#He still is blunt and a bit backhanded but he OBVIOUSLY cares for her. But this is only possible because of their history. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mamabearcat · 4 years

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Hungry Ghosts

I didn’t get a chance to write anything for Halloween this year like I planned. But here’s a spooky excerpt from The Importance of Ramen, parts of chapters 7 and 8. If you haven’t read it, I think there’s enough context there for you to work out what’s going on. Hope everyone’s Halloween is going as well as it can this year!

Inuyasha went back inside the hut. The others were still asleep, but he cleaned out the firepit, replacing the slightly damp logs from last night with fresh kindling. He had the fire going and Kagome's kettle filled with water for tea by the time she returned. One look at her face had him realising that something was wrong.

She was leaning against the doorframe, sweat beading on her forehead and upper lip. "Sorry… I'm… okay. I'm okay. Squatting down just hurt my leg a little more than I thought it would."

Without a word, he walked over to her and picked her up, carrying her back to the small nest made by her empty sleeping bag. After seating her carefully on the softly padded surface, he placed his hand on her forehead again.

Kagome tried to weakly bat his hand away. "Stop fussing Inuyasha. I told you I'm fine. It's the first time I've walked on this leg since yesterday; it was bound to hurt a bit." She plastered a smile on her face. "Look, I'll even drink more of that disgusting tea if it will stop you making a big deal out of nothing."

Inuyasha, ignored her hand, taking in her sweaty face and pale complexion. "You're not fine, wench. You had a slight fever when you woke up this morning, and it's already a little worse. Let me look at those wounds of yours to make sure they're not infected."

The commotion had woken Miroku and Sango. Miroku brought the first aid kit over, while Sango mixed more of the herbal tea that Kagome had drunk last night. Kagome rolled her eyes and sighed but decided it would be less trouble to let everyone fuss.

Inuyasha carefully unwrapped the bandages on Kagome's upper left arm, being cautious of the still healing bruise below her elbow. He gently slid his clawed forefinger underneath the tape and gauze on one side of the wound and then the other, cutting through so he could lift the gauze off her wound. The skin around the deep cut was pink, but he could see that the wound was healing nicely, beginning to knit the muscle back together. He gave it a good sniff, just to make sure.

"This one's okay", he said. He moved aside so Sango could rub some of the healing cream from Kagome's first aid kit around the wound and redress it.

He moved towards Kagome's thigh on the other side and was surprised when she placed a defensive hand in front of it. "Kagome, I need to check."

"Sorry", she flushed, moving her hand out of the way. "I'm being a big wuss. This one just hurts a little more".

He placed his hand on the bandage and immediately knew the news wasn't good. "Kagome, this one's infected", he sighed. "I can feel the heat coming through the bandage without even looking at it."

"Dammit", muttered Kagome. "I was sure the saline would combat that."

Inuyasha removed the bandage even more gently than he had the previous one. Kagome kept herself as still as possible, making no sound, but her lowered brows and tight expression told the story of how much pain she was actually in. She whimpered a little as Inuyasha lifted the gauze away from the wound and drew in a deep breath.

"Fuck Kagome, no wonder it was hurting". The skin around the deeper puncture wound was bright red and shiny, the swelling spreading outwards around her thigh, pulling against the edges of the weeping gash. Red lines at the edge of the swelling streaked upwards on her leg. Inuyasha barely had to sniff to scent the smell of infection in her leg.

Sango peered over Inuyasha's shoulder at Kagome's thigh, and her face grew grim. "Take her back through the well, Inuyasha. She needs to get to a healer in her time as soon as possible." She gestured towards the red streaks travelling up Kagome's thigh. "These marks are a sign of a deep infection. I've seen them on other Taijiya who have been injured. Some of them recovered, but most …" She took a deep breath. "The infection grew rapidly worse no matter what our healers did. All they could do was ease their pain. Once they became confused and lost consciousness, we knew that they would never recover."

Kagome looked at them both, wide-eyed. "Don't you think you're being a little overly dramatic, Sango?", she chuckled weakly. "I mean, I just got back, and we need to get back on the jewel shard hunt. I'm sure if I just rest for today, then tomorrow, I'll be fine." She took in Inuyasha and Sango's serious expressions and looked towards Miroku. "Miroku, tell them that I just need some rest, and then we can all get going again."

Miroku squatted down next to Kagome, holding the mug of herbal tea that Sango had prepared a few minutes ago. "Now, Kagome", he said, his usual calm smile a contrast to the anxious grimace on Kagome's face, "what sort of elder brother would I be if I counselled against a course of action that would have you healing faster?"

He pushed the tea into her unwilling hands, smiling encouragingly as she forced herself to sip the bitter liquid. "If it's just simple rest that you need, surely a rest in your own time in a comfortable bed under your mother's loving care will speed your recovery. And, if as Sango suggests, a trip to a healer is required, that should not trouble you if you know it will bring your family here peace of mind. I'm sure if Inuyasha puts his mind to it, he could have you home before dark."

He looked questioningly at Inuyasha, who nodded brusquely. Miroku leaned closer to Sango, who was still leaning over Inuyasha's shoulder. "Do not trouble yourself about the rest of us while you're gone, we will muddle along together just fine." A sudden resounding slap, as Sango backhanded Miroku across the cheek, startled Kagome then had her giggling. Obviously, his wandering hand had been unable to resist the temptation of Sango's pert derriere as she leant forward.

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the pair's familiar antics, but didn't move from his spot beside Kagome, as Sango knelt to begin the process of rewrapping the wound in Kagome's thigh. He removed the tea from Kagome's tense hands and placed the mug on the floor, so it would not be spilt, and held her hands in his own instead. His ears drooped and laid flat on his head at the quiet whimpers escaping through Kagome's clenched teeth as Sango cleaned and packed the wound with fresh gauze.

"Looks like we're goin' on another run, wench", he said quietly. He cleared his throat, trying to force a cheery note into his voice. "Maybe if I get ya home early enough, your mother will have time to make that crunchy chicken stuff. The one Souta likes so much. What's it called again?"

"Karaage" muttered Kagome through compressed lips. She really wanted to smile at Inuyasha's attempts to take her mind off what Sango was doing, but her leg hurt so badly, even worse than when the beetle had first gouged the hole in her leg. She tried her best, gasping a little. "It's a shame she doesn't know we're coming; she might have bought steak for you."

He grinned. "Now that would be worth runnin' back for." He tried not to wince as Kagome dug her blunt fingernails into his palms as Sango tightened the bandage on her thigh.

"All done", said Sango, using some of the special cleaning gel on her hands after she had rinsed them in the water pail as Kagome had taught her. She repacked the medical kit, as Miroku and the now awake Shippou bustled about making breakfast, cooking rice and making tea.

"Drink your tea Kagome", encouraged Inuyasha, letting go of her hands to pick up the mug.

She flapped her hand at him. "Gimme a minute", she panted. "I feel like I'm gonna… gonna…" Her eyes suddenly widened as her palm slapped over her mouth. Inuyasha had the good sense to let go of the mug and grab the almost empty water pail next to Kagome, tipping the water out and thrusting it in front of her face just in time. Sango padded back over to scoop Kagome's long hair out of the way into a tail over her shoulder, rubbing her back comfortingly as Kagome hurled what was left of last night's dinner into the pail in front of her.

"Hnn, that was so gross", moaned Kagome. "I'm so sorry." She spat one last time into the bucket, then wiped her mouth with a damp cloth offered by Sango. Embarrassment flooded her face, and she hung her head. Inuyasha dipped his head down sideways until it was almost perpendicular with the floor, so he could look see her expression.

"What's with that face, wench?" he questioned, looking at her narrowed eyes and downturned mouth.

Kagome looked up, her eyes blazing in her sweaty pale face. "Do you really have to ask?", she fired back. "I got targeted by a demon again, got myself injured, and now you're gonna have to babysit me and take me home. And to top it all off, I just ruined everyone's breakfast by chucking up in front of them while they were eating."

Inuyasha grunted. "First of all, the beetle was after the shard, not you, and the way it grabbed you took everyone by surprise, me included. Second, yes, I am takin' you home, but you ain't no baby and if you sit me on the way there, I will not be happy. And" he said, glancing over his shoulder and taking in Miroku calmly sipping tea while Sango served herself rice and Shippou and Kirara continued chewing, "breakfast don't look ruined to me."

Shippou's wide eyes took everything in as he continued munching on his rice ball. "Ish Kagmee gna ee mmk?", he asked Miroku, barely coherent behind the large mouthful of rice he was still chewing.

"She will be fine. Inuyasha will make sure of it by taking her back through the well and letting healers in her time assess her injury", replied Miroku comfortingly, patting the kit on the head as he continued to drink his tea.

Inuyasha sat down with them and began shovelling rice into his mouth, sculling hot tea as quickly as he could. Sango's assessment of Kagome's wound had him worried. Put an enemy in front of him that was threatening Kagome, and he would give his all to take it down, no sweat, but infection was a battle he couldn't fight for her. His mind went back to an image of long ago, his own hand tiny in the sweaty clasp of his mother's, her eyes closed as she struggled for every breath while the infection in her lungs fought to defeat her. Darkness and cold. She was so cold. He pushed the thought away.

"Miroku, Sango, you may as well go back to Kaede's while we're gone. That way I can come back through the well and let you know she's okay." Miroku and Sango nodded. "I'm gonna go over the mountain instead of around, that should take about two hours off my time."

"Over Mount Mitsumine?", asked Miroku. Inuyasha nodded, tapping his foot impatiently as Sango tied some extra rice balls and a flask of water into a cloth for him to carry in case Kagome grew hungry or thirsty later.

Miroku was puzzled – his mind was tickling him, trying to feed him information pertinent to the shrine on Mount Mitsumine, but he couldn't quite remember. He made an angry tsking noise; it was just out of reach, and he was sure it was something of importance.

Inuyasha squatted down in front of Kagome with his back facing her. She had done her best with the tea, taking a few more sips, but looked sweaty and tired, and Inuyasha felt his concern for her rising. He pushed it down again.

"Okay Kagome, the faster we leave, the faster you can be home sleepin' in that girly pink bed a yours" he teased, as she slowly eased herself forward, draping her arms over his shoulders. Instead of holding onto her thighs as he usually did, he created a seat under her bottom for her by interlocking his fingers behind his back. He straightened himself up slowly, bouncing her slightly, getting her into position. Kagome buried her face in his hair, whimpering in pain at the pressure his forearm put on her swollen thigh. "Shit, this ain't gonna work". He was going to have to carry her in front of him again, but it was hard on his arms, and would slow them down as they went over the mountain.

Shippou's worried face brightened, and he whispered in Sango's ear. "Wait, Inuyasha, Shippou's had a really good idea!" Sango spoke to Miroku and he dropped a few coins into her hand. She bolted out the door and came back a short time later with a long piece of thickly woven indigo fabric.

"What the fuck's that for?" Inuyasha grunted. Sango motioned for Inuyasha to bend down again, then motioned for Kagome to climb onto Inuyasha's back. She put the top centre of the piece of long cloth over Kagome, up near her neck, and tucked the rest of the width underneath Kagome's bottom, creating a pocket for her to sit in. She drew the long tails of fabric up over Inuyasha's shoulders, wrapping them under his arms, and then under and over Kagome's legs on each side, pulling the tails firmly back around to the front. She held onto the fabric and motioned for Inuyasha to stand. He did so cautiously, worried that Kagome would fall, but to his surprise, she was held in tightly to his back by the fabric and felt lighter than she usually did.

"You 'kay Kagome?", he asked, trying to look over his shoulder at her.

Kagome rested her head on his shoulder. The fabric had her snuggled in tight against his back and was supporting her leg without pushing on the wound too much.

"Yeah, I'm good", she murmured. Sango tied the long tails of fabric around Inuyasha's waist, being careful to make the knot above the Tessaiga so he would still be able to draw it if required.

"Now you have your arms free if you need them", she grinned. "It was Shippou's idea – he reminded me how busy mamas carry their children when they need to get stuff done. I used to… to carry Kohaku like this when he was little, when my mother and father were away on a raid and I needed to practice my drills". She smiled a little tearfully at the picture Inuyasha and Kagome made. "He always seemed very comfortable that way – he usually went to sleep when I wore him like this." Sango tucked the small tied cloth of food into the top of the wrap near Kagome's shoulder. "Now you're all set to go".

"Thanks Sango. Thanks runt – you did good." Inuyasha paused to ruffle the fox kit's fluffy red fringe and Shippou beamed under the rare praise. After a final nod to Miroku, Inuyasha ran out the door, slowly at first, until he grew to trust that Kagome wouldn't fall. He sped up and was soon out of sight.

Sango and Shippou finished up their breakfast and began tidying everything into Kagome's gigantic backpack. Sango looked sideways at Miroku, who was still muttering to himself. "What's up?", she asked.

"There was something about the shrine at Mount Mitsumine", muttered Miroku, "but I can't quite…" Suddenly he stopped, looking apprehensively at Sango. "Oh no. Hidarugami! I remember hearing from a traveller that they haunt the trail near the shrine!" Sango stared at him, open mouthed.

Overhearing the conversation, Shippou nodded, familiar with this particular entity. "Ah. Good thing they took some rice balls with them."

