#he’d have perfection within the first two years and spend the rest of his time decorating his farm and waiting for delgal to come back

[mapletine]

stardew valley thistle ☆

his junimos are unionizing

[nyoomerr]

For the drabble request, I can never get enough shixiong!SY bingqiu. But only if you're up to it :)

ok it turns out i'm fundamentally unable to write a drabble as short as theyre meant to be, so here's over 4k words of shixiong!sy for your perusal 🤡 (+ a decent helping of cranky peak lord sqq and his wayward head disciple sy)

---

Shen Yuan… has possibly let himself become a bit too relaxed, since he first transmigrated. He used to spend every day on high alert: every cute little kid might be the protagonist, every mistake he made might have been logged somewhere for a petty revenge side plot later. He wouldn’t dare miss anything plot relevant, not when it might cause his doom. After all, ‘Shen Yuan’ wasn’t even a named character within PIDW - he was well and truly canon fodder!

But then, ah… Then Shen Yuan was accepted as a disciple on Qing Jing, and then he was a personal disciple of the notorious Shen Qingqiu, and then - 

Well, not even Shen Yuan can keep up that sort of hyper vigilance all the time, okay!! He’s the scum villain’s head disciple - basically a henchman! If he lived in fear for every moment he might be condemned, he’d never have a second to rest!

It isn’t Shen Yuan’s fault that the best way to relax in this world is to go on years-long expeditions off peak! 

…It might, maybe, be just a tiny bit my fault, Shen Yuan thinks, staring at Luo Binghe with horror. How does he manage to take such a long vacation that he misses the protagonist’s arrival onto Qing Jing? What kind of fake fan is he, ah?!

Luo Binghe has not introduced himself as such, but there is no way he can be anyone but Luo Binghe. His hair falls into perfect curls around a face so cute and round Shen Yuan wants to squish his cheeks until they turn pink, and he’s wearing an expression so determined and focused that it puts Shen Yuan to shame as the head disciple.

And he’s chopping wood. That’s the most recognizable part, obviously. 

Shen Yuan forces himself to step forward into the small glade he found Luo Binghe in, clearing his throat awkwardly. Luo Binghe whips around, and Shen Yuan nearly cringes at the nervous apprehension on the boy’s face.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to startle you…” Shen Yuan trails off. Luo Binghe stares at him and says nothing. Shen Yuan’s perfectly nice and friendly smile starts to slip. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before…?”

“Apologies to Shixiong, this one will be sure to cut wood further away from the main peak buildings, so Shixiong doesn’t have to see me again.”

“Wha - wait, wait, that’s not what I meant!” Shen Yuan cries, becoming increasingly concerned about just how long he’s been away from Qing Jing. 

For Luo Binghe to already be this wary of any Shixiong who looks his way… ah, Shen Yuan has basically already failed every single one of his loose plans to keep Luo Binghe from blackening! He wasn’t even there to witness Luo Binghe’s initial perfect white sheep days, let alone keep him out of the warpath of bullies and bitter Shizuns!

“This Shixiong is Shen Yuan,” he says, taking a few slow steps closer to Luo Binghe. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he has to be ready to catch Luo Binghe by the scruff if he tries to run off or start a fight while Shen Yuan is just trying to introduce himself, ah!

“This one is Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe replies, dipping into a perfunctory bow.

“Yes!” Shen Yuan says. “I mean - well, it’s a good name.”

Luo Binghe’s expression only grows more wary. 

“And ah, how long has Luo Binghe been on the peak?” Shen Yuan asks, even though the look Luo Binghe is giving him makes him want to slink back off into the bamboo forest. He has to know - if he’s lucky, it’ll only have been a year or two, and Shen Yuan can -

“This one has been a disciple of Qing Jing for over three years, now,” Luo Binghe says.

“Hm!” Shen Yuan says, because what he really wants to do is yell but he can’t do that with this customer service smile plastered on his face. 

Inwardly, he allows himself to monologue out a list of swears that would’ve gotten his old online accounts temporarily locked. Over three years is too long!! The blackening has already started!! Luo Binghe has already started damaging his meridians by following that cursed fake manual, has already started training under Meng Mo, and most importantly has already given up hope of being accepted here and started farming resentment instead!

Shen Yuan is fucked!! What sort of half-assed blackening prevention plan starts this late!?

“Ah, so Luo-shidi must already be 15, or nearly there,” Shen Yuan says aloud, laughing nervously. “Are you, um, sure?”

Please, please tell this pitiful Shixiong of yours that you just misspoke!!

Luo Binghe looks at him like he’s an idiot. Shen Yuan can feel nervous sweat beading along his forehead.

“It’s just - well, Luo-shidi is quite small, for being 15,” Shen Yuan says, and then nearly bites his tongue in an attempt to correct himself. Who is he to call the protagonist ‘small,’ ah!! “Not quite small! Only a bit! Only - uh, only slightly smaller than I’d expect! It’s only that I’m already 19, and Luo-shidi is much - I mean only a little! - shorter than I am, so -”

Shen Yuan makes himself shut up. You’re making a fool of yourself in front of the protagonist, you idiot!

“This one will be sure to train more to get bigger,” Luo Binghe says, though it sounds a bit like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

“No, no, you’re training plenty!” Shen Yuan rushes to say. “Uh, that is - admittedly, I’ve been off peak for some time now, but when I was Luo-shidi’s age, things like chopping wood were a group chore, so if you’re managing it all by yourself, surely you’re… big and strong…”

Shen Yuan shuts up again. Luo Binghe stares at him some more, but there’s something in his expression that seems more considering that it had been just a moment ago.

After a long stretch of awkward silence, he seems to come to some sort of resolution, and takes a hesitant step towards Shen Yuan.

“Forgive this one’s ignorance,” he says, slow and careful. “The other Shixiong said it was a chore best done alone to build strength. Is that wrong?”

“Very wrong,” Shen Yuan says, nearly beside himself with relief. 

Good, very good! Luo Binghe hasn’t lost all hope for his time on Qing Jing Peak just yet, after all! Given the chance, he’ll still try to carefully raise the issue of his bullying to a responsible Shixiong to take care of!

Shen Yuan can so be a responsible Shixiong that takes care of reports of bullying for Luo Binghe!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says, edging even closer to Shen Yuan. “Then what does Shen-shixiong think I should do?”

“Luo-shidi doesn’t have to do anything about this,” Shen Yuan says firmly. “This Shixiong will take care of finding out who’s meant to be sharing this chore with you and make them do the rest of it.”

“There might be multiple people,” Luo Binghe offers, still speaking with a caution that makes it quite clear how likely he thinks it is that Shen Yuan’s assistance will vanish as soon as Luo Binghe complains too much. 

“Because Luo-shidi has been made to do this chore alone for many days, now?” Shen Yuan asks. 

Still looking a bit wary, Luo Binghe nods. Shen Yuan sighs, having expected that answer, and takes the final steps needed to get within arm’s reach of Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe watches him closely, his hands curling tighter around the ax he’d been using to chop the wood. 

Moving slowly so as not to spook him, Shen Yuan raises one hand to place gently on Luo Binghe’s head. He really is too short for 15, but Shen Yuan knows all the details of ‘why’ - having to work too hard with not enough rest, having meals withheld from him or being served with spoilt ingredients - any kid would be a bit small, when under those conditions.

Luo Binghe had gone stiff under Shen Yuan’s touch, and Shen Yuan takes a moment to pet the top of his head for a moment before saying anything else, hoping to get Luo Binghe to relax again. 

Ah, I really did mean to try and keep you safe, Shen Yuan thinks to himself, feeling regretful. He’d come to Cang Qiong with the intention of finding Luo Binghe early, after all, and had worked as hard as he had in order to be ready for Luo Binghe when he came.

But then he had worked too hard, and Shen Qingqiu had promoted him to head disciple, and suddenly Shen Yuan thought he might go insane if he wasn’t able to get off Qing Jing Peak and stay off for as long as he could possibly get away with, and - 

How stupid of him. Luo Binghe must have been taken in during the disciple selection the very same year that Shen Yuan had taken off on his extended field trip. How very, very stupid of Shen Yuan, to think that things wouldn’t go upside down the second he looked away - this is Luo Binghe’s story, after all, and it’s always been a bit of a tragedy.

“Then this Shixiong can only apologize to you,” Shen Yuan says softly, with perhaps just a bit too much sincerity. “And in the future, if you’re given this sort of work again, I’ll chop wood in your place.”

Under his hand, Luo Binghe peers up at Shen Yuan with wide, hungry eyes. Shen Yuan gives him a final pat before withdrawing his hand, and plasters his friendly smile back on his face. 

“Now, why don’t you get cleaned up, hm? I’ll meet you again later - this Shixiong of yours still needs to report back to Shizun that I’ve returned from my trip.”

Luo Binghe nods, still watching Shen Yuan with an intensity that would feel more at home on an emperor than a scrawny 15 year old, and Shen Yuan beats a hasty retreat.

Despite all the pretty promises he made to Luo Binghe, he’s going to have to think of something clever to actually be able to fulfill them.

After all, not even all of his meta knowledge combined would be able to save Shen Yuan from his Shizun.

---

Shen Yuan has been pacing outside Shen Qingqiu’s bamboo house for ten minutes now. Nothing he can think of is good enough to convince someone as petty and stubborn as Shen Qingqiu. 

Once, at the start of his time on Qing Jing Peak, Shen Yuan had tied his disciple robes wrong, unused to wearing anything quite so complex. Shen Qingqiu had sneered at his mistake in the moment, and then for every major event in the next five years straight he’d made a point to comment snidely on how well Shen Yuan has managed to dress himself.

That’s the sort of mean streak this man has!! If he doesn’t like something, he’ll keep harping on that one thing for years, even after that thing isn’t around to bother him anymore! How is Shen Yuan supposed to coax Luo Binghe out of the jaws of a man like that?

Ah, forget it, forget it! Shen Yuan would just - he’d come back another day! Greeting Shen Qingqiu wasn’t really necessary, Shen Yuan could just -

“I was under the impression that Shen Yuan was a head disciple returning from field work, not a child trying to avoid bedtime.”

Shen Yuan whips around, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end like a spooked cat. There, kneeling elegantly on his front porch not ten meters from Shen Yuan, is Shen Qingqiu.

“Shizun!” Shen Yuan cries, trying to force his grimace into a nice, polite smile. “When did - I mean - this disciple means -”

Shen Qingqiu closes his fan with a harsh snap, and Shen Yuan shuts his mouth so fast he almost bites his tongue.

“Well?” Shen Qingqiu asks dryly, and Shen Yuan hurriedly drops into a bow. 

“This disciple greets Shizun!” Shen Yuan shouts, his ears burning with embarrassment. 

Shen Qingqiu hums, and Shen Yuan risks peeking out from his bow to look at him. 

He does not look especially pleased.

With all the elegance of a wild cat, Shen Qingqiu unfolds himself from his kneeling position on the porch and glides over to Shen Yuan. 

“Too low,” he says, slapping at Shen Yuan’s wrists with his fan. “Or was Shen Yuan hoping there would be a replacement head disciple waiting for him by the time he came back from his trip?”

“Ahahaha,” Shen Yuan wheezes, carefully correcting himself into a bow of a slightly higher ranked disciple than the one he’d originally slipped into. “Of course this disciple is honored by the position and very very grateful for Shizun’s benevolence in leaving it to him even during his absence…”

“What advice does Shen Yuan think his Shizun has for him?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply, and Shen Yuan winces.

“‘Talk less,’ Shizun,” he recites dutifully. It is advice that Shen Qingqiu has given him many, many times.

Shen Qingqiu sniffs haughtily and walks a slow circle around Shen Yuan, inspecting him. Shen Yuan tries not to sweat too profusely. He really had been hoping that Shen Qingqiu may have forgotten about Shen Yuan in his years away, ah!

Finally, Shen Qingqiu completes his inspection, stopping once more in front of Shen Yuan. 

“What sort of pathetic creature has Shen Yuan carved the bones of to make his hairpiece?” He asks, using his fan to prod at Shen Yuan’s hairpin.

“A Hundred Year Crystal Tortoise, Shizun,” Shen Yuan answers.

“And the leather of your belt?”

“A Golden-Footed Acidic Bear, Shizun.”

“And did you even bother to remove the -”

“- the needle hairs beneath the Bear’s skin before treating the pelt,” Shen Yuan interrupts. “Yes, Shizun.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “How bold you’ve gotten, interrupting your Shizun.”

“...Sorry, Shizun,” Shen Yuan mumbles, deflating a bit.

“Still,” Shen Qingqiu sighs, and Shen Yuan peeks back up at him again. “You did decent enough, I suppose.”

Shen Yuan perks up, half-standing up out of his bow. “Thanking Shizun -!”

Shen Qingqiu whacks him over the head with his fan. “If Shen Yuan’s trip had been only a single year, instead of nearly four!”

Shen Yuan very quickly gets back into the proper deferential position. 

“Fleeing so quickly after being promoted, only to stay away for this long - I hope Shen Yuan is comfortable sleeping on the ground, because I’ve long since given up keeping the side room in my house for an absent head disciple. I filled it with cursed artifacts and dusty books two years ago.”

“Shizun -!” Shen Yuan protests, starting to stand up again. He’d liked that little room, damn it! It was the one decent part of being promoted to head disciple in the first place, even if it meant sharing a roof with this asshole!!

Shen Qingqiu whacks him again, and Shen Yuan obediently shuts up.

“Foolish boy,” he scolds, before promptly turning on his heel to stalk back to the bamboo house. “Hurry up, then,” he calls behind him, “I want to see if you still make tea as dreadfully as you did before.”

Shen Yuan makes a face at Shen Qingqiu’s back. Without looking behind him, Shen Qingqiu uses his qi to send a single leaf flying to Shen Yuan’s head, slapping him on the forehead right over where Shen Yuan’s brows had bunched together.

Shen Yuan smooths his face out into a perfectly polite smile once more. This asshole, he curses inwardly, he really is scum!! The lowest of the low!! A bully!!!

“Tea, Shen Yuan,” Shen Qingqiu calls once more, and Shen Yuan hurries to catch up.

---

Later, after Shen Yuan has dutifully given a retelling of his adventures over the last few years, and after Shen Qingqiu has grilled him on every mistake he made and how stupid that was of him and how shitty his tea still tastes, Shen Yuan finally manages to bring up Luo Binghe.

“This disciple met someone new this morning,” he says, pouring Shen Qingqiu more of his apparently awful tea. 

“Was Shen Yuan sure they were new? Perhaps it’s been so many years your brain has started to forget the faces of the idiots here in favor of whatever foolish beasts you’ve been studying.”

“Someone new,” Shen Yuan confirms, pretending to ignore Shen Qingqiu’s very pointed glare. “He was a disciple even younger than Ning-shimei, and you only picked her out the year before I left.”

“Ah,” Shen Qingqiu says, and all of a sudden Shen Yuan thinks that perhaps his Shizun has never been truly irritated with him in the past, because this expression is far more acidic than anything Shen Yuan has seen before.

“A-ah…?” Shen Yuan says, stupidly.

Shen Jiu sets his cup down with a harsh clink. “Shen Yuan should ignore that little beast. He won’t bring you any good news.”

“Shizun, this disciple likes beasts best,” Shen Yuan says. “Is he so bad?”

“Ignore him,” Shen Qingqiu repeats frostily. 

Shen Yuan swallows. This… there’s no way that he’ll be able to convince Shen Qingqiu to give Luo Binghe an honest shot in this one conversation. He can’t bet on being able to eventually wear him down, though, either - even if he does eventually convince him, if it takes a year to do it, that’s also not any good. Shen Yuan needs to be able to help Luo Binghe now.

Okay. This is fine. Shen Yuan has - he has so many very good ideas, all of them very well thought out and full of strategic benefits. He can use any one of these very good and smart ideas.

“I understand, Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, “That beast won’t be a shidi of mine, then.”

“Good, now -”

“But what about as a pet?”

Shen Qingqiu stares at him. Shen Yuan stares back.

“A pet,” Shen Qingqiu repeats. 

“A pet,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Shizun, I already said that I like beasts best - if I can’t raise Luo Binghe to be my shidi, can’t I raise him as my pet instead?”

“Don’t be foolish,” Shen Qingqiu snaps. “Beasts aren’t for keeping.”

“Sometimes they are - Cang Qiong has a whole peak dedicated to such a thing,” Shen Yuan points out. Shen Qingqiu’s scowl grows more fierce. 

“Qing Jing is above such dirty work,” he spits.

Shen Yuan swallows again, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. He’s already started down this path; he may as well place all his bets on making it through.

“Then perhaps Qing Jing is not for this disciple after all,” Shen Yuan says, trying to keep his voice steady. It still comes out a bit reedy, but at the very least, his voice doesn’t crack over the words. 

Shen Qingqiu’s eye twitches. “Speak plainly - Shen Yuan has already spent several years neglecting his duties. How much farther do you intend to stray?”

“Shizun so graciously held the position of head disciple open for this one,” Shen Yuan hedges. “On that topic, isn’t it possible for head disciples to choose to spend a decade or so on a different peak of their choice, to encourage diversity in education and cross-peak relationships before the head disciple becomes beholden to their peak as a lord? Perhaps I could take in a pet on a different peak, with such a method.”

“That’s a custom reserved for older disciples,” Shen Qingqiu spits, “intended to benefit them in the years directly leading up to their ascension as a peak lord, not when the head disciple is just a little whelp with a century ahead of them before they can wear a lord’s crown.”

“No such rule is written anywhere, Shizun.”

“Then I’ll write it,” Shen Qingqiu hisses. “Shen Yuan, you’ve had your fun these past years - now you are to stay on this peak.”

“Then I want a pet,” Shen Yuan says, tilting his head up defiantly. “It’ll benefit Shizun, too: you won’t have to feed or clothe him anymore, nor train him to be a cultivator.”

Not that you were doing any of those things for Luo Binghe before, ah!! Shen Yuan thinks, trying to focus on that feeling of indignation. If he just thinks about that - about the horror of coming across Luo Binghe in that clearing earlier, too scrawny to be 15 and yet wary enough of the world he may as well have been an adult - then Shen Yuan can hold his ground. 

If he just thinks about Luo Binghe as a neglected kid, and he just thinks of Shen Qingqiu as that child’s abuser -

If he just thinks about that, then Shen Yuan can meet the eyes of the man who has taught him and promoted him and housed him in the side room of his house, and he can demand this one thing.

“With what funds would Shen Yuan be able to feed and clothe his pet?” Shen Qingqiu asks sharply. “With what free time would he train him not to bite?”

“This one is the head disciple of Qing Jing Peak,” Shen Yuan says. “If a head disciple couldn’t manage that much, they certainly couldn’t deserve to ascend as a peak lord in the future.”

Shen Qingqiu falls silent, unfurling his fan and raising it high up his face until only his eyes peered out the top of it, watching Shen Yuan. Shen Yuan’s hands twist in his lap, but he keeps his gaze steady.

“A head disciple does not run away from the position,” Shen Qingqiu says. 

“Nor does a master run off from their pet,” Shen Yuan agrees.

There’s another moment of quiet as they both watch each other. When Shen Qingqiu speaks again, his voice is firm, like someone reciting basic peak rules and not the terms of the most batshit insane agreement Shen Yuan has ever brokered.

“You will stay on Qing Jing,” Shen Qingqiu says, “and you will accept the head discipleship position without fuss.”

“Yes, Shizun.”

“No more trips. No more pretending to forget to introduce yourself as my head disciple. No more pushing your pathetic disciple brothers at me with paperwork that you clearly filled out in some sort of foolish scheme to have me consider them over you.”

Shen Yuan winces. “Yes, Shizun.”

“You will not receive any additional allowance, for any reason, outside of the funds normally provided to a head disciple. Any pests you pick up will not sleep in my house, nor will you be allowed to request room in the dormitories for any such creature. Those resources are for disciples, not beasts.”

Shen Yuan hesitates. Luo Binghe can’t sleep in the rundown woodshed forever, and he wants to protest the idea that the dorms are for disciples, as if Luo Binghe was ever allowed in there in the first place.

Shen Qingqiu taps one finger on the table. “Answer, Shen Yuan.”

“This disciple agrees under one condition,” Shen Yuan says. “Using his personal funds, this disciple would like to request permission to make moderate renovations to a peak structure in order to improve the quality of kept wood.”

Shen Qingqiu scoffs. “Disciple Shen Yuan’s personal funds will be drained by feeding an animal - you will not be able to afford the standards that Qing Jing exacts for renovation projects.”

“This disciple has been collecting favors from An Ding. They will be repaid, and this disciple will be able to afford the project.”

“Shen Yuan had best not be caught collecting any such favors forcibly,” Shen Qingqiu warns, which is very distinctly a ‘don’t get caught blackmailing people’ warning and not a blanket ‘don’t blackmail people’ one.

“Of course,” Shen Yuan agrees. “This one is the personal disciple of Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu - how could I get caught in such a way?”

Read: you’ve made sure I understand how to not get caught when doing something shady, at the very least!!

Shen Qingqiu waves his fan once, twice - he’s irritated, but doesn’t necessarily disagree.

“Fine,” he says at last. “Permission for a renovation to that ugly woodshed is granted. And Shen Yuan’s answer to all other stipulations?”

“This disciple agrees.”

Shen Qingqiu slaps his fan closed in one palm. “Then Shen Yuan is allowed a pet. I won’t interfere further.”

Shen Yuan nods. He expected as much; Shen Qingqiu won’t egg on any further bullying, nor will he stop Shen Yuan from taking any measures he pleases when it comes to Luo Binghe, but he won’t help Shen Yuan dissuade the current bullying.

That’s fine - already, this is enough to help Luo Binghe.

“Thanking Shizun,” Shen Yuan says, bowing his head slightly. “This disciple will not disappoint.”

After all, how hard could raising the protagonist be? This world revolves around Luo Binghe; all Shen Yuan needs to do is make Luo Binghe’s everyday life a bit less miserable, give him just one person he can trust. Luo Binghe will manage the rest himself, by nature of being who he is - what he is. 

Yes, this - this is the best way.

---

Outside the bamboo house, crouched beneath a window so still his muscles ache and his head feels woozy from how shallow he’s kept his breathing, Luo Binghe listens to his Shizun and Shixiong move on to discuss cleaning out the side room now that Shen Yuan has returned to the peak.

A pet, he thinks, his eyes blown wide, his fingers digging deep into the ground beneath his knees. He can feel dirt caking the underside of his fingernails, and the scars he leaves in the ground are very much like an animal, indeed.

A pet, he thinks again, over and over on loop in his mind, his pretty Shixiong’s voice fading to background noise. He thinks of Shen Yuan gently patting his head like one might coax a dog, and he thinks -

Yes, a pet.

[hauntedhokage]

Pollen Count

Kakashi Hatake/F!Reader

Summary: While on a mission to deliver documents, you and Kakashi stop for the night in a place where you probably shouldn’t. Something in the air didn’t feel quite right, despite everything else feeling perfect. Cross posted to AO3

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: sex pollen, dub!con, f!receiving oral, blindfolds, fingering, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

Note: I was struck by Kakashi brain rot during my Naruto re-watch. 

It was supposed to be a simple delivery task. There was a chance of enemy ninja, which made it not quite so simple as just delivering a couple pieces of paper. The nature of the documents required that two jounin be sent to take care of it. You didn’t know who the other jounin was, Tsunade said she had to do some reorganization of some squads to get you the backup you’d need since this document was now top priority over a couple reconnaissance and recovery missions. 

It wasn’t your job to know what was in it that made it so important, but you were very interested in who your partner would be. Hopefully entertaining but at the very least could keep up conversation. It was a long journey to the Hidden Sand, to spend it in silence felt like a fate worse than death. Team compatibility could be what made the difference between a mission’s success and failure, after all.

“Oh, sorry I’m late.”

Kakashi? Oh this was going to be interesting, indeed.

“Helping an elderly woman with her shopping? At dawn?” you take your guess as his excuse, smile on your face as he rubs the back of his neck. 

“Sure, let’s go with that. You have the cargo?”

You only pat your vest where the scroll was contained, and he nods before he suggests that you get going. And so you set out, being sure to act as casual as two shinobi heading out on a mission could. Nobody knew about the scroll, so it was imperative that you not act like you had anything that anybody else would want to see.

“We should probably think about camping somewhere or finding an inn to stay at for the night,” Kakashi suggests as the sun begins to set, and you nod before stopping to stand on a tree branch. “Which would you prefer?”

“Let’s get back on the road, and if we can’t find an inn by nightfall then we can set up camp.” At this time of year, it’d be dark in about forty-five minutes. Time wasn’t on your side if your hope was to sleep on a surface softer than your bedroll on the grass. Though there might have been an inn nearby, but you weren’t confident that you hadn’t passed it already due to how fast you and Kakashi had been moving.

For all your hoping, you’d been proven correct in your assumption that’d you’d passed the inn you’d been thinking of and that left you only moderately deflated as you turned off the main road with Kakashi to find a suitable campsite. Off the beaten path but flat was the goal, and you look through some tall shrubbery and smile when you see a clearing. It was really quite the scene with healthy grass, some flowers, and the river wasn’t too far away. The trees provided ample coverage, too, so it really did feel quite secluded. There was something in the air, too, something that put you at ease. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you also knew that you needed to stay on your guard while on a mission even if the environment told you otherwise. Something about deception and things being too good to be true. 

Kakashi offers to take the first watch, and you tuck yourself into your sleeping bag with hopes of getting some rest. Only it’s too warm, so you remove yourself from within the sleeping bag to instead lay on it in hopes that it’d be more comfortable. Only now it’s your vest that feels too heavy, so you sit up to remove it and take a moment to roll your shoulders. Kakashi was here, you were safe to lose that protective padding to get some sleep if that’s what it took. 

“Are you alright?” He asks from his perch in the tree, and you look up to see that he’d been watching you. “You seem uncomfortable down there.”

“Does it feel hot to you, Kakashi?” you ask, almost tempted to pull your shirt off but knowing that wasn’t the wisest move you could make. But it was so hot and starting to rub you the wrong way so it needed to go. Sooner rather than later. “It’s so hot out here.”

“It’s a bit warm, yeah, but I’ve been trying to tune it out.” He’s kneeling in front of you now, pressing his wrist to your forehead. You can’t see the frown, but you hear it when he sighs before he tells you that you’re running a fever. “You’re just hot, though? Not nauseous or anything else?”

“I honestly felt fine until just now when I was trying to lay down.” But you’re acutely aware of the fact that he’s still got his wrist pressed to your forehead, and now there’s his other hand on your shoulder and contributing to the heat you felt. “But now I’m just hot, and my clothes feel wrong.”

“Does it feel heavy?”

“Kinda, just rubbing me the wrong way, y’know?”

“Yeah.” So he was feeling it too, and that both relieves you and horrifies you at the same time. What if your perfect campsite was just a massive trap? That’d be just fantastic if all this was your fault. “It’s not a genjutsu, and there are no chakra signatures anywhere near us either. It’s almost like there’s something in the air.”

Something in the air? That was what you had felt earlier, but that something wasn’t making you hot. Kakashi’s hands on you were not helping, but instead were contributing to a different type of heat in your core that was not easy to ignore either. Where was the light and easy feeling that you’d had previously? Where did that go?

“I have to get out of these clothes, Kakashi.” You hope you sound calm, like you know what you’re doing, but you couldn’t even really think straight.

“We have to get out of here, we’ll deal with our symptoms once we’re out of the hot zone.”

“I am the hot zone right now!”

“And we need to figure that out, but losing your cool is not going to help. We’re not going to go far, there’s another clearing nearby and I think we should be okay there. Let’s gather our things and move.” The instruction is clear and, despite how awful your clothes felt against your skin, you follow them without question. By the time you’ve settled in the new campsite you can’t stop yourself, taking your shirt off with your vest and laying back against the cool grass in hopes that it’ll help you relax - even just a little bit. 

The air felt different here, sure, but you still felt too hot. A look to your left tells you that Kakashi was feeling the heat too, since he’d removed his vest and was trying to fan cool air onto his skin. There was another more obvious problem just south of the hem of his shirt, but you avert your gaze from your partner to keep from potentially making him uncomfortable.  

“Doing okay?” he asks, and you shake your head since you were still feeling too hot even with your shirt being off and cool air hitting your skin. 

“Still too hot, but I’m running out of layers,” you mumble, jumping nearly out of your skin when you feel his hand on your stomach. How he got there that fast was not a question you’d waste time on, since the man did train with Gai. What was more pressing was the physical contact he’d initiated, all he really needed to do was move that hand just a bit further south and you were certain that’d either fix everything and make the problem worse - but such was the shinobi way of life. “That’s not helping.”

“I thought not,” he mumbled, and you chance looking up at him only to feel yourself get so much warmer when you see him looking down at you. There’s something unfamiliar in his eye, and that has you equal parts excited and concerned at what that look could mean. “The air is different here, so we must have inhaled something back there.”

How was he still so functional? You couldn’t give a damn about what could have you feeling this way, there were more pressing matters such as your body feeling like it was on fire and the growing discomfort with how wet your underwear was getting. 

“Please stop talking,” you whine, your hand grabbing his wrist. His pulse is racing beneath his skin, his thumb starting to move against your skin until you let out another whine at the contact. “But keep touching me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Only if you want to.” 

He shakes his head, and you’re not sure what it is he’s trying to convey but you err on the safe side and release his wrist. You’re ready to sit yourself up, go hide behind a tree so you could rub this out and get it over with, but his hand stays firm on your stomach to keep you in place as he leans in to get close to your ear. 

“We shouldn’t do this, but I can’t pull myself away from you when I’m like this and you’re so willing.”

If he wasn’t wearing that mask, you’d kiss him right now. But he is, and that brings you to let him go so you could move the placement of your headband so it’d cover your eyes. Kakashi had to be uncomfortable in the mask, this was how you could ensure that he could be more comfortable while you both were dealing with the side effects of whatever the hell you’d breathed in. You hear him sigh before his hand leaves your stomach, and you pick up on the rustling of his clothes before his mouth is on yours and his hand is pushing at the waistband of your pants. Your hand starts to move, but is quickly pinned into the grass by Kakashi’s other hand as he moves to straddle you. 

