian | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: “Clarke killed some guy and stuffed him in the trunk,” Jasper says delightedly. “Your cousin’s dark, dude.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy nods, trying to backtrack. Sometimes he wishes she was actually better at making things up. “She’s a…closeted Goth.” Terminator AU. 

the feel-good hit of the summer by disco_vendetta @errorofyourways | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake are sleeping together. (aka ROCK BAND AU) 

notes: i think about this fic an OBSCENE amount. it’s been five years since i first read it.

LONG (20K+)

Your Mess Is Mine by monroeslittle @argyledpenguin | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: modern AU, Clarke grows up with Octavia, and Octavia's brother. 

notes: the fic that got me into fan fic in the first place. top tier. 42k.

Love Will Come Through by monroeslittle @argyledpenguin | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: AU. Clarke winds up in an arranged marriage with Bellamy. 

Neeeeeeeeeerds by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke joins the Junior Classical League for two reasons: to appease her mother and to annoy Bellamy Blake.

Our Time Now SERIES by TazmainianDevil | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: The Ark may have been short on all resources vital to sustaining life but one thing they never ran out of was guns.On an Ark that has always been defined by violence, Jake Griffin manages to save his daughter's life and Clarke joins a gang to change the world.

Disney Channel You by Chash @ponyregrets | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Bellamy only goes to the open casting for Clarke Griffin's new Disney Channel show because Octavia begs him. He never thought he'd actually get the stupid part. 

And You Understand Now Why They Lost Their Minds and Fought the Wars by marauders_groupie @marauders-groupie | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke doesn’t understand why they say that soulmates are one soul in two bodies. Her soul has five other bodies and she would give her life for any of them. Sense8 AU. 

notes: probably my favourite sense8 AU i’ve ever read?? and i have read Many

build this fire higher, higher toward the sky SERIES by adelicatepeach | Bellamy/Clarke

summary: Clarke's jaeger goes down on a Thursday. Pacific Rim AU. 

H A R R Y  P O T T E R

gen centric fic

LONG (20K+)

yer a wizard, dudley by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Dudley&A Lot of People

summary: Minerva fished in her pocket without looking, because the only things allowed in her pockets were only ever exactly what she needed. “I've come to deliver this,” she said, “because Hogwarts by-laws require a professor to hand-deliver acceptance letters to Muggleborn families for their explanation and comfort." 

notes: i have only ever cared about two harry potter fics in my life. this is one of them.

the family evans by dirgewithoutmusic @ink-splotch | Petunia&A Lot of People

summary: What if, when Petunia Dursley found a little boy on her front doorstep, she took him in? Not into the cupboard under the stairs, not into a twisted childhood of tarnished worth and neglect—what if she took him in? 

notes: this is the other one

T H E  R A V E N  C Y C L E

gen centric fic

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

Helter Skelter by Anonymous | Ronan&Blue

summary: In hindsight, a road trip with your step-brother and his best friends in Gansey's dying Pig is not an ideal way to start summer break. Sargent-Lynch siblings AU.

meet hennessy by izzylizardborn @gaybluesargent | Hennessy&Jordan

summary: Hennessy had seen movies. She knew how this went. When it came to clones, there was always a good one and an evil one. She didn’t need to wonder which was which.

life is not a movie, maybe by coyotesuspect | Ronan&Blue

summary: Ronan gets kicked out of Aglionby and enrolls at Mountain View High for his senior year. The only problem is, no one remembers to tell Blue. 

Honeymoon by vexmybones | Ronan&Blue

summary: Blue and Ronan living together, no buffers, no bullshit, this is how they cope. 

the bugs and alphabet by Pi @rhea314 | Ronan&Blue

summary: In which Blue babysits Chainsaw, Ronan & Blue make angry art projects, and some conversations are almost had. 

romance centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

Pretty Good, Right? by suddensingularity | Ronan/Blue

summary: Blue wants to have sex before her true love dies. Ronan helps out. Ronan/Blue

notes: yeah ok this is one of the three smut fics i’ve bookmarked its fun ok

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

It Had To Be You by shinealightonme @toast-the-unknowing | Ronan/Adam

summary: Ronan hates basically everything about their business, or that's what he tells Blue, but the worst part is that he's constantly meeting cute guys and none of them are single. 

darling, don’t make such a drama by shinealightonme @toast-the-unknowing | Ronan/Adam, Ronan&Henry, Ronan&Declan

summary: "Straight answers are boring," Cheng says, "and yes I do mean that for all values of straight. I do not need Ronan to share his tragic backstory, I would much rather deduce it on my own."

"Who says I have a tragic backstory?"

"With your fearsome glower and troubled good looks? If you did not have a tragic backstory it would be a waste."