👻 👻 👻

Inuyasha ran like the wind, his feet pounding the ground as regular as a heartbeat. He could feel that Kagome had dozed off, the gentle sway of the fabric hammock she was supported in easing her pain a little. Inuyasha smiled. The runt did have some good ideas occasionally. He would just keep going until she woke, get as much ground covered as he could. They were already nearly up the mountain, the zig zagging trail no match for the sure footed hanyou.

The dappled light under the trees kept away the summer heat, and the splashing water from the little waterfall they were currently passing was refreshing. Brightly coloured finches flew overhead, flying through the spray in an effort to keep cool. He could keep going for a few more hours yet without needing to take a break. He could see the brightly coloured gate of Mitsumine Shrine up ahead. They just needed to get through this narrow-wooded part first and then the path down the other side of the mountain would open out, as more travellers from Edo used that road to make a pilgrimage to the mountain shrine.

Suddenly he felt like he'd hit a wall. Weakness caused his limbs to tremble and he dropped to one knee, staggering, trying to keep his balance with Kagome on his back. What the fuck was going on! His throat felt dry and cracked, his stomach clenched in on itself like hadn't eaten in weeks. He lurched to his feet and forced himself to keep moving, but each step dragged like something was siphoning off every ounce of energy he'd ever possessed.

Inuyasha growled in outrage. He would not let whatever this barrier was beat him. He would keep going. Kagome needed him to keep going. He heard her moan softly behind him, and it gave him the will to take a few more steps before his legs faltered and he slammed into the ground face first.

"Gome", he whispered, turning his face away from the sandy dirt of the mountain pass, his sandpaper dry throat cracking what was left of his voice, "you 'kay?" She moaned softly again, and against his will, Inuyasha's eyes rolled back in his head. The cheerful birds continued their twittering, splashing in the puddles left by the side of the waterfall, paying no heed to the pair collapsed on the path beside them.

👻 👻 👻

Kagome was jolted out of her doze as Inuyasha staggered beneath her, dropping to one knee. A sudden wash of fear prickled the back of her neck as the dappled sunlight around them was swallowed up; she could no longer see the path ahead, and the air was suffocatingly silent.

Turning towards the waterfall her panic grew as she realised that the previously tumbling water was still. The little finches hung motionless in mid-air, the droplets of mist they had been flying through only moments before hovering as if gravity had ceased to exist. They were caught in a bubble outside time, and she had no clue what had caused it. Kagome shivered, about to question Inuyasha about what had caused his stumble, when a slight movement in the trees caught her eye; she saw them.

She felt almost paralysed by bone deep terror as the shadowy forms approached from the darkened edges of her vision. There was movement on both sides of the path, they were surrounded, but it was difficult to see any details of what they were or to count how many as they shifted in and out of the darkness. Ten, twelve maybe? Whatever they were, they gave off an undeniably menacing aura.

This wasn't good. Her bow had been left with Miroku and Sango, not that she would be able to shoot with her injured arm, and she didn't have much experience channelling her miko abilities without the focus of an arrow. Her hands and arms were tucked in tightly to her chest; she could try to wriggle them free with an effort but was worried that would throw off Inuyasha's tottering balance.

Then Kagome realised that she wouldn't be able to bring her reiki to her hands anyway, not without injuring Inuyasha. She clenched her shaking fingers into fists tight against Inuyasha's back, unable to do anything but watch and wait as the pack of unknown foes came forward into the dim light and circled around them. Kagome felt bile burn its way into the back of her throat. She had already felt ill, but to see these things up close…

Empty sockets where eyes once where, skin stretched taut over bone they advanced, lipless mouths leering in delight at the fear of their prey. Ragged kimonos and wisps of hair fluttering in a ghostly breeze of their own making, they floated around Kagome and Inuyasha, no feet to tie them to the earth. Some appeared to have lost their kimonos entirely, clothed only in tattered fundoshi, bone white skin as tight as a drum over ribs, stomachs distended with malnutrition and split with decay.

As they approached in an ever-tightening circle, the ominous silence was replaced by sibilant whispers of hunger and death. Inuyasha staggered to his feet, moving forward on the path, but how could he, when the path was no longer there? She heard him growl in rage as he struggled forwards, and she couldn't help but let out a small moan of horror as she felt the slight brush of ragged cloth against her cheek as one of them glided towards her.

The spectre reached out a bony hand and caressed Kagome's dark hair, running her locks through its skeletal fingers almost as a lover would. The head sagged on an inhumanely long neck, and the eyeless creature licked where its lips once were, tongue blackened and swollen. "You will join usss", it whispered, bending its head close to her ear and she shuddered, recoiling at the unwanted touch. She almost screamed as the dry tongue curved along the rim of her ear. "Join usss, in hunger, join usss in death."

The spectre's head lolled forward as it turned its eyeless gaze towards Inuyasha. The realisation suddenly hit her that he couldn't see the spirits; had no idea of the threat they were facing. Before she could free her arm to try and knock the spectre's hand away, it reached out towards Inuyasha's face as he grimly struggled to keep moving forwards, a light touch sweeping across his mouth and nose. Kagome would have shrieked if she was not already breathless with horror as Inuyasha pitched forward suddenly, slamming them both into the damp sandy earth of the mountain path.

She watched as Inuyasha dragged his face sideways in the dirt, his beautiful amber eyes clouded in pain. "Gome, you 'kay?" he asked, his voice raspy. She wanted to answer, to give him some reassurance, but could only produce a small sound of fear.

What should she do? How could she fight back? She didn't want to accidentally purify Inuyasha with her reiki; she didn't even know what these things were, just that they spoke of hunger and death and that she was terrified of them. Inuyasha's eyes suddenly rolled back in his head, and with horror she felt his breathing become shallow, his heartbeat slowing with every beat. She was frantic. He was going to die, here on this path, and she was powerless.

A small thought swelled in her mind, bright as a bead. 'You are not powerless. You are a shrine maiden, a miko.' Pulling together her last vestiges of courage, Kagome closed her eyes, and imagined a thin beam of reiki that rose up into the air then spread outwards like an umbrella, forming a bubble of protection around herself and Inuyasha. She had no idea if her effort was affecting these things, and her mind churned, searching every memory for an inkling of what these creatures might be, trying not to weep at the sound of Inuyasha's rattling breath. She didn't think they were demons. Not demons, but dead things. Dead things on a deserted path, that wanted them to join them in death. Hungry dead things. Hungry ghosts. A long-forgotten memory suddenly unfolded.

Her father was whistling cheerfully, preparing for a weekend hike with his friends. She was sitting on the kitchen counter nearby, swinging her little legs. One by one, she handed him his first aid supplies to be packed into his backpack, and she grinned in excitement at being considered old enough to help Daddy while Mama went outside to hang out the washing. Grandpa had come into the kitchen to make tea. He rifled through the pantry and grabbed a package of mochi, pushing them into her father's hands.

"Don't forget my son, you should take these with you. It's always better to be safe than sorry when walking on a mountain path." Her father had rolled his eyes and then winked at her, but willingly packed the mochi into his backpack.

"Don't worry father, I'll be sure to be on the lookout for hungry ghosts."

Hungry ghosts. She vaguely remembered legends about those that died far from home during famine times. Their lack of proper burial caused them to wander in continued pain and hunger, and they lingered on deserted paths to force others to join them in death. That had to be what these things were! But how did you get rid of them? Was she meant to recite a prayer?

She gritted her teeth at her lack of knowledge; she was sure that Miroku would know this. Why had her grandfather suggested that her father carry mochi? Maybe it was something to do with food. Did you feed them, or yourself?

Using her last reserves of energy, Kagome wiggled her arms that were pinned by the tight wrap against Inuyasha's back, panting with the effort of maintaining the barrier. Managing to free them enough to reach the cloth that Sango had tied the rice balls and bottled water in, she frantically scrabbled to untie the knot with numb fingers, her terror rising as Inuyasha's laboured breaths stilled - then began again, now so shallow that they were almost a sigh.

'Gotta hurry, gotta hurry!' She was gasping in her haste, hoping against hope that the barrier that she'd tried to erect was keeping the ghosts at bay. There were two rice balls. She broke one in half and stuffed a chunk into Inuyasha's lax mouth and the other half in her own, then hurled the remaining rice through the paper-thin barrier at the spectres looming over them. After gulping down her own rice, she stroked Inuyasha's face and neck with shaking fingers. His usually tan skin was paper white, a bluish tinge spreading around his mouth and nose.

"Inuyasha, swallow. You have to swallow the rice." Hysterical tears rolled down Kagome's panic-stricken face, dripping onto his hair and cheeks as her voice grew more shrill. "Inuyasha! Please, please wake up. Stay here with me, don't go with them!" She tried tilting his head back by pushing on his chin, hoping it would cause a swallowing reflex, but terrified that in his unresponsive state she would force him to choke. Her panicked voice and stroking must have reached him on some level; his throat moved slightly as he swallowed a small morsel of rice without opening his eyes.

As if a switch had been flicked, the horror was gone.

It was a beautiful summer's day. Birds chirped cheerfully, flying through the rainbow hued spray thrown up by the gurgling waterfall, splashing noisily in the puddles, twittering their enjoyment. Noticing the cooked rice now scattered on the path, they swooped, squabbling and pecking, eager to take advantage of an easy meal. The dappled sunlight patterned the ground around them, leaves swaying in the breeze, and the delicate green of the forest framed the colourful gate of the shrine clearly visible up ahead.

Kagome dropped her head to Inuyasha's shoulder and sobbed quietly, releasing the barrier as the intense fear gradually ebbed away. She felt utterly drained. She took comfort in Inuyasha's heart beating steady and true beneath her, his back muscles moving rhythmically with each firm inhale and exhale of air. Her sobs suddenly turned to giggles when Inuyasha popped open an eye and spat the remaining rice out of his mouth, coughing and spluttering a little, wiping at his face. Rising on his elbow, he turned to look over his shoulder at her, growling his annoyance. "Kagome, why is there fucking rice up my nose?!"

#the importance of ramen #inukag fanfic #hidarugami #Mamabearcat fanfic

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

as we go along | myj [m]

pairing | min yoonji x reader

wc | 10.4k

genre | NSFW; Fluff, Smut, a dash of Angst bc why not

Four years ago, the beautiful stunning attractive frustrating Min Yoonji came into your life. Ever since, it’s been a competition between the two of you to win the HOA’s Holiday Decorating Contest. The fiery looks she gives you paired with the pointed insults throw you off your game every year, but not this time. This holiday season, you’re determines to win; and along the way you might just find that Yoonji’s been trying to win something else.

;OR the queer hallmark movie of your dreams.

warnings/tags | idiots to lovers, enemies to lovers, Awkward Gays, Idiot/Oblivious Gays, very strong language i think this MC curses almost as much as i do, oral (female receiving) x2, fingering, wall sex, theres like....a hint of body worship in that MC loves eating pussy bc lbr. what else could possibly compare to that. uhh side jinkook, as well as some side namyoonmin and some vhope if u squint real hard. hwasa and chungha are a lesbian power couple. OH The Min Twins aka Yoongi and Yoonji are siblings uwu

a/n | this is 100% every single lesbian fantasy of my dreams because i just really love the ladeez and also min yoonji needs more characterization outside of 'stone cold butch domme' so uh. here ya go. i love ladeez so this is v self indulgent and also Super Gay.

this is part of the 25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Anthology

[Today]

Red bleeds into green and glitters magnificently on the snow. Lights and tinsel are strewn all over the yard of your parents’ house, creating a rather pretty collage of sparkles and swirls against the white backdrop. You wish you could appreciate it more.

As it stands, however, you’ve been outside for hours untangling the decorative strands so that you can hang them on the gutters, eaves, and railings of the two story house behind you. Your mother had insisted you work inside but you know better. The cats - Mochi and Pablo - are your favorite in the world and you love them dearly, but one of their favorite things in the world has always been holiday decorations. The number of times you’ve had to stop them from chewing on lights of knocking the tree down is frankly ridiculous. So instead you’re unravelling everything so you can get started on what you’re sure is going to be your best year yet.

You’ve always loved decorating, of course, especially for the holidays. Getting up before dawn to go pick out one of the giant fir trees to stand in their living room, picking out new figurines for the Winter Village that sits on the mantle, helping your parents put ornaments on the tree. You love holiday decorating nearly as much as you love the feeling of victory in your chest.

“If you had an organizer that wouldn’t take nearly as long,” says a voice from behind you. It’s melodic and deceptively sweet in spite of the lower register, and you don’t turn. You don’t want to give her the satisfaction. You don’t even respond, instead settling your gloved hands on your hips and eyeing the front porch so you can decide where to start.

“Really? Ignoring me now? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you were better than being a sore loser.”

Continuing on your mission to pretend she isn’t there, you heft several yards of lights over your shoulder and head toward the ladder you have against the porch roof. You may as well start up high.

“Interesting choice,” Yoonji mutters as she watches you. The hair on the back of your neck bristles, and you take a deep breath to calm and center yourself. “I’d heard that icicle lights were a bit last season, but I’m excited for this vintage look you’re going for. If you need more, let me know. I think the ones I used last year are still in the garage.”

“What do you want, Yoonji?” You huff, turning over your shoulder to glare at her. She looks entirely too at home in your yard with a steaming thermos in her mittened hands.

“Just wanted to say hi. Wasn’t sure you were coming this year, considering how late you got in.”

“My flight was delayed for weather reasons,” you snap.

“Ah. That’s why I always drive up instead.” There’s a pregnant pause that’s filled only with the huffs of your breath as you focus on the lights in front of you. “Oh, but you never got your license, did you? Ah, you should call me next year, we can carpool.”