“Please behave, I’m struggling to contain myself as it is.” The warning has you nodding, but your hips move of their own volition in an attempt to get some friction where you most need it. He pauses above you, then his hands are gone from you only to work at pulling your pants and underwear down. 

Your mouth falls open when his fingers push between your folds, the fire burning inside sated by the contact that has you relaxing into the grass. You hadn’t realized just how large Kakashi’s hands were until he had two fingers inside of you working to stretch you open more, and you knew you’d be fixated on those hands long after this situation was over and dealt with. A bridge to be crossed later, if you remembered after all this was over and done with. 

A forearm is pressed to your hip, those two fingers part your folds, and you sigh when his tongue slides through to lap at your essence while his thumb circles your already over-sensitive clit. Another orgasm comes and goes before you can process it, your hands moving to his hair to try and pull him away. Instead, his other hand comes to replace his tongue, two fingers pushing into your cunt easily while his thumb continues to play with your clit. 

“Are you going to come already?” He sounds amused, but you can’t formulate the words that you need to tell him off or tell him that he was right. “You can come, it’s alright. Let me taste you.”

You’re going to blame your current state on the fact that you were able to come just by him telling you to, that truly had to be it. But he sounds pleased and you’re ready to cry when he continues to lick and suck at your quivering pussy until you’re practically begging him to pull back and fuck you proper. You just needed him to fill you now, fill you and keep you full and fuck the neediness out of you. 

“Ask and you shall receive.” There’s more rustling, and you wish you could see what he was doing and how he was looking at you but the headband remains in place to keep your vision obscured. 

The blunt tip of his cock coming to rest between your folds has your eyes closing behind the headband, your fingers digging into the soft soil beneath you as he presses forward and stretches you. There’s no time or consideration for adjustments, you’d wager that Kakashi’s patience has worn out given the situation, and you’re not complaining since this is what you needed.

“Just stay put,” he breathes into your ear, his hand taking yours and pressing it into the grass beside your head. He’s still moving his hips against yours even as he speaks, the heat and desperation radiating off of him in waves as he presses a kiss to your cheek before he gently bites at your jawline. “Stay put and let me take care of us, will you do that?”

You nod, your compliance earning you another kiss before he’s pulling out. Before you have the chance to complain, he’s turning you over and pulling your hips up so you’d be propped up on your knees in front of him before he’s pushing back into you. There was no gentleness, no careful consideration of the environment, this was Kakashi on a mission to get you both off and hopefully stop whatever had gotten you both so worked up. His hands grip your hips hard enough that you’re certain there would be ten little bruises decorating your skin later, and he muffles his own sounds of pleasure by biting into your shoulder, it hurts but in the best way possible as he fucks into you at a pace you could only describe as being brutal. There was no rhythm or thought to it, he needed to get off as badly as you did. 

“You feel so good, y’know that?” he breathes into your ear, every other word punctuated by a grunt that has you weaker than the one before. There’s a new heat burning inside you, this one you knew how to cope with, and you move your hand so that you could rub at your clit only to hand Kakashi grab your hand and press it back into the ground. “I said stay put and let me take care of you. You need to come?”

You nod, your head falling forward into the grass when his fingers make contact with your clit. At this point you think your body may be too sensitive, and that has you arching back into him at the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers against the nerve bundle.

“Stop running from me.”

“Sensitive,” is all you can gasp out, fingers digging into the grass once again as Kakashi chuckles in your ear. “Please, I’m so close Kakashi.”

This time you stay put when his fingers graze your clit, and you feel all coherent thoughts leave you as your body continues to rock with his as his fingers begin rubbing quick circles while his thrusts increase in pace. All that mattered was him and your approaching orgasm, anything else would have to wait until you could breathe normally again. A thrust punctuated by a pinch to your clit has your body going rigid beneath his, and he’s talking you through the orgasm until his own hips stutter and he also stills. 

An arm moves around your waist, bringing you with him when he moves to lay on his side. The headband is moved but you keep your eyes closed even though your back was to him, not wanting to chance seeing his face. Things felt a bit more clear, but now you weren’t sure where the source of the heat was coming from now - the unknown inhalant or the close proximity to Kakashi. The grass was helping, though, which told you it was likely Kakashi making you feel so warm.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit,” you whisper, staying on your side while he lies on his back. “How come you were so functional? We were both exposed for the same amount of time?”

“My mask must have acted as a filter. I had it off to eat, though, which was likely where I got truly exposed.” You’re quiet after that, really trying to think about it but your critical thinking still wasn’t truly there. You’d give yourself a headache if you tried, you were sure, so you choose not to think about it for now. “Well I’m going to keep watch, you need your rest if we’re going to continue the mission.”

“What if it’s not fully out of our systems? Shouldn’t we go back to the village for treatment?” You’re sitting up now, still looking away since you weren’t sure if it was safe to look at him yet, but the cold air on your back does feel nice. 

“I think we’ve established that we’re pretty decent at dealing with the side effects, no need to delay by going back to the village if we can handle it ourselves.” That has you looking at him, not at all caring about whether he was masked or not. He didn’t truly mean he’d fuck you all the way to the Sand Village if that was necessary, did he? “I think that’s the fun part, don’t you?”

This man was going to be the death of you, you were certain of that.

[abitofboth]

owen carvour hcs because he’s in my brain always

he's very reservedly sentimental. the things in his life that mean a lot to him will always have a special place in his heart, but he'd never tell anyone that. his favourite childhood book, a lighter curt gifted him, old letters and photographs etc.

his favourite childhood book is the hobbit. when he was a kid he'd draw in the margins and go through and underline his favourite parts. his childhood pet was a fluffy cat called bilbo!!

left handed. constantly curses out his pens when he's writing and gets ink smudges all over his hand.

an only child, and was never really that close with his parents. his relationship with them grew strained once they found out he was gay.

would happily never interact with a dog for the rest of his life if he could help it. (too slobbery, loud, and boisterous for his liking.)

biiiiig smoker. his hands get twitchy if he hasn't had a cig in a while. he constantly spews some bs about the refined taste of tobacco.

similarly he's a big time wine snob. he gets offended if you suggest it tastes like vinegar and he'll try with all his might to convince you that the aromatics matter.

definitely has a sprinkling of road rage in him. in his opinion he is always in the right, and everyone else on the road needs their license taken from them.

teeny tiny tattoo on his hip of two intertwined mars symbols (♂)

'love' is a name he uses for pretty much everyone on accounts of him being british, but he's much more fond of using 'darling' and 'sweetheart' as pet names when it's just him and curt.

he LOVES the quiet moments between him and curt when they get to spend the night together. watching over him as he falls asleep and running his fingers through his hair are some of his favourite things to do.

he can be surprisingly bashful! talk sweet to him and he’ll blush like hell. pepper kisses over him and he’ll be squirming and giggling like there’s no tomorrow.

he's welsh but moved to london when he was a teenager. he taught himself to speak in an rp accent so he wouldn't be looked down on, and it just kind of stuck. not many people know that he's welsh, not necessarily because he doesn't tell anyone but no one’s ever asked because as far as everyone else is aware, he’s as english as you can get. when he's tired he can slip back into his old accent, and he uses the odd welsh word every now and then around people close to him (mostly curt.)

the first house he lived in in london got destroyed during the blitz, and luckily most of what few possessions he owned survived. he doesn't like to talk about his time during the war often.

after the fall, he gets tinnitus and his hearing is far from as good as it used to be. he lost his right eye, and the glass eye chimera got him has never quite been a perfect colour match. he has trouble with his knee, and has a decent amount of scarring over his body.

post fall there's a part of him that still loves curt, and desperately misses what used to be. it's mostly overpowered by the hatred within him, but the love rears its head out every now and again and catches him off guard.

he likes to cook, but he's kinda shit at it. he doesn't get much practice on accounts of being a spy, so whenever he does cook, something inevitably goes wrong.

once, he'd moved into a new flat and had curt round as his first guest and tried to cook him dinner. it ended up burning and there were full on flames in the frying pan. (curt still takes the piss out of him for this years later.)

he's a bit of a loner, but enjoys his own company for the most part. outside of curt he doesn't really have any close friends, and he isn't in contact with his family.

he has an angry streak in him. he’s easily riled up and the first emotion he goes to is barely concealed rage. he yells more often than he’d like to.

he hates using the term 'boyfriend' to describe curt. he thinks it makes him sound juvenile and he prefers 'partner' way more. plus, he can get away with introducing curt without giving away the fact that they’re together. (he also loves calling curt his 'best friend' in the most romantic sense possible.)

this! bitch! loves! musicals! the wizard of oz is a favourite of his, and he has a soft spot for disney’s cinderella. he has an extra fondness for the term ‘friend of dorothy’ because of this too.

tea over coffee always. two sugars and a splash of milk, not too weak but not too strong.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 25: June III

{{ Chapter 24: May II | Epilogue }} Chapter Directory

I for real feel like I'm grieving! This was my first published and completed fic in a VERY VERY long time and, as frustrating as it was sometimes, I'm so glad that y'all took this journey with me 😭

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, alcohol, reader finally coming to terms with herself ✧ word count ➼ ~5.2k

School was over, but it didn’t mean you were entirely free of responsibilities.

Paradis University hosted a graduate banquet every year, specifically to feature students that excelled academically or contributed to the community. 

You didn’t originally want to go. Your grades weren’t the best and you didn’t feel like being surrounded by your classmates that would no doubt boast about their near perfect GPA’s. However, you did start the Honors Society and it had taken off within the past few months, so you felt the need to attend since you participated in an important extracurricular. Sure, you could have just dipped out on it, but it could have been a chance to network if you decided to go down that route.

You couldn’t see it happening in the meantime. You just wanted to focus on your book, but if the opportunity arose to network, you told yourself that you’d take it.

You were dragging Levi to the banquet with you, which was met with surprisingly little resistance. The idea of spending the night wearing a formal outfit and being surrounded by people didn’t sound great to either of you, so you were more than surprised when Levi simply responded with a “sure” when you half-heartedly asked him if he’d be your emotional support throughout the night. 

You were currently trying to focus on just the next hour or two to keep your mind off the banquet. The tickets were paid for and the outfits were bought. Even if you really wanted to skip out on it, you had already spent time and money preparing, so to have that go to waste would feel just as bad as forcing yourself to go for the night.

Sighing, you looked down into your bag, double checking that you had picked up both sandwiches that you had ordered. You were dropping off lunch for Levi before planning to hang out in the cafe for the rest of his shift before heading home to get ready for the banquet. 

Your head shot up as you saw something orange moving out of the corner of your eye. It was small and barely drew your attention, but you looked off into the distance and your eyes fell on a nearby dumpster. You saw something shuffling around near the corner before disappearing under it.

Any intention for you to shrug and move on disappeared as soon as you heard a meow. 

Your eyes widened as you immediately set your bag down on a nearby bench and headed directly towards the dumpster, doing your best to ignore the subtle foul smell coming from the opening. You got onto your hands and knees and knelt down to peek underneath the dumpster, a small gasp coming from your lips when you saw a lone kitten squatting in front of you. The kitten was thin, but didn’t look like it was starving. They were definitely dirty and you could already imagine Levi’s face if he was the one staring at the kitten. Some of its fur was matted and the dirt covered what you assumed would have otherwise been a vibrant orange coat.

It didn’t seem actively afraid of you, so you reached out your hand towards it without fully extending your arm, to offer that you were friendly but to not be too intrusive or scare them off. It made eye contact with you before gradually approaching you, tentatively watching you before deciding that you were a nice human and immediately crawled onto your lap.

Clearly more smitten with the kitten than you were disgusted by the amount of dirt and grime on its coat, you picked them up and brought them over to the bench, suddenly remembering your tuna sandwich. You carefully unwrapped the sandwich as the kitten watched you curiously, smelling the tuna as soon as you exposed the sandwich from its wrapping.

You scooped up some of the tuna with your pinky and extended your hand out to it again and it took all of your willpower to hold back the massive smile building on your face as you watched it happily lick at your finger. All that willpower was immediately thrown out the metaphorical window as soon as you heard it begin to purr.

You felt your heart ache as you stared at it, noticing that it wasn’t wearing a collar. You kept telling yourself that no matter what, you were not going to take it home with you, despite already being unable to part from it. You already knew that Levi was going to question why it took you so long to pick up the sandwiches, yet you couldn’t get yourself to get up and walk away.

You weren’t going to take the cat. You didn’t have the capacity to adopt it. You told yourself you wouldn’t do it.

~~~~~

You ended up taking the cat. 

Your hands were full with your bag and the sandwiches, so you settled for placing the kitten in the hood of your jacket. Although he seemed to shuffle around a bit, your hood was large and sturdy enough that there wasn’t a risk of him falling out, even if he was wiggling around.

Once you finally arrived at the cafe, you let out an internal sigh of relief once you saw that there weren’t a lot of people inside. You opened the door to the cafe with your foot since your hands were occupied, making eye contact with your grumpy barista-turned-roommate-turned-boyfriend. 

Levi was in the middle of making you your Matcha before looking up and seeing you slowly make your way inside, noticing that you seemed a bit more disheveled compared to usual. That, plus the fact that it took you as long as it did for you to pick up sandwiches from a deli shop two blocks away made him immediately suspect that something was up.

“You get lost again?”

It took you a second to respond and Levi could immediately tell that your attention was directed elsewhere.

“What?”

“Really took you 30 minutes to walk down the street?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep,” you immediately responded, somewhat avoiding eye contact with him. You were stiff and moving slowly, as if you were afraid of knocking something over. 

The more he looked at you, the more suspicious Levi became over what the hell had happened on your little field trip to the deli shop. He watched as you reached into your bag and handed him a sandwich. 

He eyed you skeptically as he took the sandwich from you, immediately grimacing upon opening it and smelling the tuna coming from within the loose wrapping.

“I didn’t order tuna,” he commented with a disgusted expression.

“You’re so extra,” you sighed as you rolled your eyes at him, swapping out the sandwich you grabbed for yourself after realizing that you accidentally gave him yours.

Levi grabbed the correct sandwich but then looked up as soon as he began to unwrap it. He had heard a certain noise coming from the back of your hood. Raising an eyebrow, he gave you a skeptical look and noticed that you were purposefully avoiding eye contact with him. If he didn’t know you better, he would’ve assumed that you were just focusing on eating your sandwich, but he knew that was bullshit.

“Did I just hear meowing?”

He saw you pause for a split second, making it glaringly obvious that you were hiding something.

“I don’t know, did you?” you asked innocently while still avoiding eye contact.

You couldn’t see it, but you could essentially feel the glare that Levi was shooting in your direction.

A meow came from the back of your hood again. It must have been the tuna.

Levi’s unamused expression turned into a full frown as you continued to awkwardly look away.

“Show me your hood,” he demanded in a stern tone of voice.

“What?” you asked, looking up at him, trying your best to maintain a neutral expression. “Why?”

His gaze was unwavering, and his expression was unchanging. You could tell that he wasn’t going to back down from his request.

After a few seconds of desperately trying to maintain your mask, you sighed and pulled your hood to the side and grabbed the kitten from within, having it rest on one arm while you used your other hand to poke at your sandwich, offering more tuna to your new furry friend.

“Really?” Levi asked with an exasperated sigh.

“What?” you responded defensively. “I found him underneath the dumpster. I think he’s orphaned.”

You looked up towards Levi and saw an expected look of disgust appear on his face as soon as you mentioned the dumpster. His eyes fell from you down to the cat, noting that its fur looked a little matted, but otherwise didn’t look completely filthy. He watched as it happily licked the tuna off your finger, noticing that it was purring.

“Please don’t say you’re taking it home.”

“Where else am I supposed to put him? Back near the dumpster?” you responded nonchalantly, indicating that you had already made up your mind about adopting the dumpster kitty. “Look how much he loves the tuna.”

Levi had moved on from glaring incessantly at you to having an intense staring contest with the cat, adamant about not allowing it to come home with you. It got harder and harder to keep that frown on his face once he saw you smiling endearingly at the cat.

“Fine ,” he grumbled with a groan, rolling his eyes as he brought his attention back to making your Matcha, “but you’re feeding him something other than tuna from a cheap deli shop.”

You tried to hide the shit-eating grin that was beginning to appear on your face as you finally heard Levi give in to your somewhat impulsive decision to adopt a cat. Seeing that the cat was no longer sniffing at your sandwich, you scooped him up out of your arm and back into your hood.

“He’s going to get our clothes for the banquet all furry,” Levi mentioned as he looked back over at you.

“Well, I guess we’ll buy a lint roller on the way home,” you rationalized, earning a quiet grunt to come from Levi’s lips.

You rolled your eyes.

“Full of problems today, aren’t you?” you grumbled. “Just get me the damned Matcha.”

He looked back up at you with a frown as he hesitated in sliding your Matcha over to you.

You stuck your tongue out at him as you reached for the beverage, your eyes widening once he moved it away from you so you couldn’t reach.

“Only if you quit being a little shit.”

You glared at him and reached across the counter, dodging his efforts to shoo your hand away, smirking once you finally wrestled the cup away from him, although he wasn’t trying very hard to keep it out of your grasp in the first place.

“You’re so annoying,” he scolded.

“And you’re a dick,” you retorted.

“You’re distracting me.”

“And you’re choosing to get distracted.”

He rolled his eyes at your response, but you saw the slightest hint of the corner of his lips tugging up as well as the presence of an amused look in his eyes. He was enjoying your banter, despite his multiple claims regarding how annoying you were being to him at this moment.

Levi eventually walked away to tend to his station since he was still on a shift, but it was next to impossible for him to take his eyes off you for the rest of the shift. You were doing nothing other than sitting at your usual seat as you made your way through your sandwich, occasionally throwing a comment back to your new fur child when you heard him calling from behind you, musing over potential names for him.

“Mr. Whiskers? No? Don’t like that?” you proposed, gauging the cat’s reaction as you muttered off a list of potential names. “What about…Mashed Potato? I think you can look like a scoop of mashed potatoes. Don’t like that either? If you ask Levi, he’d probably just constantly call you a little shit, would you prefer that?”

Levi snorted to himself as he watched the ridiculousness that was the conversation you were having with the small furry creature that was meowing at you in response.

“Marmalade?” you asked, your eyes lighting up when you weren’t met with a meow of protest. “Nice to meet you, Marmalade.”

Levi watched closely as you introduced yourself, saying your name and some random facts about yourself, before pointing at Levi and introducing him as the one Marmalade will have to answer to if he leaves too much fur on the furniture. 

You looked up, making eye contact with Levi again, realizing that he was listening in on your conversation. 

“Levi might still refer to you as a little shit regardless, so I guess we’ll have that as your backup name.”

~~~~~

You were in a rush to the banquet. You had stopped at a pet store on the way home, buying a comfortable kennel, a litter box, a food and water bowl, and some kibble and canned food, although Levi was mumbling about being unsure if the kibble was good enough for Marmalade, clearly indicating that he was going to take this cat dad thing seriously. After taking Marmalade home, giving him a quick bath so that he wasn’t tracking dirt all over the apartment, and setting everything up for him, you were more than pressed for time.

“Told you he was going to get fur all over our clothes,” Levi grumbled from the driver’s seat as you picked off some stray strands of fur that the lint roller had failed to catch.

The drive to the banquet was relatively quiet, likely due to your nerves regarding having to be around that many people, but Levi’s brows furrowed together as he heard you incessantly squirming around in your seat. His eyes flashed over towards you and he saw that you were fumbling around with a waist-clincher that you were wearing underneath your dress. It looked more than uncomfortable and you kept on adjusting it in an attempt to make it more bearable to wear. 

“Tch, just take that damn thing off,” he scolded. “You look fine.”

You paused, holding still without further adjusting it or taking it off, hesitant to fully remove it. You haven’t ever worn a formal dress without it, although you knew that it was due to lingering traces of that facade you had spent the past few months trying to unravel.

Realizing that it wasn’t worth the discomfort, you unbuckled the back of the waist-clincher and tossed it into the backseat, immediately feeling better and like you could finally breathe after taking it off.

Levi was right. It was unnecessary and barely made a difference. Even if it did, you realized that you really didn’t care anymore.

The amount of students that showed up to the banquet wasn’t terrible, but given the fact that most of them brought someone with them, you began to feel cramped fast. Most of the students walked in with their parents, with some that were like you, bringing their significant other instead. 

The general expectation was to bring family and Levi was the closest person that you could realistically call family. You had cut your aunt off and had no intention of reconciling with her. You vaguely recalled a phone call two weeks ago from your aunt to chat about ‘future plans’. The question itself was innocent enough, but then she started going on about how writing isn’t an ‘actual job’ and you finally decided you had enough. You remembered snapping at her about how it was none of her business and then hung up. You haven’t responded to her since.

By the time you sat down at the table after finally locating your placecard, you were already beginning to feel overwhelmed from the amount of people cramped into a small conference room. 

“This was a mistake,” you grumbled.

“Was it?”

Levi took a seat next to you and adjusted the tie that he had neatly put together about an hour prior when you were in a rush to leave. You watched him closely, paying particular attention to how his dress shirt seemed to fit his shape perfectly, with the color of the tie further accentuating his eyes. His fingers neatly dug into the collar of his shirt to adjust his tie, and you found your mind immediately wandering elsewhere as you became fixated on the dexterity of his fingers.

Feeling your cheeks heat up, you immediately ripped your eyes off him and shook your head a bit, sipping on the glass of water in front of you to keep yourself from feeling a certain way that would have made getting through this night even more difficult than it was already going to be.

“Oh, you came.”

You looked up as you saw Petra’s somewhat skeptical expression. Her tone of voice indicated that she legitimately did not think you were going to show up despite the fact that you turned in your RSVP and had a table card.

“Did you expect me not to?” you asked with a frown.

She shrugged as she sat down, hanging her purse off the back of the seat as she got settled. 

“You just sounded pretty disinterested when we were chatting about it. That’s all.”

You took a second to recall that conversation that you vaguely remembered. It was a few weeks ago, roughly around the time that you had spent on figuring out how to move forward with properly grieving your parents’ death. This banquet was the last thing on your mind.

“Was distracted,” you eventually remarked. “Sorry.”

Your eyes shot up as you watched some other students sit down at the table with their family members. With everyone taking a seat, the crowd seemed a little less chaotic, so that was a plus, but you’d be expected to maintain one-on-one conversations now, which seemed just as draining.

“Honestly, I probably would have run it differently.”

“Hmm?” you said as you looked towards Petra, her comment pulling you out of your thoughts about how dreadful these next few hours were going to be. You knew she was referring to the Honors Society, since that’s what you were specifically invited to this banquet for. You already knew that she was going to say one of her comments that were genuine and did not come from a place of malignant intent, but always seemed to rub you off wrong.

She began giving examples of some things she would have done differently had she been the one that started it and you felt yourself getting increasingly irritated the more she spoke.

“Like any financial issues could’ve been mitigated through having member dues-”

“Should’ve run it yourself then,” you finally snapped as you scowled at Petra, whose eyes widened at your sudden remark.

You didn’t even notice the upturn of Levi’s lips that appeared as soon as you snapped, no doubt proud that you were finally standing up for yourself. You stood up, grumbling under your breath about how you were going to need a drink if you were going to have to deal with this type of thing all night, and headed straight for the bar.

It was the subpar university catering service, so you were less than impressed with their cocktail options, electing for the first fruity one that you saw. It tasted more like watered down juice than anything else.

You took a sip through the straw, looking over to the side as you saw Levi take a seat next to you.

“She send you to talk me down?” you asked dryly.

“No,” Levi said as he motioned for the bartender to get him a glass of whiskey. “Was too surprised to say much of anything.”

You kept your gaze fixated on your drink, watching the ice spin around as you stirred the liquid with your straw. You had known about how much your friendships were lacking for quite some time now, but you really did question why you kept all your friendships at surface-level. You legitimately couldn’t think of a reason as to why, other than maybe falling under the influence of your shitty ex-boyfriend.

Clenching your jaw, you let out a frustrated breath. You were going to resolve to do better and set boundaries when needed, instead of being the person that tedious tasks got thrown on to. You were going to be seen as a person and not as a means to an end.

You knew it was going to take a while. This part of you had been deeply engrained into you ever since high school. You’d have to fight back against any instincts you’ve developed since then, and then unweave all of the relationships that you had made based on this facade.

It was going to be hard and take a long time, but you knew that it was what you needed to do to continue moving forward. 