 C O M M U N I T Y

romance centric fic

LONG (20k+)

Playing House by itsactuallycorrine @itsactuallycorrine | Jeff&Annie

summary: Six years ago, Jeff let Annie go. She never returned to Greendale, and he moved on. Now, he's a single dad to a one-year-old and he needs her help.

A V A T A R:  T H E  L A S T  A I R B E N D E R

gen centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

call it dreaming by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Toph&Gaang

After the war, Toph has nightmares. The screeching of metal, Sokka and Suki's screams, the snap of Sokka's leg as it broke from their fall. It's usually his confession that they aren't going to make it that makes her wake up in a cold sweat. She's anxious all the time now, unable to find peaceful sleep.

The cure is apparently to try and hold all of her friends hands for all hours of the days and hope that they're cool with it. 

what’s in a name by ciaconnaa @ciaconnaa | Toph&Sokka

summary: At her request, Sokka teaches Toph to write her name.

He learns a thing or two about the weight his own name holds in the process.

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

the beginning of a new and brighter birth by aloneintherain @captainkirkk | Zuko&Gaang

summary: “I’m so proud of you, my nephew.” Uncle cups Zuko’s face in his lined hand. The gesture is so tender, his palm so warm, that Zuko has to take a fortifying breath against the sudden swell of emotion in his chest.

“I want to be a good leader, Uncle,” Zuko says. “I want to look after my people.”

“You will,” Uncle says. “You are, nephew.”

In a new era of peace, Zuko works to be a very different Fire Lord than his forefathers.

the scope of blindness series by littlelionlady @thelittlelionlady | Toph&Gaang

summary: There are just some things that Toph's feet can't see.

Her hands can though.

Or, Toph learns what her friends look like by tracing their faces. 

notes: geniunely how goddamn beautiful is this. like. i cried. this is so soft and so cute and it made me feel SO MANY things

All The Gentle Creatures by Haircrescendo @sword-and-stars | Iroh&Zuko

It’s said that you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat animals. Zuko may be loud and stubborn and sharp but all the woodland creatures love him. 

LONG (20K+)

The Family You Choose by TunaFishChris | Zuko&Gaang

summary: Some people are born with soulmarks. Zuko has them, but his grandfather burned them off because they "make you weak."

Team Avatar has a few things to say about that. 

such selfish prayers by andromeda3116 @andromeda3116 | Katara&The Fire Nation, Katara/Zuko

Katara's ambition, so long set aside for the good of others, breaks free and sets fire to her soul. Or, Katara has a vision of her canon future, casts it aside, and becomes a world-changing politician instead. 

and love will be your teacher SERIES by Ford_Ye_Fiji @ford-ye-fiji | Iroh&Zuko

summary: "And you will know the pain of losing a firstborn son." Ozai loses Zuko. Iroh gains a son. And the future changes.

notes: excellent excellent excellent excellent makes me very happy indeed

romance centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

on commitment by jdphoenix | Zuko/Katara

summary: “Just explain it to me again.”

“There is no way you can pass as my brother and we are way too conspicuous as two unrelated people, from different nations, traveling together. So we’re pretending to be married.”

we hold our hearts in silence by psychedelic_aya | Zuko/Katara

summary: Seventy years later, Korra tries to figure out Zuko and Katara. 

oracle bones by orphaned account | Zuko/Katara

summary: The foreign, pictorial characters that bracelet Zuko's left wrist have never been covered in any of his lessons. He cannot read them. And then he turns thirteen, and his father burns his wrist along with his face.

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

late nights/early mornings SERIES by shmulia @shmuliawrites | Zuko/Katara

summary: Whoever set off the fire alarm at 2 in the morning is on Katara’s shit list. Even if he is hot and shirtless. 

the thing about dancing by anodymalion | Sokka/Zuko

summary: The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

LONG (20K+)

Fate Deferred by catie_writes_things @catie-does-things | Zuko/Katara | WIP

summary: Aang remains in the iceberg ten years longer. He awakens to a very different world. 

The Sparrowkeet SERIES by audreyii_fic | Zuko/Katara

summary: Ba Sing Se has fallen and Katara has been captured by the Fire Nation; a more adult take on the potential progression of S3. AU series of interconnected one-shots. 

notes: i would die for this series, particularly the last instalment. i enjoyed every single fic and it was just such a GOOD STORY.

T H E  U M B R E L L A  A C A D E M Y 

gen centric fic

SHORT (0 - 5K)

you from yesterday by questors (sieges) @softpunks | Five&Siblings

summary:  The difference between who his siblings once were versus who they are now. 