“I got my license this past year,” You bite out. She doesn’t need to know that it took a few tries. It’s not your fault it makes you anxious to be behind the wheel. “Seriously. I have work to do.”

“Obviously,” Yoonji mutters. You flash her a glare and she just smiles back. “Just wanted to see how you were, if you needed any…” She pauses, eyes trailing over the explosion of decorations on your lawn with thinly veiled judgement in her eyes. “Help.”

“If I needed your help, I wouldn’t be winning this year’s contest.”

“By the looks of it, you aren’t winning this year’s contest anyway.” Her mutter doesn’t escape your notice. But that’s the real problem you have with Min Yoonji.

She’s sarcastic and blunt and kind of intimidatingly hot, but you can handle that. You are a strong, independent queer woman in the modern age and you are not about to let some random lesbian intimidate you, no matter how much you kind of wanted to fuck her in the past. Yoonji is not a problem for you.

It’s the way she’s constantly putting you down, giving you backhanded compliments, and generally acting like she’s better than you. While winning your parents’ neighborhood’s annual Holiday Decorating Contest that their local Homeowner’s Association runs. Everyone gets a kick out of the friendly competition, the winners get a gift certificate to a Korean BBQ place, and a good time is had by all.

Except you.

Because you’ve made it your mission to win - to beat the current reigning champion of the past three years who stands on your lawn sipping what smells like hot cocoa and silently judging your decor choices like she didn’t put a massive inflatable pumpkin on the roof for Halloween.

She watches you the entire time you hang up the lights, carefully attaching them to the edge of the awning covering the front porch. It isn’t until your father pulls into the driveway and you’re done with the upper half completely - about to start the railing - and descending the ladder one careful step at a time that she speaks again.

“Those are hanging too low,” She tells you. She doesn’t seem to mind when you ignore her in favor of wrapping lights around the stair banister.

“Hey there, Yoonji!” Your father calls as he starts to unload the groceries. “What brings you to this part of town?” They both laugh at the joke and you force back a gag.

“Just hanging out,” She calls back. “Making sure your daughter doesn’t break her neck for some silly competition. You need help with those?” Your dad waves her off.

“I’m not that old, but thank you. Besides, it looks like you’re needed elsewhere.” He gestures with one bag-laden hand, and both you and Yoonji turn.

A large SUV pulls into the driveway across the street; the passenger door swings open before the vehicle even stops, and a girl - woman, really - launches herself out of the car. She’s across the street in record time, nearly tackling Yoonji to the snow with the force of her hug. Both look excited to see each other, a rare smile on Yoonji’s face that makes you burn with something that doesn’t feel quite like the usual rage.

The two are talking rapidly in your front lawn, too harried and chaotic for you to make out much of anything besides the fact that they missed each other. They look comfortable with each other in a way you’ve never been and you force yourself to remember that you don’t care . Even as you eye the way the newcomer’s hand sits just that little bit too low on Yoonji’s back.

The sounds of car doors closing and snow crunching draws your attention and you’re shocked to see another gorgeous girl making her way over. She looks as excited as the first, yet more subdued about it.

Likely because they’re on a lawn that decidedly does not belong to them, but you could be wrong there.

Both of the women are absolutely gorgeous, though, easily model material. The first has artfully styled dark hair that falls in perfect waves down her shoulders, and is delightfully curvy in all the places the world loves. Her cheekbones are to die for, makeup flawless, and you resist the urge to pluck at your own outfit, chosen for warmth over style.

The second woman is no different; not quite as thicc, as Jimin would say, but the figure suits her, as does the straight platinum hair that hangs down to her lower back. It’s stark against the black of her expensive-looking coat, and it only adds to the energy she carries that draws you in even as you wish it wouldn’t.

“Oh, how rude of me! These are my neighbors,” Yoonji says after a minute. You don’t miss the way she hesitates saying your name, or the almost predatory smiles the other two women get.

“So you’re the one,” The dark-haired one says. You don’t get a chance to question it before the blonde cuts her off.

“I’m Chungha,” She says with a friendly smile. “And this is Hyejin.”

“My friends call me Hwasa, though,” The brunette adds. “We hate to tear her away but it’s been ages since we’ve seen our girl.”

“You saw me like two weeks ago,” Yoonji mutters. You’re too caught off-guard by anyone calling Yoonji their ‘girl’ to respond, but you don’t miss the way her cheeks tinge pink from something that isn’t the cold.

“So we’re gonna steal her away now,” Hwasa continues, oblivious. You don’t protest, letting your father chat amicably while they say their goodbyes and you look between the girls.

Hwasa’s hand is still lingering on Yoonji’s lower back, something neither of them seem bothered by. That’s something that friends do, though, right? Jimin squeezes your ass constantly and the two of you definitely aren’t together.

You hear your name and a question but you can’t seem to really focus beyond a mumbled agreement to whatever you were asked. The way Chungha’s eyes glance over her companions feels like something more, but you can never really be sure. Not in this day and age.

But when they head back across the road to Yoonji’s house, Hwasa doesn’t hesitate to lace their fingers together. Yoonji lets her do it, and the glimpse of the grin and the flushed cheeks you see make your heart clench.

Paired with the way Chungha eyes the pair as she follows behind - a decidedly more than friendly gaze - and every alarm in your brain is going off. She looks ready to jump them both the second they get in the door.

“I’m impressed,” Your father says.

“I’m not done yet,” You tell him, turning back to the decorations sprawled across the lawn. “I’ve still got to-”

“No, no,” He interrupts. “Not the decorations. That you’re finally making strides to be nicer to Yoonji.” You stare blankly at him, not understanding what part of your attitude towards her said anything about being nicer.

And anyway, why shouldn’t she be nicer to you?

“The party…?” You blink at his words, looking in all respects like a startled rabbit. “The annual Min family holiday party? That they just invited you to? The one that you said you would attend?”

“I’m sorry, I did what. ”

“It just happened, sweetheart. I was standing right here for the entire thing.”

“No,” You tell him firmly. “No, because I would remember telling Min fucking Yoonji that I was going to her stupid holiday party.”

Your father just shakes his head. “Then perhaps we ought to get you a doctor’s appointment, sweetie, because I watched it all happen not five seconds ago.” He pats your shoulder, doing his best to show his solidarity for your sudden idiocy, and makes his way inside.

You spin to watch him go, all the potential protests and complaints clogging together in your throat and leaving you silent. He gets to the bottom step before you’re storming angrily back to your decorations, because whatever , you’ll go to the stupid party.

Yoonji can have her dumb holiday party with those overhyped cookies your father always raves about. She can have her caroling and her sing-a-long that your mother adores. She can even have her two super hot model girlfriends, because you’re a modern woman, and sometimes that’s what a relationship is. Whatever. It’s her prerogative. You don’t care. It is not going to affect you, or your decorating, at all.

You scream a little when the icicle lights you so carefully hung knock against your father’s head on his way inside.

[Three Years Ago]

“You look like you’re struggling,” a voice says behind you.

They aren’t wrong, either. You’re balanced precariously atop the porch roof your parents’ new hours, hanging garland off the edges so your dad doesn’t have to do it himself.

You turn to see who’s talking to you - especially since you don’t actually know anyone, this being your first visit to the neighborhood - and very nearly have to hold on to the edge beside you to stop yourself from falling off.

The man that stands on your parents’ front walkway is easily the most beautiful you’ve seen - a casual elegance to his stance that you’ve not seen outside of celebrities. His leather jacket looks warm and comfortable while remaining stylish, and the all-black underneath suits him while highlighting the lithe form. All of it is perfectly complemented by the mop of jet-black hair tucked under a knitted beanie, and you can’t help but wonder what kind of neighborhood your parents have moved to, when models are just walking around the streets.

“Uh…” You would kick yourself for sudden ineloquence if you thought you could without falling straight on your ass. The guy bites back and obvious smile, ducking his head for a moment to do so.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” He calls as he looks back up at you. “Did you move in recently?”

“No, I don’t live here.” He raises a brow and you huff. “It’s my parents’ place. I’m just doing their decorating for them.” The guy nods and starts to say something else, but he’s cut off before he can.

“Jimin-ah, what are you doing?” You look back to the garland as someone else walks up, some girl based on the quick glimpse you get while tugging on a strand that doesn’t want to untangle. You give them some semblance of privacy as the guy - Jimin - relays to her everything you’ve said so far. It only strikes you as a little odd that he’s being so detailed; she could be a jealous girlfriend, for all you know.

“Oh,” the girl says, tone as dry as the dead leaves piled in the corner of the yard, “Is this supposed to beat me somehow?”

“Yoonji,” Jimin scolds under his breath.

“Sorry,” You say, standing up to your full height. It’s a considerable distance considering you’re still on the porch roof. “But what is that supposed to mean? Is there some kind of competition I don’t know about?”

“Oh,” Yoonji repeats, surprise evident in her voice this time as she eyes you. You take the opportunity to do the same, and you’re glad the nip in the air already turned your cheeks pink because fuck.

Yoonji’s god damn gorgeous. She’s slightly taller than the average girl, even in the winter boots she’s wearing, but she wears the height well; her shoulders are straight and her chin has a natural upward tilt to it, like she’s used to looking down at people in more ways than one. She’s not dressed fancy - just thick leggings and an oversized sweater - but she looks like she belongs in a commercial or something. Her hair is similar to Jimin’s - pitch black and soft - but hers is glossier, more like a cat’s coat; her cheeks are pink from the cold, her lips are slightly parted and invite too many thoughts about if they’re as soft as they look, Even in such casual circumstances, she’s radiant, even as she says-

“That explains a lot.”

It takes a second longer than you’d like to admit for your brain to resume function, but when it does, you huff with indignation.

“Excuse me?” You hiss. “What, are my decor choices not good enough for whatever this competition is?”

“No,” Yoonji says slowly, cocking a brow, and you see red - and it isn’t the lights from the house across the street. You don’t even let her continue before you’re defending yourself.

“Well I’m sorry that not all of us can decorate like they just stepped out of...of…Better Homes And Gardens, or some shit like that. Some of us focus more on making sure we like our decorations and that they actually mean something instead of just doing things for the aesthetic .”

Yoonji mutters something under her breath but you can’t make it out; it’s lost among the breeze that kicks up and the soft sound of laughing that Jimin is trying desperately to muffle. You huff a little and return to your mission of dragging the garland up on top of the roof, a new determination filling your chest.

“Shouldn’t your boyfriend be doing this?” Yoonji asks, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a brow. You freeze. You can hear Jimin’s quiet inhale, and when you look up, he’s got his lips puffed out like that meme of that guy doing the duckface. You let your hand rest on your hips and give this girl the best glare you can - which you have to admit is quite powerful when you need it to be.

Like now, when this random super hot girl is judging you for being single and also assuming you’re interested in men. The nerve of her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” You tell her firmly. She frowns a little, and you wish the expression wasn’t so cute.

“Why not?”

You scoff. “ Because,” You tell her firmly, “Not only am I happy by myself and don’t need someone else to be complete, I happen to prefer women. You may be happy with a member of the opposite sex,” You wave at where she and Jimin stand close together and return to trying to pull up the piece of garland that’s probably stuck on something, “But I tend to lean the other way.”

Yoonji just arches a perfect brow at you, but she at least doesn’t bust out laughing like Jimin does.

“Oh man,” He says, wiping tears from his eyes as he stumbles forward, “Imagine looking at us and thinking we’re straight. Oh my god, imagine, can you believe-”

“So why don’t you have a girlfriend doing this then?” Yoonji asks. Her cheeks are a little redder, but you’re pretty sure it’s just from the cold. “Wouldn’t it be better?”

“Because I’m a strong,” You heave another string of garland up, “Independent,” heave, “Woman!” You give one last tug on the garland and it flies loose, sending you landing back on the flat of your ass atop the porch roof. It doesn’t hurt too bad other than the fact that you can see a smile playing on Yoonji’s lips and your pride has already taken a few hits.

“Well then,” Yoonji says, patting Jimin’s arm and stepping back, “We’ll stop distracting you, Miss Independent.” She and Jimin walk across the street, and you pretend not to notice the way she looks back every so often.

[Today]

“No, it needs to be taller.”

“Sweetheart if it’s any taller, it won’t fit in the house.”

You send your mother a frustrated glance and shake your head. “It will, it just needs to be the right height and shape.”

“Why can’t we just get a fake tree? They’re so much easier to move and put together, wouldn’t that be better?”

“No,” You hiss, scandalized. “Real trees are better overall for the environment, not to mention how you can’t manufacture the smell of pine trees that come with them that set the entire atmosphere. Plus this nursery uses the profits to plant more trees both here and in areas that suffer with deforestation. It’s for a good cause.”

“And that’s why we had to get here at five in the morning?” Your mother asks sarcastically.

“Yes,” You reply firmly, “Because otherwise all the good trees will be gone and we’ll be forced to choose from the leftovers.” Your mother mumbles something else under her breath, but you don’t hear it. You’re distracted because there it is. The perfect tree.

You’re two steps away from your perfect tree - tall, evenly spaced, full branches, well balanced, with the perfect shade of evergreen - when you hear her.

“It’s over here,” Yoonji’s voice echoes. “I need the perfect tree, and it’s the best one I’ve found in years.”