You had to find out who you really were and how that ultimately changed the relationships around you, taking apart each superficial thread one by one until people began seeing you for who you really were.

~~~~~

Even after you gathered yourself and conversed your way through the dinner and beginning speeches, you got quickly drained again and found yourself back at the bar. You were more than annoyed, with the crowd being a bit more scattered as people began to socialize amongst each other. 

You noted that Petra was chatting with the dean, likely doing some sort of elevator pitch to get into medical school, and that Oluo was chatting with Shadis, likely to ask about Shadis’ graduate program. This was essentially what all of the students present were doing: networking.

Now that you were here, you realized that you couldn’t really care for networking. You had no plans. You had no elevator pitch to give, and you were over pretending to be someone you weren’t.

You quietly groaned to yourself as you sipped on your cocktail, having ordered another one from the menu in hopes that it was better than the first one. It wasn’t. You grimaced upon tasting the liquid. It was too bitter and the ratio of alcohol to mixer was off. You’ve had better drinks at fraternity parties than whatever it was that the university catering service decided to deem as quality alcohol.

“Wanna get some air?” 

You looked over as you saw Levi approaching you again after he went off to converse with Erwin, who was there to recruit more potential students for his lab. The extra personnel was much needed. Your eyes immediately lit up once you heard the offer.

“Please ,” you responded, although it sounded almost like begging, indicating how desperate you were to get out of that stuffy and noisy room. 

Levi led you through the crowd and out one of the side doors that led to a balcony overlooking the downtown area. He shut the doors behind you to dampen some of the noise from within before leaning on the balcony railing next to you. It was much quieter outside. There were a few stragglers, but most of the guests had either gone home or were inside socializing. As far as you were concerned, it was only the two of you here, enjoying the cool night breeze and the beauty of the downtown lights below you, the street lamps illuminating up the street in a way that made you almost want to leave the building entirely just to walk underneath those lights.

You sipped on your drink again—likely just out of instinct since you still held the drink in your hand—and immediately grimaced again, being rudely reminded of how shitty it tasted.

Levi grabbed the glass by the rims and placed another drink in front of you. While yours was clear and flat with an orange slice inside it, the one he just handed you was bubbling from the carbonation and had a pretty mix of red and orange colors leading to the bottom of the glass. 

You took a sip, not being all that surprised when it tasted much better than the one you previously had. Whatever he ordered tasted more fruity than it did alcohol, while still providing that slight kick. Realizing that he likely customized the drink instead of directly ordering something from the menu, you eyed him as you sipped on the thin straw.

He knew your flavor profile. It wasn’t that surprising to you. After all, he had been making you your drinks for two years while also living with you. The drinks that he made were clearly very different from the ones served from behind a traditional bar, but he knew your likes and dislikes enough to craft you a cocktail you’d actually enjoy.

Levi sipped on your old drink, underestimating how bad it actually was, immediately scrunching up his nose in disgust upon tasting it.

“Really?” he questioned as he shot you a skeptical look.

“It’s what they had on the menu,” you said quietly, your cheeks slightly heating up in embarrassment.

“And by ‘they’, you mean the shitty university catering.”

It was the graduate department that was hosting the event, so their catering events included alcohol, but it was still university catering, which usually resulted in their menus being written from a more economic standpoint instead of one designed to provide the guests with satisfactory food and drinks.

You shrugged in acknowledgement, having accepted that you probably should have just tried to mix something up yourself. Still, the fact that Levi went out of his way to get you a drink you’d like brought a small smile to your face. 

You swirled the drink with the small straw for a while before sipping at it again, looking over towards Levi afterwards. He had turned around to set your old drink down onto the mini-table behind you, and was now headed back towards you. 

As he turned to face you, you couldn’t help but notice how his hair moved about in the wind, revealing his undercut, or how his dress shirt had the two top buttons undone, showing off his collarbones. He elected to also undo his tie and have it hang around his neck. His suit jacket was off due to how warm it was inside, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Your eyes drifted down to his hands and you felt your mind wandering off towards your memories of how his hands felt on you, recalling some of the more intimate things he’s done with them to you.

You found yourself staring straight at him as your face rapidly heated up again as you desperately tried to pull your mind out of the gutter.

“What?” he asked, noticing the fact that you were just staring at him, ripping you out of your daze.

“Hmm?” you responded as you slightly shook your head to reorient yourself. “Nothing, just…”

You trailed off as you awkwardly shuffled from side to side, scratching at the back of your head.

“Just what?”

You took a moment to look directly into his eyes, noticing that they had softened in the past few minutes that he was standing outside with you. Part of you didn’t believe that this was the same person that pissed you off so much two years ago, but you were able to acknowledge that pretty soon after you moved in, he was there for you in a way that you desperately needed, but could never get prior to him.

“Just…thinking about how making me hate you was probably the best thing you could have done for me.”

That was not the answer that Levi was expecting, as evidenced in the way that he blinked at you as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“What?” he asked, bewildered at your response.

You looked down at your drink again as you tried to gather your thoughts into something that would make sense.

“...I remember how pissed I was those first few weeks of living with you,” you began, your voice gradually rising from a quiet whisper as you continued to speak. “Kept on questioning how I was going to survive even another week with you…but I think that it’s because I hated you so much that I was able to be myself around you.”

A gentle breeze blew through the both of you, as if it was trying to carry your words directly to him.

“...because I hated you so much, I was able to form something…real with you.”

His eyes softened again as he looked into your eyes, shifting his stance so that he was facing you more.

“Well, you were pretty easy to hate,” he mumbled nonchalantly, immediately earning himself a gentle shove from you in retaliation, the edges of his lips pulling up into a subtle smirk.

“I’m serious,” he continued after readjusting his positioning after you rudely forced him to move. “I remember dreading coming home because I knew your annoying ass was going to be waiting for me.”

“And I remember grimacing every time I heard the door open because I knew I had to see your cocky face again.”

He scoffed and flicked at your forehead in response to your comment and you swatted his hand away, rubbing at your forehead afterwards as you pouted at him.

You felt your face heating up again once you saw the affectionate look in his eyes as he watched you.

“...just strange…”

“What is?” he asked, slightly tilting his head, never taking his gaze off you.

“...that within the span of two years,” you spoke quietly, “I went from hating you…to loving you.”

You felt your breath get caught in your throat as you realized what exactly you had just said and admitted to—that you loved him. You felt your heart beating through your chest as your entire body heated up in embarrassment—but there was also truth to the sentiment. You really did love him. He had been there for you in ways that no one ever had been before. He pulled you out of the shitshow that you found yourself drowning in and helped push you forward, even if he was being a bit of a dick at times.

You thought back to how sneakily he had snuck up on you, and how devastated you were when you thought you had lost him. Even through all the fighting you had at the beginning and how difficult he was as you tried to sort through your feelings, you’d be willing to go through them every single time if the result was you standing here next to him in this moment.

“...love you too, brat,” he whispered, gently running his fingers down the side of your face, before pulling you into a gentle kiss.

You pressed your lips up against his, smiling into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his undercut, stepping closer to him.

Once you finally pulled away, you looked directly into his eyes, the two of you now being close enough that your lips were just inches apart.

Nothing else mattered to you right now except for him. Being able to hate him, meet him, and fall in love with him made going through undergrad worth it, even if it didn’t feel like it at first. You’d do it over and over again if it led to this conclusion.

You parted your lips to speak, your voice barely audible as you whispered to him.

“Thank you for being my found family.”

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @v4mp-wife @moonchild-angel @astri-ackerman @auriuswolve @noctemys @you-always-made-me-blush @raginginferno267 @sugurusdiscordmoderator @jennamelinda12 @noodlejitsu @nalu-trashytrash @creigh-h @gina239

[spotsandsocks]

The Lost and The Found 🐺M 1/10 8.8k

Happiest of Birthdays to @monsterrae1 this fic is a gift to you my dear and I’m very sorry it got so long and out of hand! 😬

Chapter 1 is here and I’m going to update on Wednesdays.

To everyone whose been so supportive and enthusiastic 😬 Maybe you’ll read along or wait till the end but I hope you enjoy it. I have to say I’m quite pleased with it 😊

Thank you @ronordmann for the above cover perfect as usual 💕

Eddie steps out of the cab, closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. The sun is warm on his skin, the sounds and smells wrap around him and say home, safe, love.

He only opens his eyes when a beloved and familiar voice calls his name then within moments he’s wrapped in arms that are soft warm and surprisingly strong for a woman her size.

“Mi amor you’ve grown so much!” His abuela sucks in a breath of air another familiar sound and he grins to himself, knowing what will come next. “You’ll be taller than me soon!”

He knows that too and has mixed feelings about it, before very long he will be taller than her which will be cool obviously but mark a certain change in their relationship he’s not really ready for in ways he can’t quite articulate.

As suddenly as he was embraced the person he loves best in all the world holds him out at arms length and studies him closely, brown eyes wrinkling at the corners.

“So handsome” she taps her cheeks and he bestows a kiss in the required spot. Noting that he really is almost as tall as her now.

“Come, it’s time for lunch and then you can meet the new guests, we have three right now.”

Something sad flashes across her face and she looks at him with a thoughtful expression and says, almost to herself , “Maybe having someone younger around will help.”

She doesn’t elaborate and Eddie doesn’t ask, just follows his beloved abuelita towards the ranch he spends his summer holidays at each year. It’s without doubt the best part of his year. And this year, now he’s thirteen he’ll be allowed to run on his own for the first time. Not that he doesn’t enjoy running with the pack but it’ll be fun to have a little more freedom.

Walking into the old ranch style kitchen Eddie feels more at home than he does at home. At the kitchen table there’s a man in a suit, not old, not young, tall and thin. Dark eyes made darker by the shadows beneath them.

He looks tired. He must be one of the new ones then. They always look tired at first. Eddie smiles at him and gets a brighter smile than he was expecting in return.

His Abuela would have explained who he was very clearly to her guest.

Behind him he recognises an older woman who was here last summer too, she must have decided to stay on. He understands why, he’d stay too if he could.

His Aunt Pepa will be somewhere, the cousins too. He’s excited to see them again.

Out of the corner of his eye someone else walks into the kitchen and slumps into a chair at the table, head going down almost immediately. Judging by the brief look he got she’s probably still in high school, well probably not any more if she’s here. Her hair is dyed blue and green, cut short and there’s a tattoo of a flower and moon visible on her neck. He wonders if she got that before or after. There are two more he can’t work out on the folded arms she’s resting her head on.

That’s guest number two then, his Abuela said three new ones. He wonders where the third guest is. He’s been here with as many as six newbies before but not often.

Abuela is fussing around the table. Putting food on plates. Guests eat first and family later but as he’s only just arrived he’ll be allowed to join here too.

He sits down, reaches for a plate and starts to pile it up.

Abuela sits down and the girl sits up, the man straightens, everyone’s eyes on the small but most important person at the table.

She takes a bite and then everyone else starts to eat.

He wonders where the last guest is, they don’t usually eat separately. It’s one of Abuela’s rules for the house guests. The others, the ones that live or stay in the cabins scattered across the property will drop in and out as they please but everyone is invited to family dinner each month on the Sunday before the full moon.

Making a mental note to ask about the missing guest later Eddie takes his first, long anticipated bite of his grandmother's home cooking and relaxes with a sigh. It’s perfect, just as he remembers.

As the food disappears the mood at the table lightens and Eddie finds out a little more about the guests. Their names, what they like to do best at the ranch and their favourites of Abuela’s meals.

He doesn’t ask how it happened to them. That’s just rude, but he wonders anyway. He always wonders. Sometimes they share the story with him, more often they don’t.

He can’t imagine what it must be like for them, the life he’s grown up with, the gifts that run in his blood and are very welcomed, feel totally normal to him. To have the same life suddenly thrust upon them must be, well Eddie doesn’t think he has the right words for it. He’s thirteen now and for the first time he thinks he understands the trauma around that in a way he hasn’t ever considered before.

To be bitten, not born. He shudders, just a little. How do the people his Abuela helps here, those she protects and guides while they adjust to it all manage.

He can’t imagine but he’s glad it isn’t him, he’s glad he was born wolf. Eddie’s proud to be part of a family pack and he doesn’t want it any other way.

[pennylanefics]

The Librarian - Jake Kiszka | Chapter 9

a/n: second time's a charm...sorry, i'm sick of my fics getting buried when there's new content so 🙃 i impulsively deleted the chapter earlier lmao. but anyways...here it is again

word count: ~ 4.5k

The weeks go by, and now, you were finally settled and feeling extremely welcomed in Frankenmuth, having found a job at a publishing company that was located in town. It was a simple job, being the receptionist, but it allowed you to have an idea of what goes on behind the scenes within book publishing.

Everything was going great, especially things with Jake.

Oh…Jake.

He was such a gentleman, just beyond perfect all around. After your first date to the aquarium, you two made it your tradition to have a date every Thursday, whether that was at one of your home’s, a restaurant, or even at the library.

He also wanted to hang out with you any chance he could get. If you were at your house alone, he’d be over and sitting on the couch with you in minutes. If you were talking and mentioned being bored, he would invite you over to his place. He wanted to be with you, he was making it very obvious, and you were overjoyed about that.

With your script finished and the date for early submission slowly approaching, you have been able to spend lots of time with Jake now, and even with Danny and Sam. Josh wasn’t always around much when you were, but it was understandable.

The two twins have sort of reconciled ever since that day, but it was clear that Josh was hurt that a girl he liked chose Jake, and Jake was still very upset over the fact that Josh didn’t see what he was doing wrong until it affected him.

They are back to talking to one another, but things were very clearly strained. You hated that Jake no longer had a good relationship with his twin brother, and with you being the reason, you felt guilty. 

One night, a couple weeks after yours and Jake’s first date, they got in an argument over something. Jake called you to calm himself down, as well as vent his frustrations for everything. You, on the other hand, started crying over the fact that you felt like you came between them.

Jake came over as soon as he heard the first sniffle, and held you in his arms as you cried into his chest.

“I want you to know that you were not the one to split us apart,” he whispers into your forehead once your sobs had subsided. “This has been going on for years and I was just so tired of him doing this because you are so special to me.”

“But, but you two haven’t been the same since I told him I liked you.”

“And that’s not your fault, darling. You can’t help who you like, and it’s not your fault that both of us liked you.” You mess with a loose string on the collar of his shirt.

“I hope you liking me isn’t past tense,” you mutter, gazing up at him. He laughs and wipes your tears away with his fingers.

“It’s definitely not past tense. I like you, and again, it’s not your fault. You’re such an amazing girl, it’s hard not to fall for you.”

“Thank you, Jake,” you whisper, snuggling deeper into his chest. He kisses along your hairline and holds you tight to him.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me, don’t let my issues with my brother get in the way of you thinking that, okay?”

The holiday season is now here, with Thanksgiving coming and going, and just as Jake promised you, the library was decorated so beautifully for the holidays. It was a Saturday when you two went in after the first day of December, Jake helped the others with decorating everything Wednesday night, so this was the first time you were seeing it.

Jake takes you to your back corner, his own blanket from home in his hands, and you order your usual at the cafe while he searches for a book to read. When you return, you sit beside him, throwing the blanket over your legs, and resting your head on his shoulder.

He had chosen to read a poetry book for some reason, but you didn’t mind. You were just happy to enjoy his presence beside you. Once you finish your croissant, you get a bit more comfortable and lay down, with your head resting on his thighs, and the blanket from his office over your own legs.

He plays with your hair and you close your eyes, listening to the soft, instrumental Christmas music playing through the building. It all felt so cozy and calming, and you couldn’t be more content with the way things were.

“Hm,” Jake hums softly, a grin on his face. Your eyes open to look up at him, noticing that he was still fixated on the book.

“What?” You murmur back. He finally tears his eyes away and gazes down, his smile growing and his teeth showing.

“This is just a really beautiful poem,” he replies. You nod, closing your eyes again as his fingers thread through your hair. You weren’t expecting much, until he clears his throat quietly.

“She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Whcih heaven to gaudy day denies.”

Heat rises up your neck and to your cheeks as he flicks his eyes down at you quickly before going back to the book.

“Should I continue?” He asks, nerves evident in his voice.

“Yeah.” He grins and opens the book back open with his thumb.

“One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven trees,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express, 

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tint that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace, with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!”

He finishes the poem and there are tears forming in your eyes. Jake’s velvety soft voice reading with passion and…an emotion you couldn’t identify, but it held so much adoration, the exact way that the poet wished for it to be read in.

“Lord Byron has some wonderful poems about romance,” he shyly says, pushing his glasses up, though this time, out of awkwardness. “Even though some believe that he was misogynistic with them.” You giggle and sit up, quickly pecking his lips.

“So you’re into romantic poems now, huh? What got you into that?” Jake laughs with you and leans into you, silently asking for another kiss, which you give him.

“I think it was this really cute girl showing me what true romance is like,” he mumbles against your lips. You feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest at this point.

“Will you read me another one?” You request. Jake nods and starts flipping through the book. You see how shaky his hands have become, and it aches in your chest. He was still so nervous around you sometimes, and it really was the sweetest thing.

When he lands on one, he holds the book in his hand like he was before, so you take advantage and grab his other one. He looks at you and all you do is grin a little to offer him some comfort.

Clearing his throat again, he holds the book up so that his head was raised, and he could see you out of his peripheral vision. You were now sitting straight up, criss crossed right next to him.

“i carry your heart with me (i carry it in

my heart) i am never without it (anywhere

i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done

by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want

no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars aprt

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart).”

He shut the book and within seconds, you throw yourself into his arms, weeping into his shoulder. You were overwhelmed with love, the idea that Jake thought of reading that specific poem to you made you were speechless.

He had mentioned early on that because he never really had much luck with the girls he liked, he wasn’t very experienced when it came to things like dating and being ‘lovey dovey’ and all that. He absolutely had an idea of what it was like, but he never truly got to experience it with someone else.

So for him to just come out and read you a beautiful, tooth-rotting-sweet poem about a lover caring so deeply for his partner, you couldn’t help but fall for Jake even harder.

“Jake, I,” you mutter through tears, sniffling as you raise your head from his shoulder. He chuckles nervously and wipes your tears away with his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything, my love. I read the poem the other day when I had some downtime and, uh, I thought of you within the first few lines.”

“No guy has ever read something so…deep and meaningful to me like that. I just…” More tears fill your eyes but Jake is there to catch them.

“You’re very special to me (Y/N). And I want, and need you, to know that.”

“And I do. Thank you,” you kiss him once more, straddling his lap at this point. It was nothing sexual, you just wanted to be as close to him as you could. 

“You mean the world to me, Jake,” you add, whispering against his lips. You tuck a piece of hair that was stuck in front of his glasses back behind his ear, feeling how his hands circle your waist, resting on your hips.

Nothing goes any further, and soon, you are back to laying with your head in his lap, his hands playing with the ends of your hair. You end up dozing off for a bit, and all Jake can do is stare down at you, wondering how in the world he got so lucky.

–

About a week later, Josh invites everyone over to the Kiszka household for the premiere of the film. He even reached out to invite your family, as it was also your film, and since your family had started growing close with the Kiszka’s and Wagner’s. 

So, everyone piled into the living room where Josh had the DVD set up on the TV. The parents all stood or sat behind the large couch, where Josie, Ronnie, and your two sisters occupied, with Sam, Josh, Danny, and Warren all on the floor. You and Jake sat side by side on the loveseat, your head resting on his shoulder to get a better view of the TV.

Under the blanket that you two share, he holds your hand in his, something that he wasn’t really comfortable with his family seeing just yet, so he was thankful for the security of the cover he had for now. As the movie plays, Jake kept kissing your forehead every now and then, especially when you’d look up at him after one of his lines.

Thankfully, Josh cut the kiss out of the film, and you were only in it for a split second. After that, you could feel Jake physically relax, knowing that he didn't have to relive that moment again.

The movie finishes and everyone claps, both you and Josh standing up as a way for them to celebrate your accomplishment. You had to admit, it was very incredible to see your script come to life on screen, all thanks to Josh.

“You wanna stay for dinner? My mom has tortilla soup in the crock pot,” Jake offers as everyone disperses.

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to.”

Not long after, Karen announces that dinner is ready. At this point, your family has gone home, having their own plans for dinner, but you follow behind Jake closely into the kitchen as he helps you with your own bowl.

You two return to your seats on the sofa, chatting quietly while eating.

“Um, I was also wondering if you, um, well since today is Friday and neither of us have to work tomorrow, if you’d like to, maybe, uh, spend the night, wi-with me?” His voice was quiet, worried that his family would overhear.

Neither of you have spent the night together yet. Jake made it clear from the beginning that he hasn’t had much experience, so he wanted to take things slow. And you were more than okay with that, giving him the time he needed to move at his own pace and everything.

“I would be very happy to, Jakey,” you whisper back to him. A huge grin breaks out onto his face and he stares down into his bowl of soup.

“I like that nickname,” he mumbles, a blush covering his cheeks. You lean over and kiss his heated cheek before taking another bite of your soup.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, making him hide his face in your shoulder.

After a little while longer of family time, it starts to get really late, and everyone is growing tired. Ronnie had gone to her room, and the Wagner’s went home, Sam going with him to hang out. Josh, still being a little hurt seeing you and Jake, disappeared right after dinner, so it was now just you and Jake on the couch.

“Do you, do you need to take a shower or anything?” Jake asks you once everyone was gone.

“I took one before coming over. But I do need something warmer to sleep in, if that’s alright?” Jake nods and stands, reaching out for your hand. You gladly take it and he brings you up to his room.

You’ve seen his room before, both on FaceTime and being here, so it was nothing new. But with never having slept in his bed before, this was taking your casual dating stage a step forward.

Jake rummages around his closet for something, and lands on a plain black pull over.

“Um, it usually gets pretty cold in my room at night, so I keep this handy, and you have sweats, so is that good?” He was beyond timid at the moment. He wanted you to be comfortable and welcomed, and you made sure that he knew you were.

“This is perfect. I’m gonna go change.”

When you return, Jake was laying in bed, his own pullover covering his body instead of the t-shirt he was wearing earlier.

“So how cold does your room get?” You wonder, taking a seat next to him after discarding your shirt on the floor. Jake pulls his comforter back to reveal a rather thick cover thrown over his body. You crawl with him underneath it, and instantly, you feel the warmth from his body being under it already.

“It can get pretty cold, but this blanket should help us.”

Jake sits up against the headboard and you, watching as he yawns, decide to do something a bit bold. As Jake lifts himself up to reach over and turn his bedside light off, you stop him, bringing his shoulder back so he could face you.

A questioning look appears on his face, but that quickly drops when you reach forward and gently remove his glasses from his face. You are careful to make sure that there’s no hair that’s going to be pulled, and you slowly close them.

You lean across Jake and set them on his bedside table, leaving a kiss upon his cheek when you move back to your spot. His skin was bright pink, not having any clue what just happened. But you settling down on your side under the covers brings him back down to earth.

He turns the light off and slides to lay down on his side facing you. Cautiously as ever, he rests his hands on your waist and brings you closer to him. You curl into him, placing your hand on his chest and your forehead on his shoulder.

Neither of you say anything, just the sound of your breathing fills the room. Jake wants to break the silence, but when he looks down and sees that you are asleep, he just smiles and kisses your forehead, snuggling you closer.

JAKE’S POV:

The harsh blinding sun of the morning filters in through the curtains covering the window. As I slowly open my eyes, I realize that (Y/N) is still in my arms, but now, she’s facing away from me, her back pressed against my front.

I raise myself up a bit to look over and see that she’s still fast asleep, so I take a moment to admire her. The way her eyelashes rest against her cheek, how her lips are slightly parted, soft breaths passing through them. Her hair was splayed out against the pillow, still appearing so perfect since last night.

I shut my eyes for a moment again and just focus on the feel of her in my arms. The warmth coming from her body, our legs intertwined, how soft my pullover felt under my touch, the way her chest was slowly rising and falling with every shallow breath, and how I could feel it every time.

Her phone was laying in her hand, telling me that she had been awake before falling back asleep. Deciding to wake her, I move my body slightly and kiss her cheek as gently as ever. She stirs slightly and inhales sharply, rolling over to face me. However, she was still asleep, though her phone was forgotten on the bed.

“Darling,” I whisper, caressing her cheek with my fingertip. This time, her eyes flutter open, and she stares up at me. My heart races in my chest, and I just hope that she can’t feel it under my pullover.

“Morning,” she whispers back, a tired grin gracing her face. She lets out a yawn and then curls into me, her arms circling my torso. Her cold hands make their way under my top, and I freeze, literally and figuratively.

This all felt so…natural, yet I was so scared. As natural as it felt, it was new territory, and it was kind of terrifying, knowing how strongly I felt for her, and now she’s here, beside me, waking up, entwined with my limbs, her hands underneath my top on my back.

“Morning. Did you already wake up?” I ask, continuing to stroke her cheek.

“Yeah, I uh, I submitted my script and then fell back asleep,” she announces. Immediately, I shoot up, looking down at her in wonder.

“You did?” She giggles and follows me, though a little weary because she was still half asleep. However, I have sudden burst of energy, knowing that all of her hard work has finally paid off.

“I did. So all of my attention is on you now.” I tackle her back down and pepper kisses all over her face. Her laugh rings out in the quiet room, a sound I’ve grown to love so much; I’d do anything to hear it for the rest of my life.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” I mumble against her lips once we settle down a bit. I was hovering over her, my hands on either side of her head. She grasps the sides of my neck, her thumbs softly rubbing back and forth along the areas she could reach, sending tingles down my spine.

“I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without you, in all honesty,” she tells me. “Bringing me snacks when I didn’t take breaks, forcing me to take said breaks, helping me get my mind off of it for a few days, allowing me space to work and everything, I’m so thankful for you, Jakey.”

A blush rises up my neck and I lean down to capture her lips with mine in a sweet, deep kiss. She hums happily into my mouth, her eyes closed on contentment.

“I can’t wait to see where you place,” I tell her after parting from her.

“If I place,” she grumbles.

“When. When you do.” She just smiles and brings me down for another kiss, her hands tangling in the hair at the back of my neck.

“Do you wanna go to the winter lights walk-through tonight?” She asks. I fall beside her, pulling her back into my arms, her head falling onto my chest with her hair tickling my jawline and chin.

“I’d love to. And, you deserve a nice date night to celebrate your accomplishment.”

YOUR POV:

Later that night, you and Jake walk hand in hand along the concrete path surrounded by flickering Christmas lights, strung up in trees and placed all over the park, some in designs of things like Santa, penguins, lyrics and words, anything winter or holiday-related.

There wasn’t that many people here tonight, even though it was a Saturday night, it was cold and rainy, weather that not many people wanted to be out in. But you found this as a great opportunity to spend some time alone with Jake.

Both of you were bundled up as best as you could be; multiple layers of shirts, thick beanies, a pair of sweats over your jeans, scarves around your necks, and thick gloves. Thankfully, you weren’t very bothered by the weather right now. Jake had a huge smile on his face the whole way through, telling you that he was excited to just spend time with you.

“So, this is usually the same every year, and one year, when we were doing the carriage ride, Josh, I think we were like six at the time, saw that elf,” Jake points to an outline of an elf bending over to pick a jack-in-the-box toy up, “and he loudly screamed about how funny it was that his butt was sticking out.”

You let out a laugh and Jake admires you, continuing to walk on, chuckling when your forehead hits his arm as you were coming down from your fit of laughter.

“Josh was certainly…a character,” you finally say, having caught your breath.

“Oh yeah,” Jake replies. “Absolutely.”

You come up to a tunnel of lights, all blinking different colors, before changing to all blue, then all red, following with green, then to white, and finally back to the deep blue. Pausing to take in the sight and the atmosphere of being under them, you gaze around, spinning, and Jake stays put near the entrance of it.

He watches you in awe, wondering how he got so lucky to have met you. Shoving his hands in his pockets, not so gracefully due to the thickness of his gloves, he makes his way over to you, stopping in front of you. He goes to open his mouth and say something, but he just sighs softly and he shuts it. Walking closer to him, you drink in the sight stood in front of you.

His nose was turning pink due to the wind nipping at it, uncovered from his scarf. His cheeks were a similar color, but that was something you were used to, with his constant blushing. The frames of his black glasses sat perfectly on his perfect, cute nose, some condensation from the mist falling from the sky coating the lenses.

Gently, just like last night, you take his glasses off and wipe them clean on the inside of your lined coat pocket. Once they were cleared, you carefully guide them back onto his face, and he just grins at you.

“Can I…um,” you begin, pausing to collect your thoughts, “you know what, I’m just gonna come out and say it.” His eyebrows furrow together as you grab his gloved hands. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Jake’s eyes blow wide, in surprise of what was happening right now. Of course he wanted to be your boyfriend, but he was so scared of asking. He had never done so, and, overall, he figured you two were already on that path, and the label was just a given.

“Really?” He gasps, the color of his cheeks darkening to a deep pink. “I-I um…”

“I’m so sorry if that is weird to ask, but I…I really like you, Jake and I want to be-” He cuts you off with a kiss, dropping your hands to cup your cheeks. You melt into his touch as his lips move against yours, reassuring you silently that he wanted this as much as you did.

“I would love to be your boyfriend,” he whispers into your lips, his warm breath heating your face up a touch from the freezing wind that had picked up in that moment. “I’m sorry, I just, I got, uh, a little nervous. I’ve never had anyone ask me that.”

“I didn’t know if or when you were going to ask, and I really just wanted to get it over with,” you respond. Jake giggles and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I was actually going to ask a couple minutes ago, but I got scared,” he admits. “I want you to be my girlfriend as well, and I figured we were already in that phase, but it’s good knowing that the label is now officially there.”

“Me too,” you smile up at him. Your arms wrap around his body and you snuggle your face into his scarf, inhaling his usual scent of old books and his favorite cologne. The scent has become so comforting, one that you longed for whenever you were away from him. It felt like home, and that’s when you started to realize that Jake means a lot more to you than you were expecting.

“You make me so happy,” he whispers, swaying you from side to side, his own arms circling you to keep you close to him. “And I’m also glad you were the one to ask because I was scared shitless and we would’ve just gone on for so long as just casually dating.”

You break out into laughter and raise your head from his body.

“I’m thankful I was too. I couldn’t take just being a casual date anymore. I care for you so much, I want you to be mine.” Jake pulls back from you for a bit and gazes right into your eyes, and with a small grin, he begins reciting a poem.

“I am yours as the summer air at evening is

Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,

As the snowcap gleams with light

Lent it by the brimming moon.

Without you I’d be an unleaded tree

Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.

Your love is the weather of my being.

What is an island without the sea?”

—

final a/n: the poems are not mine:

first poem: "She Walks in Beauty" by Lord Byron

second poem: "[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]" by E.E. Cummings

third poem: "Yours" by Daniel Hoffman

taglist: @maud-gone @streamingcolors-gvf @mweasley19 @lolipopsandgumdrops @universoulindigo @byulgogii @artsygarbitch @dannyandthekiszkas @shutupdevvie @writingcold @fan-girl-97 @rhythm-of-space @allieisacrybaby @gardenofgreta @interstellar-shores @anythingforjtk @gretavanbitches @thecoldwind @why-ami-on-here @milkgemini @spark-my-nature

[poguesarerogues]

Would things still be the same?

Pairing: (JJ Maybank x genderless reader)

Words: 619

Genre: angst

Warnings: none

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“When I first saw you, I thought you were perfect but then as I got to know you, I realized that you weren’t which only made you even more perfect in my eyes.”

“When I look into your eyes, I don’t just see you I see my today, my tomorrow, I see my future forever, I see the rest of my life and the person who fulfills the happiness and takes away the loneliness within it.”

“When I am with you, hours feel like seconds and when we are apart seconds feel like years.”

“Everywhere you go, I want to go there to be with you and whenever I have to leave, I hope you’re there willing to leave with me.”

JJ continues to scroll through the texts that he had sent you in the past, reminiscing over all of the wonderful memories that he had made with you. These texts remind him of all of the endless nights that he’d stay awake looking up ‘deep’ and ‘meaningful’ quotes to send to you and try to pass off as things that he came up with on his own the next time you two would meet and you’d question him about where it all came from. He can still feel the soothing pleasure of your fingers running through his golden locks of hair. He remembers the lingering scent of conditioner in your hair and the potent body wash that you’d use which he’d smell as he held you close to him. He remembers the warmth of your body every time it would touch his. All of the smiles, kisses, hugs and blushes that he was blessed to behold play rapidly in his mind like a time-lapsed video.

With a final flick of his finger, he reaches the end of the messages, all of the quotes and replies coming to an end. With a longing ache in his heart, he thinks of all of the good times that once passed him by. As he sits alone with a beer in his hands while he watches everyone else enjoy their time together at the bonfire, he wonders how things could’ve been at this point if everything hadn’t changed so drastically.

Would you two be surfing in the ocean like you used to with John B, Kiara and Pope? Would you be digging through the pantry to find something that hadn’t molded so that you could eat, although the two of you would always share laughs about the time that he said that mold is good for you because it’s a natural organism? Would you both be sharing a relaxing night in his hot tub with the jets on high, messaging the stressed muscles in your bodies? Or would you two be spending some time on the HMS Pogue together, having borrowed the boat from John B while he’s out running errands?

There was a time where he thought that the two of you could take on the world and nothing would separate you from one another… oh how he had found out the hard way that he had been wrong.  

As he raises his cup to his lips, his eyes glide to the area where you stand now, the betrayal not forgotten by him but long ignored by you as you seem to glide through conversations with others so easily, capturing hearts like you once had with his as you share your smile with the world. Despite the deep pain in his chest as he takes in the sight, he still can’t help but wonder.

Would things still be the same?

He wonders what life would be like now if you were still here with him rather than being in Rafe’s arms.

[schmooplesboop]

Perfect Gift

Pairing(s): Clive X Gav, Byron X Eugen, Joshua X ???

Ratings and warnings: Teen, bc there's implied sexy times

My brain has the Big Sad right now so I wrote some Christmas schmoop to cheer myself up. Hope y'all enjoy :)

---

Byron was all in a dither today. Truth be told, he’d been in a dither for the last two weeks, ever since he and Eugen decided to spend Yule together… and introduce their families to each other.

Eugen was bringing his sister and her children, all of whom Byron knew well. He’d been friends with Eudora for some time before she’d introduced him to Eugen all those years ago. They’d remained friends even after young Byron and Eugen had drifted apart, and Eudora and her children had spent many summers in Port Isolde over the years. Byron had invited his nephews, Gav, and Jill, none of whom Eugen knew.

Usually, his Yule parties were loud, noisy, and very crowded affairs with every available friend, colleague, and even some rivals invited. This year’s would be small and quiet, he and Eugen deciding that a more subdued party would be the best setting for everyone to get to know each other.

Byron fussed with the decorations on one of the many Yule trees dotted around the parlor for around the one hundredth time. Usually, these things didn’t bother him, but this was his first Yule with his own family in over two decades and his first Yule with Eugen ever. He wanted everything to be… not perfect, but wonderful, at least.

He probably would’ve driven himself, Rutherford, and the rest of his staff to drink ages ago if Joshua, Clive, Gav, and Torgal hadn’t arrived half a week early to help. Joshua and Torgal kept him distracted, his nephew with conversation, Torgal with demands for scratches behind the ears and rubs for his belly. And though Jill couldn’t attend the Yule celebrations, as she was spending her holiday with her brother and his husband, she also helped distract Byron in her own way. She’d sent a lovely letter and an even lovelier wine, which Byron finished off within a few days. At the manor, Clive assisted Rutherford in ironing out all the little details, and Gav was helping with the ongoing effort to decorate the estate.

And when Byron discovered that the boar he’d procured, the centerpiece of the feast, had spoiled, it’d also been Gav who’d vanished into the forest outside Port Isolde with Torgal in tow, returning nearly eight hours later, both of them splattered in blood and Gav dragging the largest boar Byron had ever seen on a sledge behind him. Even offered to butcher it if the kitchen staff proved too squeamish to do it.

“Hope you’re planning to hold onto that one,” he’d muttered to his nephew as they watched Gav pulling his sledge across the main yard, making Clive’s cheeks turn pink.

“For as long as he’ll have me, Uncle.” Clive muttered back as Gav waved at them enthusiastically, a grin on his bloody face.

Byron flitted from the Yule tree to the fireplace, arranging and rearranging and re-rearranging the festive statues of snow moogles on the mantle. Tomorrow evening. Twenty-four short hours before the Yule celebration, even less before Eugen and his family would arrive. He bustled out of the parlor to make sure the guest rooms were still in order.

❆ ❆ ❆

Despite the dusting of snow they were getting, the main marketplace in Port Isolde was packed with people. Joshua rubbed his cold, gloved hands together and shook the snow from his hair before pulling the hood of his cloak up. He followed along as Clive darted from stall to stall, reminding him very much of their dear uncle. His brother was frantically looking for a Yule gift for Gav.

He hadn’t forgotten, in fact Clive had already bought four different gifts for Gav before they even left for Port Isolde, stashing them all in Byron’s bedchamber after they’d arrived. Now it seemed he was going to buy four more, or perhaps the whole market.

“After everything we’ve survived, you’re going to fret yourself into an early grave, brother.” He teased lightly.

Clive shot him a dark look then hurried to another stall, scrutinizing their wares so intensely the poor vendor started to look concerned, as though Clive was going to wreck the stall or steal everything.

“It has to be perfect. It has to show him how I feel…”

Joshua gave his brother a smile that was both incredulous and amused, “Right, because Gav has no idea how you feel about him. You’ve only told him that you love him, gave him grandfather’s ring to wear, made eyes at him the entire time we were journeying to Port Isolde—”

Clive shot him another look and Joshua raised his hands in mock surrender, holding in laughter. He supposed he could understand why Clive was worked up. They all sorely needed this brief moment of respite, wanting it to go smoothly wasn’t unreasonable. Though he still thought his brother was placing too large a burden on himself. He could give Gav an apple for Yule and the man would love it simply because it was a gift from Clive.

And it isn’t as though the perfect gift even exis—oh. His eye fell on a rather handsome set of silver hairbrushes. Well. Never mind. Those would be perfect for—

“Phoenix’s flaming ass!” Clive exclaimed in frustration before turning a sheepish smile on him. “Sorry, that’s one of Gav’s more innovative curses. He must be rubbing off on me.”

Joshua picked up the hairbrushes, handing some gil over to the vendor. “Better my flaming ass than Ifrit’s bountiful bosom.”

Clive snorted out a laugh, all apprehension over finding a gift momentarily forgotten, “Gav did not say that.”

“Oh, he absolutely did. Granted, he was intoxicated at the time, but he did indeed say it.”

His brother sighed fondly, “I love that man.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Byron had seen Clive and Joshua coming down the lane from his bedroom window, returning from the marketplace no doubt, and went down to the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. It was snowing steadily now and his nephews were likely to be damp and cold.

He’d just finished arranging four wooden mugs of steaming hot cocoa and a plate of cookies on a tray when he heard Torgal barking a happy greeting to Clive and Joshua. He picked the tray up and walked down the hall, peeking into the entrance hall.

Both of his nephews were covered in a powdering of snow. Joshua was looking excited, carrying a set of silver hairbrushes tucked under his arm. Poor Clive looked wet and beleaguered. Byron smiled softly. He had a hunch what was bothering his oldest nephew and had just the solution.

“Welcome back, you two!” He called, holding up the tray as he entered the foyer. “Care to join me for a nosh?”

“We’d be delighted, uncle,” Joshua said brightly as he and Clive removed their cloaks and boots.

Byron held the tray out to Joshua, “Could you take this to the parlor please? Oh, and coax Gav out of the library while you’re passing by, he’s been decorating all afternoon. Clive, could you come with me for a moment? I need you for something.”

Clive nodded distractedly; Byron wouldn’t be surprised if his nephew hadn’t heard a single word he said.

Joshua went off with the tray of goodies and his mission to lure Gav away from his work. Torgal followed closely at Joshua’s heels, likely with his own mission to acquire some cookies. Byron led Clive upstairs to his bedchamber.

He gestured vaguely at the cushy chair in the corner of the room, “Have a seat, my boy. This won’t take long.”

Clive sat, still looking like a lost, sad puppy and Byron dug through his wardrobe, “Having trouble finding a suitable gift for Gav?” He asked as he rifled through his clothes.

That got Clive’s attention, head snapping up as Byron found what he’d been looking for and walked over to him with a bundle in his arms.

“Might I make a suggestion?” When Clive nodded, he placed a fine outdoor cloak, thick black leather and lined with dark silver fur, in his lap. This was one of the many gifts Clive had already bought for Gav and hid in his room upon arriving. It’d sparked this idea the moment he saw it, “I think you should give him this. And… this as well.”

He set a heavy, metal cloak pin on Clive’s knee. It’d been forged in the symbol of his, Byron’s, house. He’d given similar ones to Clive and Joshua nearly the moment after finding out that they still lived. The only difference was this pin was the first one he ever had forged when he had the money to do so. It’d been a little personal celebration… and a thumb of his nose to Father, he’d made his house’s symbol as flamboyant as possible. This particular pin was of great significance to him.

Clive must’ve had an inkling of this, because he looked up at him uncertainly. “Uncle, are you sure?”

He waved an airy hand, “Of course I am, my boy! Let him know he’s part of this family. That’s what you’ve really been fretting about since you got here, is it not?” Byron bounced on the balls of his feet, proud of himself. “I can be observant when I really put my mind to it, you know.”

Byron started a bit as Clive’s arms wrapped around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Thank-you, Uncle Byron. For everything.”

Byron laughed too, patting his nephew on the head. “It’s the least I could do.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Yule was here and the estate was nearly decorated from top to bottom, only a few last-minute touches were needed here and there. Gav was helping the house staff hang clusters of winterberry in nearly every important entranceway, standing on tiptoe atop a slightly rickety wooden stool, tongue pinched between his teeth. He knew how bizarre this would look to Port Isolde’s fancy folk, doing menial tasks, but the thought of just sitting back and letting people wait on him, and do all the work, turned his stomach. He would be as tightly wound as Byron.

Frankly, he only felt truly at ease when he was with Clive and when he'd been out in forest boar hunting. That’d brought back memories of his childhood Yules, waking before the sun was even a peek on the horizon and going hunting with his father for the Yule dinner he and his older brothers would help their mother cook later.

The winterberry, bunches of green frilly leaves and berries like large fat pearls, was tied into a little bouquet with a length of golden twine. He finally got the loop knotted at one end of the twine over the hook suspended overhead, hanging up the last winterberry. He was gazing up at it, making sure it didn’t look crooked, when he felt a familiar hand paw at the curve of his ass before squeezing firmly.

“Clive,” He scolded, failing spectacularly at keeping the smile off his lips and the laughter out of his voice, “That isn’t what you do under the winterberry.”

“Oh?” Clive’s innocent tone was belied by the sly smirk on his face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve celebrated Yule. My memory needs to be refreshed…”

Gav hummed out a quiet laugh, nimbly hopping down from the stool. “Well, first you get beneath it with someone…”

Clive’s hands settled on his hips, pulling him forward a bit so they were both squarely under the little hanging plant. “Done. And then what?”

He traced his fingers lightly over Clive’s jawline before cupping his face, “Then, you plant one on ‘em.”

Gav leaned in, kissing Clive soft and slow and thorough, with a flick of cheeky tongue to cap it off.

Clive’s hands squeezed his hips when he made to draw back, “Show me that last part again, Gav…”

There was a tiny, awkward cough and a high voice interrupted them, “U-um. Sorry, excuse me.” One of Byron’s housekeepers had come up on them as quiet as a mouse, cheeks pink and eyes darting everywhere except in their direction. “Lord Rosfield. Sir Gav. Lord Byron’s guests are coming down the lane. He wishes for you all to greet them in the main yard.”

Clive’s face had gone a brilliant shade of red, amusing Gav to no end. Here was the man who’d been so boldly grabbing his ass just a few minutes ago, blushing like a shy lad about to slip into his First Night bed.

“Thank-you,” he said to the housekeeper, as Clive seemed to have lost his tongue. “We’ll be along right quick.”

The housekeeper gave a nod and hurried off. Alone once more, Gav quickly covered Clive’s warm, flushed face with kisses.

“Memory chugging along yet?” He asked with a grin.

Plainly recovered from his embarrassment, Clive’s arms wrapped tight around his waist, “Getting there. Perhaps just once more…”

❆ ❆ ❆

His palms were sweating. Eugen and his family were still a ways away, but Byron surreptitiously wiped his hands on his trousers. Joshua, Clive, and Gav stood with him, all of them looking on with interest. Torgal was the only one who seemed bored with their approaching guests, having a nap curled up in the newly fallen snow.

Eugen and his nephew reached them first, mounted on massive brown-feathered chocobos. His sister and twin nieces were a little ways back, concealed inside a carriage being pulled by two more chocobos and steered by one of Eugen’s men. A handful of Eugen’s soldiers walked behind the carriage; the roads weren’t safe for travelers these days.

“Eugen!” Byron raised his arms then paused, not entirely sure how Eugen would want to be greeted. He was rather passionate when they were alone, but with their families looking on…

Thankfully, he didn’t have to decide what to do. Eugen approached him, hugged him, and kissed his cheek.

“Byron, you old bastard, I missed you.”

Byron laughed, that was the man he loved alright. “And I missed you, Eugen. I was buzzing like a frantic bee all over the manor this morning.” He gestured to the trio beside him, “Allow me to introduce you—”

It really wasn’t necessary for him to do this, most of Valisthea and certainly all of Rosaria knew these three by now, Clive and Joshua especially, but Byron wanted this evening to be a little slice of normalcy for them. They’d earned—no, they deserved it.

“—These are my nephews, Clive and Joshua Rosfield. And this is Clive’s companion, Gav.”

Clive promptly made sure they understood what sort of companion Byron was talking about by twining his fingers with Gav’s. Byron smiled a little.

Eugen shook each of their hands. “Eugen Havel. Enchanted to finally meet you, boys. Although I think I met you once when you were just a babe,” he said to Clive. “I doubt you remember that, though.”

“Not at all, sir,” Clive replied. “I’m delighted to meet you again all the same.”

Eugen chuckled then looked at Gav, “No second name?”

The lad’s cheeks went a little red, “Common born, sir. We don’t have those. ‘M just Gav from Snowbird Hollow.”

“Ah, the North.”

“Aye.”

Clive was frowning, giving Eugen the eye, like he wasn’t sure if Eugen was judging Gav or not. Byron didn’t blame him. Clive didn’t know Eugen. The man could be brusque but he was far from a snob, just endlessly curious.

The slightly sticky moment passed as the rest of Eugen’s party strolled in through the gate. Both Joshua and Clive tensed slightly when Eugen’s sister emerged from the carriage and Byron immediately understood why. She wore a Yule dress very like the ones their mother once favored and had her hair styled similarly as well.

But Byron knew this woman well and there was no one further from Anabella Rosfield than her. Plump, soft, and round where Anabella was all razor thin sharpness and bony angles. Dark where Anabella was fair. Kind where Anabella was cruel.

She didn’t wait for her brother to make introductions.

“Byron!” She thew her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug that smelled of powdered sugar and vanilla. “It’s been so long, old friend! I’ve missed you so!” She cast a kind eye over the other three, Clive and Joshua both visibly relaxing. “I’m Eugen’s sister, Eudora. Charmed to meet you, gentlemen!”

“I’ve missed you too, Eudora!” Byron laughed as his nephews and Gav murmured their own polite greetings.

The woman released Byron and grabbed her son by the elbow, pulling him forward so vigorously the poor lad nearly tripped, “This is my son Kasir.”

Kasir was near Joshua’s age, if Byron remembered correctly, perhaps a year younger. Handsome and tall, he had his mother’s golden-brown skin, but his amber eyes were his father’s, Eudora’s first husband.

Kasir had his mother’s charming, roguish smile though, “Enchanted.”

“And these are my twin daughters, Chiara and Melia.”

She brought the sisters forward. The twins would be twenty-two now… again, if his memory wasn’t misleading him. Their father was Eudora’s second husband. Eudora insisted that they could be differentiated, but Byron hadn’t been able to yet. Their skin was a shade lighter than their mother’s, but they had her dark eyes and hair, though their curls were free of the silver strands starting to creep their way into Eudora’s. The twins wore perfectly matching traveler’s dresses and had perfectly matching hairstyles. Byron inwardly shrugged. He still couldn’t tell them apart.

“I call them Chaos and Menace.” Kasir said with his roguish grin, making his sisters squawk in protest.

Byron silently agreed, lips twitching as he suppressed a smile. No one had been safe from the twins and their pranks when they were children. When they’d stayed at the manor one long ago summer Byron finally had to scold them for driving poor Rutherford around the bend.

“Well, isn’t this one pretty,” Chiara murmured as Joshua kissed the back of her hand.

“This one isn’t so bad either,” Melia added, eyeing Clive up and down. Gav seemed amused rather than annoyed by this.

Eudora’s sigh was both loving and long-suffering, “Where are your manners, young ladies? We’re guests here. Behave like it.”

“Told you. Chaos and Menace,” Kasir laughed.

The twins gave perfectly matching long-suffering sighs of their own and curtsied.

“Pleased to meet you all.” They chimed out in unison.

“I hope I’m dressed appropriately,” Eudora said to Byron as she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. “I got this from that shop you recommended. I bought Yule clothes for my children too, but they’ve refused to wear them until dinner.”

Yule wasn’t widely celebrated in Dhalmekia. Eugen had been to Yule parties thrown by associates and friends before, but this would be a first-time celebration for Eudora and her brood.

“You look resplendent as always, Eudora.”

“Oh, Byron, stop,” She cackled, playfully smacking him on the arm. “My brother is right there. What will he think of you flirting with me?”

“He’ll think that you two haven’t changed a lick in the last thirty years.” Eugen said dryly, making both Byron and Eudora cackle this time. “Shall we head inside?”

“Hold on a moment, dearest Uncle. I’ve been reading all about Yule on the journey here.” Chiara said, dark eyes glittering with a cheerful mischief Byron was all too familiar with. “Is it true that once the families come together the younger generation has a mock battle with snowballs?”

“That custom is usually reserved for young children.” Eugen replied. “But I’ve no issue with you partaking if our host doesn’t.”

“None at all!” Byron said jovially.

Chiara clapped her hands in glee, looking over at his nephews and Gav. “You three game?”

Kasir gave his sister a withering look, “Seriously?”

“Oh, big brother,” Melia sighed, bending down to scoop up some snow. “Where is your sense of wonder?”

“Ah hell, why not. I’m in.” Gav said with a shrug.

Joshua still looked uncertain, but Clive nodded, which surprised Byron not at all. If Gav was in, Clive was in.

“This is ridiculous,” Kasir muttered, still bending down to cup some snow in his gloved hands.

Byron didn’t see who threw the first snowball, but it hit Kasir square in the face. And just like that, the years melted away before Byron’s eyes. They were no longer a group of world-weary adults, but totally unrestrained youth.

Gav and the twins took off running, laughing wildly as they pelted each other with snowballs and tossed a few more Kasir’s way.

“Oh… it’s on,” Kasir spat out a mouthful of snow and chased after them, aiming a snowball at the back of Gav’s head.

Clive immediately charged off to defend his love, shaping a snowball the size of a pumpkin in his large hands. Torgal, awakened from his nap, charged into the fray too, yipping like a puppy and tail wagging madly. With a kind of resigned anxiety on his face, Joshua followed along to make sure no one died by snowball.

“Well,” Byron grinned, watching Clive dunk his massive snowball on Kasir’s head before he could hit Gav. “Shall we leave them to it and have a pre-dinner drink in the parlor?”

Eugen and Eudora did an inadvertent but spot-on impression of the twins, answering in unison, “Excellent idea.”

❆ ❆ ❆

“Don’t laugh,” Gav’s voice said from behind the changing screen.

Dinner would be served soon, and the Yule party would follow immediately after. Clive and Gav were in the guest room they shared, changing into what Gav called their “Lord Fancy Pants outfits.” Soon after they’d first arrived at the manor, they’d spent an uncomfortable afternoon allowing Byron’s tailor to measure them for their Yule clothes. Clive could tell that Gav hated the whole process, but the blonde had endured it for Byron’s sake.

“I would never.” The sincerity in his voice must’ve convinced Gav, because the blonde emerged from behind the screen, tugging uncomfortably at his clothes.

Clive suppressed the urge to let out a low, appreciative whistle. Byron’s seamster had done a splendid job, despite Gav squirming the whole time. Snug, dark trousers accentuated Gav’s long legs and his long-sleeved shirt had a plunging neckline that rivaled Clive’s own. But it was the velvet waistcoat that did it for him. The dark royal blue really brought out the green in Gav’s eye and the cut flattered his trim waist and other… assets.

He licked his lips, “You look…”

“Like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow?”

The way he said it hurt Clive’s heart. He moved close, one hand reaching out to cup Gav’s cheek. “Handsome. Breathtaking. And yes, like Farmer Lord Gav from Snowbird Hollow, because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Gav’s mouth opened then closed, cheeks turning pink. He leaned into Clive’s hand, “M’sorry. Being silly, huh.”

“Not at all,” He drew Gav close, kissing him gently. He’d been born into this privileged existence and still felt out of place in it. He had a healthy appreciation for how much more overwhelming it’d be for someone born outside of it.

After they parted, Gav’s deft fingers swiftly closed the brass buttons on Clive’s own waistcoat, also velvet but a deep red instead of blue. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine yourself, Clive.”

They kissed again, this time with a little more heat. Clive was just starting to fancy skipping dinner and having Gav instead when the blonde pulled away, wringing a little whimper from Clive’s lips.

Gav laughed softly, thumb tracing over Clive’s lower lip, “Later, love. We’ll have all night.”

Clive sighed but nodded his head. Gav was right, of course. Damn it all.

“…Clive?” Gav was hesitant again.

“Mmn?”

“I know we’re supposed t’ wait until the party for gifts, but your gift is kind of… unwieldy. Byron gonna mind if I give it to you now?”

“Of course not, my boy!” Clive heard Byron’s jovial response so clearly in his mind it was like his uncle was standing in the room with them, “He won’t mind at all.”

Wondering what this unwieldy gift could be, Clive watched as Gav crossed the room and pulled what looked like something very long and very heavy wrapped in green fabric and tied with gold ribbon from the closet.

“Where—” Clive spluttered as Gav sauntered over, depositing his gift on the bed. It was so heavy it made the mattress bounce. “You didn’t bring that with us, did you…!?” It been hard enough keeping his considerably smaller gifts out of Gav’s sight the entire journey. Where had he been hiding this?

Gav was looking proud of himself, “When you told me Byron invited us to Port Isolde for Yule I had it sent here after it was finished. Told Byron it was coming and it arrived by chocobo cart a few days before we did.”

Clive groaned faintly, he wished he’d thought of that.

“Go on, then,” Gav chirped. “Open it.”

Clive undid the ribbon and unwrapped the fabric.

Father’s greatsword!? Was his first confused thought. But no, his father’s blade was long gone. He knew that. This greatsword was newly forged. It just looked exactly like—

“Had Joshua sketch it from memory,” Gav said softly. “Blackthorne forged it, of course.”

Clive swallowed hard. His chest suddenly tight. He ran his fingers reverently down the hilt and over the flat side of the shining blade.

“Gav, I—” His tongue felt heavy. An overwhelming wave of tenderness toward Gav rolled over him. Tears began to spill down his cheeks.

Vaguely through the barrage of his emotions, he heard Gav frantically apologizing and moved quickly to reassure him.

“No, Gav, don’t apologize…” He took Gav’s hands in his, kissing the backs, his knuckles, the long fingers, “I love it. Thank-you.”

Gav’s arms wrapped securely around him, but his expression was still uncertain, “You sure? If I overstepped—"

“I love it,” He repeated firmly, nuzzling into Gav’s neck, kissing it. “I love you,” He nipped at the skin beneath his lips.

“Love you too, but don’t you leave a mark on me right now, Clive Rosfield.” Gav chuckled weakly, still a little shaken by Clive’s reaction to his gift.

Thwarted again. Clive contented himself with pressing another kiss to Gav’s neck before releasing him. He propped his new blade against the wall in the corner of the room, admiring it briefly before taking Gav by the hand. It was time for dinner.

❆ ❆ ❆

There were only nine of them present, ten including Torgal fervently chewing on a bone in the corner, but dinner was still going to be a noisy affair. Joshua could scarcely hear his own thoughts. Eudora and Byron were the loudest by far, followed by the twins, who Joshua suspected were already a bit tipsy. The wine had been flowing freely. Clive was the quietest, murmuring to Gav, who was looking overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cutlery around his plate.

“Dinner is courtesy of Gav!” Byron announced as the staff began to file in carrying dishes and platters. “Saved the whole Yule feast, he did!”

Gav’s cheeks flushed bright red and he took a hasty gulp of wine. Joshua gave him a smile and his knee an encouraging pat. His brother, sitting on Gav’s other side, did the same.

The food flowed in faster than the wine. Heaps of garlic roasted potatoes, mashed parsnips, tossed gysahl greens, glazed carrots (contrary to popular belief, no longer Joshua’s mortal enemy), thick slices of freshly baked bread, dressed eggs, peas and onions swimming in butter, and of course the boar, roasted to crackling perfection.

Joshua’s mouth watered. Molly, the Hideaway’s cook, did a fine enough job when she put her mind to it, but it’d been a long time since he’d had anything that wasn’t some type of stew or soup. He piled his plate with a bit of everything and asked for a refill on his wine. Clive tossed a generous slice of boar meat to Torgal.

Gav accidentally used the wrong fork for the boar. Joshua and Clive used a randomly chosen fork in solidarity. Joshua chose the dessert fork, imagining the look on his mother’s face if she could see him now.

No. Joshua’s lips pressed firmly together. He was enjoying this evening. He wasn’t going to sour it with thoughts of her.

A foot nudged at Joshua’s under the table and he couldn’t decide if it was Kasir, Chiara, or Melia. All three were giving him the eye from across the table. If he’d been a betting man, he’d put his gil on one of the twins. They had already ambushed him beneath the winterberry hung over the entranceway to the dining hall, sandwiching him between them as they each pressed a kiss to one cheek. Chaos and Menace indeed.

❆ ❆ ❆

Dinner had been for family only, but Byron and Eugen had decided to invite a handful of people to the Yule party. Some of their oldest friends who could be trusted not to harass Clive and Joshua and a few musicians to play, as the twins at the very least would want to dance.

Byron lips twitched in a sympathetic smile as Chiara twirled Joshua around the parlor. His poor nephew was one of the youngest, eligible (at least, Byron thought so, though he did wonder who the hairbrushes were for…) lads there, thus he’d been called upon to dance with Chiara, her sister, and even Kasir time and again. Even some of Byron and Eugen’s friends had coaxed a dance out of him.

Clive remained as tightly coiled as was appropriate in public around Gav, his grim expression meant to scare off anyone who wanted to dance. He’d only consented to dance with Eudora earlier in the evening.

A hand slid into his and Byron looked over to see Eugen standing beside him, smiling as Joshua bowed politely to Chiara and excused himself to hide in a shadowy nook with a cup of wine for a moment.

“This has been wonderful,” he said.

Byron’s heart swelled. That was exactly what he’d been hoping for, “It has.”

“…Would you care to dance?” Eugen asked quietly, gruffly, looking for all the world like the embarrassed teenager who’d asked Byron to kiss him in the garden once many years ago.

“I’d love to, darling.”

Eugen’s hand found the small of his back and he put his own hand Eugen’s shoulder as they slowly glided about the room. Melia walked by them, her gaze firmly set upon Joshua, when Gav smoothly intercepted her, holding one hand out.

“A dance, m’lady?” He asked with a grin.

“I’d be delighted, sir!” She giggled, taking Gav’s hand.

Byron chuckled when he saw his nephew mouth “thank-you” with a grateful sigh.

❆ ❆ ❆

Clive sat on one of the lounge sofas watching Gav dance with Melia, his stomach twisting. It wasn’t jealousy, but nerves making him squirm. He’d retrieved his gift for Gav from under one of the Yule trees, anxiously twisting the ribbon tied about the package around and around his finger as he waited.

Gav had recruited Joshua and Blackthorne to forge his father’s greatsword for him. It seemed they were on the same page in regard to their relationship. So, his gift, wanting to show Gav he was part of their family, wasn’t too much, right?

He turned his gaze and his mind to his uncle instead, trying to distract himself. He smiled as he watched Byron and Eugen dance by the musicians. He hadn’t been sure about Eugen at first, but as the day went on he saw the man beneath the brisk surface. The man who loved Byron dearly. The man Byron had waited decades for.

Clive looked back at Gav, his nerves softening into adoration, relieved he hadn’t had to wait as long for Gav. He would’ve, if he had to, but glad he hadn’t needed to.

The musicians changed to something a little more upbeat. Byron and Eugen continued to dance, and a few of their friends and Eudora joined, but Melia and Gav parted, her curtsying and him giving her a deep bow.

“Had to give poor Joshua a breather. Looked like the lad was going t’ pass out.” Gav said as he rejoined Clive on the lounge, stealing a sip of Clive’s wine.

“Better you than me,” Clive chuckled.

“I thought you were my shield, brother.” Joshua teased as he stepped up behind the lounge.

“You’re not in danger, Joshua.”

“Easy for you to say,” His brother replied. Chiara was now eyeing him from across the parlor. “Your feet aren’t at risk of being danced right off, and you’ve Gav to protect you.”

“He protected you, too.”

“True. Thank-you, Gav.”

The blonde chuckled, “Ah, don’t mention it.”

It was then that Joshua noticed the gift his older brother was clutching in his hands, “Well, I’m going to refill my wine and hide in the library for a while. Wish me luck, gentlemen.”

“Luck,” Gav and Clive said in unison as Joshua walked off.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sharing sips from Clive’s wine, before he finally worked up the courage to set the gift in Gav’s lap.

“Happy Yule, Gav.”

“Aw, Clive,” Gav pulled the ribbon off and unfolded the fabric. He let out a quiet, appreciative whistle when he saw the cloak inside. “No more freezing my arse off on watch—” His eye fell upon the cloak pin and picked it up as though it was made of glass.

Clive held his breath. Waited. He knew Gav, clever and observant, would understand the significance of the pin. He would’ve seen the matching pins on his and Joshua’s cloaks before.

“…This revenge for me makin’ you cry earlier?” Gav asked softly.

Clive huffed an equally soft laugh, moving close to wrap his arm around the blonde’s waist. “No. It’s an offer, and a promise.”

Gav looked at him, his face unreadable. Clive’s heart skipped a beat.

Then he leaned in, pressing a brief, chaste kiss to his lips, making Clive all but melt with relief. “Thank-you, love,” He fastened the pin to his new cloak, smoothing the leather around it. “It’ll look good on me.”

“It will,” Clive agreed, heart soaring. He felt like he could float right off the lounge.

Gav smiled thoughtfully, “Y’know, when I first joined the Hideaway all I wanted was a family. Now I’ve got two. I’m spoiled, me.”

“But I’ll spoil you more than Otto will,” Byron stage whispered as he and Eugen danced by.

“Don’t be rude, dear. They’re having a moment.” Eugen lightly admonished.

“It was not rude—”

Clive and Gav chuckled together as Byron and Eugen danced away again, bickering in the loving way they did.

“And I’ll spoil you more than Otto or Byron will,” Clive murmured. “There’s three more gifts waiting for you…”

“Hells, Clive, you weren’t kidding.” Gav laughed.

No one was looking. Clive snuck in a quick line of kisses up the side of Gav’s neck, his gaze still on Byron and Eugen.

“I want that to be us.” The words just popped out and Clive blushed, realizing what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. He meant it.

Gav looked at him, smirking slightly. “The bickering or the dancing?”

“Older… together.”

The blonde’s expression softened and he looked down at his gift, fingers tracing the design on the pin. “…I like the sound of that.”

Oh, if only they weren’t in a room full of his uncle’s guests. He wanted to kiss every last inch of Gav.

“Would you like to dance while we’re growing old together?” He asked. It’d have to do until he had Gav to himself.

Gav smiled and stood up, holding his hand out to him, “Love to.”

❆ ❆ ❆

The party was over. Byron and Eugen bundled their friends, all in various stages of inebriation, into their carriages to send them safely home. Clive had to help Kasir carry Chiara and Melia to bed, both sisters too drunk and exhausted to walk. Eudora, also a little tipsy, affectionately pinched Clive on the cheek as thanks before tottering off to bed herself. Byron and Eugen followed soon after. Gav lightly ruffled Joshua’s hair and planted a kiss on the top of Clive’s head before he also sleepily weaved away, leaving Clive and Joshua in the parlor.

The brothers sat together in a couple of wooden chairs facing toward the fireplace. The flames were low but provided enough light and heat that neither of them bothered to move to add more wood. Torgal lay on the rug in front of the hearth, gnawing on what was left of his bone.