Ghost Math by pinstripedJackalope | Five&Klaus

summary: Number Five needs a new hobby now that the apocalypse is off. He decides to help Klaus--and in turn maybe he'll help himself. 

Then There Was Two by AnneKatherine | Five&Vanya

summary: Reginald Hargeeves finally decides to allow Grace to name the Academy. Unfortunately, he's only willing to let her name the Academy, which Seven is unfortunately not a part of.

[or how Five gave away his name]

(he definitely didn't want one anyway) 

i tiresias (have foresuffered all) by ThatWeirdGuyInTheBushes | Five&Siblings, Five/Delores

summary: Five misses sharing his birthday, but Five has missed a lot of things.alternatively; number five, coffee, and the art of taking back. 

MEDIUM (5 - 20K)

The Five Vetting Process by jaz_hop | Five&Siblings

summary: In which Five is incredibly invested in the love lives of his siblings, because they're obviously too stupid to choose anyone worthy enough to be their partner. Otherwise known as Five being stupidly over-protective, and incredibly invasive in the hopes of keeping his siblings safe and happy... even if he is being a stalker and a dick about it. 

LONG (20K+)

You and I Together Forever SERIES by Ace_of_Spades_400 @ace-of-spades-400 | Vanya&Siblings

summary: What if it hadn't only been Five, what if it hadn't been Five at all?

A series of stories about what would have happened if Vanya had chosen a different sibling.

Sometimes the choice isn't hers.

Timeliness 1-2.1 SERIES by dgalerab | Hargreeves Siblings

summary: As the world ends, Five takes his siblings back into their child bodies on the day he originally left. With the knowledge of how the world ends fresh in their minds, the Hargreeves siblings do what they can to leave clues for their past selves on how to grow up a little less fucked up before returning to the present.

A present where they all have different lives they can't remember, there's a fun new apocalypse on the way, and Reginald Hargreeves remembers the day where all his children suddenly and inexplicably lost their minds and all respect for him at once a little too well.

Rare Birds SERIES by Cryptix23 | Hargreeves Siblings

summary: An alternate 2019 brings with it new problems and new dangers.

The two sets of Hargreeves children mix like water on a greasefire. It's hard to tell which group is unhappier about the situation -- the Sparrows, trying to navigate the minefield of their new siblings' many traumas, or the Umbrellas, trying to carve their place back into a world that forgot them.

Plus the whole saving-the-world thing hanging over them all.

Whether they like it or not, they're going to have to learn to work together. 

Partners, Parents, or None of the Above by DarkFairytale | Diego&Klaus

summary:  Kenny's mom assuming that Diego and Klaus were A) a couple and B) Number Five’s parents was both bemusing and amusing at the time. But that was because it was the only time it had ever happened. Now though? Now they just can't understand why these misunderstandings keep happening. 

[sunshinejihyun]

Wedding Bells - Saeyoung Choi

Summary: A dating app brings two unexpected people together

A note about this work: All of the RFA members have significant others (besides Saeyoung, MC is used for this fic as normal) that are referred to by name. Those are my OC’s and they’re the names I use when I play those characters routes. I just needed to give everyone a happy ending, okay?

Here is a quick breakdown: Yoosung and Wenyn Zen and Briar Jaehee and Cordelia Jumin and Luce

You can meet all my OC’s here!

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

“What do you mean I have to have a date to your wedding?” Saeyoung Choi stood staring out his kitchen window, his phone pressed against his ear and his best friend, Yoosung was spewing some ridiculous ideas into his ear.

“I mean just that. Bring a date, everyone thinks you have a girlfriend.” Yoosung’s voice sounded muffled on the other end and Saeyoung’s brow furrowed. “Sorry, Wenyn was trying to tell me something. But seriously, bring a date or else!”

“Where am I supposed to find a date in the next two weeks?” Saeyoung rubbed at the part of his nose that his glasses rested. “You know what - never mind. I’ll figure it out. Talk to you later!” Before Yoosung could get another word in, Saeyoung was pressing the end call button.

Two questions were ringing clearly in his head: first, why the hell would Yoosung tell everyone he was seeing someone and where the hell was he supposed to meet a girl to bring to a wedding on such short notice?

Sitting himself down at his computer, Saeyoung found himself looking at dating sites, only half considering making an account. After one bad tinder date, he had ended up deleting himself from the app (and hacking into her phone to erase his number, but that was a different story) and vowed to never go on another dating app. But desperate times called for desperate measures, so he’d have to make do with the resources he had which is how Saeyoung found himself signing up for Tinder for the second time.

-

“Any luck on the date hunt?” Yoosung had stopped by Saeyoung’s bunker in hopes of stowing away for a few hours; wedding planning was tough and the blond needed some time away from it all.