You ignore the way your mother lights up and shush her when she tries to call out to Yoonji. You listen closer; your nemesis is still talking, something about needing a tree for someone - which, who leaves tree shopping to the last minute? The only reason you’re here is that you got in late because of the weather - but her voice is definitely getting closer.

Panicking, you look at your tree. If Yoonji sees it, it’s definitely over. It’s perfect, there’s no way she’ll want any other, and what Yoonji wants, she gets.

The only real explanation for what happens next is that you’re running on four hours’ sleep and Yoonji tends to make you a little stupid.

“Get the other side,” You whisper to your mom. She stares at you and doesn’t move. “Hurry up, before they get here!”

Your mother watches for a few seconds as you wrap your arms around the tree, getting pricked in the face with pine needles as you do, and start to tug. It’s a heavy tree, and it’s only just started to shift when the voices get closer.

“Seriously?!” You exclaim in a harried whisper to your mom. “Not even a push?!”

“You’re trying to steal a tree,” Your mother says. “From a nursery that gives to charity. I’m not helping with that.”

“I’m gonna pay for it later!” Your mother sighs and starts pushing halfheartedly on the other side of the tree.

“Shit, no, I meant-” Your words are cut off by a grunt as you manage to catch the tree before it falls entirely. It’s heavy against your shoulder, and of course that’s when Yoonji turns the corner, followed by the broadest man you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Both stop in their tracks at the sight of you.

“Hey Seokjin.” You say, faking a laugh. “How are you? Haven’t seen you this year. Business good?”

“Yeah,” He says, cocking a brow, “When people don’t try to run off with our trees.”

“Who? Me? I would never!” The tree starts digging into your shoulder and your legs tremble. “I just thought I’d load it up for you, y’know, save you the trouble.”

“Oh did you?” There’s amusement in Seokjin’s voice as he fiddles with his ring. “You know our policy, you have to pay before loading.”

You start to stammer out some bullshit about him being busy but you’re only halfway through the excuse when Yoonji says your name.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a bored voice. “She was loading it up for me. That’s the tree I was coming to show you anyway.”

The weight finally overtakes you, and you crumble under it. You manage to twist so that nothing important is trapped under the trunk, but you get a faceful of needles for your efforts.

“Maybe you should do it, though, Jin,” Yoonji says. “It looks a little much for the poor dear.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin huffs. He pulls the tree off of you with what looks like little effort, hefting it over his shoulder so the base drags the ground. “Where are you parked, Yoonji?”

“Load it onto their car,” Yoonji responds. Both you and your mother stare at her in shock. “Consider it an early Christmas present.”

“Oh, well isn’t that sweet of you,” Your mother coos. She points the way to Seokjin and the two head off, chatting amicably as they go.

You narrow your eyes at Yoonji where she stands, not even offering to help you up from the snow where you still lay.

“What’s wrong with it?” You ask. All she does is quirk a brow. “The tree. Why are you giving it to me? You wouldn’t unless there was something wrong with it. So what is it? Termites? Leaking too much sap? What?”

Yoonji shrugs. “You wanted it,” She says simply. Your blood boils, and she steps back like she doesn’t even notice.

“You aren’t even going to help me up?” You call as she starts to walk away.

“Good try, Miss Independent,” She calls back. “I think Jungkook’s still in the office if you need him.”

You half-scream a growl as you flop your head back into the snow. A pout forms as you watch the sky start to color with the sunrise.

You’re going to have to throw away your perfect tree.

[Two Years Ago]

It’s the day of the contest. You’re confident in your decor choices this year, even if you couldn’t get every single thing you had in mind, you decide as you wander the neighborhood to scope out the competition. Last year you went simple and got second place, and you’ve switched it up this year. All out with the best decorations possible.

You’re going to win. Losing isn’t an option, not again. Not when you were beat by her.

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself as you turn the corner onto your parents’ street. Your decorations are as good as they can be.

Your mood sours a little when you see a figure in the yard across from yours, but the soft beanie and oversized hoodie cheer you up once you notice them.

“Yoongi!” You call with a smile. The man turns and gives you a gummy grin. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Yeah, we got in late last night. Kinda crashed once we did. Then someone dragged us all out to the store early this morning.” He rolls his eyes and you laugh.

“Well the house looks good. Not as good as mine, obviously,” You tease, “But good.”

“Yeah, you might win this year. Yoonji’s got some good competition.”

You sniffle a little, doing your best to contain your distaste for his twin.

The Min twins, nearly identical save for the fact that they aren’t the same gender, are easily the best and worst things about the neighborhood. Worst because of that pompous priss Yoonji, obviously.

Best because Min Yoongi is one of the sweetest people you’ve ever known even if he is a bit shy. You met him last year, when he’d carried in an obscene amount of groceries for your mother and you’d almost mistaken him for his sister. You’d made him coffee to say thanks, the two of you talked, and you’ve been friends ever since.

“No Jimin?” You ask him. He gestures vaguely to the roof, where you can see a small blue hat bopping around. “Ah. I take it you aren’t finished yet, then.”

“Do you know any other reason my sister would have my boyfriend on the roof?” You share a grin with him as you both watch a strand of lights fly off somewhere. “Apparently she needed to make some last minute adjustments. That’s why she dragged us all out to the store, to hunt down some stuff for her.”

“Oh, did you happen to see one of those big dancing snowmen? The one that plays music, you can control it all from your phone? I looked everywhere and couldn’t find one, it’s the one thing I was missing. Had to use an inflatable yeti instead.” Yoongi frowns.

“Huh, how weird. That’s what we were-”

“I got it all ready, it just needs to be plugged in.”

Yoonji strides out from the house - looking as good as ever in some plaid pants, how dare she - and stops dead when she looks up and sees you.

“What are you doing here?” She snaps, and you scoff.

“Visiting a friend,” You respond with a nod towards Yoongi. You take a glance at the phone in her hand, then up to where you can see Jimin standing up a snowman. “Did you seriously steal my idea?!”

“What? No.”

“Really. Because I distinctly remember telling Jungkook about this yesterday while I was picking up my tree and you were right beside him talking to Seokjin. I was even going to put it on the roof so everyone could watch it dance to Pentatonix covers.”

“Like I would listen when you talk,” Yoonji says. Yoongi sighs but you can barely hear it over the flood of rage.

“Y’know what? Get fucked,” You tell her as you storm out of their yard and back to your parents’ house.

“I guess you won’t be coming to the holiday party then?” She calls over the road. You send her a rather vulgar hand gesture in return that you hope your parents don’t see. By the time you get inside, the snowman is playing a Mariah Carey Christmas song and you kind of want to set it on fire.

You do not win the competition that year.

[Today]

Maybe you should have listened to your parents when they said not to drive today. Probably you should have taken the big ass truck that your father keeps in the garage specifically for when the weather is bad, because it’s got that fancy four wheel drive and traction control and all sorts of stuff meant to keep people safe in the middle of floods and monsoons and blizzards. You definitely should have remembered to charge your phone before you left the house.

Especially considering that your car isn’t great in the snow now falling gently from the sky to land on your hood, mixing with the smoke pouring out from under it.

You’re lucky you managed to drift to the side of the road and get your hazard lights on, but that’s where said luck runs out. Your phone is dead, it’s several miles back to the house, even further than that to town, and the temperature is already dropping into dangerous territory.

You’ve been sitting here for three hours, though, tucked inside the residual warmth of your car with spare blankets wrapped around you as you watched night fall. You’re not sure what else you can do. There aren’t any wild animals around here, or anything like that, but it’s definitely too dangerous to trek back to the house.

“I should’ve just walked back earlier,” You groan as you bundle the blankets closer. “At least it was warmer then. Stupid car, stupid car, stupid me , didn’t charge your stupid phone, how dumb am I.”

Your tirade against yourself continues for several minutes and includes a few very crafty curses that would make your mother gasp. You’re in the middle of another when lights shine into your mirrors, nearly blinding you.

The lights slow and come to a stop behind your car. A door shuts and you scramble to exit, ready to get on your knees and beg whoever it is to give you a ride to literally anywhere that has heat.

It takes a second too long for you recognize the shiny purple jeep and the elegant black peacoat backlit by the headlights, and by the time you do, she’s already got an angry snarl on her face.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?” She demands. You shiver in response and glare at her.

“Oh, just hanging out, thought I’d take a little nap beside the road in the freezing cold, the usual y’know,” You bite back. She rolls her eyes and starts back towards her jeep. You frown, watching her, and she stops with one foot inside and her hand on the door.

“What are you waiting for?” She asks. You shrug, and she huffs. “Get in the fucking car, I’m taking you home before you turn into an icicle.” You don’t move and her frown deepens. “Fine, but if you die out here, I’m not the one that’s going to tell your parents it was because you were too stubborn to accept a ride.”

Guilt gnaws at you, and with a frustrated huff, you stomp your way over to the passenger side of her jeep and climb inside.

She’s careful as she drives, you notice. Long fingers wrapped tight around the wheel, jaw tensed so hard it could be stone, and one arm leaned against the window after she’s finished turning the heat up as high it will go.

It’s not even been five minutes when she tosses a thick, fleece-lined blanket at you. You look at her, ready to be pissed off, and she cuts you off before you can complain.

“Your teeth are chattering so loud that I can’t hear myself think. Try not to get hypothermia before we get there, okay?” You huff a disbelieving laugh but curl into the warmth of the blanket anyway. It feels almost too-warm, like when you pull clothes out of the dryer, but it’s a comfort against your freezing skin.

“Why are you even here? You aren’t heading back from town, you’re not heading to town. Do you just drive around looking for lost girls?”

“No,” She says carefully, hand tightening around the wheel. It’s all she says for a full minute before she sighs. “Your parents got worried.”

“What?! ”

“They said you went to town to pick up some salt for the sidewalk and drive, and that it had been hours, and that they hadn’t heard from you again even though you took your phone. They were scared that something had happened, so I…”

Your sarcastic response dies on your tongue when you look at her. Really look.

Her shoulders are tense and set, in a way you haven’t seen before. Her brows are creased, and the pretty lips you refuse to acknowledge are set in a thin line and turned down at the corners. There’s something fizzling in the air between the two of you, something new and unknown.

“...Were you worried about me?” You ask quietly. She shoots you a look and then laughs, a second too late with not enough amusement.

“Drink that,” She says, gesturing to a thermos. “It’s coffee, it’ll help you warm up a little.” You take the thermos, thoroughly enjoying the warmth it provides your hands, and take a sip. You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when it’s the exact way you like it. You shoot her a thoughtful look, wondering just how else she might surprise you.

The rest of the ride is quiet, only the lull of the engine and the tires. Neither of you talk much; perhaps because she’s too angry, but you’re too distracted by your own thoughts to say much.

There’s no way, right? The two of you hate each other, you have since you met. It tints all your interactions, colors every single conversation where either of you are even mentioned, it’s one of the basic facts of the universe.

So why, as Yoonji pulls into your parent’s driveway and smiles at where they stand watching from the window, do you have a feeling like maybe you’re wrong?

[One Year Ago]

“Really? Inflatables?”

You scowl and turn, already prepared. There stands Yoonji, arms crossed. The weather is fairly mild for the season, and she’s taking advantage of that. High waisted shorts, an off-the-shoulder top, lace-up boots, leather jacket, she looks like every rebellious lesbian you’ve ever dreamt about, and it only makes you hate her more.

“Yes, inflatables. Because some of us like a little fun. Besides, you stole my dancing snowman last year, and I wanted something you aren’t going to rip off.”

“I didn’t steal your-”

“Whatever,” You interrupt, not wanting to even bother to listen. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”

She starts to say something else, but the slam of the front door cuts her off. You turn and grin, waving.

“Tae! C’mon, put it over here!”

Taehyung smiles and makes his way over, inflatable deer in his hands. Yoonji’s silent as he gets there and sets the animal where you direct. When he’s finished he turns to you, boxy smile and all, to make sure he’s good, and glances at Yoonji.

“Oh, you didn’t say you had a friend over,” He whines. “Now I’m being rude. Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Yoonji doesn’t answer, merely eyes with distaste the hand he’s got extended.

“Right. Well then, I’m gonna go get the fawn, alright? Be right back.” He smiles at you, and you watch as he jogs back into the house.

“I thought you only brought Namjoon with you this year.” You turn at Yoonji’s words.

“No, Tae came as well. It’s a good thing, too, because Joon is utterly useless now since he met Yoongi and Jimin. Little punks stole my best friend.” You’re only mostly kidding. You’re happy for Namjoon - he’s been somewhat lonely these days, and now he’s got not one but two handsome men vying for his affection.

It does reinforce your own loneliness, though.

“I thought you liked girls.” You look back at Yoonji and notice she’s got a small pout on her face. It’s cute.

“I do like girls.”

“Then why is Taehyung here?” The way she says his name is full of spite, and it makes you laugh.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that I had to get your permission when I want to bring my friends and loved ones up to visit my parents for the holidays.” You adjust the inflatable deer, posing it so that it looks like it’s glaring at Yoonji’s house in anger.

Taehyung comes back out before Yoonji can say anything. He’s got his jacket off now, and he does look good in the simple white shirt and the headband that makes his hair look even fluffier than usual. You just really can’t focus on anything but the inflatable fawn he’s got tucked under one arm and the matching rabbit tucked under the other.

Yoonji’s eyes narrow ever so slightly, and you roll your eyes.

“You need another deer,” She spits before she turns around and stomps back to her house. Taehyung shoots you a look.