Clive was tired, but not as tired as Joshua had to be. Hiding in the library had granted him a small reprieve, but it’d only been half an hour before the twins had found him again. He and Gav had taken a few turns diverting their attention with dances, but it seemed their appetite for Joshua was insatiable.

“I believe my toes have fallen off…” Joshua groaned, pulling one of his boots off so he could massage his foot. “I can’t remember the last time I danced…”

“I can’t remember the last time I celebrated Yule.”

Silence fell between them as they realized the answer together. Before the Night of Flames, of course. A night that simultaneously felt like it was yesterday and centuries ago.

Joshua pulled his other boot off, fingers working at his calf muscle. “How different things could have been if—" He cut himself off, sharply shaking his head, massaging his lower leg a little more aggressively than necessary.

Clive’s mouth twisted bitterly. He knew what Joshua was thinking, because he’d thought it himself a time or two that evening. If only their mother had been someone like Eudora, a woman they’d known for considerably less time, but already adored so much more.

“No,” His younger brother said, more to himself than Clive. “I promised I wouldn’t sour this night.”

“You haven’t—”

Joshua cut him off this time, “For you, dear brother.”

He stood from his chair and dragged a large wooden trunk over to Clive. It seemed Gav hadn’t been the only one with the foresight to send a cumbersome gift ahead of time. He’d have to remember that for next year…

Joshua sat down again with an exhausted sigh as Clive lifted the trunk’s lid to peer inside.

“I know many will consider it a sin, to cover up your chest, but I’ll sleep better knowing your heart is better protected.”

New armor lay within the trunk. Greaves and gauntlets made from dark metal. A chest piece with thick black leather cut in the shape of flames and layered over a metal bodice that glimmered red here and there. It would indeed cover his chest.

“You and Gav have been keeping Blackthorne busy, I see…” Clive murmured, lifting the chest piece out of the trunk, looking it over wonderingly.

“An unfortunate side effect of caring about you.” Joshua replied with a tired chuckle.

“Thank-you, Joshua.”

“You’re most welcome, brother.”

Joshua drained the last of his wine, head lolling back against the chair behind him. Clive didn’t think his brother even heard him get up as he retrieved a bundle from beneath the nearest Yule tree.

“This is from both Gav and I,” Clive set Joshua’s gift in his lap, startling him out of his half-asleep state.

Stifling a yawn, Joshua untied the ribbon and opened the package. Inside he found four thick stacks of bound, blank paper, three ink pots, and three chocobo-feather quills.

He brightened, picking up one of the quills and admiring the tiny, intricate carvings in the wooden shaft. “Gav made these! I’ve been wanting to ask him to make me one ever since I saw the quill he made for Harpocrates.”

Clive nodded, “Ambrosia donated the feathers. Voluntarily, mind you.”

“Thank-you, Clive. This is a fine gift. Thank Gav, too.”

“I will.”

Joshua yawned again and pulled his boots back on, taking a few tries to do it in his exhaustion. Gathering his gift in his arms, he stood from his chair.

“…I am going to bed. If I never see another musician again it will be too soon. Come along, Torgal.”

Clive chuckled, “Goodnight, Joshua.” He rubbed Torgal behind his ears, “Goodnight, boy.”

“Until tomorrow, Clive.”

Joshua left the parlor with Torgal trailing close behind and Clive stretched, his back creaking faintly, before standing up as well. He tucked his gift from Joshua safely beside a Yule tree and made sure the flames in the fireplace were out before heading down the hall to the guest room he shared with Gav.

Clive was mid-yawn when he entered, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him. All thoughts of sleep instantly fled from his mind. Gav was posed on the bed, stark naked, with a ribbon delicately wrapped and tied with a neat little bow around his—

“Surprise,” Gav looked very pleased with himself. “Got you more than one gift, too.”

Clive locked the door and beelined for the bed, shedding his clothes as fast as he could.

---

I'll let y'all decide who Joshua bought the hairbrushes for, and if they're platonic or romantic lol

[arklay]

diana + total control <3

36. total control + diana.

words: 6.6k warnings: narcissistic behaviour, past cheating, somewhat graphic violent thoughts, insecurity, body image, chronic illness, mention of omnicide, indoctrination, flogging (for the quote at the end, not the actual fic) [read on ao3]

All he wanted was to go to bed, to finally do his routine properly for the first time in a good while then get some rest. He didn’t even have to sleep – though a few hours would be nice, even if he didn’t need as much as humans anymore – he just needed to get away from all the incessant nagging and have some time to himself.

Wesker had been working non-stop as of late, spending almost all of his time in the lab he usually shared with Diana, or in his office, and he had finally run out of steam. The last few days seemed to exhaust him, and that old friend was almost unrecognisable after so many years of vigour. But he couldn’t stay another night in his office, reminders of all the things he wished to perfect only enticing him to give up rest entirely, even if that meant he had to sit through reading another one of these imbecile’s reports.

Navigating through the facility with ease, even with fatigue threatening to dull his senses, he broke his stride when the shrill clicking of heels sounded in the next corridor. It seemed to reach behind Wesker’s eyes and make his brain bash against his skull, much like the way it used to with his migraines. But it wasn’t so much the noise as it was the cause of them, and he almost turned around to head back to his office, not wanting to deal with that annoyance at the moment.

That is, until he realised she was heading away from his destination, footsteps growing distant with each passing second, and the relief he felt from that was absurd. He rounded the corner and reached the door she had been in front of, swiping his keycard and entering the code to his room as if on autopilot; the slow hiss as it slid open was almost comforting, the promise of peace and quiet so close within reach.

But once he caught sight of Diana already in bed with her back to the door, his stomach twisted into a knot. He hadn’t seen her since she had made those unfounded claims against him the day prior, meaning he’d fumbled to give himself the last two doses of his medication, but the thought of looking for her hadn’t even crossed his mind, far too busy with more important matters than the ridiculous train of thought she had surmised.

He would have thought she was already asleep considering the way she was lying perfectly still with the covers up to her shoulders, the lights out and the scent of her moisturiser lingering in the air, but the moment he began taking off his coat, he noticed how her heart rate increased.

Then she took a deep breath.

“I think we need some time apart.”

Wesker paused in the middle of hanging up his coat when her quiet words reached him, wrapping themselves around every one of his muscles and pulling them taut. He could only look down at his hand balled into a fist around material as he slowly nodded in response, even though she couldn’t see it. He almost thought he could hear the blood rushing through his arteries and up to his head, making him feel like he was burning from the inside out.

The simple statement echoed in his mind, the words overlapping and varying in volume, taunting him at every turn alongside his own thoughts. Mocking him.

…time apart. She’s leaving. She won’t come back. Not coming back. Like Jelena. We need some time apart. It’s always been like this, me against them. We need some time apart.

But Diana didn’t stop there.

“I can’t be here at the moment. I’m going to stay with Alex for a while.” The slight waver in her voice was betraying the composure he knew she was desperately trying to keep, and he shouldn’t have felt guilty for it. He had nothing to feel guilty for.

“How long?” The words felt heavy leaving his throat, and Wesker swallowed in a futile attempt to try and fight off the lump that had taken up residence there.

The small sniffle he heard made him glance back over at Diana; she shifted beneath the covers, one of her hands coming up to her face, and he could only assume that she was rubbing her nose. Whatever anger he may have felt towards her for causing this mess, for hurting him with her accusations, it seemed to be fighting a losing battle against his love for her. Why a small sound such as that could tug at his heart, he would never understand. No one else could elicit such a reaction from him.

“I don’t know.” It was barely audible, only a whisper, and yet he heard it clear as day, as though she had spoken the words directly into his ear.

Diana pulled the covers closer around herself then stilled once more, only listening to the way his heart was pounding in his chest. Or was that hers? She couldn’t tell, but it made her feel sick to her stomach. It was foolish of her to think that he’d understand her decision, but she had hoped he’d calmed down enough from yesterday to at least see it from her perspective.

Perhaps he had simply left her alone with her thoughts for too long.

His footsteps as he made his way further into their room seemed deafening in her ears, and she wasn’t prepared for the panic that set in behind her sternum when she heard him round the bed. She had no reason to panic around him; she never had before, but the moment she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, she took another long inhale through her nose.

Wesker slowly crouched down in front of her, one hand reaching up to pull his sunglasses off while the other settled on the bed by her hip, but Diana only rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, avoiding him as best she could. The heavy sigh he let out at that had her eyes stinging and she wanted to hate him for it. She wished she could hate him.

Her name barely left his lips before Diana muttered, “I can’t look at you right now.”

“I apologise for raising my voice.”

It sounded so rehearsed. So hollow. Or maybe she was too upset to even notice how his tone had changed. But she knew for a fact that he wasn’t sorry for how he’d spoken to her. She knew. If they had a chance to redo that argument, it would all play out the exact same way as it had. She was sure of it.

Diana turned her head and looked him in the eyes. Those gorgeous scarlet eyes. “Raising your voice?” Her own mutated ones darted between his, searching for something, anything. “You roared at me, Albert. That wasn’t…” She averted her gaze when her voice cracked, and she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “That was more than yelling. I have never heard such anger in your voice directed at me.”

“You have never questioned my loyalty to you before,” Wesker stated matter-of-factly, and her gaze landed on his face once more. Was he seriously trying to justify it?

She scoffed and shook her head. “So that makes it okay for you to speak to me that way?”

He tilted his head to the side and simply stared at her, one of his brows raised and the corner of his lips pulled upward ever so slightly. She could have punched him for that. This wasn’t like the times where they would laugh off what they both considered inane bickering; he had hurt her. And he hadn’t even bothered to check on her afterwards. Diana knew it was wrong to be as upset as she was when she had caused him to react in such a way, and he had every right to be furious with her for her line of questioning, but she still couldn’t believe the manner in which he had spoken to her.

Turning her head away from him again, she focused on the ceiling once more, preferring the simplicity of it as opposed to whatever look was strewn about his face. Why did he have to come to bed tonight?

The stinging in her eyes and how constricted her throat felt only served to make her feel more pathetic. She wasn’t going to cry over this. That was the last thing she wished to do.

Diana’s hands hesitantly came up to gather some of her hair and she began playing with the ends, a habit Wesker was well-acquainted with whenever she was trying to distract herself from whatever she was feeling. But he didn’t know what to do this time around. It was tough enough dealing with her emotions when he wasn’t trying to keep his temper under control, and the way she was acting like she hadn’t hurt him with her asinine remarks wasn’t helping matters.

A moment passed of neither of them speaking up, and Wesker knew there was little he could do to coax some kind of response from her when she was like this. Instead, he busied himself with unclasping his watch, the one she had bought him on their last anniversary, and he carefully set it aside before he worked on removing his gloves.

“You…” He lifted his head to look over at her due to the tremble in her voice, and he watched as she hurriedly blinked a few times, trying to fight off oncoming tears. “You humiliated me.”

Diana didn’t need to see his face to know what kind of reaction that had caused, judging by the way his hands paused in her peripheral vision, and she could have sworn she heard his jaw clench, teeth grinding together. However, the one thing she was certain of was that he was staring directly at her; she could feel his eyes practically boring a hole into the side of her head. If there had been a flash of that vivid red, she couldn’t tell, and honestly, she didn’t care. Yelling at her like that in their lab, where any passersby could have heard him – and she had no doubt some of the researchers had with the looks she had gotten last night – hurt her more than what he had even said to her.

Wesker rose from his position next to her and picked up his things, walking away from the bed, and there was no doubt in her mind that he needed to get away from her lest he say something nasty.

Diana only watched as he tossed his watch and gloves on the counter in the small kitchen in their room as he passed by it, and she chewed on her lip in an attempt to prevent a shaky breath from leaving her. The way his shoulders were tensed up to his ears and how he rubbed at his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom actually made her feel a bit sick. Why did she have to say anything in the first place?

The moment he was out of sight, she finally let out a deep breath, looking up to try and stop the tears that were welling up in her eyes again. The sound of him beginning to mutter to himself caught her attention, but he turned the shower on before she could make sense of what he was saying, the running water drowning out whatever thoughts he was angry enough that he felt the need to verbalise. The notion that she had ruined everything between them crossed her mind, that their marriage was irreparable after claims such as this, but she refused to believe it. 

Time. She simply needed time away.

She rolled onto her side, returning to the position she had been lying in before he had walked over. The photo from their wedding – well, technically, their vow renewal ceremony – that was sitting on her nightstand drew her gaze, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to look away, even though it was only making her feel worse. The miniature versions of the two of them seemed almost unrecognisable. Ten years shouldn’t have felt like a lifetime ago.

Diana didn’t know when she had tucked her knees up to her chest, but staring at that old picture of them only made her tighten her arms around her legs. They stood close, bodies pressed together while they were hand-in-hand, his other arm wrapped around her waist in a possessive gesture, but it was the indistinct smiles on both of their faces, and her loving gaze while his was obscured by his glasses, that really made her chest hurt. Why weren’t they like that anymore? What changed?

Are you done? Wesker had asked far too harshly after she made a few comments about his whereabouts or why he never came to bed anymore, implying he was occupying himself with someone else. She couldn’t even remember what she had said next, something about how it was probably Excella, or maybe even Jill, considering she was around the same age Diana had been when she had met him, but it had set him off. How dare you accuse me of this!

The venom in his voice had rendered her immobile, and she had no time to regain herself and respond before the yelling started. Most of what he had said went in one ear and out the other; she was far too stunned by his reaction for it to sink in. The promises of devotion to her, the reiteration that in over ten years his mind had never wandered, the preaching of how no one on the planet could ever compare to her; none of it seemed to matter with the questions he bellowed.

Would you like to compare me to that poor excuse of an ex-husband in another way? Do you have a plan to kill me next? Diana had only felt betrayed in that moment, negating his reverent monologue. How could he yell something so personal, something she had told him in confidence, for anyone to hear? The way he had tugged on her arm following that, pulling her close to look down into her eyes – luminescence never subsiding – didn’t make her feel nearly as small as what he had spat next. When did you become so insecure?

He had a point. He didn’t have to yell at her, or say it like that, but he had a point. When did she fall back into this behaviour? It had been decades since she needed reassurance from anyone. But this wasn’t for admiration or for her work and abilities to be recognised, it was… different. She had never questioned this before, even when that bastard had slept around for months before she had found out. She had never felt undesirable.

Diana hadn’t heard the water stop, too lost in thought to even notice, but the sound of Wesker’s feet padding across the floor seemed to pull her back to the present. Her breath caught in her throat when the mattress dipped behind her under his weight, and the small tap of his glasses when he placed them down on the nightstand made her heart feel like it was going to break its way out from under her rib cage.

She heard him shift to lie down, getting more comfortable, and her vision clouded once more. He didn’t even lean over to press a kiss into her hair or wrap an arm around her waist. Like most nights these days. Though that was a rather foolish thing to wish for at the minute.

Then he finally spoke up. “When are you leaving?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, but it was too late, a tear had already escaped and rolled down her cheek, catching behind the angle of her jaw.

“Tomorrow,” Diana replied, then she cleared her throat as quietly as she could to rid the rasp in her voice. “I spoke with Alex this morning and she could use some help around the island.”

Wesker glared at the door to their room opposite the bed, trying to focus on anything other than the way the knife twisted in his heart. The fact that she had spoken to Alex about taking some time away before ever discussing it with him made him… not angry per se, but it almost felt like a betrayal in and of itself.

He couldn’t believe her. After everything they had been through together, everything he had done for her, he couldn’t understand where she got this foolish idea in her head that he was cheating on her with that irritant. It went against everything he had ever said to her, every way he had worshipped her. Surely he hadn’t done something without his knowledge to make her feel this way.

Rolling onto his back, Wesker ran his hands down his face. He shouldn’t have yelled at her. Why did he yell at her? They have always spoken about their issues, explained how one of them had upset the other, then they’d apologise and move on. Why did he yell? What had he even said to her? All he could remember was red. Everything had been red.

“Diana.”

Silence.

The thumping of her heart was overwhelming his senses, and for a moment he thought she might actually be scared of him. She had never been scared of him. The pit in his stomach only grew at that, and he clawed through the mess that were his memories to try and remember what had even happened. He couldn’t lose her because of this nonsense. He couldn’t lose her.

Wesker moved over to her side of the bed, suddenly feeling the need to hold her, and he pressed his chest to her back and wrapped an arm around her waist. But the way she tensed up against him felt like a punch in the gut. She used to love being held like this, craved it even, and he couldn’t imagine her not wanting his comfort. Perhaps it had simply been too long since he’d done it.

“Talk to me, dear,” he whispered near her ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up on end. Then Diana felt the press of his lips behind her ear, then to the side of her neck, then at her nape. “I’m sorry.”

He needed to stop whispering that in between his fleeting kisses across her shoulders and back, because she wasn’t that far off from kicking him right where she could guarantee it would hurt. He should be glad she hadn’t elbowed him and perhaps cracked a rib or two the moment he had moved closer towards her.

“Stop it,” Diana finally muttered.

Wesker immediately paused in leaving a trail of kisses down her spine and propped himself up on one forearm, his other hand reaching for her cheek as he hovered over her. She turned in his arms, rolling onto her back to look up at him, but that was all she did, golden eyes scanning over his features.

Diana’s heart sank once she saw the pained expression on his face; what she had caused. She wished she could swallow her pride and apologise to him for being so selfish, doubting his loyalty to her because of her own issues. She believed she deserved it then if the hand on her cheek decided to travel lower to close around her throat. He could easily snap it in one fluid motion, or perhaps he would like to crush her trachea instead, just to watch her struggle as her body realised it was being deprived of oxygen.

His hand moved higher instead, fingertips gently brushing her hair away from her face, then Wesker leaned in and rested his forehead against hers, taking her by surprise; she had no doubt her eyes had gone comically wide at that.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his hot breath warming her skin, before he leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I haven’t said it enough, but I do, I love you.”

Diana almost rolled her eyes at that. The last thing she needed was for him to pity her and shower her in affection. Her hand came between them before she pushed on his chest, making him pull back, and she took note of the look of… desperation in his eyes and the way his brows were knit together. His thought process suddenly dawned on her then.

“I’m not leaving you, Al, I just need time to think,” she said while holding his gaze, one of her hands hesitating at her side as she itched to reach up and cup his cheek, but she refrained from doing so. “So please, stop doing… this.”

Wesker visibly relaxed above her, his features softening and the tension in his shoulders seeming to melt away, but his eyes remained locked on hers. She felt awfully exposed beneath him like this, and the way he was shifting to lie more comfortably against her, his warm body pressing against her side with one of his knees settling between her own, it didn’t help at all. Diana cursed the way her gaze drifted down to his lips. 

He wasn’t getting a kiss tonight.

She wished he wasn’t even lying this close to her, but something within her wanted to cling to him and revel in his warmth, savouring every touch as though that was somehow a measure of her worth.

He opened his mouth to speak but Diana already knew what he was going to say, and she cut him off, “I don’t want to talk about it until I get back.”

“We always talk.” He searched her eyes as he slowly traced a line down the side of her neck then across the length of one of her sharp collarbones. “Help me understand why this is any different.”

“Because it’s not about you,” Diana snapped, and the way his eyes widened slightly only mirrored the shock she felt at herself for how the words had unintentionally left her lips. “It’s…” She looked away from him then, but once she felt his hand find her own beneath the covers, his fingers lacing with hers, she sighed. “You haven’t done anything to make me question your fidelity.”

“I obviously have, dear, or you would not have accused me of doing such a thing.” Wesker squeezed her hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Diana only muttered in response.

“Okay,” he whispered, then pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “But I must know if you’re having doubts about us.”

Diana slowly met his gaze and it really hit her then how much she had hurt him with all of this nonsense. Why the looks he’d given her or the yelling hadn’t, she had no idea, perhaps because she was far too preoccupied with her damaged pride to really consider how her accusation must have made him feel.

She scratched the tail end of one of her brows then let out a short exhale through her nose in way of a weak chuckle.

“I think we are spending too much time working in the lab, together, and it’s making us… at each other’s throats for no reason.” Wesker wanted to interrupt her and tell her that he’d never thought that way, that whenever they disagreed on a method he valued her input, even if her questioning irritated him at times. “We’ve been bickering too much over little things; could use a reset, I suppose. But no. I need to figure this”—she gestured vaguely at the side of her head—“out.”

“And I cannot help?” Wesker raised a curious brow, accompanied by the slight tilt of his head as his eyes slowly wandered over her face.

Diana pushed him away from her side with ease then, something she would have struggled pathetically to do before she transcended humanity. She pointed towards his side of the bed in some attempt to establish some distance between them, only until she sorted out whatever this insecurity was that had her turning their time apart from one another into some notion that he thought her abhorrent or something of the like, but that arrogant smirk on his face was testing her something fierce.

“On my own,” she added to her past statement, rather dramatically at that, a treacherous smile threatening to pull on her lips. He only chuckled in response, sending a knowing glance her way, and she did actually kick him then.

“So,” Alex began as she walked over to the large leather couch with a cup of tea in each hand, “what did my dear brother do this time?”

The term of endearment said in such a mocking tone drew a chuckle from Diana, and she watched as the uncanny resemblance of her husband placed the two teacups down on the table before she sat beside her, crossing one leg over the other.

It was odd to Diana, finding out that Spencer had stolen hundreds of children from families all across the globe, and yet the idea that Albert and Alex were twins could never quite leave her mind. They looked too similar for that not to be the case, they had the same birthday – though that could have also been a lie – and he had never questioned their relations. Surely tests would have revealed to him that they weren’t biologically related. They have to be.

The question she had asked, on the other hand, was not something Diana wished to think too much on at the moment. “It’s nothing, just a small spat is all.”

Alex hummed, though she knew for a fact that the younger woman was lying. Usually she was quite good at that, but the way she failed to hide the corners of her lips pulling into a frown and how she turned her head away to look off into the distance deceived her none. What really fascinated Alex was that she could’ve sworn she had seen her eyes start to water.

“Diana?” She lightly tapped her foot against Diana’s shin, and the other woman looked down at her lap for a second before turning back to her.

“We’re fine.” The small, forced smile she sent Alex’s way did little to convince her, and Alex almost laughed in response. “Simply taking some time apart, too much arguing with work.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at that and she tilted her head to the side. “You two do not argue.”

“Yes, well, we don’t yell either,” Diana countered, far more harshly than she had meant to.

Touchy, Alex thought to herself. However, the statement did take her by surprise. She had never seen them fight, or even disagree much for that matter, though she knew when they had misunderstandings they were resolved through discussion, not something as childish as yelling at one another. What have you done, brother?

Diana absent-mindedly waved a hand in a dismissive gesture before scoffing. “It doesn’t help how much I was reflecting on the trip over here.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” The blonde tried to keep her tone plain, but she couldn’t help the hint of curiosity that shone through her words.

Perhaps she hadn’t checked in with Albert enough if his mental state was affecting his relationship this much. He had always struggled to form long-lasting bonds, save for a few exceptions, and Alex quite liked the little viper – she had once joked he better treat her well or she might just have to steal her for herself – so it would be quite a shame if this fell apart, and she had no idea what that would do to him. Although she knew it wouldn’t be a pretty sight, judging by how hard only a few months dalliance had hit him.

Thirteen years down the drain, she mused. Their long gazes and sweet smiles that she often called “disgusting” were more tolerable than whatever this was.

“I don’t know what’s happened to him,” Diana whispered, voice trembling like Alex had never heard before.

She paused in reaching out to pick up her cup of tea and simply stared at Diana. She was looking down at her lap, toying with the hem of her skirt. Trying to keep herself preoccupied so as to not cry, Alex supposed. Then she caught sight of the tear rolling down her cheek and that made her sigh, a bit too loudly.

“Do not cry, I have never seen you cry.” Her words were stiff, almost mechanical, and it made Diana laugh as her hands came up to roughly wipe at her cheeks.

The sound of Alex shifting next to her reached her before she felt hands settle on either side of her face, lifting her head so that she was looking up at her. Alex’s thumbs brushed over Diana’s cheeks, only once, while cold blue eyes wandered over her face, seeming to inspect her as she tried to calm her heart.

Alex nodded with a slight smile. “That’s better.” She dropped her hands when she was satisfied that Diana wasn’t going to make some display and start sobbing – though that was unlikely – then she sat back. “Now, what do you mean?”

Diana took a deep breath, shaking her head slightly. “I don’t know when the plans changed.”

That was peculiar. Alex was under the impression they had begun working on Uroboros to bring about a new age, to create a new world order much like that decrepit old man had intended, where there would be no place for the foolish masses, but she was quite curious by what these original plans must have been.

She didn’t have to wait long because Diana only continued, “In the beginning, it was never about this… wish to remake the world, it was…” She trailed off with this look of utter disgust on her face, like she had trod on something and it had stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“What was it?”

“To stabilise the mutant strain within him and you, for starters, but whatever happened to our goal of immortality? Though, I suppose he already had that, and I was weighing him down more than anything…” Diana looked down at her lap again, chewing on her bottom lip before she shook her head. “We were to be gods in our own right, having these abilities that others could only dream of.” A weak chuckle spilled from her lips then. “We used to laugh at those who weren’t as smart as us, they were like a source of entertainment at times”—the small smile faded from her lips—“but now it only seems like he is intent on driving some… mass extinction event.”

Alex’s jaw suddenly clenched at that, accompanied by a sharp inhale, however, that only made it as far as the bubble at the base of her throat, her body not ready for such a sudden reaction. Swallowing did nothing to facilitate its journey, only aggravating the irritation, and the air came right back out in the form of a rather violent cough.

Diana’s head snapped to look over at Alex before her eyes darted around the room, looking for her bag as the woman next to her dissolved into another one of her coughing fits. Then she remembered she usually kept what she needed on her at all times. When Diana moved closer to reach for her blazer pocket, Alex held up a hand to warn her off and did it herself, roughly pulling her inhaler out with her other hand before she took a few puffs, breathing slowly and putting her hand on the armrest to steady herself.

“This damned illness…” she muttered to herself, but she had no doubt Diana heard her with those now heightened senses of hers. It was getting worse, but she had work to do, and she wasn’t going to spend her days lying around doing nothing. Rest only made her feel worse.

Diana reached over towards the table and picked up Alex’s cup of tea, hoping it may ease her throat some. She carefully handed it to her, and Alex gave her a small smile with a slight nod of her head, patting her hand once she’d taken the cup from her. Diana had no idea what else to do besides that, and she simply sat there, wondering if she should continue with their previous topic, or simply drink her tea and abandon it completely.

Alex watched Diana as she took another sip, taking in the sight of the object of her brother’s affection. Obsession is more accurate, she thought to herself. She was a rather clueless thing when it came to assisting others, but Alex appreciated the gesture, nonetheless.

Her eyes wandered over her then; the golden eyes that were once blue weren’t nearly as jarring to her as her sinewy arms for some reason, despite those vertical slit pupils. They weren’t necessarily muscular, simply defined more than anything, but her veins seemed far more prominent than she remembered. It was an odd sight; Diana never really had much tone, her arms used to look quite similar to her own thin ones actually, so this was perhaps a sight that would take some time for her to get used to.

It still amused her that Diana had injected herself with Uroboros on a whim, almost giving poor Albert a heart attack; the dosage was far more than her slight body could handle, and yet here she was, sitting right in front of Alex. She supposed it was only fair though, seeing as he had done the same thing to her ten years ago. Made for each other, those two.

That made her mind drift back to what Diana had said before. They were all working towards that same goal, the greatest power man could ever wish to achieve: immortality. However, she was unaware of this unnecessarily destructive behaviour Diana had spouted. It seemed like pure nonsense, but she supposed she couldn’t write it off completely. He had always been quite extreme in his methods, sure, though he knew you must control those who are lesser than you, use fear to your advantage; that is the most powerful motivator, after all, but omnicide… That was rather imaginative of him.

“It is a foolish plan,” Alex said, and Diana’s head snapped to look at her. “Albert is going to get himself killed.”

Diana let out an exhale in place of a laugh, nodding in agreement as she settled back against the couch. “He has been making many errors.” She rested her head on the top of the backrest. “He’s so… full of hatred, become so obsessed with this ideal, that he’s not—”

Alex’s eyes narrowed at the way she cut herself off. She wanted to hear this train of thought though. “What?”

He's not thinking clearly. He’s only digging himself into an early grave, and he wants to take everyone down with him. But she didn’t dare say that.

“He’s being reckless more often, and I don’t care much for it,” Diana said in a low voice, as though she didn’t really want anyone to hear what she was saying. “And this plan. I don’t understand his motive, I suppose. Perhaps Spencer still has total control over him, even after death.”

“Have you said this to him?” Alex asked as she sat up straight, quickly placing her cup of tea back down onto the coaster.

“Gods, no. We fought over an accusation I made regarding us, not work—”

“Good. You will not mention this, Diana.” Alex cut her off, and the moment Diana opened her mouth to speak once more, she beat her to it. “No, this is an unreasonable train of thought. ‘Of his own volition…he turned and shunned the world,’ just as the world did to us when we vanished as children. How do you think he would feel if he knew you were questioning his actions as simply an extension of that idiot?”

Diana’s eyes went wide at that. “That’s not what I—”

“Is it not?” Alex asked, her voice a touch louder than before and her tone resolute as she tilted her head to the side. Her piercing gaze cut right through Diana, but she didn’t avert her own eyes. “We are taking advantage of the resources he supplied us, continuing his research for our own purposes. If you believe that we were ever loyal—”

“Alex, that is not what I’m saying!” Diana abruptly stood up and clasped her hands behind her head as she began to pace.

The frustration in her voice was more at herself rather than Alex; she had always had trouble articulating what she was feeling and after the last few days, nothing seemed to be making much sense anymore. She shouldn’t have said anything at all.

The plan was almost in its final stage anyway, there was no point in worrying about such things, especially not when she knew she wouldn’t be able to convince Albert otherwise; it would only come off as though she was “against” him. But she was concerned. Even though it wouldn’t change their rate of survival when she had already adapted, and he would as well, it was simply that she wasn’t sure if this was something he really wanted, or if it was Spencer’s influence on him that was driving him to do this.

“Diana.” Alex’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts and Diana turned around to look at her once more, only to be met with a tired looking smile. “This world needs changing, surely you can see that.” She stood up from the couch and walked over to where Diana was standing by the windows. “And although I must admit, there are better methods, Albert is not in the wrong.”

Diana sighed, looking out at the elevator in the centre of the Monument, before she nodded. There was no use in fighting over this. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. But perhaps you need some rest, yes?” Alex’s eyes wandered over Diana’s face for a moment, taking in how distressed she looked. The topic of whatever she and Albert had argued over was still intriguing to her, but now was not the time. “Come, I will show you to your room.”