“No, I rejoined tinder but it seems the only people who match with me want me to pay for their OnlyFans - I don’t even know what that is! - or just don’t respond! I’m getting frustrated.” Saeyoung whined, glaring at his blond friend. “Tell me why you had to tell everyone I was seeing someone?”

“I don’t know! You’re the only one from the RFA not bringing a date, I didn’t want you to feel left out!” Yousung replied, looking over Saeyoung’s shoulder and swiping right on the tinder profile Saeyoung was currently looking at. “What if.. You make your own app?”

“My own app?” Saeyoung echoed and Yoosung nodded, letting Saeyoung bounce the idea around in my head. “I’d have to hack some websites like Facebook and Twitter to advertise it, but that would be a good idea.”

Yoosung grinned, happy to have supplied Saeyoung with a good idea and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Wenyn’s probably freaking out wondering where I am since I said I was going to the convenience store for milk. I’ll text you later and check on how your app is coming along!”

Saeyoung barely heard his younger friend, mind already reeling as he started figuring out how to design his new app.

-

“MC! Good morning, the usual?” Jaehee Kang was standing behind her bakery’s counter, cleaning the steam spout on the coffee machine as you approached the counter. Ever since Jaehee and her partner Cordelia had opened up this shop, you’ve been a frequent customer and have become friends with both the women who ran it.

“Good morning, Jaehee! And, yes please.” You replied, looking down at your phone and chewing your nail nervously.

“Something on your mind?” The girl’s long hair was tied back today and you laughed as she continually pushed a piece of hair that fell out of place before starting on your coffee order,

“Eh, it’s nothing bad. Just having a family party and everyone’s expecting me to bring a date. A date that I definitely don’t have.” You locked your phone before shoving it in your pocket so you were able to grab your drink from Jaehee.

“I have a friend who just finished designing an app,” Jaehee’s voice was soft as she spoke of this person, like they were someone who she held very dear to her heart. “It might help you with your problem. It’s called Wedding Bells, look it up on the app store.”

“Wedding Bells? I’m not looking to get married!” You laughed and headed for the door, letting the next customer order from Jaehee. She sent you a small smile and a wave before putting all her attention on the man standing in front of her.

As you were walking back to your house, curiosity got the best of you and you pulled out your phone before searching Wedding Bells on the app store. A simple ‘W’ was the app’s logo and the description was: ‘Looking for a fake date to a wedding or another family function? Look no further! With Wedding Bells, you’re connected with other people looking for dates!’

Without thinking about it too much, you downloaded the app and when you got home, you sat down and started filling out your profile. It asked for specifics, like the exact date and time you needed someone with you as well as your likes and dislikes and from there gave you a small list of 10 people they think you’d be a good fake date for and vise versa.

Scrolling through the first two profiles, you were virtually unimpressed. These people seemed bland - like they had no personality, which was probably the reason why they weren’t able to find dates. The third profile you clicked on had potential, he seemed funny in his answers and like he actually cared about how people perceived him. Plus he was good looking, which was always a bonus. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided to message him.

MC: Hey, Saeyoung! I see you need a date to a wedding, what a coincidence, I’m also in need of a fake date to a family function.

You put yourself out there, now no one could say you didn’t try. Just as you were about to exit out of the app, you noticed that Saeyoung was typing so you stayed, anxious to see his response.

Saeyoung: MC! Greetings! Yep yep yep I need a date… it’s to my best friends wedding and everyone thinks I have a girlfriend! You have any experience in the being-a-fake-girlfriend department?

MC: Can’t say I’ve ever been someone’s fake girlfriend, but I have been a real girlfriend once or twice so I think I can handle it!

Saeyoung: Amazing! I think I’d be a great fake boyfriend if I did say so myself! Would you be interested in being my fake girlfriend?

MC: Only if you’re interested in being my fake boyfriend!

The rest of the night was spent chatting with Saeyoung. You had even switched over to a video call at one point and the entire time was spent with you both choosing outfits for the other to wear to the events. You had even caught a peek at him shirtless a few times during that process, which was a very welcome surprise.

“I can’t believe it’s already 3am,” Saeyoung whispered. You were both currently laying in bed, each holding their phone with one hand, your head being popped up by the other. “You’re so easy to talk to.”

“You are also,” you admitted, moving your hair out of your eyes. “I think I should probably get some sleep now.”

“You should, you’ll need that beauty rest for the wedding.” Saeyoung teased, sticking out his tongue at you.

“Says you! You look like you haven't slept in days!” You watched as he closed his eyes, his breathing starting to slow. “Goodnight, Saeyoung.”

Sleepily opening one eye towards you, he sent you a crooked grin. “Goodnight, beautiful MC.”