“I take it that’s Yoonji, then,” He says with a laugh. You make a puking sound and he tuts at you. “You’re supposed to be nice. That is not nice.”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t steal your dancing snowman, did she?”

Across the street, you can see Yoonji fuming as she stands on the porch, talking to Yoongi about something or other. They both look over and while your first instinct is to turn around like you haven’t been watching them, you resist. Instead, you give Yoongi a bright wave. He doesn’t return it but his frown lessens slightly, though that could be because Jimin stumbles, laughing, out of your parents’ house with Namjoon not far behind him.

Both of them have hearts in their eyes, and it only gets worse when they look at Yoongi.

“That’s disgusting,” Taehyung says with a wrinkle of his nose. “Eugh, they’re so couple-y and gross. Remind me not to come next year if Namjoon’s here.”

“Oh no,” You tell him with a grin as you wrap him in a hug. He’s warm and solid against you, as he always is, and you thoroughly enjoy it. “If I have to struggle, you do too.”

“Fine,” He whines dramatically. “But I’m bringing Hobi so he has to suffer, too.” You laugh and set him to work organizing the inflatable animals. There are eyes on your back the entire time, but you refuse to turn around and give Yoonji the satisfaction.

Especially once you realize that you do need another deer to make it look balanced and perfect.

[Today]

The holiday party is well underway by the time you arrive at Yoonji’s, however reluctantly you do so. Your mother and father disappear almost immediately, sucked into conversations with people they’ve known for years now; Tae and Hobi are tucked into a corner, nursing glasses of cider while they look at the rather extensive Winter Village display on the Mins mantle; Namjoon has been here for hours already, and is no doubt locked away in Yoongi’s room with the man himself, and Jimin, and you choose to believe that they’re having some philosophical discussion and not doing anything else.

You think you catch a glimpse of Jungkook amidst the people from the neighborhood, but by the time you get to where he was, there’s no sign of him, or the broad-shouldered man he’s usually with. Abandoned in the kitchen, you pour yourself some cider and spike it with a hint of rum, just to get you through the night.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” A voice says.

When you turn, you find Hwasa perched on the countertop, Chungha leaning back between her legs. Both are watching you curiously, and both look absolutely fantastic in figure-hugging dresses and tights and heeled boots. They look like they just stepped off a runway, but the look in their eyes feels more like a panther than a model.

“What boyfriend?” You ask eventually.

“Tall, great chest, soft hair,” Hwasa says. When you just stare at her, she smiles a little. “Boxy smile.”

“Oh, Tae?” You laugh a little. “He isn’t my boyfriend. I’m not even interested in him like that, he’s just my best friend.” The two women share a look and Chungha kisses her cheek before heading out of the room. Hwasa eyes you and you have the distinct feeling you’re being judged.

You thought you looked okay when you picked out the simple but nicer outfit; black sweater, maroon skirt, tall black boots. It’s classy but casual. You’re sure of it.

At least you were.

“So tell me about this thing with Yoonji,” Hwasa eventually says. You nearly choke on your cider.

“I mean...there’s not much to tell. We’ve hated each other ever since we met four years ago.”

“Oh?” Something lights up in her eyes that you don’t particularly like.

“Look, no offense to you or your girlfriend, Yoonji’s just...kinda mean for my tastes. I guess some people are into that.”

“Elaborate.” Her tone leaves no room for argument, and you find yourself explaining before you can stop. You tell her nearly everything, about all the shit Yoonji’s done to you, and by the time you’re finished, she’s actually smiling.

“Like...I’m sure you love her and all, otherwise you wouldn’t be dating her, but-”

“What? ” She nearly falls off the counter, she’s laughing so hard, and when you start to help steady her, she just waves you off. “No, sweetie, I’m dating Chungha, not Yoonji.”

“I thought you were dating both of them? Did you all break up?”

“Oh my god , she wasn’t kidding,” Hwasa says breathlessly, still fighting back giggles. “Holy shit, this explains so much. Ha, oh my god, no, we never were dating Yoonji, she’s just our best friend. Like you and that Taehyung guy?”

“Oh.” You feel foolish; it makes sense, friends can be just as physically close as romantic partners. You and Taehyung are proof enough of that. “I...just assumed…”

“I know, but you’re definitely wrong. You drink more cider, stew on that, maybe rethink things from another perspective, I’ve got to tell Chungha about this, it’s too good.” Hwasa hops off the counter with ease and disappears out the door before you can ask her to explain what she means about other perspectives. You can hear giggles as they slowly drown in the chatter of the party and the soft carols playing over the speakers.

You stay in the kitchen for a while, nursing your cider and thinking. If Yoonji doesn’t have two model-hot girlfriends, then could you have been onto something in the jeep that night? You’ve hated her for so long, and assumed that she hates you in return, but if you were wrong about the girlfriends, then maybe you’re wrong about that, too.

Something enters your vision and you look up, nearly spitting out your drink as you do.

Yoonji stands in front of you, in a slinky green velvet dress that she keeps tugging the bottom of. It doesn’t look like anything she usually wears, down to the floral lace tights and the wedge heels that make her even taller than she already is, and she looks slightly uncomfortable if the burn in her cheeks is any indication.

The worst part is that she looks good. Like, good good. It suits her, even if it isn’t her usual style, and for once you can’t deny the attraction swirling within your stomach.

“What are you wearing?” She asks angrily, glaring down at your clothes like they kicked her dog - whom you have not seen tonight, which is a travesty, because you adore Holly. A cough echoes from somewhere behind the two of you, and Yoonji wrinkles her nose. “I mean...I like...your outfit.”

You quirk a brow at her and set your cider down on the counter nearby. “Really? Because it looks like you want to tear it off and then set it on fire.” Something complicated happens with her expression and a spark ignites in your mind.

“Are you sick?” She asks. Her face does something else complicated as a groan echoes from nearby, and something painful twists in your stomach. You really didn’t think you looked that bad. “I mean, after the other day. With the snow. And the cold. Are you sick?”

“Is...this your way of telling me I look ill?” You ask her. She frowns. “Because if wanted me to leave your party, all you had to do was say that, you don’t have to insult me.” You head toward the door of the kitchen and there’s a scrambling that sounds much too loud for just her friends.

So your friends are also eavesdropping. Fantastic. Now everyone knows she’s insulted you. Just what you needed tonight.

Her hand catches your wrist as you’re about to leave the kitchen. “I didn’t mean it like that,” She mumbles, not making eye contact. “I just...wanted to make sure you were feeling okay. It was really cold that night, and you were out there for a long time.”

“So, what, you suddenly care? Why? Because you don’t want to win by default or something?”

“No, because I-” She cuts herself off with a groan, and you’re glad there are so many people around, because it seems like everyone’s distracted with something else. They’re too busy to notice this absolutely disastrous conversation.

“Hey look,” Taehyung says, appearing from nowhere and pulling roughly on Yoonji’s arm until she’s standing beside you in the doorway. “Mistletoe! How random! Guess you have to kiss!”

“That’s a stupid tradition,” Yoonji spits, and you’re inclined to agree with her. “Forcing people to kiss just because of some plant? How is that okay? Besides, it’s got nothing to do with the actual myth behind it, and-” She sounds like she could go on forever, but you cut her off.

“And it’s not like we want to kiss anyway.” Her grip on your wrist slackens, and you turn to look at her. Uncertainty fills you as you look at her expression, because the only word that comes to mind is crestfallen. “Right?”

“I...I mean…” Taehyung disappears as Yoonji searches for words, and you just know he’s hanging out somewhere nearby to watch it all happen.

“Because we’re nemeses.” You say slowly. “We hate each other.”

“Do we?” Yoonji asks quietly, threading her fingers through yours. “Do you?”

“Don’t you? ” You ask her. “You’ve been nothing but rude to me since we met. You’ve insulted me, and stolen my decorating ideas, and-”

“No,” She says quickly. “No, I never meant any of it like that, you just never gave me a chance to explain. You’re...you’re so pretty, and I always get flustered around pretty people, and I say the wrong things.”

“You told me I wasn’t as good if I didn’t have a significant other the first time we met.”

“I was trying to figure out if you were interested in women, and when you said you were, I just...panicked, because I figured you had someone, because you’re…” She gives a wave to your general being.

“You stole my dancing snowman.”

“I did not! I heard someone talking about a dancing snowman at the tree nursery, and I didn’t realize it was you, and I thought, since I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I’d get a dancing snowman that would play this cheesy playlist thing I made for you. I didn’t know you were looking for it, and I didn’t steal your idea. Not on purpose, anyway.”

“Okay, well...last year you were so rude! And you said you wouldn’t listen when I talked!”

“I thought…” She trails off, looking ashamed. “I thought you were dating Taehyung, and I got jealous. But the listening comment wasn’t like that! It’s because I always zone out because I like to listen to you talk, because your voice is so pretty, but I never hear what you actually say, and also you just...are really pretty. So I get distracted.”

“I…” You’re rather speechless; your entire world has shifted on its axis. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never.” Yoonji insists. “I just don’t know how to talk to pretty girls.”

“You hang out with Hwasa. And Chungha.”

“Yeah, and?” Her brows furrow. “What’s your point?” If you could, you would keysmash at her, but as it stands, you just gape.

“Uh, they’re literally model gorgeous?”

“Oh, are they?” She looks down at where your fingers are still entwined with hers. “I hadn’t noticed.”

You blink at her, and she looks up at you. There’s a faint smile playing on her lips, and something bright in her eyes that you haven’t seen before.

“I’m sorry,” You say, shaking your head. “I just still don’t-”

“Will you shut up?” Yoonji asks, free hand coming to gently glide across your cheek. “And let me kiss you?” Your jaw shuts with a snap and you nod.

Her lips are soft against your own, and your breath catches in your throat as you return the kiss. Her hand moves to grip your jaw, tilting your head ever so slightly so the two of you fit together that little bit better, and your hands come to rest on her hips.

Electricity sparks through you to her. She pulls back just a little and you’re distracted by the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“This might be moving a little fast, since we hated each other an hour ago-”

“You hated me an hour ago,” She corrects.

“But I would be very, very happy taking this to a more private area so I can express to you just how apologetic I am that I thought you hated me.” You tear your gaze from her lips to look at her face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown out at the mere thought.

“Upstairs,” She growls, already pushing you in the direction of the staircase. You’re both speeding through the crowd of people as fast as you can without being obvious, and you have to help her every few feet because she’s wobbly in her heels, but by the time you make it up the stairs and into her room, you’re both desperate.

Her mouth meets yours with a fire behind it that you’ve never felt before, and you hardly even get the door closed before she pushes you back against it. Your tongue darts along the seam of her lips and she grants you entrance, and you could moan at just the taste of her if you were just a little weaker.

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” She whispers, moving to nip at your neck. Her hands are under your sweater and you don’t even remember them getting there, but you can’t complain as they move to cup your breasts and tweak your nipples through your bra. “Can you even imagine how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you? Tasting you? Hearing you moan?”

She bites, hard and rough, and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. How she possibly knows that you like that is something you don’t have the energy to ponder, nor the will to question.

“Please,” You breathe, hands tangling in her hair as she sucks a mark into the skin of your throat. She’s slotted between your thighs and your hips are rutting against hers ever so slightly, desperate for some friction. You know you’ve already soaked through your panties, which is a feat considering all she’s done is play with your nipples a little and kiss you like you’ve never been kissed.

“What is it, angel?” Her voice is deeper than usual, roughened by the desire coursing through your veins and hers, and it only makes you wetter. “What would you like me to do?”

“Anything,” You plead. “Please, just touch me.”

“Anything?” Yoonji mutters. She chuckles, low and raspy and so unbearably attractive that you want to scream. You almost do scream, from frustration, when she pulls her hands away from your nipples, but she drops to her knees and you forgive her.

Yoonji kisses up your thighs, from the edge of your boots all the way to where the hem of your skirt hits mid-thigh, and her hands are warm as they slide underneath. She doesn’t stop kissing you, not even as she lifts the fabric of your skirt and nips at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. Still, she’s so far away from where you need her, that you can’t help your whine.

“Patience, angel,” She whispers as she glides one finger along your fabric-covered lips. Your hips rut forward on instinct, and she laughs a little.

“You stole my dancing snowman, you could at least be quick about this,” You mutter.

“What’s the fun in being rushed?” She leans forward to mouth at your pussy through your underwear and your legs tremble slightly. She’s gentle as her hands slide your underwear down to pool around your ankles, and even more gentle as they glide back up to rest on your thighs. “But I’ll be nice this time. Besides, I’ve been dreaming of what this pussy tastes like for years.”

Anything else you might say to her is cut off with a moan as her tongue starts to tease at your clit. One of your hands comes to rest on the back of her hair before you even realize you’ve moved, and she takes that as all the encouragement she needs.

Yoonji eats pussy like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have, and you’re in absolute awe. The way her tongue moves against you is absolute bliss, no matter where it is; she teases at your entrance, sliding the very tip of her tongue inside to gather your wetness before she runs the flat of it up to your clit, where she circles and sucks mercilessly before moving back down to thrust it in and out and in and out relentlessly. She coaxes an orgasm out of you faster than anyone else ever has, and even as your writhing against the door with her head under your skirt, she doesn’t stop.

Instead, she slides one long finger inside of you and keeps it there. She doesn’t move it, doesn’t even allow it to twitch, but it’s there and you can feel it as she wraps her lips around your clit and sucks, making your clench around her. She moans into your pussy, too, the entire time she’s at work between your legs, and it only turns you on more when you glance down to see her hand between her legs.