She began walking towards the door, turning her head to look back at Diana as a cue for her to follow, and that’s exactly what she did once she retrieved her bag, their cups of tea forgotten and left for someone else to clean up. Alex opened the door and held it open for her before locking it behind them.

“How long will you be staying?” she asked as they began walking down the stairs, the sound of both of their heels resounding off the high walls and seemingly endless ceiling of the Monument.

“I’m not sure yet.” Diana gave her a small smile, but it was only met with a raised brow and narrowed eyes, though the expression passed almost as soon as it appeared as Alex shook her head once.

“Well, no matter. It will be nice to have you around. I would like your opinion on the trials with the new batch of guinea pigs,” Alex said, the smile on her lips rather wicked, and the glint in her eyes shouldn’t have intrigued Diana.

‘The animal wrests the whip from its master and whips itself in order to become master, not knowing that this is only a fantasy produced by a new knot in the master’s whiplash.’ — Franz Kafka

[aparecium-rp]

ABOUT:

Character name: Sirius Black Age & Birthday: 21 & November 3rd Gender & Pronouns: Cis-male & He/Him Occupation:  Blood status: Pureblood Previous house: Gryffindor Affiliation: Order of the Phoenix Face claim: Charles Melton

BIOGRAPHY:

If there was anything to say about Sirius’ childhood - it spelled trouble. More specifically, that he was always in it. The oldest of two boys born to the Blacks, he never really fit in. He was glad for his younger brother, as it took some of the attention off of himself. Sure, he still got reprimanded rather heavily more often than not, but his parents were preoccupied a lot of the time with Regulus - the perfect little pureblood snob. Still, Sirius couldn’t help but have a soft spot in his heart for Regulus, even if they were never close. He was his younger brother, after all, and he’d always longed for one - but most days he didn’t spend his time anywhere near him. Maybe it would have been different if he had, but Sirius found the home on Grimmauld Place to be suffocating. He snuck out, befriended their muggle neighbors, ran away, and always got a good earful when he got home - if not worse. But it never stopped him, and his Hogwarts letter was a blessing for all. Maybe the school could beat a sense of purpose and loyalty into the black sheep of the Black family - after all, he would be sorted into Slytherin like the rest of them, wouldn’t he?

But the halls of the great school only seemed to do the opposite from the moment Sirius stepped foot within them. Much to his own elation, he was sorted into Gryffindor, and his parents saw their hope dwindling for him even further. He heard less and less from them throughout the year, even letting a few indiscretions go unreprimanded - which was completely fine by him. He was asked to stay during the holidays, which had been his plan regardless, and other than that their correspondence was minimal, if at all. Although he had to admit, breakfast without at least one Howler grew a little dull. Now that he saw just how much of the world he’d been missing back at home, he wanted even less to do with his family. They were wrong, and even at only eleven years old, he knew that with every bone in his body. These people at school - the muggleborns - his house mates, his friends - they were no less than him, and some were far superior. They taught him that family didn’t end with blood - he could make his own; he didn’t have to settle for what he had been given.

It was in his first year that he met James Potter - a boy that would change the rest of his life. They became fast friends, always together and always causing trouble. Their group grew from two to three, and then to four - Remus and Peter were fellow Gryffindors, and at times it seemed like the four of them against the world. Sirius wouldn’t want it any other way. As he got older, he got better at hiding his antics, getting away with them, and soon the school didn’t even contact his parents anymore. Between his holidays at the castle and his summers at the Potters, it was like Sirius wasn’t even a Black anymore, and he was proud of that. He missed Regulus now and then, in an obligatory sort of way, their interactions tight and uncomfortable when they would pass in the halls, but it was a necessary evil. One day, he hoped, his brother would understand.

Watching James make the house team at a young age, natural flyer that he was, sparked Sirius’ competitive edge. Never having been more than passable on a broom himself, he started taking afternoon and weekend flights with his friend and in his fourth year, he managed to scrape by well enough to earn the position as Beater and play on the house team with his friend, although he was hardly the most talented on the team, even disregarding the seeker. Still, he had enough pent up anger and excess energy to make up for his lack of natural talent, and Sirius found more joy in the sport than he would have expected.

When they were only fifteen, Sirius - along with James and Peter - did what few their age ever accomplished (and not many adults, either) - they all became animagi. It was freeing - transforming into the gigantic shaggy black dog. The power in his paws, the things he could smell, the feel of the breeze as it rushed along the fur on his back. There was nothing like it, and Sirius thought it was fitting, he thought maybe he even preferred to be a dog over a man. Although, the man, ironically, got all the tail. He’d made quite a reputation for himself over the years as a player, a new girl on his arm every few weeks. He was there for a good time, not a long time, and he intended to enjoy every minute because at some point, he was certain, his decisions would catch up to him. They would be out in the real world, away from the safe halls of Hogwarts, where a war was building fast. He’d seen both sides now, and there was only one way it could end. But that was a problem for tomorrow - for now, he was going to have fun.

At times, however, Sirius Black could be his own worst enemy - and by his own hand, some of his fun had been cut short. After luring Severus Snape to the Whomping Willow one fateful full moon in the only prank he would come to regret (make no mistake - for Moony’s sake and Moony’s sake alone), he had his Quidditch spot taken from him after only two short years as part of his punishment, and it only fueled the fire of his hatred for the Slytherin. After all - he didn’t have to listen to Sirius, did he? He had been breaking school rules to sneak out, hadn’t he? Without the catharsis that his spot as Beater had given him, his antics got worse with all his extra free time - but now, they were even more targeted toward the one classmate he blamed.

He had been trying to wait until he was seventeen to officially leave the house, but he was growing antsy, unable to wait anymore. It was a day in the summer between sixth and seventh years when he snuck back into his old house - when he was certain it was empty. He had intended to only grab the essentials, there were only a few more items left of his there anyway, but the tapestry on the wall had caught his eye. Something was different. Something was new. It didn’t take him long to notice it - his picture. Or rather, the lack thereof. It had been burned off - not the first one, and he hoped not the last. It made him smile - he stood there, by himself in front of it, and laughed hysterically. Good. He was glad to have left his mark on the family - a big, ugly stain that they could never erase. He carried the Black name with him, marred it a little more with every step he took, and he reveled in it. If only they knew he had joined the enemy.

Maybe the war was a good thing. Sirius had never known what he wanted to do after school, this way he at least had something to do with his time, a goal to work toward. Plus, more time to devote to it as his reputation by the time he had graduated had rendered him mostly unemployable in the Wizarding World. But more than that, he wanted to eradicate people like his family. That way of thinking was ancient, outdated, and quite frankly - completely horrible. After all, the dwindling numbers of the Order needed someone to lighten the mood, didn’t they? It might as well be Sirius.

OOC INFO:

Played by: Charlie Time Zone: EST

[grimmplacehq]

CHARACTER INFO:

Character name: Sirius Black Age & Birthday: 22 & November 3rd Gender & Pronouns: Cismale & He/Him Occupation: Duelist Blood Status: Pureblood Previous House: Gryffindor Previous Affiliation: Order Face Claim: Charles Melton

Sirius is taken by Charlie

BIOGRAPHY:

If there was anything to say about Sirius’ childhood - it spelled trouble. More specifically, that he was always in it. The oldest of the two Black boys, he never really fit in. He was glad for his younger brother, as it took some of the attention off of himself. Sure, he still got reprimanded rather heavily more often than not, but his parents were preoccupied a lot of the time with Regulus - the perfect little pureblood snob. Still, Sirius couldn’t help but have a soft spot in his heart for Regulus, even if they were never close. He was his younger brother, after all, and he'd always longed for one - but most days he didn’t spend his time anywhere near him. Maybe it would have been different if he had, but Sirius found the home on Grimmauld Place to be suffocating. He snuck out, befriended their muggle neighbors, ran away, and always got a good earful when he got home - if not worse. But it never stopped him, and his Hogwarts letter was a blessing for all. Maybe the school could beat a sense of purpose and loyalty into the black sheep of the Black family - after all, he would be sorted into Slytherin like the rest of them. 

But the halls of the great school only seemed to do the opposite from the moment Sirius stepped foot within them. Much to his own elation, he was sorted into Gryffindor, and his parents saw their hope dwindling for him even further. He heard less and less from them throughout the years, even letting a few indiscretions go unreprimanded - which was completely fine by him. He was asked to stay during the holidays, which had been his plan regardless, and other than that their correspondence was minimal, if at all. Although he had to admit, breakfast without at least one Howler grew a little dull. Now that he saw just how much of the world he’d been missing back at home, he wanted even less to do with his family. They were wrong, and even at only eleven years old, he knew that with every bone in his body. These people at school - the muggleborns - his house mates, his friends - they were no less than him, and some were far superior. They taught him that family didn’t end with blood - he could make his own; he didn’t have to settle for what he had been given.

It was in his first year that he met James Potter - a boy that would change the rest of his life. They became fast friends, always together and always causing trouble. Their group grew from two to three, and then to four - Remus and Peter were fellow Gryffindors, and at times it seemed like the four of them against the world. Sirius wouldn’t want it any other way. As he got older, he got better at hiding his antics, getting away with them, and soon the school didn’t even contact his parents anymore. Between his holidays at the castle and his summers at the Potters, it was like Sirius wasn’t even a Black anymore, and he was proud of that. He missed Regulus now and then, in an obligatory sort of way, their interactions tight and uncomfortable when they would pass in the halls, but it was a necessary evil. One day, he hoped, his brother would understand. 

When they were only fifteen, Sirius - along with James and Peter - did what few their age ever accomplished (and not many adults, either) - they all became animagi. It was freeing - transforming into the gigantic shaggy black dog. The power in his paws, the things he could smell, the feel of the breeze as it rushed along the fur on his back. There was nothing like it, and Sirius thought it was fitting, he thought maybe he even preferred to be a dog over a man. Although, the man, ironically, got all the tail. He’d made quite a reputation for himself over the years, a new girl on his arm every few weeks. He was there for a good time, not a long time, and he intended to enjoy every minute because at some point, he was certain, his decisions would catch up to him. They would be out in the real world, away from the safe halls of Hogwarts, where a war was building. He’d seen both sides now, and there was only one way it could end. But that was a problem for tomorrow - for now, he was going to have fun.

He had been trying to wait until he was seventeen to officially leave the house, but he was growing antsy, unable to wait anymore. It was a day in the summer between sixth and seventh years when he snuck back into his old house - when he was certain it was empty. He had intended to only grab the essentials, there were only a few more items left of his there anyway, but the tapestry on the wall had caught his eye. Something was different. Something was new. It didn’t take him long to notice it - his picture. Or rather, lack thereof. It had been burned off - not the first one, and he hoped not the last. It made him smile - he stood there, by himself in front of it, and laughed hysterically. Good. He was glad to have left his mark on the family - a big, ugly stain they could never erase. He carried the Black name with him, marred it a little more with every step he took, and he reveled in it. If only they knew he had joined the enemy. 

But little did he know - so had his brother. His perfect, well behaved, little death eater twat of a brother had actually come to him for help. It was so off putting that Sirius had no choice but to hear him out. Perhaps it was his own insatiable curiosity - or perhaps it was that soft spot he’d always had for him. It took days - weeks - months, but Regulus finally wore him down and he found he believed him. Enough to bring him to Dumbledore, anyway, who accepted his story immediately, seeming to recognize the locket Regulus held in his hand. Sirius had looked at Regulus, and it was clear in his expression that everything had changed between them. 

He had stepped into Dumbledore’s office a different man than when he had walked out. Everything had shifted, just that quick. It seemed like no time at all and he was back at Grimmauld Place, living with Reggie again. Regulus, and half the Order, it seemed, as they had opened their doors as a safe house. He was working with people he'd never thought capable, getting along with people he'd hated - Sirius was finally growing up. 

And when the war was over, it all seemed to stick. He went out and got a respectable, if unconventional, job. He'd taken what he'd learned in the war and joined the dueling circuit. All in all, against all odds, Sirius Black had not only managed to survive - but to flourish.

[frsnkxie]

𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲

[𝗽𝗼𝗹𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗴𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝘁. 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿]

[𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆.. 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱, 𝗸𝗶𝗹𝗹, 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀, 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗮𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗮𝗹 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗼𝗳𝗳 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹]

𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱: 𝘆𝗲𝘀/𝗻𝗼

𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆: 𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘀

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄, 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲, 𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗲, 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗽𝗿𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲,𝗸 𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗱𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗼𝗱𝘆 (𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝗲𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗲𝘀)

they knew they shouldn’t.

they knew how bad of an idea it was, they should wait, she was out having fun.

but as they stood there, eyes alternating from staring intently at the lifeless form strung up so delicately before them, to the form of each other’s bodies, arousal pumping steadily through the two…they really wouldn’t have cared if they had to drag you from your outing.

stu’s voice was soft, subdued as he whispered, ‘let’s go find y/n?’

the response from billy was uttered in the same tone, ‘absolutely.’

****

billy was a patient man, there’s no denying that. after all the years he’d spent dealing with stu, spending countless nights and days perfecting his plans, simultaneously dealing with stu, y/n and pretending to be in love with sidney, there was no question of his patience.

along with being patient, it also taught him how to stay in control of himself. it’s what he prided himself on — control and patience.

stu, on the other hand, was everything but patient. he was as reckless as they come, wanted everything bar things that accompanied his murderous tendencies completed in a second — even counting to ten with his fingers left him growing bored by the second, leaving him tapping his foot or finger against a nearby surface, or disappearing to annoy one or both of his partners. stu would be the first admit, he’s quite a lot to handle..however an apology for his ways is out of the question, especially since it balances the dynamic of his throuple.

to him, waiting around, feeling useless and wasting precious, valuable time that could very well be spent making his hands bloodied, made stu want to riot.

but as they both stood, their girlfriend found yet out of reach, billy had never felt so impatient in his life, adrenaline mixing with arousal as the tables turned and stu smugly took over his role and stayed calm, quiet even. simply watching and feeling his smirk grow.

billy’s leg bounced up and down as annoyance bubbled deep within his chest as he desperately tried to hold onto his thinning composure. stu theorized the events about to take place as he surveyed his boyfriend, attempting to prevent billy from storming across the floor and taking you then and there he began to run his hand up and down billy’s shoulder.

stu took notice of the boy's harshly clenched jaw as he stared at her from across the small pub. loud music pumping throughout the room as bodies pressed against each other. there, putting on a show for them both, y/n stood in the middle, twirling and twisting her body to the music, clad in the most beautiful red attire and red lipstick both stu and billy had ever seen her in.

she’d been unknowingly teasing them since the two had left their shared house. as opposed to speaking normally she chose to purr her words in billy’s ear, her fingers slipping underneath his shirt and trailed down his back before slipping away; hand resting innocently on stu’s inner thigh as she wished them luck and to return to her not too bloodied.

the adrenaline from the kill, completed not even half an hour earlier, pumped through him, leaving billy on edge and both her and stu weren’t helping. he in particular was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of her and her bright red lips… not to even mention stu’s ‘innocent’ brushes against the front of his pants under the claim of ‘wanting to move to get a better look at y/n’

of course it was only partly true.

red has always been stu’s favourite colour, what was there not to like about it? the colour was so wonderfully versatile, from the way it pumped and flowed, unfurling around a lifeless form, or better yet an alive and thriving one, to the way the red of a lipstick could be painted on so delicately, so..deliciously that it looked good enough to eat, and on her..? it was clear that billy was enjoying it too.

she was a tease and if the way she grinned at them was anything to go off, she knew it too.

it was unapparent what the final push was for billy as he pushed himself up, grumbling out something low that stu didn’t even bother to try and make out, instead smiling to himself and knocking back the drink he had purchased in anticipation of a long wait, ‘not such a long wait now’, he thought, grin widening as he watched his boyfriends prided patience finally snap, stalking towards their other half on the dancefloor.

billy’s arms intertwined around her lower stomach when he reached her, pulling her flush against his towering figure. “you’re stunning.” his mouth ran up the length of her throat, stopping to nip at her earlobe, his raspy voice sending shivers down her spine, “such a little fucking tease.”

moving with the beat of the music, he rolled his hips up and she could feel the prominent erection, painfully present in his jeans, harden against her. “you feel that?” a soft gasp slipped from her at both the sensation and the bite that he pressed into the crook of her neck in a vain attempt to stifle the fact that every instinct in his body was screaming for him to drag stu from his bar stool and fuck them both on the pub floor.

“you did that to me.”

finally sick of watching his two lovers interact so hotly without him - hey, he needed this too - stu pushed himself off his stool, drifting towards them. she turned around to face billy as stu’s hand came to rest low on her back, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead while observing billy’s rigid, resolve crumbling.

“i think we should go home, don’t you think baby?” stu teased, his tongue unfurling out of his mouth in a wild grin. y/n nodded earnestly, a sultry yes tearing from her lips.

“need you both,” billy murmured to her over the loud music, dragging all three of them out of the pub.

****

despite billy’s impatience it was stu’s lust that drove him forward as he pressed her flat against the door, opening it hastily. his jaw slid across her own as greedy fingers tugged off her dress, practically ripping off her clothes while billy clicked the door shut softly as they headed up the stairs.

after her 18th birthday her parents had moved to the other side of the country where their ‘vacation house’ resided, taking off under the excuse of ‘you’re old enough to take care of yourself,’ and ‘we’re not gonna be here forever, we need to take this time of our lives to relax’.

they’d moved out and not a week later had billy and stu moved in, and fuck she was thankful that there were no parental eyes to hide from as stu threw her over his shoulder, slapping her ass as he ran up the stairs.

throwing her down on the bed, she laughed in anticipation and he swore he felt something inside him snap. only the black sheer fabric covering her cunt was left on,

‘fuck you’re hot’, he whispered, one long finger tracing her clothed clit. she sucked in a sharp breath when he arched down to her, his hand gripping her jaw, thumb gliding over her painted, plush lips. “so fucking wet and we’ve barely touched you.”

stu made quick work of the rest of her clothing, leaving her bare and quivering in anticipation underneath him. his free hand travelled up and down her inner thighs, all the while pressing needy kisses to her lips.

“please,” she breathed, thighs rubbing together for any sort of friction, gasping as the blonde harshly pushed her legs apart, simultaneously taking away the, albeit small, amount of pleasure.

“good girl for using her manners,’ stu paused in the ministration of his thumb pressing circles into her thigh, instead looking to their other half, “don’t ya think billy?”

the brunette hummed his affirmation at stu’s words, “use your words and tell us if you don’t like something hmm? we’ll stop,” he said, making sure she understood whilst stu began stripping himself from his clothes. “what’s your colour?”

“green! fuck just, please”

billy took his time, kicking off his shoes, retreating to wash his hands and unbuttoning his shirt before making his way back to the bedroom. excitement and adrenaline thumped through every inch of him, but the build-up was well worth it. is this what it was going to feel like everytime they murdered someone now that they were with you? because if so, billy noted to kill more often.

the door was slightly ajar, moans and breathy gasps of air flowed enticingly from inside. stepping in, billy sat himself down on the seat in the corner of the room, simply observing the delicious scene of which he had the pleasure of viewing. he was hypnotized, cock aching at both the sight and mouth-watering noises.

stu’s long hands encircled her hips, face pressed into the bed. he pulled his cock out almost entirely before slamming his hips to meet hers, her heavenly body jolting forward from the force. her hands balled tightly around the sheets whilst stu’s head was thrown back, mouth open, tongue out; neck and mouth smudged with red lipstick and mouth prints.

‘fucking hell you both look...amazing’

she melted at the praise, whimpering as stu became even rougher with his movements. her reaction had both men groaning.

with practiced ease, billy tugged down his zipper, reaching inside his trousers and took himself in hand, precum slipping over him.

“fuck! feels so good,” she groaned, “more, please, give me more.”

“more? greedy. am i not fucking you hard enough?”

billy gripped his cock tightly, thumb rolling over his tip as he began. stroking fast, letting out audible moans as he observed. but almost as suddenly as he started, he stopped, the chair scraped backwards as he rose to his feet, moving over to the bed.

catching on quickly, stu pulled her up so that she supported herself with her arms and levelled her face with his cock.

“wanted more?” billy said.

“why don’t you let billy give you more? hmm pretty girl?”

“show me, show us how good you really are. come on baby, you wanted more, we wanna see your pretty lips around me.”

the sight of him looking ethereal in all his glory while he slowly stroked his cock in front of her face caused another flash of heat straight to her core, clenching down around stu tightly as her mouth opened wide.

her tongue dragged along the underside of billy’s throbbing dick, lips stretched wide around him — nose almost brushing against his stomach. a few times, billy bucked his hips, the head hitting the back of her convulsing throat. every deep, sharp thrust from stu pushed her further onto billy, causing her to gag and moan around him, a combination that, in the minds of both the boys, was heavenly.

keeping her cheeks hollowed for added pressure, billy let out a series of breathy groans caused by her lips squeezing around his length.

his hand reached out, running a hand over her hair as a gentle reminder to keep her mouth on him.

stu fucked her thoroughly, reaching astonishingly deep within her as held her tightly, preventing her from sinking on the bed as billy panted, thighs flexing.

“such a good girl, just for us. right??” stu nearly purred.

billy pulled her off of him, “he asked you a question.”

“only for you” she grinned slyly.

and then she was back on billy.

“fuck she was made for this, wasn’t she?” he asked stu, watching a bead of sweat dripping down the boys face. stu simply hummed in return, too caught up in the pleasure.

y/n groaned as another surge of pleasure shoot through her the praise making her feel fuzzy. stu’s hand went down to rub fast circles against her clit as she moaned, just as billy felt his tip nudge the back of her throat.

billy suddenly pulled away from her mouth, feeling his high approaching almost embarrassingly fast. he bent, grabbing her chin and bringing her into a searing kiss.

slowed his movements while watching billy move onto the bed, laying down on an incline as stu flipped her onto her back before billy pulled her body to press against his chest, cradled comfortingly. she settled between his legs while stu adjusted his potion, tilting her hips and his pace increasing tenfol.

the new angle had y/n groaning out whilst her hands flew up to grab at billy’s shoulder, stu’s breaths coming out short and ragged. billy smiled as he made sure to lift his legs, latching over hers to spread them further, his hands drifting to grope at her breast. his fingers pinched, rolling the bud between his fingers, chuckling at her surprised whimpers.

her head fell back on billy’s shoulder, her head turning to press kisses onto his neck while whining incoherently. stu’s thumb didn’t stop its assault onto her clit as he rubbed fast, calculated circles, that, accompanied with billy making a play toy out of her nipples, sensitive with how he fiddled with them, had her mind hazy.

“you fucked her dumb,” billy mused, stu’s thrust causing her back to rub against his aching cock and billy moaned, clenching his eyes shut.

“colour baby?” stu called out.

“mm - green.” her gaze refocused on him. “fuck- harder, please. gonna cum.”

billy stopped his assault on her nipples briefly, “not how we ask.”

“can i please cum?”

“well since you asked so nicely,” he smirked.

stu kept his pace steady, only moving slightly to get more comfortable as he pressed his hand down on her lower stomach where his cock kept hitting the deepest part of her as she let out a moan.

her eyes rolled to the back of her head, pleasure boiling inside her, overflowing as she came. waves of burning arousal washed over her, breaking her final resolve. all the while her heart hammered in her ribcage.

not one to be outdone, stu let out a loud groan as he came, hands pinning her hips down. cum shooting deep inside her as his hips continued to jerk forwards until his cock became too sensitive and pulled out with a whimper. y/n whined at the feeling of emptiness, her cunt needing a second to adjust while billy moved to sit in front of her while stu laid beside her, catching his breath.

“fuck- fuck billy, you didn’t cum. can i- can you, please, fuck me?” billy smiled at his good girl, although waiting a few minutes to let her come down to avoid hurting her. he had killed. tortured. and would again but when it came to her? he couldn’t- no. wouldn’t hurt her. neither of them would.

billy’s cock twitched, eyes sweeping over her naked body in awe of the beauty she possessed.

her legs spread, twitching a few times thanks to stu. billy smiled devilishly as he watched his boyfriend’s cum slowly drip from her entrance. acting quickly he brought his fingers between her dripping core and dragged two fingers to collect the slickness between her folds before slipping it back inside.

she clenched around the digits, dizzy at the feeling as he kept slowly pumping in and out.

“you okay?” he asked.

“mhm.you?” she retaliated, the sass leaving him chuckling

“never better.”

“you good, stu?” a tired grunt came from beside her. she laughed at him.

after a while, billy got to his knees, leaning over as he held his cock, rubbing himself between her folds, the simultaneous gasp emitting from both of them borderline pornographic as he sank inside. a hand reached out for her chin, softly turning her face. stu flipped over to his side, swallowing her moans as his lips crashed against hers. she pulled him closer.

billy kept his pace slow, at a steady rhythm, hanging his head as deep moans slipped from his lips. she clenched around him, his hips stuttering at the feeling.

“fuck you feel amazing” she murmured, the praise sending shivers straight down billy’ spine. her breath hitching as stu moved to bury his face in her neck, nipping languidly at her collarbone.

her thighs squeezed around billy whilst stu began to pump his cock. he hissed slightly as y/n noticed, her hand travelling to thumb his sensitive tip before flicking her wrist up and down his thick length fast.

billy picked up his pace, lost in the pleasure he knew only his two lovers could provide. the quick movements had her shuddering along with him. billy was maddeningly close, his head tilted back, hair following the action and flicking back from his face, a rumpled mess.

stu lets out a low laugh, licking his lips. “look at you taking billy so well. so pretty. tell me baby, is he fucking you good?” his voice was low, murmuring praises into her ear while he shoved two fingers inside her mouth. she sucked them eagerly, as she hummed her affirmation, tongue swirling around each digit before pulling away, setting a faint red rim coat his finger before his hand slipped between her and stu, rubbing the space at which his two lovers were joined, bringing them both simultaneously closer to their release

“you should wear red lipstick more often.”

she clenched hard around billy as her legs began to shake. muscles spasming as the inferno of her orgasm washed over her, turning her vision white.

billy followed just seconds behind her as he moved to catch her lips, moaning into her as his hips slowed, eventually stopping to pull away.

“fuck”

y/n smiled, her eyes hazy as billy flopped next to her, one of his arms encircling her whilst the other reached across to grasp stu’s hand.

her arm wiggled it’s way from under billy’s as she raised it up, “everyone good?”, at the boys response of yes, she gave the ceiling a thumbs up-

“good fuck everybody, 10/10”

her arm fell down as she fell asleep to the sound of laughter bouncing through the room.

𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻:

"“𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗲𝗱” 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝘂 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝗯𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. "

𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 @darling-muses

[americancowgirl19]

Tommy’s Little Girl

Summary: You’re the most precious thing to Thomas Shelby. So, when a guy comes into your life he isn’t the most supportive.

Warnings: fluff, angst, cursing

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x Daughter!Reader, Reader x Male Character (H/n = His name, he can be whoever you want)

Word Count: 5,261

A/n: This was a request by an anon - Please can I request that Tommy Shelby’s daughter becomes engaged to a man behind his back and he refuses to acknowledge the engagement while the rest of the family do. After six months, just before the wedding, Tommy finally comes around to the idea... So, I added a few things to this request, I hope you still like it! I was just going to do the scene that the anon requested but I personally love writing who stories and backgrounds and shit so you get to see an entire life at Tommy’s daughter with the request included! Oh, and John doesn’t die cause fuck that.

Masterlist

You were the ultimate daddy’s girl. From the moment you were born you and your father were inseparable. The only thing that tore you apart was the war. You were barely two years old when he went off to serve his country.

When he left he entrusted Polly to look after you. Of course she treated you as if you were her own. She protected you as fiercely as she protected your father, uncles and aunt. Especially when your Aunt Kitty, Kitty Jurossi, showed up demanding that you were to go with her.

Kitty is your mother’s sister. She never approved of Greta being with Tommy. While Tommy taking care of Greta in her final days and loving her as he did was honorable, Kitty knew what kind of man he is. She knew what kind of family he had, what kind of business he partook in. She didn’t want you around them.

Polly always thought it was amusing how Kitty waited until Tommy was out of country to try and collect you. Kitty wrongfully assumed that Polly would just hand you over. Your mother’s sister was lucky she was able to return to her home with her life, especially when she tried to forcefully take you.

You remembered that day very vaguely. You don’t remember what happened but you remembered the yelling, someone grabbing you painfully and how scared you were. Your father had just left you for the longest time in your life and now this woman was trying to take you from the person you considered your mother.

The years without your father were long and unmemorable. When he finally returned home you were five going on six. You waited on the train platform with Polly, Ada and Finn. Polly kept a tight hold on you as the soldiers came off the train and went to their families.

You tried to find him but you were far too short and all of them were wearing the same uniform and cap. You jumped in your spot just itching to run into his arms. It didn’t matter that you didn’t really remember specific details of him. You remembered the feeling you had with him. You remembered being safe and happy with him. You remembered being sad and lonely without him. You’d rather be safe and happy than the other part.

“There they are!” Ada shouts. Your head darts to where she was pointing. When you spotted him not even Polly was able to hold you back.

You remember him shoving his way through the others to get to you. When you were close he dropped to his knees and pulled you into his arms. You clung to him.

Then, just like before he left, the two of you were inseparable once again. The only time you weren’t together was when you were sleeping (although on rough nights you often found your way in his bed) or when he had dangerous Peaky business.

You were the Shelby princess. You were untouchable. You didn’t figure out how much you could get away with until you were older. You could murder his best friend - not that you ever killed anyone - and the longest he’d stay mad at you would be a few hours, a day at most.

Anything you wanted was yours. You were spoiled but you were also kind and generous. You had bratty streaks but who didn’t? You may have been the light of your father’s life but you were John’s partner in crime. Whenever his own kids got too much or he wanted to pick on his brother’s you were the one he came too.

As much as he did truly enjoy spending time with you, John also knew that with you by his side he wouldn’t get into as much trouble as he would without you. All you had to do was give your pretty little smile and bat those eyelashes and Tommy was wrapped around your finger.

Even when your siblings came into the world you were number one. You didn’t exactly like Charlie, not Grace, at first. They stole your father’s attention, something you weren’t used to sharing. Eventually you warmed up to them.

You were sad when Grace died but not nearly to the extreme as your father. His heart break broke your own heart. You felt as if nothing you did eased his pain. In reality, you were the one person keeping him from completely spiraling. He spiraled but just being with you managed to slowly bring him back.

You were a little more welcoming toward Lizzie and then Ruby. By the time Ruby came around you adored Charlie. Ruby quickly wiggled her way into your heart. You became fiercely protective of them. You helped Lizzie with them when Tommy got too busy. When you needed a break you joined your father to the office and he would continue explaining what he did.