-

The wedding day was approaching fast and Saeyoung was a nervous mess. Throughout the week of getting to know MC, he had quickly come to enjoy her silly little texts she would send during the day and the nightly phone calls that went into the early morning that they spent planning their fake relationship and just learning about each other.

Saeyoung was curious about MC. She was quick to laugh at his jokes and was even speedier at supplying her own remark back. She would be the perfect date to Yoosung and Wenyn’s wedding, she was so perfectly in sync with him that no one would be able to suspect that they haven’t been together for the last six months and he only hoped she thought the same about him.

“Hello? Saeyoung?” Her voice brought the redhead out of his thoughts and he zeroed back in on what she was saying. “As I was saying, give me a run down on your friends that I’ll meet at this wedding! I’m gonna need to be on my A game if I want them to like me.” Saeyoung smiled at the bright girl in front of him, so eager to please his friends and set in on telling her about his friends and their significant others

-

“Your chariot awaits, m’lady!” You opened the door to your apartment to find Saeyoung standing there, a corsage in his hand and a goofy smile on his face.

“Why thank you, my good sir.” You replied before accepting his outstretched hand. “I got you a pink boutonniere to match your tie and my nails, I hope that’s okay.”

“I’ve never gotten one of those before so the fact that you even got me one makes it more than okay.” Saeyoung answered honestly before leading you to a red sports car sitting out front. “Figured we’d arrive in style.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you had a nice car!” You exclaimed, getting in the passenger seat, careful not to wrinkle your dress. “What is it you do for work again?”

“This and that,” he answered nonchalantly before throwing you a grin and putting the car in drive. “Now, are we ready to go?”

“I was born ready, fake boyfriend.” Saeyoung laughed at that before turning on the radio. The beginning of the car ride was spent with you and him quizzing each other on your fake relationship but by the end, you both were belting along to the loud music blaring through the speakers.

“At last we’ve arrived!” Saeyoung exclaimed before getting out of the car. “You stay there, I’m going to come open the door for you and then put this corsage on your wrist.” Sitting still, a smile played on your lips as you watched the lanky man run around to your side of the car and open the door for you. “Wrist please,” silently holding out your left arm to him, he gently gripped your hand, thumb rubbing a soothing pattern for a second before letting go to slip the band on your wrist. “There, it looks good! Matches your dress and everything!” It did, although it wasn’t what you would have picked out for yourself. The corsage was adorned with deep green and white flowers and light pink and silver ribbon woven throughout. It went well with your black and green dress, and it was from Saeyoung which was the most important part.

“Okay, now let me put this boutonniere on your jacket.” You opened the case before pulling out the simple pink rose with white ribbon wrapped around it. “These get a little tricky to put on, so hold still.” You warned, hand poised with one of the needles ready to pin the flower to his jacket. As you were about to pin it, Saeyoung shifted his weight from one hip to the other and you pricked yourself, blood immediately blooming at the small wound. “Ouch!”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry MC!” Saeyoung replied, gently grabbing your hang before bringing the finger up to his mouth and gently sucking on the wound to clean it of blood. You watched him, open mouthed and he immediately dropped your hand, face flushing red. “I have no clue why I just did that.”

“MC?” You heard your name being called and you turned to find Jaehee and Cordelia making their way over to you and your date, Cordelia’s arm was wrapped around one of Jaehee’s, both of them with confused smiles on your faces. “I didn’t know you and Saeyoung knew each other?”

You glanced nervously at the boy standing next to you before clearing your throat. “Yes, Saeyoung and I have been dating for six months now.”

Jaehee sent a confused look your way. “What are you talking about? Just last week you were in the shop complaining about not having a date to a family function. I recommended trying my friends app and…” her speech slowed down before she stopped completely, realization dawning on her face. “Oh! I see, you downloaded Saeyoung’s app and you two are now pretending you’re in a relationship.” “Don’t worry!” Cordelia’s bright smile was a welcome change after the awkward encounter. “Your secret is safe with us! Have a nice time guys, we’ll see you inside.” Jaehee bowed her head to you both before reconnecting her hand with her partners, both of them whispering quietly to each other as they walked inside the venue the wedding was being held in.

“Jaehee said I downloaded your app?” You turned to pin the flower again and this time he let you step closer. You could feel Saeyoung’s breath disturbing some stray strands of your hair as you adjusted the flower so it was sitting straight on his jackets lapel.

“Surprise?” Saeyoung’s face was contorted into an awkward sheepish smile and you rolled your eyes with him. “I didn’t want you to think I, like, hacked your list to put me on there because I needed a date. The algorithm naturally matched us, I had nothing to do with it. I created the app and then answered the questions same as you and every one else who’s using it.”