“Yoonji, please, I want, please, I wanna taste you too, please,” You beg, tugging gently on her hair until she pulls back. Her chin is covered in your cum and the sight is so unbelievably unerotic that you could probably come just from that.

“Take this off,” She growls, pulling on your skirt as she stands. You do as she says without hesitation, more than willing to get naked if it means getting your mouth on her, and by the time your boots are in the corner with the rest of your clothes, she’s just as naked as you are.

And god, she’s beautiful.

Your lips meet hers again as you push her towards the bed, and you can taste yourself on her tongue as it slides against yours. The two of you tumble onto the mattress and you situate yourself between her thighs. It isn’t until you’ve got her legs spread wide and your licking and sucking at her nipples that you register that her face is flushed with something new.

“What is it?” You ask, panting, as you detach from her - beautiful, wonderful, adorable, perfect - tits. “Do you not want me to? I don’t have to, I just would really like to, it’s up to you.”

“No, it’s not that, I’ve just never…” She trails off, looking embarrassed, and realization smacks you in the face.

“No one has ever gone down on you before?” You ask in disbelief. She shakes her head.

“I’ve always been the one to do so, all the other girls have been kind of...well. I’m usually the dominant one, so…”

“Yoonji, sweetheart,” You say seriously, pressing a kiss to her cheek with each word. “Will you allow to me to eat you out? Because seriously, those other girls are trash, and I would absolutely cherish the experience if it’s something you want.”

Her face turns even more pink and she nods. You press a quick kiss to her lips and gently spread her thighs so you have better access. You mimic her actions from earlier, pressing kisses to her thighs and the crease of her hips. When you finally get a taste of her, you moan.

She tastes like absolute fucking bliss, you decide as you glide your tongue through her folds. You could live off of nothing but the taste for her until the end of time itself, and the way she moves is amazing. Little jerks and thrusts, and her fingers tangle in your hair to push you closer even as her hips pull away slightly.

Your tongue rubs circles around her clit, flicking and licking and coaxing her closer and closer to her high. You dip down to fuck your tongue into her for a second or two, and the way her back arches is art in motion. You reach one hand up to tweak one of her nipples while your other arm remains wrapped around her hip like a steel bar, keeping her in place even as she grinds against your mouth.

You remember how it felt earlier when she wrapped her lips around your clit, so you mimic the action. Her bud fits perfectly between your lips, and when you suck on it, she tenses. Everything stops for a second, and you’re afraid maybe you ruined it, but then her whole body jerks, and she presses you hard against her. You lap up her essence as it comes, eager and more than willing, and when she finally stops spasming, you pull yourself away with a grin.

“Holy shit,” She mutters, and you laugh.

“I can’t believe no one’s ever eaten you out before,” You sigh, one hand sliding along her waist to massage her breasts. “Does that mean no one’s ever fucked you before either?”

“I mean…” You stop, staring at her with wide eyes. “I told you, I’m usually the dominant one, so most people don’t really...return the favor.”

“Can I please fuck you?” You ask in a rush. “Please, I promise I’ll be gentle.” She huffs a little, and you think it’s amused but you can’t be sure, because she’s spreading her legs again and your focus is elsewhere.

“Yeah, angel, you can fuck me.”

You lower yourself to kiss her, lingering and deep, and you don’t miss the moan she gives as she tastes herself on your tongue. You wait until she’s thoroughly distracted by the way your mouths move, then glide your fingers over her.

Her clit is still sensitive, based on the way she jumps as you ghost your fingers over it, so you avoid that. You don’t want to overwhelm her. She groans as you slide a single single finger inside her, and you moan.

Her walls are softer than the velvet of her dress, and warm around you. She’s tight, too, so incredibly tight that you aren’t sure you’ll be able to fit another inside her. She moans as you slide your finger out and then back in, gathering more of her wetness as you do.

You’re careful as you fuck her, gentle and slow, and you think you could get addicted to it. Her hips move in time with your hand, gaining speed as you do. “Fuck, angel, it’s so good,” She whimpers. You smile.

“Let me know if it gets too much, okay?” She nods, and you start to slide a second finger in. Yoonji winces, just a little, so you slow until her hips rock against your hand.

“More,” She breathes. “Please, more.”

“As you wish,” You tell her. You still are gentle as you thrust into her, feeling her walls contract around you. It’s heaven, absolute perfection, and you tell her so as she grips onto the sheets.

You latch your mouth onto her nipple as you continue fucking her, biting and sucking as your fingers curl.

“I need, ah, please, I need more, I need, holy fuck, to come, I need to come,” She moans desperately. You grin and curl your fingers more, sliding them against her walls. You finally find what you’re looking for, that small spongey spot that has her convulsing around you.

“That’s right, baby,” You coo, “Come on, I know you want to.”

Her hands are in a death grip on your shoulders, and they only get tighter as you press harder against that spot inside her. She comes with a cry that you muffle with your own mouth, her body shaking as she lets go.

You slide your fingers out when she’s relaxed a little more, licking the taste of her off as she pants.

“Holy shit,” She breathes. You grin, peppering kisses along her stomach, up her chest, along her throat and over her cheeks. “Can we do that every day?”

“I dunno,” You tease. “Are you going to steal my dancing snowman again?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves at your shoulder, and you laugh.

“I’m just saying, you’re supposed to be nice to the people you like.”

“I’m bad at that, though,” She mutters. “I always just...say the wrong thing. I’m more of a do-er.”

“I’m still caught up on how I was supposed to know you liked me based on the things you did.”

“Really?” She huffs, glaring at you playfully. “I went tree shopping at five in the morning for you.”

“Yeah,” You say softly, grinning. “You did.”

25 Days of Christmas: A BTS Christmas Anthology

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beyoncesdragon · 4 years

Text

Off the menu (Tommy x Reader)

Requested: No

Warnings: language, Alfie knocks someone out just because

Summary: Tommy feels the need to remind everyone exactly what you are for them: off the fucking menu that is.

My Masterlist

“We’re finding lodgings for you…but for now you sleep here in the bakery. Don’t touch any of the bread, it will most likely explode. Any questions?” you sat in the shadow, legs dangling down some dusty table, your dress spread out slightly over the hard surface. You took a delicate bite from your apple, the first thing you had to eat in ages or so it felt. Tommy’s broad shoulders faced you as he stood tall in front of dozens of men, all ready to soon get to work in the “bakery”. He looked like the proud Shelby he was, clean, firm and intimidating. Yet, you refused to look at him and only see that big bad wolf everyone else seemed to see. A man raised his hand, Tommy’s attention snapping towards him immediately. “Yes?” there was a short pause. “I haven’t even seen any bread.” Laughter arose between the men, but I could only sigh worriedly. Surely they had not met any Shelby in their lives…or Solomons at that matter. Tommy seemed to think the same thing as he stepped off a few inches, looking over to the bearded man. A mere second later, the bulky man which had observed the happenings in silence to this point, rose his head and started to walk over. The way Alfie walked always reminded you of a bear. That broad, stubborn walk that made you step aside before you could even think about it. Then those bushy eyebrows and the beard, those piercing eyes…the only person you knew could look a tad sharper was dear Tommy, with his icy blue eyes. He stopped right in front of the man that had cracked the joke, still not saying a word. You didn’t dared to break the silence by taking a bite from your fruit, the tension was just a tad too thick for that. Suddenly, Alfie lunched forwards and with a powerful strike he knocked the man standing next to the one that was actually guilty out. You flinched at the sound of his knuckles hitting the poor fellas jaw. The room fell even more quiet. “He’ll wake up. Granted he won’t have any teeth left, but he will be a wiser man for it.” Alfie started, tapping the mouthpiece of his pipe softly towards the man. “And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke, alright?” silence greeted him. Fearful silence, full of surprise and realisation. You carefully placed your apple in your lap, still tightly clutched in your fingers. “RIGHT!” Alfie suddenly yelled out and you flinched again. These men… “There are fucking rules for a fucking reason. Quite simply, they have to be obeyed, alright?” He started walking back and forth in front of those rows of men, just like Tommy did before. But way more aggressive, like a bull in a ring. “Rule number one: the distinction between bread and rum…that is not discussed!” the last few words were yelled out loudly and it made you wince just very slightly. Tommy’s eyes immediately wandered over to you, but you didn’t even realise it. “Rule number two: anything, right, that your superior officer says to you, or any other of your fucking superior officers say to you, yeah? NOT DISCUSSED!” he continued to strut in front of the men, in the most inelegant way possible – still, strutting suited it the best. “Rule number three, four five, six, seven, eight, nine I don’t care, for the rest of your fucking miserable, measly lives, because I like you, I am also a complete fucking sodomite: Jewish women. You do not go anywhere near them, cause Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu.” You could feel how all the eyes wandered over to you, some snapped and some at least tried to be subtle about it. Not that you could blame the men all too much for that since you looked like an angel sitting on that darn table. Completely out of place you seemed, in that nice dress, your feet dangling softly over the table top. Besides, you were eating and they were hungry as well…still, the apple wouldn’t come close to how sweet you looked. The only question was…was he saying this because of you? Obviously, if Alfie declared you as off-limits, the challenge would be even greater. You rose your eyebrows softly at all the stares since no one seemed to say anything at all. Even Alfie was unsure of how to react…maybe the blue eyed devil that was looking like he was wishing hell upon all the men here had something to do with it. “I’m not Jewish, don’t look at me like that.” You replied softly, taking another bite. “Still off the fucking menu.” Tommy’s voice was far from yelling or shouting, still, you heard him in the whole room as clear as if he’d stand in front of you. With a few strides he stood closer at your table, but never showing exactly why you might be off the menu. “Now stop looking at her if you want to keep your eyes.” He huffed, annoyance clearly audible in his voice by now. You couldn’t help but sneakily roll your eyes at the man, taking yet another bite from your apple. Alfie nodded slowly. “I think that’s fair.” His eyes snapped back to the man he hit unconscious earlier: he still laid there without having moved an inch. “Hm.” Was Alfie’s only comment on that before starting to walk back to his original spot in front of the barrels. “Okay that’s it then. Forgive me I interrupted you.” If it wouldn’t have been so violent, his bluntness would’ve almost been funny.

This moment, Tommy stepped forward again. His eyes grazed the knocked out man in a condescending manner before softly nodding towards him. “Pick him up.” It didn’t take them long; three men immediately grabbed the limp body at his arms and started to pull him up. A weak groan escaped the man’s lips; at least he was still alive. Tommy however walked towards a man near a column. He was quite tall and just his stoic attitude showed that he wasn’t a regular “baker” at any time. Next to Tommy however, his authoritarian aura seemed to collapse. It was clear who ran that fucking house. “Get them out of here. And make this fucking work.” Tommy was whispering…yet probably everyone heard him. But who was Tommy to care about something like that. The man only nodded before vigorously starting to drive the bunch out of the hall. Within seconds the room was completely empty apart from Tommy and you. He still stood there with his back facing your frame as you slipped off the table, placed your half eaten apple down and leaned towards the table top. “Such a big bad boss ye mark here, eh?” you teased lightly, seeing him tense up at your words. “And such a protective one at that.” You continued coquettishly, watching him take a deep breath before turning around to you. A fresh cigarette stuck in between his lips now, already lightened and burning softly. He exhaled the smoke slowly as he walked towards you with long strides. “And I am off the fucking menu, apparently.” You trilled with a knowing smirk watching his eyes flicker up with a low sparkle. “Are you not?” he asked, planting himself in front of you, folding his arms over his chest. “You just got scared that I might run off with a rough baker in his mid-thirties and a scarred backhand and patchy hair.” He arched his brow. “Are you laughing at me?” you tried to fight the smile off your face as you stared up to him towering you. “That I could find my purpose in a man with sweat-drenched linen vests, smelly hats and who’s going around looking all scruffy?” irritation flashed up in Tommy’s eyes as he suddenly grabbed the stub of his cigarette and flung it to the side. Then he stepped even closer, placing one hand on each side of the table so I’d be trapped in between them. “Go on.” He mumbled lowly, still not showing anything on his face. “Pathetic Tommy boy.” He huffed lightly, eyes wandering down your face. “First a boss and now…pathetic.” He mused, his closeness very obviously messing a bit with your head. You chuckled lightly, bringing a hand up to his cheek. “Pathetic and very soft.” This made him straighten up. “Soft?” you nodded, living your absolute best life teasing the hell out of him. “Always seeking for trouble my dear…and always so rough with your men. They’ll stab your back if you keep treating them like shit.” He snorted, clearly amused now. “I am not here to make friends…” “…but allies?” “Neither. Allies depend on you. They expect something from you. If y’cant give that to them at all time, they will betray you.” he carefully wrapped his arms around your waist, hands trailing down the small of your back. “Henchmen then?” he nodded lightly, an almost proud shimmer in his eyes. “You just double the pay and they are yours again.” You said nothing, simply leaning against his chest. It was reassuring and amusing to you when you felt him realx into your touch. “If you keep talking like that, people could get the impression of you being a cold, heartless prick.” Finally his cold face broke. “I am sure people got way worse impressions of me than a prick, eh?” you just smiled softly. “You are a fucking knob, for sure.” He snorted, letting you go again. “Still…a softie, Shelby. Admit it.” He furrowed his brows. “I have a reputation to maintain.” You laughed lightly, raising on your tip toes to press a kiss to his lips. Intended was a light peck, but Tommy seemed to have other things in mind than that. He simply followed you lips down and pulled you a tad closer. “But not to me…” you mumbled softly, carefully backing away. “let me go check out the man Alfie knocked out before. If he really has no teeth left, he might needs to see a doctor.” Tommy arched his eyebrow again. “And let you run off into that bunch of rats right?” you laughed at that and grabbing your apple from the table beside you, you stepped a few steps back. “I’m off the menu remember? Off the fucking menu.” He just sighed. “They will remember. Come back to me immediately, I’ll be at the office with Alfie. You know where to find it I think. And also…” you suppressed a grin, “…take care.” “I will, Mister Shelby.” You saluted playfully before mouthing “softie” into his direction. Tommy only rolled his eyes at you, making you giggle a bit. Then you turned around and skipped lightly towards the exit and disappeared into the dark. You were right, Tommy thought, for you, he was…different. He himself would have never labelled it as soft, naturally. But maybe less…rough. More cautious, more…easy-going. You forgot your scarf on the table you sat on during the meeting. He reached for it, softly twisting it around in his hands. It was a pretty one, black and shimmery with embroidery…a hand-picked gift of his for you. He’s spent a whole afternoon in that bloody store, listening to Pols advice and word all along for fucking ages before finally going for that one. He even payed for it instead of just pulling the old “stuff’s on the house or the house burns down” thing, because he knew that you’d run back to that store and either pay for it or give it back entirely. He tipped her, additionally to that. The lady in the store had been terrified and delighted about his “surprising ability to give a fuck” so Polly had called it. The things you made him do…he snorted softly, lighting another cigarette. He pushed himself off the desk, the scarf in one hand his cigarette in the other. A tray of blueish smoke trailed behind him and hovered in the thick air for a second before dissolving in the whirl of moved air he caused, left behind and in the dark. Just like the conversation the two of you shared in the room before disappeared, the truth that was just for your eyes only: the truth that Tommy Shelby was indeed becoming a soft man.