To you, life was perfect. You had everything you needed and everything you wanted. Tommy kept you in the business just enough to satisfy you but not enough to put you directly in danger. You didn’t understand a lot of the politics and drama within the family but to you it didn’t matter. You had your family, you had your fun, and life was great.

Then, as you were creeping up on your mid-twenties, you met the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. You were in the market with Lizzie, Polly, and Ruby. You had wandered a bit from the others. There was some jewelry you were looking at when he came over. 

He was tall, muscular, and extremely handsome. He had a boyish smile and a flirtatious personality. It didn’t take you long to also figure out that he was clumsy and adorable. You were instantly hooked.

You two talked (flirted) for longer than you thought. Before you knew it Polly, Lizzie and Ruby were rejoining you. Polly was weary of him but it was obvious that he quickly won Lizzie over.

Much to your displeasure, once the three of them showed up you were quickly whisked away from him. Polly had said it was time to go and not many people were brave enough to argue with her. 

Even on the way home you thought about him. You hoped that you would see him again but you figured it was unlikely.

Word got around about you meeting Mr. Handsome at the market. Your uncles teased you and Ada interrogated you. Your father was oddly quiet on the other hand. He didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t. He just hoped that your paths wouldn’t cross again.

Tommy knew you were getting older but that didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted you to stay his little girl for a while longer. He wished you were still small enough to ride on his shoulders and small enough for him to engulf you in his arms. But you were growing into a beautiful young lady. Whether he liked it or not other men were bound to recognize your beauty and seek you out. He had been lucky, for the most part, about your disinterest in dating, but it wasn’t going to last.

Most of the women your age were already married with at least one child. You were content by yourself. You were gaining responsibilities with the business and being your father’s personal helper. Even though you were content you wanted more. You wanted your own family to come home to with your own kids.

Fortunately, for Tommy, you wouldn’t see the boy from the market for quite some time. It had been so long you had forgotten about him. Until suddenly he showed back up.

The Shelby’s were having a night at the fights. You were enjoying yourself. You didn’t get dolled up often but when you did you went all out. You felt beautiful thus making you feel confident. On top of that, everyone knew exactly who you were which meant heads turned in your direction everywhere you went. You felt important, untouchable. 

You sat with your aunt Ada, Aunt Polly, and step mother Lizzie. The three of you were talking amongst yourselves while the boys hollered at the match in front of them. When the fighters changed out you happened to look up and there he was.

Ada had been talking to you but you suddenly stopped listening. He was bigger, more muscular, than you remember. He didn’t seem as clumsy anymore yet he was just as handsome. 

“Y/n,” Ada shouts over the crowd.

“Oh, will you look at that,” Lizzie states looking at who you were staring at.

“Who’s he?” Ada questions. Lizzie reminds her about the guy from the market you had met over a year prior. You continued to ignore them.

Right before the match started his eyes connected with yours. He obviously recognized you. He sent you the same boyish smile he had in the market causing a light blush to come to your cheeks. He bravely sent you a wink before focusing on the fight.

Your eyes remained glued on him with Tommy’s eyes started at you. He had noticed the interaction and didn’t like it in the slightest.

When the match ended, with his unfortunate loss, you excused yourself to the loo. You weren’t fooling anybody. Everyone who paid attention knew where you were going and Tommy had half a mind to stop you when something grabbed his attention. The split second his attention was off of you gave you the time you needed to disappear into the crowd.

“H/n,” You say, standing in the doorway of the locker room. You were slightly nervous - a lot nervous - but you weren’t 100% sober so that helped. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice.

“Y/n,” He says, turning away from his locker and toward you. “Shelby,” He adds. You hadn’t told him who you were. It was obvious he hadn’t known back then and you wanted to keep it that way.

“In the flesh,” You gave him a twirl. “You fought well tonight,”

“I lost,” He deadpanned but didn’t look all that bothered by it..

“Caught me attention,” You told him.

“Guess it wasn’t a complete loss then, aye?” He smirks. “How about you make me a winner tonight and agree to a date?” You blushed.

“I can do that,” You agreed.

From there your relationship blossomed. The two of you fell for each other quickly. He started showing up around the family more. Your uncles hazed him, Ada and Polly constantly interrogated him, and your father silently judged him. No matter how hard you or H/n tried, your father never came around.

H/n didn’t care about Tommy’s disapproval of him. He loved you with all his heart and nobody was going to keep you from him. He may be funny, charismatic and handsome but he knew he was selfish with a side of possessive. In his mind, you were his and he wasn’t letting you go. He would do anything to keep you and to keep you happy.

It honestly was no surprise that less than a year later the two of you were engaged. He had taken you out on a picnic under the stars on a beach. You had dinner, went swimming and had a fire in the sand. While stargazing he proposed with a beautiful ring. You didn’t hesitate to say yes.

The next day, as you two were makin breakfast, you asked how your father handled him asking for permission when H/n told you he never asked. It shocked you that H/n didn’t talk to Tommy first. You knew when it came to your father H/n was a little rebellious but this was different. Honestly, you were a bit upset he didn’t speak with Tommy first. 

It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since your engagement and the two of you were thrown into a fight. A minor one but a fight nonetheless. He didn’t see why it mattered seeing as the two of you were getting married with or without his permission. You argued that it wasn’t his permission you were looking for but your blessing. H/n didn’t understand just how close you and Tommy are but you wished he would at least respect it.

Eventually, he apologized when he finally noticed just how important Tommy’s approval meant to you. You promised H/n that you would marry him no matter what but keeping it from your father was not an option. H/n promised to talk to him.

A few days passed and then a week. H/n still didn’t talk to Tommy. You were fed up and decided to do it yourself. When you arrived at the Arrow House all you found were Lizzie and Ruby. 

Ruby instantly spotted the ring. You desperately wanted to talk to Tommy first but since you weren’t getting passed you sister not Lizzie you conceded.

“So, when did he pop the question?” Ruby asked.

“About two weeks ago,” You answered, a large smile on your face. “He asked me on the beach under the stars,” Ruby swooned but Lizzie didn’t seem to be paying attention anymore. You looked at her. You tensed noticing her looking behind you. Slowly, you turned around and saw your father standing there.

His eyes stare into your eyes and for the first time in your life you can’t figure out what he was thinking. He seemed emotionless but you couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was anger or disappointment. His eyes glanced down at your hand, at your ring.

“Dad, I-” You didn’t get a chance to explain. He turned around and walked out of the house. You were shocked. He never did that to you. He always let you speak no matter what he was feeling. When you snapped out of it you quickly went after him but he was already in the car driving down the road. “Dad! Wait, please!” But he just keeps driving.

“He’ll come around,” Ruby tries to comfort but her words just go in one ear and right out the other.

For weeks your father avoided you like the plague. You walked into a room, he walked out. You tried to talk, he talked over you. You tried to get his attention, he ignored you. You tried for over a month before deciding to give him some space and focus on planning your wedding.

With the help of Ada, Ruby, Polly, and Esme you planned the wedding. Every day you got a step closer to the date. Every day you got more excited. Yet one thing continued to dampen your mood.

“Y/n, come in,” Esme greets, stepping aside to let you into her home.

“Is John here? I want to talk to him,” You say, fiddling with your fingers nervously. Esme smiles kindly and nods.

“Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll fetch him,” She suggests before disappearing into the house. You walk into the parlor. You smile and play with your cousins for a bit before John finally joins you.

“I wanted to ask you something,” You say after he shoos the kids away. He gives you his attention. You take in a deep breath as tears mist over your eyes. He looks more concerned by the second. “I was wondering if you... would walk me down the aisle,” John frowns his eyebrows.

“You want me?” He asks, shocked. “What about Tom-”

“He hasn’t spoken to me for months,” You snap, struggling to keep your tears from falling. “He can hardly look at me or stand to be in the same room. I think it’s safe to say he’s not coming,” You try to sound angry but curse silently when your voice grows more shaky. John sighs.

“Come here, sweetheart,” He opens his arms and you quickly close the distance between the two of you. He holds you tightly as you cry in his chest. “Tommy’s being a right arse at the moment, everyone knows that,” He mutters. “But nothing in the world is going to stop him from walking you down that aisle,”

“H/n being at the end of it might,” You mutter. John laughs quietly.

“Love, if Tommy really hated H/n, he would be dead by now,” John says truthfully. You see the logic in his statement but it hardly lifts your spirits. 

“The wedding is in two weeks,” You whisper. “He hasn’t budged yet,”

“I want you to do something for me,” John says, pulling back just enough to look at your face and wipe your tears. “I want you to think through your entire life and tell me a time where you didn’t get your way with Tommy,” John challenges. “I’m not even going to wait because it never bloody happened,” You smile a bit. “Now, this has been the longest you’ve had to wait for him to come around but trust me, he is incapable of not doing what you want,”

“Will you still be on standby?” You ask him. He smirks and kisses your forehead.

“Of course,” He whispers. “Bloody hell, has anyone said no to you before?” He asks, smirking as he steps away from you.

“What can I say? I’m everyone’s sweetheart,” You smile. John rolls his eyes and offers for you to stay for dinner, which you accept.

When you returned home you noticed H/n was home as well. You had moved out of Arrow house before the engagement, something your father strongly disagreed with.

When you walked inside, H/n was waiting up for you. You hadn’t meant to be home so late. It’s just when you’re with John and his kids they just make the time fly by. Luckily, H/n didn’t seem upset just tired.

“Come here,” He mutters, opening his arms. You smile and settle in his lap enjoying the feeling of his thick arms wrapped around your body. “Were you at Arrow House?” He asks.

“No, I went to see Uncle John,” You tell him. He hums curiously. “I wanted to ask if he’d walk me down the aisle,” You whisper. H/n holds you tighter.

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” He whispers to you. “I shouldn’t have proposed without asking for his blessing or at least mentioning it to him,”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” You grumbled before sighing. “But this is much more than that. Something else is bothering him,”

“You’re his precious girl, he’ll talk eventually,” He reassures you. You don’t respond, you simply cuddle deeper into his embrace.

A week passed. You had five days until your wedding. You woke up excited as you daydreamed about the day. However, your happiness didn’t last.

BRITIAN     AT    WAR    WITH    GERMANY

Your father and uncles had fought in the first war. The supposed ‘war to end all wars’. Now, only a short few years later there was another war. A war the next generation would fight. A war your H/n volunteered to join.

You were in the kitchen cleaning up. You were doing everything you could to keep buys. Britain was officially at war and you were terrified. You knew everything was going to change. Deep down you knew it would happen but it didn’t register until he was right in front of you.

“When do you leave?” You whisper, desperately trying to stay together as you look at H/n. He was in his uniform with papers in his hand.

“Thursday,” H/n hesitantly whispers. You close your eyes and hang your head. Not only was your soon-to-be husband going off to fight this war but he was leaving before your wedding. On top of that, you only had two more days with him.

“Why do you have to leave?” You whimpered. He doesn’t answer. He just closes the gap between the two of you and pulls you into a tight hug. He hugged you as if he could single handedly keep you from falling apart.

“I will come back to you, Y/n Shelby,” He states firmly. “Heaven nor hell will keep me from you, you have me word,”

“I love you,” You whisper, clinging to him. He pulls back just enough to tilt your head up to his lips. He doesn’t verbally respond but he tries to pour all his love and determination to return to you in the breathtaking kiss.

You cling to him for as long as you can but eventually have to let him go. While he didn’t leave until Thursday he had much to get done before then. He promised he would be back in a few hours but you didn’t want to be alone.

The first thing you did was go to Polly. You froze when you saw her drying her cheeks. Finn had volunteered as well. Together you both cried. 

Finn might have technically been your uncle but he was more of a brother. There was only a few years difference between the two of you. Polly had raised you both. You hated that you could possibly not only lose H/n but Finn as well.

Luckily Charlie was still too young to join but only for another year. You had no doubt that he would join up the first chance he got. He’s Tommy’s son. Neither of them were good at backing down.

When you left Polly you went to Arrow House. You were done. You were done with your father’s stubbornness. You were done with his silence and his judgmental stares. He could be mad about the wedding all he wanted but you needed him to come back to you.

“Did H/n..?” Lizzie’s voice dissipates. She didn’t want to finish the question and she didn’t have too. You just nod and accept her comforting hug. You’ve cried the majority of the day and knew you weren’t done yet. You knew the second you went face to face with Tommy you’d fall apart all over again.

“Where is he?” You ask.

“In his office,” Lizzie says knowing exactly who you were wanting. “Most likely on his second bottle by now,” You sighed, rubbing your face tiredly. “I’ll make some tea,” You send her a smile and a nod.

You don’t even bother to knock, you rarely did. There wasn’t a room you knew about that you weren’t welcome into. Inside you found your father slouched in his chair with a full glass in his hands. He doesn’t bother to look at you. You don’t even know if he registers your presence. 

“I don’t know what you’re so mad at me about,” You began. Your voice sounded strong and you hoped it stayed that way. “Yes, H/n asked me to marry him. No, I didn’t know at the time that he didn’t talk to you but get over it. You haven’t made his time in this family easy, no wonder he doesn’t want to talk to you. 

“When you found out you found out too soon. I was there to talk to you about it but Ruby and Lizzie saw me first. This wasn’t something I wanted to keep from you, I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry,” You whisper. Hope fills you a bit when he glances at you in the corner of his eye. “I know something else is bothering you but I don’t know what it is and I need you to work it out some how because I need you, dad,” You whimper. 

He finally looks at you. 

“These last few months have been so hard without you and now H/n is going off to war, I’m not sure if I’m even going to get married, and you still won’t fucking talk to me!” You shouted but the tears in your eyes betrays your anger. “I’m scared out of my mind I’m going to lose H/n, that I’m going to lose Finn... That I already lost you,” A few tears fall down your face. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please forgive me because I need you so fucking back,”

By the end you were close to sobbing and falling to you knees. You sobbed but you never fell. Tommy was out of his seat and was wrapping his arms around you before your knees could give away.

He leads you to the couch and sits down. You curl into his chest like you used to do when you were younger. He hums quietly and rocks you.

“You didn’t lose me, darling girl,” He whispers to you. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve acted. I should have never treated you like I have. No, I don’t like H/n but not because of who he is but because he’s taking my little girl from me,” You tilt your head to look at him. “For nearly 26 years you have been the center of my world,” He whispers quietly. “Through everything, you have been the most important constant in my life. There were many times you were my only source of happiness, my only will to live,” He admits. “I’m terrified of what I’ll do without you,”

“You’ll never be without me,” You whisper to him. “I live ten minutes away and you’ll still see me daily whether H/n likes it or not,” Tommy smiles a bit. “And maybe when the war is over you’ll have more mini me’s running around,” Tommy scowls at the thought of the process of making children rather than the thought of the actual kids.

“You’re happy with him?” You nod. “You love him and he loves you?” You nod again. “Has he hurt you?” You shake your head. He sighs, slightly frustrated with the lack of reason to murder H/n. Not that he really needed a reason but he knew if he did he would hurt you. He’s already hurt you enough as it is. “Then you have my blessing,” You smile at him.

“He leaves before the wedding,” You whisper. He shrugs.

“So, move the wedding up,” He says nonchalantly. 

“How are we going to set everything up before Thursday?” You ask. He smirks.

“You don’t worry about a thing,” He kisses your forehead. “Let me call Ada, Pol, and Esme. They’ll help you get ready and I’ll worry about the rest,”

“You avoided this wedding the entire time, now you’re going to plan in within a few hours?” You ask.

“I’m Thomas Shelby,” He said as if it were the cure to all diseases. “Up you get,” He gently pushes you out of his lap. “No worrying,” He points at you before kissing your forehead again.

“Who’s going to want to celebrate at a time like this?” You ask before he leaves. He turns toward you and smiles softly.

“Right now is the perfect time to celebrate a moment like this,” Tommy tells you. You can see the honesty in his eyes and can tell he’s briefly reliving the past. You hate that his past is always haunting him and you pray that you’ll be able to help H/s if... when he comes back to you. “Relax, get ready, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

It didn’t take long for Ada, Polly and Esme to show up. Polly had your dress and Ada had your accessories. The three of them with Lizzie and Ruby helped you get ready for the wedding.

As you got ready, Tommy went to your home where he found H/n just returning. It was obvious that he was surprised to see Tommy but he invited his future in-law inside nonetheless.

“I was a few years younger than you when I was shipped off to France,” Tommy explained to him. “When I returned I wasn’t the same. Nobody who goes through what we went through, what you will go through, returns the same,” Tommy warns. “Y/n was five or six when I got back. She helped give me a reason to keep waking up, to keep moving. When you come back, you’ll need someone that will be able to anchor you into the present. Don’t push people away, especially Y/n... She won’t let you,” Tommy advises with a soft smile as he thinks about you.

“I won’t,” H/s vows.

“You say that now but I promise it’ll be very tempting when you return,” Tommy says. Casually, Tommy walks closer. “Everyone that returns deals with the past differently. I won’t judge you for the drinks you’ll have or even the drugs you may take,” Tommy shrugs. “But if you come back and you turn violent again Y/n at any point. If you so much as hurt her one time, I will personally dig your grave and put you in it,” Tommy promises. “You will come back, you’ll deal with it however you can, and you’ll take care of Y/n and the family you’ll have. If you can’t do that, don’t marry her and walk away now.”

“I love you daughter. I want her happy and I’ll give my life to keep her safe,” H/s vows.

“Good,” Tommy nods. “That’s my little girl. Her happiness is everything to me. You give me one reason to kill you and I promise you and whatever god is out there that I will take that chance,”

“Understood,” H/n slowly nods.

“Good,” Tommy nods again. “Well, let’s get going, you’re getting married in a few hours,” Tommy says walking toward the door. He pulls out a cigarette and begins to light it.

“I am?” H/n calls out confused. Tommy just keeps walking and H/n jogs to catch up.

A few hours later, John and Arthur show up to collect the women.

“Your chariot awaits madam,” Arthur announces loudly. You couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear as he leads you to the car. John winks at you playfully.

“Told you he’d come around,” John teased.

“Should have cried in front of him sooner, that usually does the trick,” You joke back. John grins wider and kisses your head.

“Alright! Let’s get a move on, we’ve got a wedding to get too!” Arthur hollers. When you arrive where the rest of the gypsies and Peaky Blinders are, they cheer for your arrival.

Tommy greets you at the car looking handsome as ever.

“I hope I’m still allowed to walk you down,” He mutters helping you out of the car.

“Of course,” You smile leaning into him. He kisses your head and leads you toward the aisle. At the end you find H/s standing there looking breathtaking. “I’m scared,” You whisper.

“That’s alright,” He promises, slowly walking you toward your future husband. “There’s going to be moment where you’re scared but there will never be a moment where you’re alone,” He tells you. You tighten your arm around his. “These last few months will never happen again,” He vows. “I’ll be there anytime and every time you need me,”

“I know,” You whisper. 

When you reach the end, Tommy turns toward you. You smile up at him. He gently cups the side of your face.

“I love you,” He whispers, gently kissing your forehead. His lips linger as he remembers the day you were born, the day he left and came back from the war. He remembered every moment he shared with you. He hated that future memories would be shared with H/n but as long as you were there he wouldn’t mind.

“I love you too,” You whisper back, basking in the warmth and safety of his embrace for a moment longer. Tommy hesitantly steps back. You both share a smile before he hands you off to your soon-to-be husband.

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M)

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

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

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader (female)

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

Word Count: 36,243

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

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

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Blinking, you looked up and felt your heart sink.

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

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

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

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

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

“Not the second, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

Eagerly, the guy nodded.

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

The guy’s expression faltered. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you lost weight?”

“I mean, some but –”

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

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

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

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

“Beats me. Masochism?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. Did you say tomorrow, because –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what she said.”

“Sara!”

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

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

“Yep.” Sara nodded.

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

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

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

“Where else?”

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

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

“Obviously. Who all’s invited?”

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

“Oh.” You paused. “So, is –”

“Hoseok coming? Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s the one!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anytime.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well… fine, that’s true.”

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

“Sara was right. You’re too skinny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?” she called.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was after college when things began to fall apart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, so much better.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok had slowly turned to face you.

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking away, Hoseok gave a harsh laugh.

“Talk to him. Sure, that’ll work.”

“What?”

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

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

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

“Sure, but Darren isn’t like that!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” you’d said softly.

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

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

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

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

Obviously, you’d begun to rethink things lately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet.”

“Sara will fix that soon.”

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

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

“Were you talking about me?” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok’s gaze flicked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lovers?” Seokjin supplied helpfully.

Mrs. Haberdash nearly spit out her drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To her right was Hoseok.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The one and only.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are the two different?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me neither,” said Hoseok, sounding hoarse.

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

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

“You look good,” you blurted out.

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

Hoseok blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“… Cool.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!” he yelled, rushing forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm, is that so?”

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

“I assume your assistant told you about Roulette?”

Immediately, you stopped looking and felt your heart sink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Adrenaline is always good!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. That’s so soon!”

“Is that a problem?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok looked vaguely embarrassed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not a couple, we –”

Both of you stopped and looked at each other.

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

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

Releasing a sigh, you turned around to wait.

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

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

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

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

Hoseok froze. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

“Right,” you said tightly. “Okay.”

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

“Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slowly shook his head.

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

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

“Look.” He paused. “This is awkward.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Hoseok gave you a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about after?”

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

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

Okay, maybe you were a little mad.

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

“I heard The Drop got cancelled.”

You froze.

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

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

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

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

“You did?” you said, tentative.

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I…”

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook snorted. “Burn.”

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

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

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

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

“Tight,” he said.

They fist-bumped.

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

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

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

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

Weakly, you shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, Namjoon looked baffled. “What gong?”

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

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

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

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

“Bored already?” said Hoseok, interrupting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok glanced at you in surprise. “Really?”

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

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

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

“While?”

“… While I was threatening to castrate him.”

Hoseok cracked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t argue with that.”

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

After a few minutes, he looked up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook groaned as Seokjin fist-pumped the air.

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

One crisis down, you relaxed and glanced at Sara’s cookies. They looked like unappetizing blobs, but Sara had a knack for making them taste good. Yoongi’s would be both, of course – beautiful in appearance and delicious to eat.

As you surveyed the kitchen, you felt that same sense of rightness within you. It had been too long since you’d last seen your friends. The aching loneliness you got in LA didn’t exist here. Dimly, you thought it’d be nice to somehow combine the two.

It was mostly your fault things were this way. Once you fought with Hoseok, your friend group had been forced to make separate group chats. People always forgot to give updates in both, so it usually ended up being a mishmash of miscommunication.

Without meaning to, you’d slowly drifted from your favorite people in the world. Out of sight, out of mind, as they said. Being home made you realize how much you’d missed them. It was easier to convince yourself you were fine when you lived in LA, surrounded by LA people, places and things.

The sound of your phone interrupted your train of thought. Pulling it from your pocket, you recognized an LA number and started.

“Excuse me,” you said, squeezing past Sara. “I have to take this.”

Heading out the side door and onto Namjoon’s patio, you exited the kitchen. It was cold outside and you shivered, but you didn’t expect to be out here for long. Breath frosting before you, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Darling!”

Daisy spoke in the same, too-bright falsetto which made you wince. “Hi – Daisy!” you said, attempting to smile. “So good to hear from you again.”

“Yes, of course – listen, Y/N, I’ll get right down to it.” Someone laughed in the background, and you wondered where Daisy was. “I wanted to tell you we’ve decided to go in a different direction.”

The air seemed to constrict and the holiday music, which had once seemed so cheerful, felt suddenly mocking. Staring straight ahead, you felt your grip tighten on your phone.

“I – what?” you breathed.

“Your interview was great, and we loved you, but we’ve decided to hire someone else.”

“I…” Trailing off, you shook your head. “You said I had the job, though?”

“Things change, darling. You know the industry.”

“But… we only spoke yesterday!”

“Yes, and things have changed since then. We had the most unbelievable interview this morning – you won’t believe their date ideas. So creative. Shocking!”

Something sallow and bitter curdled in your stomach. “Shocking, for a dating show?” you heard yourself say. “What could possibly be creative about that?”

“Ouch.” Daisy laughed. “Don’t be bitter because someone else’s ideas were better than yours. Well, I must get going. Wrap party, you know! Just wanted to call, so you knew not to wait for the email. Toodles!”

She hung up, leaving you alone on the patio.

Numbly, you lowered your arm to your side. It was still cold, and you knew you should head in but somehow couldn’t bring yourself to move. Staring at the darkness of Namjoon’s backyard, you fought back the rising tide of panic.

This had to be it – a new lowest of the low. A job you hadn’t even wanted but had decided to take because you needed money was reneging their offer.

Fingers trembling, you shoved both hands in your pockets and tried not to cry. Already, you felt the tears threatening to spill on your cheeks.

Everything had been so shitty lately. You’d barely been able to mourn your dream job before Darren had cheated. Just like that, your entire support system in LA had crumbled and you’d been left alone.

Eyes closed, you forced yourself to exhale. Maybe if you’d listened to Hoseok you wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d tried to warn you about Darren, and you’d pushed him aside. You hadn’t wanted to believe him – hadn’t wanted to bring that lie crashing down yet.

Darren had fit in with the life you’d envisioned for yourself. He’d fit with the new version of you, the version who wasn’t in love with her best friend and who hadn’t fled halfway across the country because she was escaping said feelings.

If you were being honest, your crush on Hoseok hadn’t ended in high school.

It returned after college, reemerging with a vengeance during the time you lived in New York. Hoseok and you were both single, the first time this had happened since high school. You’d fallen for him all over again – feelings he didn’t reciprocate, which partially led to your decision to move.

It wasn’t as though Darren had been the perfect boyfriend. You weren’t mourning him as the love of your life, or anything like that.

There had been times during your year and a half together when you weren’t happy at all. Darren had drunk a lot, oftentimes to excess and had often collapsed on the couch rather than make it to your bed. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but cruelly honest at other times.

In fact, when you first discovered he’d cheated, your immediate response had been shock, rather than hurt. The public manner of his split had been the worst part, not the actual cheating itself. You’d barely thought about Darren since you two had ended things, which seemed to beg the question of whether you’d loved him at all.

Shaken by the thought, you hugged yourself tighter and felt your lip start to tremble. Everyone inside seemed to have their shit together. They had friends, families and jobs they enjoyed. You’d given up the first two in order to have the last and now, you had nothing.

Without meaning to, a tear fell to your cheek.

At that moment, someone pulled open the sliding door to the patio. Frantically wiping the tear, you turned your head and saw Hoseok.

Hoseok froze, uncertain, the holiday music louder behind him.

“Hey,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I – what’s up?”

His gaze roamed your face. “Nothing,” he said at last. “I just hadn’t seen you in a while. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He was being nice, you thought, stomach plummeting. Nicer than you deserved, so you turned around and resumed looking at the forest. It was pitch black beyond the tree line, which seemed fitting for your current mentality.

“Oh,” you said dully. “That’s nice of you.”

Hoseok paused. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Weakly, you snorted. “What gave you that idea?”

Not choosing to respond to this, Hoseok stepped outside and shut the door. The glass muffled the music, making it seem as though you were in your own world. As Hoseok walked closer, the crunch of snow beneath his sneakers grew louder.

Hoseok came to a stop. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He released a low laugh. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve known you since we were five. I think I know when you’re pretending not to cry.”

“Don’t do that,” you muttered, still facing the yard.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t pretend we’re friends again, all of a sudden.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment. “I’m not,” he said. “I just… I can’t pretend not to know you, okay? I know we fought and haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t let you cry out here alone. I’m not an asshole, Y/N, no matter how much you want me to be.”

Of course, he wasn’t. You’d never thought he was but weren’t sure Hoseok would believe you if you said that. Hoseok was the most caring, selfless person you knew. He’d be standing out here even if you were his most bitter enemy, let alone someone he cared about.