“I think that’s really impressive, Saeyoung. And it’s another fact that I know about you - you create apps - that we can sell to make our relationship seem real.” You found yourself getting lost in his eyes. Normally when you video chatted with him, he was wearing glasses  but today he must have been wearing contacts. His honey colored eyes portrayed his every emotion, and it would have been easy to spend all day looking into them.

“Umm… we should probably head in.” Saeyoung suggested, holding out his hand for you to intwine your fingers with him. “Ready, darling?”

“Yes sweetie,” you giggled, letting him lead you into the venue. When you walked in, an impeccably dressed man with long silver hair waived you both over.

“Saeyoung!  We were starting to worry that you wouldn’t show up. And you must be MC! So nice to meet you, I’m Zen and this is my girlfriend, Briar.” Zen gestured to the girl sitting next to him and you smiled at them both.

“Nice to meet you both, I’ve heard lots about you guys.” You replied, Saeyoung nervously  squeezing your hand as he watched Zen’s face. Zen was the tough one to trick; he was an actor so it was super easy to tell when others were bluffing around him.

“All good things, I hope?” Zen looked at you curiously and you flushed before turning teasingly to Saeyoung.

“Mostly,” Saeyoung sent you a small smile and you smiled back before finishing your sentence. “You know Saeyoung, he has to throw some weird facts in about everyone. He was telling me about the time he sent a picture of him dressed as a maid and you-”

“Okay! I get it, he’s an annoying jerk who promised not to tell that to anyone.” Zen’s face dropped into a pout and you internally ‘aww-ed’ when Briar leaned over to kiss his bottom lip that was sticking out.

Soon after, the service started which made it hard to talk to anyone. As Yoosung was saying his vows, you looked over to find Saeyoung swiping away at a tear that had filled his eyes and you reached over and reattached your hands, squeezing gently. “You okay?” You whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, leaning his head on your shoulder. “I’ll tell you more later but I never expected to be friends with these people for this long, let alone see my best friend get married. Just kinda hit me all at once.” You didn’t respond, opting to rest your head on top of his and you both stayed like that, your breathing in sync with each other for the rest of the ceremony.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I think that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” Zen remarked once Yoosung and Wenyn had walked out of the venue as man and wife. “It’s time to head over to the reception.”

You and Saeyoung took your time walking over to the reception hall, your hands still connected and a comfortable silence settling over the both of you. “What did you mean earlier?”

Saeyoung stopped and pulled you to a small bench, both of you sitting down, your thighs pressed together. “When I met this group of people, I was working for a secret agency as a hacker. I couldn’t make friends then and when I did, I’d have to change my identity eventually and never talk to them again. With the help from Jumin, I was able to successfully get out and start over after deleting my data and information from their systems.” Saeyoung turned his body slightly to face  you and you could see how hard this was for him. His lip was trembling  and he had a deep sadness etched in his eyes that was replacing the normally playful gleam. “That’s also a reason why I never met anyone romantically, I didn’t want them to get to close and then have to hurt them in the long run.”

“But you don’t have to hide anymore, you can be with someone now.” You pointed out and Saeyoung smiled sadly. “Have you thought that maybe…” you trailed off, shaking your head almost like you were physically trying to rid yourself of the thought. “Never mind.”

“You can ask me if you want to,” Saeyoung encouraged, his smile causing your heart to stutter for a moment before it permanently picked up speed. You swallowed hard and wiped your sweaty hands on your skirt before smoothing it out, playing with the hem to avoid meeting the eyes that you continuously find yourself lost in.

“Just hypothetically… do you think you’ve already met the person you could be with romantically?” Your heartbeat was in your ears and you could barely hear his response after you turned to look him in the eyes. Those damn eyes. They were already hard to resist but when he was looking at you like you were the only person in the world and you were sitting so close to him that you could feel his breath on your nose, those were the only things in the world you could look at in that moment; everything else in the world had faded dim behind those golden eyes.

“MC…” Saeyoung’s hand came up to gently push your bangs from your eyes and when he did so, his fingers lightly brushed your forehead before his palm rested on your cheek. “I…” he inched closer to you and you could feel his breath against your lips. Not wanting to waste a moment more not kissing Saeyoung, you met him the rest of the way. The kiss was awkward and clumsy and your teeth clashed quite a few times - it was his first kiss after all - but everything about it in that moment was just so Saeyoung and it had you yearning for more. Saeyoung’s other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you up so you were straddling him, your knees resting on either side of his legs on the bench, feet dangling off. Once he had pulled you closer, his tongue quickly darted out in search of yours and when you eagerly met his with your own, he moaned softly, sending a shiver down your spine. Pulling away once, he softly pecked your lips again before helping you off his lap. “Well that was…” you giggled as he adjusted his pants, hands covering his crotch, and waited for him to speak. “That was-”

“A sight for sore eyes?” A black haired man cut off Saeyoung and you watched as his cheeks flushed red at the sight of the older man. “I wasn’t aware this was a soft-core sex warehouse, I thought it was a wedding reception.”