#tommy shelby #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #imagines #fanfiction #multifandom #alfie solomons #arthur shelby #john shelby #the peaky blinders #bbc one

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A Light in the Dark (Chapter 83)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so sorry it took me this ridiculously long to post this chapter. After this awful 5H divorce, I lost my inspiration to write Camren fics, it was brutal. When things slowly started to settle, I tried to write again, because this story became too important to me to not finish it. I had, like, over six versions of this chapter, but nothing seemed right until I finally decided on this one. I doubt anyone of you even remember what this story is even about after this long hiatus, but yeah. Sorry, guys!

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The annual Christmas Eve party of her parents had not changed a bit since the last time she had been forced to attend. It was as dreadful as ever. Camila let her eyes wander over the crowd of men in black tuxedos and women in various elegant dresses. It were always the same kind of people. They came from church, law enforcement or the hospital. It was the most boring evening of the year – by far.

Camila took a sip from the flute glass in her hand and fought the urge to scream out her frustrations. Not only were her shoes slowly but surely killing her, but constantly having to fake a smile was starting to strain her facial muscles. It was a Christmas miracle that her smile did not look like a grimace. She really should have pretended to have fallen ill instead of coming.

But as her gaze settled on her little sister next to some other unfortunate children a few feet away, that thought disappeared as fast as it had come. No, nothing would have made her leave Sofi again. Especially not with those people. It was bad enough that Sofi had had to endure one of those parties on her own last year.

These annual parties were not a normal Christmas get-together with colleagues and friends. Tonight was all about making connections and passing judgment upon others. The conversation topics usually varied between crime rates, upcoming cases, complicated surgeries, politics, sports, the judicial system, and – of course – gossip.

And as luck would have it, tonight the majority of guests thought that she was the most interesting topic of the evening. Where had she been last year? What was she doing? Were those awful rumors true? And weren’t her parents wonderful with their unwavering support despite her controversial lifestyle? How loved she must be feeling! They were truly remarkable human beings! Saints even!

Accustomed to play the perfect daughter, Camila had answered every question as politely and patiently as possible. Even the most ridiculous and offensive ones. Would it wonder anyone that her alcohol-free champagne was in fact not free of alcohol at all? Or that she was already on her fourth glass? Probably not. Was it stupid to drink alcohol in a room full of law enforcement people? Not to mention to mix it with her medication? Camila glanced towards the chief of police on the other side of the room and took another sip. Probably yes. Did she care? Not really.

Not that her girlfriend knew this little detail, of course. Lauren was already nervous enough as it was.

“You were right,” Lauren muttered beside her and sighed. “I can’t believe the amount of weird comments and looks we have been receiving about our relationship. What is wrong with these people?”

“They’re bored. The last time they saw a lesbian couple was probably Ellen and Portia on TV or something.”

“That’s no excuse. Do you see that guy over there? Near the buffet? White hair, neatly trimmed beard, a blonde woman on his arm that I hope is only his granddaughter? He’s been glaring at us since we got here!” Lauren frowned. “How rude can someone be?! Mind your own damn business, you bigoted moron. I’m not judging you either.”

Following Lauren’s directions, Camila immediately spotted the man. It was not difficult to do so. He was one of the few people who openly showed their utmost contempt towards them. Most other homophobic guests had either kept their opinions to themselves or only talked about them behind their backs. Or gave them some backhanded compliments. As if they would not understand the true meaning behind them or notice the whispers and quickly averted eyes whenever they caught them staring. And these people were supposed to be intelligent? Camila honestly doubted that.

“You mean Judge Anderson?” she asked.

Lauren drew in a sharp breath. “Judge?! He’s a judge?”

“He’s one of the most conservative judges here in Miami, so it’s not a wonder he’s been glaring at us. He’s a homophobic asshole,” Camila replied rather loudly, not seeing the need to lower her voice for the other guests. It was not like it was a secret anyway. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a few people stiffening slightly and smirked. Maybe this party had the potential to become better after all. Even though her girlfriend kept giving her those suspicious looks as if she tried to figure out why she was more blunt than usual. But she would deal with that later. “Or a devoted Christian, as he likes to call it. And that woman next to him is his third… no, I think his fourth wife. They get younger each time.”

The scandalized looks the closest guests were throwing her way only contributed in lifting Camila’s mood. This was fun! Although it was maybe not that great for the perfect daughter image she had been trying to portray for the last three hours. Oh well, people couldn’t have everything.

“A devoted –? Him? Yeah, right,” Lauren muttered darkly. “What a fucking joke. Please tell me he’s got nothing to do with the trial. If he’s the judge –”

“He’s not. My father wouldn’t have invited them, if that was the case. It wouldn’t look good, if you know what I mean.”

“Why did he even invite him in the first place?”

Camila shrugged disinterested. She had given up on understanding the world her father lived in. It had brought her too many headaches. “Politics. And he used to be his mentor – before he became a judge, of course.”

Lauren reeled back. “Wait.That…that person used to be the state’s attorney?! He’s openly homophobic! How can he even be a judge? He’s probably biased as hell!”

She couldn’t stop herself from chuckling at her girlfriend and shook her head in amusement. No matter how intelligent Lauren was, times like these truly showed the idealism and naivety she still possessed. It was kind of cute, if she was being honest. Lauren wanted to become a lawyer to fight injustice, but somehow she overlooked quite a few things. “You act as if the system is free of racism, sexism, homophobia and the like.”

“He swore an oath!”

Camila sighed. It would be amazing if everything was as simple as Lauren tried to make it out to be. “It’s been years since he was the state’s attorney – almost two decades, if I remember correctly. For the most part of Judge Anderson’s life homophobia was okay. He was doing his job when he prosecuted people like us, Lauren. The Supreme Court only ruled in 2003 that sodomy laws for same-sex couples were unconstitutional and yet Florida still has them on the books. Granted, officially they’re against unnatural and lascivious acts, but it’s up for interpretation whether it concerns same-sex couples and they definitely used it legally against us. It was legal to discriminate others. Hell, it still is, if we’re honest about it. It’s still legal to send minors to those awful conversion therapies. My own father would have sent me to that if I had come out sooner and even as an adult he still asked me to do it.”

“But…” Lauren frowned and looked from her to the judge. “It’s not fair.”

“Unfortunately life is rarely fair. I thought you wanted to become a lawyer to fight things like that?” Seeing Lauren’s frustration plain on her face, Camila looked at her glass. Maybe she should have offered Lauren some too. It made everything seem less bad. When she had arrived, her stomach had churned, she had tensed up at the thought of even setting foot in this place where it had happened. After a few glasses, however – well, who cared what any of those idiots thought anyway? “Not many things are okay in this country or in the world, you know that. Him having a position like that is only a minor one.”

“I would be careful with your words, Ms Cabello, considering your surroundings,” a deep voice behind them suddenly spoke up, causing Camila to whirl around to face the man that had sneaked up on them. “Publicly insulting judges – no matter how true your words might be – is not the smartest thing to do.”

Behind them stood a dark-skinned man in his mid-forties, dark brown almost black eyes were shining with a warmth that Camila had neither anticipated nor seen in any of the other guests tonight. As he regarded them, the genuine smile on his lips never wavered – not even when his eyes landed on their intertwined hands.

“My name is Michael Sanchez. I had the overall pleasure to work with your father on some cases,” he introduced himself after a short awkward pause. “I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation with the lovely lady to your left. Your girlfriend, I assume?”

“I…” Camila trailed off, unsure how to proceed. He obviously seemed to know her, but she was convinced she had never seen him in her entire life. “Nice to meet you, sir. And, uh, yes. This is Lauren Jauregui.”

“My pleasure,” he said charmingly and bowed his head. “Your mother wanted to introduce us, but it seems I have lost her somewhere between the cocktail bar and the buffet. So when I saw you standing over here, I couldn’t help but take the opportunity to do it myself.”

He knew her mother as well? And her mother wanted to introduce him to her? This was getting more mysterious by the second. If he was only a colleague of her father, he would have been the one to handle the introductions. Not her mother. “How exactly –”

Another man’s voice interrupted her before she was able to kill her curiosity. “Mike, there you are! Why do you always disappear just like that?! You’re worse than Waldo!”

Camila furrowed her brow as a very familiar man walked up to Mr Sanchez, her mother not far behind him. It was certainly not that surprising that hewas here. She almost expected to run into him this evening. But – Camila threw a puzzled look from him to Mr Sanchez – what a weird coincidence.

Or maybe it was no coincidence at all.

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as Mr Sanchez suddenly leaned in and gave the newcomer a peck on the lips.

Maybe four glasses of champagne had been too much. That was the only reasonable explanation for all of this. She was clearly drunk and hallucinating. Was it her medication that did not mix well with alcohol? There was just no other way that her doctor was kissing a man who worked with her father, right in front of her mother.

Camila numbly shook her head and pinched herself, desperately trying to become sober, but it was no use. There they were, holding hands, smiling at each other like only couples in love could, and her mother was still standing next to them, acting as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Her mind raced as her eyes darted between the three people in front of her that were now chatting like old friends. There was no way that her mother had been friends with an openly gay person, a gay man, while acting the way she did after her own daughter’s coming out. No, that was just impossible. She was losing her sanity. Maybe she was having a mental breakdown. Or she was asleep and everything was a dream. But wasn’t it impossible to feel pain in dreams? And had she not just pinched herself? The stinging ache in her arm had definitely been real. No, they probably only had grown closer when her mother started to change her view on homosexuality. That had to be it. Maybe she hadn’t even known about his sexual orientation for a long time. She doubted that many people were telling others at their workplace about delicate things like that.

“Dr Sanchez, it’s so nice to see you again,” Lauren said, successfully snapping Camila out of her thoughts. She was stunned to see that her girlfriend was not as shocked as her over the latest crazy development. “Thank you so much for everything you did –”

He stopped her with a wave of his hand. “You don’t have to thank me. Seeing Ms Cabello happy and healthy is more than enough. I see my husband introduced himself already?”

Husband?! Camila knew she shouldn’t be that surprised considering they carried the same last name, but… this was her mother’s friend. Someone she had worked with for years. With whom she apparently got along very well. And he was married to another man. How crazy was that?

She took a deep breath. “You’re…?”

“Married?” Michael joked. “Yes, I know, hard to believe. But I took pity on him.”

“You’re lucky to have me!”

“Of course, honey. Luckiest man alive, four years in a row.”

Camila swallowed and tore her eyes away from the couple to stare at her mother who watched them with a smile. Four. Years. Those two words alone felt like a slap in the face. She somehow doubted that her mother could not have known about that. “How… how long have you been friends?”

“How long has it been, Sinuhe, three years?” Dr Sanchez gave her mother a warm smile as she nodded. “It was a tough start, but in the end she couldn’t resist my charm. Sadly our busy schedules never allowed us to come to this lovely party before this evening.”

So it was true. There was no way of her not knowing about his marriage. He wouldn’t have treated it like a dirty little secret, if he proudly brought his husband to a party like this. Her mother had no problem to be friends with an openly gay man for three years? But when it came to her own flesh and blood…

She blinked rapidly, trying to ignore the lump that formed in her throat. Throughout all this heartache, all this talk about her sexuality being a phase, about how it was something abnormal, some kind of mental disease that had to be treated – during all this nonsense her mother had been friends with a gay man. An openly gay man. A married gay man. For three years. And it had not bothered her mother one bit. She had never seen anything wrong with it.

Camila was only vaguely aware that Lauren had started a conversation with the Sanchez couple. Her mother had no problems being friends with a man living in a homosexual marriage, but when her own daughter had come out, she could only sit there and urge her to go to conversion therapy? How fucked up was that?

Taking another deep breath, she tried to calm down and blinked the tears away that were slowly welling up. This was definitely not the time to create a scene. It was not the time to think about her mother’s hypocrisy. She could not change the past. Her mother accepted her and the relationship with Lauren now. Couldn’t this be enough? Was it important with whom she was friends?

“Shut up,” Lauren’s gasp brought her out of the unpleasant thoughts. “You’re an attorney for the ACLU? The ACLU?”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a different one.” Michael grinned. “I work for the one in Florida, yes.”

The look on Lauren’s face could only be described as completely awestruck. It was as if a child had just been introduced to the real Santa Claus, but Camila could barely find joy in seeing her girlfriend like this. Not only was her mother good friends with a gay man, his husband was also involved with the ACLU. Of course. It just had to get better.

“You guys are my heroes!”

Raising an eyebrow, Camila took another sip of champagne, trying to ignore the anger that was slowly bubbling up in her. Of course Lauren would be the one to fangirl over a civil rights organization. Although Michael didn’t seem to mind. He chuckled and threw his husband and her mother an amused look.

“Word is, you might be interested in becoming an attorney yourself?” Michael asked knowingly. Was her father telling everyone at the party about her girlfriend’s plans? This topic could not have come up in a normal conversation between her mother and… her friends. Camila frowned. Her friends, indeed. “You know, the ACLU in New York City offers a few internships for grad students each year, Ms Jauregui. You can always apply for one in the future, if this is something you’re interested in.”

Did they know how her mother had reacted to her coming out? Probably not. Her parents had probably kept it as quiet as possible. After all, wasn’t it shameful to have a disgrace like her in the family?

“Interested?!” Lauren’s eyes widened. “I-I’m – yes, I think I’ll look into it. Thank you, sir. I never thought about that option!”

Why had her mother reacted like that anyway? Yes, she had stopped her father from immediately disowning her – but she had given her the pamphlets of those horrifying facilities, asking her to go to those because they would help her to become normal. She had said they could cure her.

Camila’s grip on her glass tightened as she glanced between her mother and the Sanchez couple. Her own mother had turned her head away when her father had thrown her out of the house. She had not lifted a finger to protect her. Not uttered a single word. All the while being friends with a gay man.

But it was in the past, wasn’t it? Her mother had apologized. Since then she had been supportive. She had worked to understand it, to accept it. Although it had taken the disappearance of her daughter for her to change in the first place. Just like she almost had to die for her father to see her as a human being and not as an inconvinience.

“Ms Cabello?” She blinked a few times and focused back on Dr Sanchez who gave her a tiny smile. She really needed to get a grip. This was neither the time nor the place to lose control. “I asked whether you’re excited about getting cleared next week?”

“Um, yes. Yes, I am, I can’t wait. The last weeks were a nightmare.”

“I can imagine.” Dr Sanchez chuckled. “But I’m sure Ms Jauregui took great care of you, if my first impression was right.”

“Oh, your first impression was spot on,” her mother answered before she could say anything. “Lauren is a true angel. Karla could not have found a better partner.”

“I think I need some fresh air,” Camila blurted out, unable to take it any longer. The champagne was not going to help her in keeping her emotions in check, it was the opposite. She needed to get out of here before she said anything bad. Before she ruined her parents’ precious Christmas Eve party and gave them another reason to hate her. “It’s a bit hot in here. Excuse me.”

Without waiting for a reply, she let go of Lauren’s hand and hurried towards the open glass doors that led to the backyard. She didn’t care that she would receive a lecture later about how rude she had been acting in front of the guests or that she had probably confused Lauren quite a bit with her sudden exit.

It was too much. Everything was too much. The party, the guests, her parents, the part she was forced to portray for the sake of her father’s reputation – even that stupid playlist of the string quartet playing Christmas songs in the background.

Without looking back, she reached the terrace and followed the small path that led through the garden. It looked beautiful, illuminated by various lanterns and torches, but she didn’t have the mind to admire it.

It was likely that her reaction was overly dramatic. But it hurt. All she had ever wanted in life was to be accepted and loved by her parents. And while her mother seemed to have reached that stage of acceptance – was it wrong of her to feel hurt that her mother had accepted complete strangers for the same thing she had resented about her own daughter?

She took in a shaky breath and tried to ignore the tightness in her chest. She was not going to cry. Not tonight. It was in the past. Wasn’t it normal that parents felt more strongly about what their children were doing with their lives than what non-relatives did?

“Karla? What are you doing here?”

Startled, her head snapped up and her wide eyes met her father’s. Trees and bushes had obstructed her view of him until she had walked around a corner. It was just her luck that she was not going to get a break tonight.

She hesitantly glanced into the direction of the house and back to him. She was so not in the mood for his criticism. “I… I needed some air. Shouldn’t you be with your guests?”

“Is everything okay?” Ignoring her question, he gave her a quick once-over. “Are you feeling ill? Do we need to call Dr Sanchez out here?”

“No,” Camila drawled. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

He nodded and let his gaze wander over the bushes and trees around them. “Thank you for coming to the party this year. I know you don’t particularly enjoy these functions and I appreciate your attendance.”

Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. “Wasn’t it mandatory?”

“Karla, you’re an adult – you can do as you please. It’s not like you ever had a problem with that.”

“Seriously?” Camila glared at him, unable to hold herself back. She heard the hidden meaning loud and clear and she was done. “How many jabs at my sexual orientation do you want to throw at me before it gets boring?”

He sighed and shook his head. “This is neither the time nor the place –”

“No, I’m done with this bullshit!”

“Karla –”

There was a warning in his voice, but she didn’t care anymore. Perhaps it was the mixture of her medication and alcohol that loosened her tongue, maybe it were the last three hours full of bigotry or the latest revelation about her mother’s friend.

“I like women – big fucking deal, Papá! So do more than fifty percent of the world population! You like women too. Women are awesome, why can’t we just agree on that and call it a freaking day?!”

“Language.” Her father’s eyes turned cold as they bored into her own. “Don’t play dumb, Karla. Despite your less than intelligent decisions in the past, I know that you are not actually an idiot.”

“Why do you care so much with whom I hold hands with or who I kiss anyway? Why is gender so damn important to you? It’s my life, not yours.” Camila noticed that he clenched his jaw. It was probably unwise to provoke him any further, but she was past the point of caring. The alcohol in her system didn’t help either. “I love Lauren. I don’t tell you to stay away from Mamá either, do I?”

“Do not – I repeat, do not compare our marriage to your sinful lifestyle, Karla.”

“Sinful?” Camila couldn’t help it, she snorted. He wanted to use the religion card? “If God had anything against me being a lesbian or our relationship, he would not have made me gay or brought us together. God is about love, not hate. Jesus preached about love. But if I really should go to hell for loving Lauren, then I gladly will. None of this, however, is in any shape or form your problem, Papá. Don’t use religion as an excuse to hate me or as a reason why seeing two women or two men holding hands makes you uncomfortable or disgusted. You know that there are many things the bible tells us to not do and yet no one cares about them. If you can’t handle it even though it is none of your business, you should look for the answer in your own behavior – not in mine.”

Her father took a deep breath, trying to stay as collected as possible. “I am not going to have this – this discussion on Christmas Eve mere feet away from a house full of guests. However, I will tolerate your choices in public. We will present a united front, especially with the upcoming trial.”

Camila stared at him in pure disbelief. “Is your reputation all you ever care about?”

“It’s my career, Karla!” he suddenly snapped. “Of course I care! Do you think I want to stay the state’s attorney for all eternity? The last election was already a close call because people kept wondering where the heck you were!”

Unbelievable. Camila opened her mouth only to close it again. She had no words. What could she even say after that? Her father had just told her that he would only pretend to tolerate her sexual orientation for the sake of his future career. He basically said that he only cared about her disappearance because it made him look like a fool.

“As I already said in the hospital,” he continued much calmer than before, “maybe it was my fault that you turned out like this. That you somehow felt so repelled by men due to my actions that you sought love in women. Or maybe it was Mr Forster who turned you –”

“No one turned me into a lesbian,” Camila muttered, turning her head away from him. The crushing disappointment she was feeling surprised her. Had a small part of her actually dared to hope that he was coming around?

“I did research, Karla. There are scientific studies that show that this… this thing is not genetic. You were not born like this, no matter how much the mainstream media is trying to convince you. If you just gave men a chance, I’m sure you would find a suitable husband one day! Don’t you want a normal family? A relationship that is not frowned upon? You could have it! What about Mr Vanderbilt? You seem to be fond of him. Yesterday evening I noticed the relief on your face when Ms Jauregui told you he would not spend Christmas alone. You care about him.”

“Because he is my friend! And what part of me saying that I’m in love with Lauren did you not understand?” she asked, frustrated beyond belief.

“I am sure Ms Jauregui is a lovely girl, but this is your life we’re talking about! Karla, wake up. You almost died because of this silly thing! If you had not been so stubborn and lived a normal life, nothing like that would have happened in the first place!”

Camila took a step back, staring at him in complete shock. This evening was becoming a real nightmare. “You’re – you’re saying it was my own fault?”

He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“You… you just said…” Shaking her head, she took another step back. “You’re blaming me for everything Gabriel wanted to do to me?”

“That’s ludicrous. I was merely stating that this – this lifestyle of yours is dangerous. Why do you insist on living this way when you could so easily find a boy and live a carefree life?” He sighed in frustration. “Your mother said I should give you a chance. She says that this is more than just some sort of rebellion or choice. I love you, Karla, and I want what is best for you. But I don’t want someone to hurt you because of something as ridiculous and as easily fixed as this.”

Camila watched him, taking in the worried frown, his clenched fists and the desperate look in his eyes. With a start, she realized that he actually meant those words. He was not lying. He was not trying to deliberately hurt her. He was trying to protect her in the best way he knew how. A wave of sadness overcame her when the truth set in. Would he ever understand that her loving other women was not a choice she made?

“Maybe Lauren and I should leave now,” she mumbled and turned back to the house. Staying overnight for Christmas suddenly didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. She could very well just visit Sofi during the day and take her out for a few hours. “Thanks for the invitation.”

“Karla, please –”

Pausing, she looked over her shoulder. “If you really loved me, you would try to understand that being gay is not something I can change. You wouldn’t look for excuses and studies that tell you how you’re right and that I’m wrong instead of looking at all the facts. You wouldn’t tell me that I should try to date a boy I have no romantic feelings for just because it would be more convenient. You wouldn’t have tried to send me to conversion therapy multiple times. You wouldn’t say that it’s me who has to change in order to be safe in this country instead of those lunatics who want to hurt me or even kill me just because I’m attracted to women. And you certainly wouldn’t have said that you wished I was never born when you stopped by my apartment after a year of no contact. Not even in anger, Papá.”

Her father visibly winced, but not a second later his posture changed. Camila watched with fascination as every emotion left his face and he became the cold man she had always known growing up. He didn’t make the impression as if he wanted to say anything else. His eyes were rooted to a spot just above her head, but when she turned back around, nothing was there.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said quietly. “Maybe you and Ms Jauregui should leave. Thank you for attending the party.”

Swallowing thickly, she cast a last glance over her shoulder and nodded. She hadn’t meant for the evening to turn out like this, but she felt a little better after getting it off her chest. She knew it was likely that she had erased any kind of progress she had achieved with her father in the last few weeks. But what kind of relationship would they have had, if she had held her tongue and let him think she could still be saved?

“She is not going anywhere.”

Camila’s head snapped back to the path in front of her. Wide-eyed, she stared at her mother who had suddenly stepped away from the bushes that had hidden them from the house. The icy glare that had been directed at her father, immediately softened when she made brief eye-contact with her. How long had she been standing there? Had she followed her outside after she fled the room? It was likely that she had wanted to check on her, seeing how concerned her mom was about her injury.

Unsure, she glanced between her parents as an awkward and tense silence filled the air. She really didn’t need to be the reason why Christmas would suck again for her sister. Not when Sofi had told her how different the last Christmas had been from their usual ones. “Mamá, I don’t mind –”

“No. You will not go anywhere, if you don’t really want to. Christmas is about family and I’m not going to let you spend it by yourself instead of celebrating it with Sofia. You should not feel as if you’re not welcome in your own home and by your family.” She narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Your father needs to act like the adult he is. Now go inside, mija. You don’t want to get sick.”

Gnawing on her lip, Camila hesitated for a few more seconds before she listened to her mom’s order and walked past her, back towards the house. She really did not want to be in the middle of her parents’ argument – especially not if her mom had heard everything she had said. Including the bit about her father telling her he wished she was never born. Wincing, she quickened her steps. She really didn’t want to be here for that.

But her mother coming to her defense – she didn’t quite know what to make of that. It was obvious that her mom was not the same woman she used to be. She was in her corner, Camila was almost sure of that now. Maybe she even had a valid reason why she was okay with befriending gay people and not liking the idea of having a lesbian as a daughter. Perhaps it had only been an overreaction of her to assume things. She only needed to ask.

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A/N: Okay, I hope this wasn’t too bad. I can promise that the next update will not take another year, haha. If you liked the chapter and are not too mad at me for the hiatus…

♦ tumblr wattpad ♦

#UPDATE #series #AU #slash #camren #angst drama #submission #A Light in the Dark

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