“Um, Jumin… this is my girlfriend, MC. Darling, you remember me telling you about Jumin?” You immediately straightened up where you were sitting, eager to make a good impression on another one of Saeyoung’s friends.

“Yes, I do. Saeyoung told me that you helped him get out of a bit of a sticky situation. You seem like a very good man to have done that for him, and without you I never would have met him. So, thank you. And you must be Luce?” You directed your attention to the small redheaded girl standing side by side with Jumin.

She nodded her head and Jumin cleared his throat. It was crystal clear that when he was in a room, he naturally commanded the attention of everyone around him and you found yourself shrinking into Saeyoung’s side as he fixed his stare on you. “We should be heading in, yes? We wouldn’t want the bride and groom to think we’re all being rude.”

Once Jumin and his wife walked inside, you buried your head in Saeyoung’s chest, face blaring red in shame. “That was mortifying!”

You could feel his laugh vibrate through his chest as he cupped the back of your head holding you to him. “At least now they have no reason to doubt us!”

Pulling away from him you frowned before standing up. “We should head on in,”

“We should,” Saeyoung agreed, linking your fingers together. You turned to go and as you did, he pulled you back to him, sweetly connecting your lips once more. As your chest collided with his, you let out a ‘hmph’ sound that caused the redhead to smile and softly nip at your lip. “I couldn’t help myself, you’re so cute.”

“So are you,” you admitted and he laughed before letting you lead him into the wedding reception.

The reception was already filled with dancing, drinking, and all other kinds of celebrating when you and Saeyoung finally made it inside the room and when Yoosung and Saeyoung made eye contact, the blond quickly made his way over to you both.

Without saying anything, Saeyoung wrapped his arms tightly around Yoosung’s shoulders and you saw his amethyst eyes widen in shock before closing as he let out a deep sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around his best friends waist. You looked away from the pair, letting them have their moment, and made eye contact with Jaehee who quickly made her way over to you.

“It seems you and Saeyoung are getting along well?” She nudge your side and sent a wink your way, causing your face to flush as you look at the ground. “I mean, I’m glad it’s you he ended up bringing, instead of a complete stranger.”

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” you admitted, glancing at Saeyoung and when your eyes met he smiled and threw a cheeky wink at you before excusing himself from his conversation and crossing the room to you, quickly wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Jaehee, what are you and my gorgeous girlfriend of six months up to?” You felt Saeyoung pull you closer and you immediately relaxed in his arms, moving side to side to the beat of the music.

Jaehee narrowed her eyes at him and sighed, pushing a piece of her hair out of the way. “You’re really subtle at this,” she remarked sarcastically. “Anyway, I should be getting back. I’ll catch up with you both before I leave.” You watched as she wandered back over to her girlfriend and taking her hand, spinning her around.

Turning in Saeyoung’s arms, he tightened his grip on your waist as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dance with me”

“I don’t dance.” His voice was low and husky as apposed to his normal higher voice with a teasing lilt, something that sent a shock straight to your stomach and caused butterflies to permanently reside there.

“Please,” you begged, tugging on an unruly lock of hair that was sticking out from the back of his head. “For me?”

Saeyoung brought his lips up to your ear, brushing them against it as he spoke. “Everyone will be looking at you if I take you on that dance floor. I want you for myself. Next time, I won’t be able to handle myself if you wear a skirt that short, you’re driving me crazy.” That last word was barely a whisper but it left you a mess on your insides, your legs felt like jelly.

“I’m yours, if you’ll have me.” You whispered back and before you could say anything else, his lips connected with yours for the third time that night.

“Aw, look at these two love birds.” Zen teased as you both broke apart. “Do we hear more wedding bells in the future?”

You and Saeyoung shared a look before bursting out laughing. No one but Jaehee, Cordelia and Yoosung understood why something like that was funny, but they all looked on at the both of you with small smiles playing on their lips - they were just glad Saeyoung was happy.

After the reception, Saeyoung and you were in his car, his hand resting possessively on your thigh and when he pulled up to your apartment building, he turned to you. “MC,”

“Saeyoung.” You replied, reaching out to brush some hair from his eyes. “I don’t want to go inside. That means leaving you.”

“I’ll see you the same time next week.” He replied, a faraway look in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be your fake boyfriend again.”

“I can’t wait either,” you agreed and leaned in to rest your forehead on his for a moment before getting out of the car.

“Hey, wait!” You turned around and watched as Saeyoung got out of his car, walking up to you and cupping your face. “I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend next week.”

“You don't? Well, I was under the impression that we were getting along well but...” The end of your sentence fell off as your brows furrowed in confusion and he was quick to retrace what he said.

“No, not like that! I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend because I want to be your real boyfriend. I know it seems sudden, but it’s not really! We talked for a week before this and I enjoy your company and people say that when you know, you know. And I know. You’re the one for me, right now in this second.” His eyes were pleading with you and your heart swelled as you listened to the words coming out of his mouth.

“Would you be interested in being my real boyfriend?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips as you repeated the words he asked you a week ago, only this time you were asking for real.

“Only if you’re interested in being my real girlfriend!” Saeyoung replied, before his lips delicately brushed yours, just long enough that he could inhale your breath and leave your heart beating in your chest.

“Text me when you get home, I want to make sure you made it safe.” You said after he had pulled away to study your face, eyes brimming with tears. “Hey, what’s going on?” You cupped Saeyoung’s cheek and he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and letting a tear roll down to his chin.

“No one’s ever said that to me before,” he replied, eyes opening and looking at you intently. “It feels nice to have someone care like that.”

“Well get used to it mister,” your thumb brushed under his eyes, catching another tear before it could fall. “I’m gonna care the heck out of you.”

Saeyoung laughed and you found yourself laughing with him, eyes welling with tears as well, and when he noticed you were both crying tears of joy, he laughed harder, causing you to as well. “I should get going, let you sleep.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you whispered, moving to wrap your arms around his waist. “I just said hello.”

“It’s not a goodbye.” Saeyoung promised, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I promise, it’s a see you soon. And I’ll text you when I get home safely.”

You looked up at him to find you already looking at you. Saeyoung was looking at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, almost like you were part of a dream and every moment he was expecting to wake up. “You better,” you jokingly threatened before standing on your tip toes to press one last sweet kiss to his lips.

After watching him drive off, you followed the steps up to your apartment and hopped in the shower, checking your phone after you had dried off. Two notifications had popped up in the time you were away from your phone.

First checking the message from Saeyoung, a smile danced across your lips as you read it: Just got home. sweet dreams. I know I’ll dream of seeing you again.

You quickly replied that you were glad he made it back and you’d dream of him as well before you checked the second notification from Wedding Bells. It was a message from someone on your list of 10 people and you exited out of it before deleting the app. There was no need for it anymore; you had someone to bring to weddings and family functions now.

A week later when you introduced your family to your boyfriend Saeyoung, you proudly showed off your relationship with him, eager to display to your family how amazing he is. He did well too, got along with your younger cousins and helped your mom cook dinner and by the end of the night, everyone couldn’t wait to make plans to see the both of you again. Saeyoung had not only wormed his way into your heart, but the rest of your family’s as well.

“I think they liked me,” Saeyoung joked once you guys had left your parents house. You both were back at your apartment, him holding you in his arms as you both lounged on the couch.

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed, moving your head to press a kiss to his jawline. “They loved you. I haven’t seen my family that enthusiastic about anything related to me since I graduated college. I’ll have to keep you around purely for that fact.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have a huge family for you to meet.” Saeyoung’s voice drooped and you shook your head smiling at him.

“What are you talking about? I met your family at Yoosung’s wedding. Like it or not, but those people love you. Family isn’t blood, it’s the people who love you unconditionally. And there’s a whole bunch of them for you specifically.” You had turned so you were facing him. “Everyone who I met that day cares so deeply about you, never for one second think that you don’t have a family.”

“What would I do without you?” Saeyoung’s forehead came to rest against yours and you laughed, ruffling his hair.

“Perish, probably.”

“I care for you more than I probably should.” He admitted, honey eyes locked on your own.

“I don’t know about that.” You responded. “I care for you a lot too.”

Saeyoung leaned in to gently brush his lips against your own and he pulled back, a goofy grin on his face. “Am I the smartest person in the world for creating that app, or what?”

“Or what.” Grinning back at him, you squealed as his fingers prodded your side, hitting a ticklish spot. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Your laughter rang out in your quiet apartment and Saeyoung wanted to record that sound to have it play whenever he forgot how beautiful your laugh was. “I’m extremely grateful that Jaehee recommended me the app that you made that resulted in me meeting you.”

Saeyoung didn’t respond, instead opting to hold you close and pull you onto his lap before both of you settling back down. He played with your hair as your eyes started drooping and once your soft snores filled the room, his eyes closed as well, content to fall asleep holding you.