Slowly, you turned. “Things aren’t… going as well as I let on.”

“No?”

“No. You know Darren broke up with me, right?”

Hoseok’s lips thinned in the darkness. “I saw the headlines, yeah.”

Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Did you hear what I said, though? Darren broke up with me. I didn’t even notice he… well.” You paused. “You warned me about him, I guess. And I did nothing about it. Who knows how much longer I would’ve stayed if he hadn’t done what he did.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing it happened, then.”

You opened your eyes to stare at the woods. “I think I loved him, at some point. I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

“It mattered,” Hoseok said.

“Did it, though? I loved him, and he broke up with me. I gave up so much for him,” you said, gaze narrowing. “Coming here has made me realize how much, I guess. I tried so hard to fit in with his idea of the perfect girlfriend and now, I just feel… kind of stupid.”

“You’re definitely not stupid, Y/N.”

“No?” You glanced at him blankly. “You saw through him right away. Must’ve been nice to find out you were right, after all.”

Hoseok’s face tightened. “I would never be happy to hear that,” he said quietly. “I hoped I was wrong, Y/N. Of course, I did. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“Then why’d you hurt me?” you said, turning to face him fully.

Hoseok’s eyes widened, wind whipping his hair.

“Why’d you hurt me?” you said, still holding back tears. “Why’d you cut me out of your life? Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Hobi?”

“I…” Hoseok faltered. “I didn’t… realize you felt that way.”

“Didn’t realize?” you whispered. “Hoseok, you were my best friend.”

Something unreadable crossed his expression, gone before it could fully be formed. Hoseok turned to look at the forest.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, breath frosting again. “Well.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment, staring at the tree line and then he glanced sideways. “Who was the phone call?”

Surprised, you looked over. “What?”

“The phone call,” he said, glancing at your hand. “Who called and upset you? You seemed fine inside, making cookies.”

You knew he was changing the subject, but you let him. Talking about the past seemed too real to face right now.

“Oh,” you said. “Well. The job hunt isn’t going as well as I said. I wrote a screenplay, but no one is interested. I also applied to a bunch of random shows, but nothing’s panned out. Oh – except,” you said bitterly. “Yesterday, I got an offer to write for this reality dating TV show.”

“You?” Hoseok arched a brow. “The professed self-hater of reality TV?”

“I guess that came out in my interview, since they retracted the offer. That was them calling to tell me.”

“Well, they’re idiots, then.”

“Or maybe they realized I’m a sinking ship and they should probably jump before my bad luck spreads to them.”

“Y/N,” he chastised.

“I know,” you sighed, some of the fight draining from you. “I guess it’s a good thing. I didn’t want that job anyways. But it’s just… it was my last option, you know? That was it, that was the bottom of the barrel and I couldn’t even get that. How pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he insisted.

“No? Because I feel pretty pathetic right now.”

Hoseok was quiet a moment. He shifted his weight and then, out of nowhere he said, “I puked on my first day of student teaching.”

Your head whipped to him in surprise. “You – what?”

“I puked.” Hoseok nodded. “I was so nervous I’d say the wrong thing, I ran to the bathroom and hurled my guts out. I’ve never gotten stage fright, but something about teaching brought that out in me. I don’t know if that’s what I want to do with my doctorate.”

“I…” You stared at him wonderingly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok half-smiled. “You can want something a long time, and not have it end up being what you thought. It’s not a bad thing to change direction, Y/N.”

“That’s… true.”

“I’m not saying to stop applying,” he warned. “I think you should because you’re ridiculously talented and those west coast assholes are lucky to have you. Just… maybe apply to something different.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

You waited, truly wanting to know his opinion. Hoseok had always been the one person who could make sense of your spirals. Something about him made you automatically respond.

Hoseok shrugged, the light from inside playing over his features.

“You said you wrote a screenplay?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He paused. “You should send it to me.”

Both your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, a hint of a smile to his lips. “I mean, I used to read your stuff before, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Then it’s settled.” Hoseok nodded. “You’ll send me your screenplay and I’ll let you know what I think. Okay?”

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Maybe I will.”

Before he could respond, the sliding door opened again.

“There you are! They’re out here, guys!” Jungkook yelled, turning over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, returning to you. “It’s cold as balls out.”

Leaving the screen door wide open, he retreated to the kitchen. The holiday music was louder now, but slightly less mocking than before. When Hoseok met your gaze, you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Want to head back in?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing him as you breezed past. “I heard it’s cold as balls out.”

Hoseok laughed as he followed, and you felt the smallest weight lift from your chest. You still didn’t feel like you had all the answers, but at least Hoseok didn’t seem like he hated you anymore. That was a step forward if nothing else.

As you entered the kitchen, some of your earlier despair seemed to lessen. Hoseok crossed the kitchen to Yoongi, grinning at something he said, and you felt another strange wave of sadness.

Just being with him made you feel better. Even with hard conversations, even with Hoseok telling honest truths, you never got the feeling he wanted to hurt you. It made you long for how things were before and not for the first time, you knew you’d made the wrong decision last year.

Choosing Daren over Hoseok had been the worst mistake of your life. Not because Darren had cheated or because things between you had ended, but because Hoseok meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life.

Maybe ever would.

The next morning you were awakened by a pillow thrown at your face.

“Get up loser,” Sara said from above. “We’re going shopping.”

Groaning at the bad Mean Girls reference, you rolled over. Sara laughed, throwing another pillow which lamely hit your back.

“Seriously,” she whined. “It’s ten in the morning and the cake tasting is at eleven. Unless you don’t want to come anymore…?”

Remembering today’s plans, you bolted upright in bed. Today was the one wedding planning event you really did want to attend – today, Sara was going to taste the cakes.

“No!” you blurted, throwing your covers aside. “I’m in! Just give me ten minutes!”

Sara laughed, retreating and closing the door to your room. Hurrying into your bathroom, you brushed your teeth, washed your face and made yourself presentable. As you entered the kitchen for breakfast, you found everyone seated around the table.

“Y/N!” Your dad grinned at the stove. “I’m making omelets again. Do you want one?”

Warily, you glanced at Sara, who nodded.

“Yep,” you said, heading for the coffee pot. “Sounds like a plan.”

Pouring yourself coffee, you inhaled the steam. Your dad’s omelets were always a risk because he tended to throw whatever he’d made for dinner the night before into the eggs. Sometimes this resulted in momentary brilliance – his crab cake and blue cheese omelet was a thing of legend. Sometimes though, things fell flat. The spaghetti omelet came to mind.

Once you were seated, your mom began to go over the plans for today. She wouldn’t be able to join the cake tasting but would meet you later at the invitation store.

Before long, you were being shoved out the door since Sara was suddenly concerned about Sunday morning traffic. You didn’t bother to point out Josen Falls didn’t have Sunday morning traffic. By now, you recognized signs of your sister’s stress enough to know when to be quiet.

As you entered the cake shop, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Ignoring this, you hurried inside and began to unwarp your scarf. Chimes jingled above the entrance, causing Paul to pop out of the back room.

Paul had owned the shop for what seemed like forever, ever since his dad had passed and he’d taken it over. His cakes were a thing of legend up and down the east coast.

“Sara!” He beamed. “And Y/N! What a surprise! Are you two ready for cake?”

“Hell yes,” Sara said, undoing her coat. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, Paul. Honestly, this is the main reason I’m getting married.”

Paul laughed, retreating behind the counter. “I won’t waste your time with pleasantries, then,” he said. “Let’s get right into it.”

Sara settled on a stool, patting the one beside her for you to follow suit. As you did, you remembered the buzz in your pocket and pulled out your phone. There was a notification on Instagram, which made you frown. Maybe Lord of the Rings airport guy had found you.

Opening the app, you saw the username and froze.

DarrenToLive had sent you a message. Reading his name, you felt the world tilt. It had been months since you’d last seen Darren in your inbox. You’d tentatively unblocked him on Twitter at the start of November and then, when nothing happened, unblocked him on everything else. It seemed Darren had realized this now.

As though your hand had a mind of its own, you clicked read.

DarrenToLive: hey, y/n… I saw on your story you went home for the holidays. How are things going?

Immediately, your gaze narrowed. The message blurred, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Darren had some nerve to reach out to you over Christmas – and while he had a girlfriend, no less. Because when you went to his profile and clicked on the first photo, it had been taken by Jessica Avec. Your jaw clenched.

Fingers hovering over the message, you debated whether to delete, block or cuss him out, but then Paul emerged from the back room holding a tray of cake.

“Alright!” Paul set the tray down. “We’ve got a lot to taste here.”

Slowly, you slid your phone back in your pocket. You could deal with Darren later, you decided. He was unworthy of your attention at the moment. Folding both hands on the table, you tried not to salivate at the treats before you.

“I went through your list, Sara,” he said with a nod. “And I think we’ve got some good options here. First up is almond cake, vanilla bean frosting and fresh raspberries. Second is chocolate fudge cake, chocolate crème brulee and salted caramel sauce. Next is pink berry cake, dark chocolate mousse and berry preserves. Last, a hazelnut cake with milk chocolate mousse and bittersweet ganache.”

“Oh,” said you and Sara in unison.

Paul laughed at your faces. “And of course, champagne,” he said, placing two glasses before you. “I won’t hover and make things weird, so feel free to taste and I’ll be back in a half hour. Keep in mind we have plenty of other cakes, too! This is your day!”

Sara stared at the tray, her eyes shining as Paul left.

“It’s just so beautiful,” she said, sounding a little choked up.

You laughed, placing a fork in her empty hand. “What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

Sara obeyed, pulling the plate towards her, and taking a large bite.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “This is heaven.”

“It really is,” she happily agreed, hazelnut crumbs on her lips.

Reaching out, Sara took a sip of champagne and dug feverishly into the pink berry cake. You continued this way for a while, switching between cake and champagne until there were only crumbs left.

Leaning back, you surveyed the wreckage. “So?” you said, turning to Sara. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They’re all delicious. If I pick one, the rest will feel left out.”

“They’re cakes, Sara. They don’t have feelings.”

“Spoken like an emotionless rock.”

“Hey!” you said, swatting her forearm. “I have emotions, I’ll have you know. I was devastated I didn’t win the holiday cookie competition yesterday.”

Sara laughed. “Oh, please. You weren’t even listening by then. No one was except for Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Well, that’s because they’re the only two real competitors every year.”

“Not true! There was that year Hoseok decided to take things seriously,” Sara said. “He almost won.”

“Wasn’t that the year Yoongi made pizzelles?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so Hobi had no chance.”

Sara laughed again. “Alright, fair. Yoongi can’t help being blessed with so many skills.”

You mimed retching.

“Honestly! He’s good-looking, smart, clean, knows his way around the kitchen. Knows his way around other things, too.”

“Sara!” you yelped, shoving her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear about my little sister’s sex life, thanks.”

Giving you a devious grin, Sara returned to the cake. Taking another bite, she chewed thoughtfully around a mouthful of frosting.

“Did I see correctly last night, though?” she said, sounding curious. “Were you actually talking to Hoseok again?”

“I… not really, no.”

Sara gave you a look. “So, your mouth was just moving, and nothing was coming out?”

“We’ve decided to be cordial.” Blithely, you took a sip of champagne. “You know, for the sake of your wedding.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It’s true!” you said. “I’m your maid of honor and Hoseok’s Yoongi’s best man. It would be weird if we just refused to talk.”

“I guess,” Sara said slowly. She sighed. “What happened there, anyways?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is,” you said, staring at your plate. “I don’t know. It was a lot of things, I guess. We’d started growing apart when I moved to LA. And then I began dating Darren… you know none of my boyfriends have ever liked how close I am to Hobi.”

“Well, that’s because all your past boyfriends were trash, Y/N.”

“They haven’t been – alright, fine,” you admitted. “They were trash. Anyways, Hoseok came to LA when I had just moved in with Darren and I, um… I hadn’t exactly told Hobi yet.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“It had just happened!” you protested. “My roommates were shit, Hoseok knew that. When Darren suggested I move in with him, it just made sense.”

“So, why didn’t you tell Hobi?”

Falling silent, you stared into your glass of champagne. In all honesty, you had no answer to that. It’d always been hard to talk about your relationships with Hoseok. Maybe some messed up part of yourself still hoped he had feelings for you. Maybe the same, messed up part didn’t like the idea of Hoseok knowing you were really taken.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Every time I thought about telling him, I just couldn’t. I knew Hoseok wouldn’t like it.”

Sara nodded, picking at the crumbs on her plate. She so clearly wanted to say something, it almost made you laugh. Say what you wanted about your sister – she wasn’t subtle.

“What?” you said, arching a brow. “What is it you want to say?”

Sara hid a smile. “You know me too well. All I was thinking was…” Trailing off, she shook her head. “Maybe there’s a reason Hoseok’s never liked any of your exes.”

“Because they were assholes?”

“No – well, yeah,” Sara conceded. “But also, I don’t know. We always kind of thought you two would end up together.”

You froze.

“We?” you managed to squeak out. “Who’s we?”

“You know.” Sara waved a hand. “Me, Yoongi, Namjoon. A bunch of us actually. We always thought you were perfect together.”

“Me and… Hoseok.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You spent so much time together growing up! You were always holed up in your room, always inseparable at parties. It just seemed natural you’d start dating.”

“We were just friends, Sara.”

“Yeah. I guess I see that now.”

Returning to your plate, you pushed the cake around. Other people thinking you’d end up with Hoseok was news to you. You wondered if they saw something you didn’t. Even if they did though, they’d been proven wrong time and time again.

Hoseok had never felt that way about you, despite your on and off feelings for him over the years.

“Hoseok thought Darren was cheating on me,” you said quietly.

Sara looked up. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, pushing your plate away. “That’s what led to our big fight. Things already weren’t great between us and when Hoseok visited, he suspected Darren of cheating. I took Darren’s side and Hoseok left the next day.”

“Y/N,” Sara said softly.

“I just… Hoseok was right, in the end.” Looking down, you swallowed. “Maybe he was back then, too. I should’ve listened to him, but I didn’t. And now I don’t know how to apologize. It’s been so long.”

“It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” you said, looking up. “How can I even start?”

Sara hesitated. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t apologize to him, Y/N – but isn’t there blame on his end, too? Sure, you fought, but he could’ve reached out as easily as you.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” said Sara, scooping up the last bite of cake. “Definitely. Look, you don’t need to be friends with Hoseok again. That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just… it was nice seeing you together again. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“But look at me.” Sara straightened. “Going on about Hoseok when we have much more important things to discuss. Namely, are there any other cakes to try?”

“Paul did say he had more flavors in the back.”

“I feel like it would be a disservice to this establishment and to ourselves if we didn’t take full advantage of that offer. Paul!” she called, leaning over the counter. “You said something about other cakes?”

Paul laughed, disappearing to grab the next tray. Although you appreciated the change of subject, Sara’s words continued to run through your mind.

The idea of all your friends thinking you and Hoseok would be together was more shocking than it probably should’ve been. You couldn’t help but mull over this for the rest of the day, in the car ride home and throughout dinner that night.

Later, when you sat at your computer and stared at the screen, you made a sudden decision. Opening your email, you typed Hoseok’s name and sent him your screenplay. Pressing send, you shut the laptop and slid into bed.

It took you a while to fall asleep, staring at the little dipper above you.

Wedding planning was put on hold the next day, everyone’s attention shifting towards the holidays. With only two days left until Christmas Eve, it was time for the annual neighborhood holiday party.

The neighborhood holiday party had been a tradition ever since you were little – even before the holiday cookie competition caught on. It was formal attire, hosted by a different family in the neighborhood every year. This year the Jeons were the hosts, which was a good thing because they only lived a few blocks away.

On the drive over, you stared out the window and tried to silence the butterflies in your stomach. Seated in the middle seat, you felt like a high schooler again. It certainly didn’t help that, once again, you found your thoughts entirely consumed by Hoseok. Just like in high school.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Sara had said, how everyone in your friend group thought you’d get together. Truthfully, you’d thought the same many times prior, but nothing had ever come to fruition. Sometimes it had been because of him – and sometimes because of you.

The last time had been because of you.

Before you left New York for LA, there had been a moment between you and Hoseok you’d done your best to forget. You’d been close at the time, always at one or the other’s apartments in between classes or work. Your job back then had been terrible, even worse than the PBS one after.

When you texted Hoseok on Friday you needed to work Sunday, he’d showed up at your door holding red wine and take-out. You spent yet another evening watching dumb movies and drinking, but this one had ended differently than the rest.

As the credits rolled on the movie and you finished your last glass of wine, you’d sighed and rolled over on top of the couch. Hoseok had been seated on the floor, legs splayed and leaning against the cushions.

When he turned to face you, he was mere inches away. You remember the muted light from the TV playing over his features, making your heart skip for a second.

The movie had been tense, which had caused Hoseok to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result, the strands stuck up every which way, making you smile.

Hoseok had smiled in return. “What?” he’d said, a bit lower than usual.

“Nothing,” you’d laughed, making his smile widen.

“Seriously, what?”

“Nothing!”

Reaching out, you’d tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Hoseok went still, staring at your hand resting near his cheek. You’d moved to retract this, but Hoseok had reached up and caught your hand in his.

You could still remember that feeling. That dizzy, pulse-pounding feeling of his hand in yours. You’d felt it at various points in your friendship, but never so clearly as lying on the couch, inches away from his lips with your hand in his.

Hoseok’s thumb lazily brushed your wrist, causing a warm jolt of pleasure to shoot to your core. His lips parted, as though to speak – and your phone had rung in your pocket.

Scrambling upright, the moment broke when you answered the call. Hoseok fell back, looking stunned and he made an excuse to leave after that. You hadn’t discussed it the next day and it wasn’t long after you announced your move to LA.

The two events weren’t necessarily connected – or maybe they were.

Now, even you were beginning to have doubts. After that night, you’d realized you were developing feelings for Hoseok again. Maybe a tiny part of you thought that by moving away you’d force yourself to move on.

As you approached the Jeon’s, you found those same butterflies emerging. You and Hoseok had never talked about that night. Maybe there had been something there, something he’d felt, and your act of self-preservation had simply been running away.

“Y/N,” your mom said, returning you to the present.

Startled, you looked up. “Yeah?”

She smiled in the rearview mirror. “We were just saying your Aunt called the other day to say she’d started watching The Drop. She loves it! Can’t wait for season three.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking lower. “That’s great.”

“I’ll admit,” your dad laughed. “We were kind of nervous when you said you were quitting your job to move to LA and start writing, but you’ve really made a name for yourself, Lucy. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Oh… good. Thanks, dad.”

“It’s nothing short of incredible!” added your mom.

You nodded, unable to respond as you looked out the window. Saying they’d been nervous was a bit of an understatement. Your parents had tried their best to dissuade you from moving to LA. They had meant well, but to your parents, the best career path was a stable one. Dreams were nice, but they mostly belonged between the pillow and sheets.

Just once, you wished your parents would say they were proud of you without needing an accomplishment attached. Of course, it was great to be successful and make money, but it was hard when it often felt like those were the only things valued by your family.

As your parents parked, you exhaled and unbuckled your seatbelt. Narrowly avoiding stepping in a snowbank, you followed your parents up the sidewalk and into the Jeon house. Their front door was open, holiday music spilling into the night.

Steeping inside, you unbuttoned your coat and glanced around. Jungkook’s parents were well-off, which showed in his mom’s Christmas decorations. Garland twined up every bannister, and you spotted no less than three Christmas trees from your place near the front door.

Hanging your coat up in their closet, you fought back a shiver as you turned around. You may have gone a bit overboard on the dress code, but it had been a long time since you’d wanted to look nice. For the two months following your break-up, you’d mostly wallowed and slept in your sweatpants.

In November, you’d started dating again, but it had only ended in disaster. One guy, after you had successfully dodged a goodbye kiss in his car, had the audacity to text you saying you’d left something. After you’d searched your things in a panic, thinking you’d dropped something in his car, he finally texted back ‘a kiss from me.’

You stopped going on blind dates after that. All this to say tonight was your first night dressing up in a while and you were determined to make it count. And if a certain someone happened to eat their heart? That would only be a benefit.

Smoothing the red velvet of your dress down, you glanced up and spotted Hoseok.

He stood in the kitchen, back to you, but you’d know his profile anywhere. He wore a purple suit which on anyone else would look tacky, but on him looked effortless. Trust Hoseok to show up in a jewel-toned suit and completely steal the night. When he turned, you saw his hair had been styled so that only a few pieces fell over his forehead.

When he saw you, he froze. The bowl of limes in his hands went forgotten as Hoseok’s gaze slowly traveled your frame. Each place he lingered caught fire, leaving embers in his wake when he finally met your gaze.

Before you could speak, the door opened again, and a cold breeze blew in. You shivered, jumping forward and the moment was broken.

Namjoon looked up while undoing his scarf. His jaw dropped. “Y/N!” he said with a whistle. “You look ridiculously good tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you joked, squeezing Namjoon around the waist when he hugged you.

By the time you turned around to face Hoseok, he was already gone.

“And all other nights,” said Namjoon, wrestling free from his coat. “But especially this one. You look like you’re here to break hearts, which doesn’t seem like the best use of Christmas spirit.”

“No?” you said, linking arms to travel into the kitchen. “Pity.”

As you entered, you realized with some disappointment Hoseok had left for the next room. The look on his face had reminded you of senior Prom, when you’d exited the limo and Hoseok had stammered something about how you looked like an angel. You’d brushed it aside but secretly, had daydreamed about it for months.

Jungkook’s mom stood near the stove, removing a tray of appetizers. She waved with her oven mitt, which you returned with a smile. Namjoon didn’t allow you to linger though, pulling you into the family room.

“We’re here!” he called.

This seemed to be the room people your age had claimed. Your parents disappeared into the dining room, all kids went to the basement and you landed in the family room with other quasi-adults.

“Y/N!” Sara called, already perched on Yoongi’s lap.

“How did you get there so fast?” you wondered aloud – only to choke, realizing Yoongi had worn a red suit and Santa hat.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” said Seokjin, appearing alongside you. “Since only one person is allowed to sit on Santa’s lap.”

Laughing, you shook your head as you turned. “It’s something I would’ve expected from you, honestly,” you said.

“It crossed my mind,” Seokjin admitted. “But then Yoongi and I did rock, paper scissors and I lost.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Seokjin walked with you across the room to stand before Jungkook’s makeshift bar. Jungkook wore a holiday sweater which consisted of a t-rex chasing two gingerbread men across the front.

Only one other person stood before you in line. When Seokjin saw Mrs. Haberdash, he grinned and pulled you into his side.

“Stop trying to sext me!” he said loudly, ensuring she heard. “I don’t need this right now!”

Mrs. Haberdash turned around and froze, then mumbled something about being needed in the next room before she scurried off. Rolling your eyes, you took a step forward.

“I don’t think that was necessary,” you said to Seokjin, although you were laughing. “She hasn’t said anything since the party about my being single.”

“Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Drink order?” said Jungkook, shaking a cocktail shaker in each hand. “We’ve got everything! Gingerbread mules, candy cane cosmos, rum punch... you name it, I’ll make it.”

“I didn’t know you could bartend,” you commented, spotting the bowl of limes Hoseok had carried behind the table.

“I can’t.” Jungkook shrugged. “My motto is – the drunker you are, the less you’ll care about how the drink tastes.”

You stared at him a moment. “Yeah, I’ll have wine.”

Namjoon laughed, waiting while Jungkook poured you a glass. It didn’t take long for the rest of your friend group to arrive. Taking a seat on the couch beside Seokjin, you entertained a conversation about whether The Witcher TV series was great cinematography or merely a guilty pleasure.

Around your second glass of wine, Taehyung bounded in from the kitchen to announce a holiday drinking game. Turning on the Hallmark Channel, he taped a large poster board to the wall – “When did you make that?” said Hoseok, appalled – and began to explain the rules.

“Rule number one!” Taehyung tapped the board. “If a character’s name is related to Christmas, you drink. I’m talking Noelle, I’m talking Holly, I’m talking Kris, Tinsel – yes, there was once a character named Tinsel. If any of those names appear, you drink. Rule number two! You spot mistletoe, you drink.”

Jungkook groaned, settling cross-legged on the floor. “We’re all going to be wasted.”

“Yes,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hopefully, it makes your drinks taste better,” said Seokjin from the couch.

Jungkook held up his middle finger.

“Jungkook!” scolded his mom, walking past the door.

Embarrassed, Jungkook put his finger back down. His ears turned bright red, much to the laughter of everyone else in the room.

“Right, anyways,” Taehyung said. “Here’s a new rule that I just made up on the spot – whoever isn’t paying attention to the movie and is the last person to drink has to take two sips.”

Laughter ensued, but once the movie began, you realized Taehyung had been serious. He and Jungkook dubbed themselves the Christmas Patrol and traveled around the room to ensure the rules were being followed.

This resulted in Seokjin tackling Jungkook midway through the movie, insisting he had not been the last person to drink when a magical deal was struck with an angel. They nearly knocked over your glass of wine and so, extricating yourself from the sofa, you told Namjoon you needed to use the bathroom.

Hoseok had stayed away ever since your arrival. He’d barely said anything besides a brief wave and hello. You wanted to ask him if he’d gotten your screenplay but didn’t want to pry. If Hoseok had read it, he would’ve told you already. Likely, he was busy with other holiday things.

As you entered the kitchen, you paused at the window. Thinking about your screenplay made you think of the other night, when Hoseok had checked on you at Namjoon’s and you’d completely broken down. He had just been trying to be nice and you’d completely embarrassed yourself, going on about Darren and how difficult work was.

You needed to remind yourself you weren’t friends anymore. Hoseok couldn’t be there for you the same way he used to be, and you shouldn’t expect that. Releasing a breath, you set your wine glass on the counter.

“Y/N?”

Whirling, you found Hoseok on the threshold. He’d wandered into the kitchen, a stack of dirty plates in one hand.

“Oh – hey, Hoseok,” you said.

He nodded, walking past to set the dishes down in the sink. Turning around, Hoseok wiped his hands on a tea towel. He glanced at the wine glass you’d set on the counter.

“Didn’t want to chance one of Jeon’s holiday drinks?”

You managed a smile. “Didn’t want to risk it.”

Hoseok nodded, silence falling between you, but he still didn’t leave. Glancing past him, you wondered if you’d ever get over this terrible awkwardness. There were so many things you wanted to say but didn’t think were appropriate.

You needed to be careful because it would be too easy to fall back in love with him. Once those floodgates were opened, you weren’t sure how to close them. It was easier to linger in this half-state, where you weren’t really friends, but Hoseok didn’t hate you, either.

“I read your screenplay,” Hoseok said.

Startled, your gaze moved to his. “All of it?”

“Well, you only sent me the first episode,” Hoseok said with a smile. “But yeah, all of it.”

“And? What did you think?”

Hoseok paused.

“Oh, no,” you groaned, leaning against the counter.

You’d known Hoseok long enough to know his pauses were never good. Hoseok was a careful speaker when he gave criticism – excruciatingly honest, but he took the time to say what he meant; no more and no less.

Hoseok laughed. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“No, but I know you,” you said with a shake of your head. “When you don’t love something, you pause before deciding how best to crush my spirit. Go on, then. Get on with it.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I don’t purposefully crush your spirit.”

“Just an unintended side effect, then.”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or no?”

You mimed zipping your lips. “Yes, please. Continue.”

Hoseok paused again, and you hid your smile. For a few seconds, it had felt like you were friends again. This used to be your routine whenever Hoseok read something of yours – his hesitation before he critiqued, your endless moaning and Hoseok asking if you wanted him to stop.

“I liked it a lot.”

“Liar.”

“Let me finish!” Hoseok laughed.

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up both hands.

“I did like it,” Hoseok said, fixing you with a glare. “It was bright, smart and full of hilarious one-liners. The friend group was relatable and fun. It’s just… the main character.”

“Jaimie? What about her?”

“She’s…” Hoseok hesitated. “She’s just unlikable.”

“What!” you blurted. “What’s unlikeable about her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s too perfect. It’s too hard to relate. She’s got everything under control, you know? Who wants to watch a show about a person so perfect they make you feel like an idiot in comparison?”

You closed your mouth, realizing it had fallen open. “That’s not… she has flaws!”

“Name one.” Hoseok arched a brow. “And overly clumsy, or having unruly hair aren’t flaws.”

Your lips twitched. “Damn.”

“I meant everything else, though,” said Hoseok. “I really do like the premise. And the friend group is hilarious but real, you know? They’re not trying too hard. I just think the lead could be more realistic. People like that, you know. They like it when a person has flaws.”

“Oh, please,” you said with a sigh. “People always say that, but they’re so quick to turn on a character the second they do something wrong.”

“I still think it’s better to show someone relatable,” Hoseok argued. “Someone who’s real. Someone who keeps trying, even when they’ve messed up.”

He’d moved closer during the course of his speech, close enough for you to smell his shampoo. It wasn’t the same one he’d used back in high school. It was odd, the things you remembered about the past. You could recall the smell of Hoseok’s high school shampoo with vivid clarity but didn’t remember the last time Darren had made you smile.

“Someone who keeps trying,” you said, tracing over his features. “Is that really what you think, Hobi?”

A shadow crossed over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because.” Looking away, you set your jaw. If you didn’t ask him now, you never would. “Why… didn’t you call me back, then?”

“What?”

“I called you,” you whispered, barely audible. “So many times after you left. I kept calling you and trying to talk, but you just ignored me. Why, Hobi?”

He swallowed at the nickname. “I… Y/N…”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, finally looking at him.

All your frustration finally rose to the surface. Sara’s words came back to you with sudden clarity – yes, there was blame on your end, but there was also on his. You hadn’t told anyone this, but you’d called him so many times after he’d left for New York. You’d tried to patch things up and Hoseok hadn’t let you.

“We’ve had fights before, but nothing like this,” you accused. “A year, Hobi. It’s been a year since I’ve seen you. That’s not a fight! That’s you deciding we shouldn’t be friends and that hurt, Hoseok. It fucking hurt.”

“I decided not to be friends with you?” he demanded, eyes flashing.

Gone was the sunny, cool Hoseok of earlier and in his place stood a stranger. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Hoseok this mad. Maybe the day you’d fought in the bar.

“Yeah,” you said.

“That’s rich,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “Considering you’d stopped confiding in me long before I visited you in LA. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know you’d moved in with your boyfriend. You refusing to listen about Darren was just… the last straw.”

“The last straw?” You laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound. “You’re acting like I was a difficult child, or something. You were my friend, Hoseok. My best friend! And the second things got difficult between us, you ran.”

“It wasn’t only that night,” Hoseok snapped.

He was inches away now, the air between you so thick with tension, hurt and something unknown. He looked so good and you were so angry – it all swirled in your chest, becoming the perfect storm.

“Then, what was it?” you demanded.

His gaze darted towards your lips. “I – I had to put distance between us, Y/N. It was better that way. Healthier.”

“Healthier?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are you saying? I was toxic to you, or something?”

“No,” Hoseok groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “God, Y/N, no. What I’m saying is I –”

“Y/N?”

Both your gazes shot towards the door, finding Sara hovering over the threshold. She glanced between you and Hoseok, and you realized belatedly how little space there was between you. Hoseok’s chest practically touched yours, his lips inches away from your own.

Dizzily, you exhaled and willed your heartbeat to slow.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to clear your head. “What is it?”

Exhaling slowly, Hoseok took a step backwards.

Looking as though she wished she were anywhere else, Sara glanced at her phone. “Um,” she said, lifting it up. “I just wanted to tell you Darren is calling…”

Confused, you stared at her a moment until it sunk in.

Darren – your ex-boyfriend – was calling your little sister. Brow furrowed, you attempted to make heads or tails of this news. It made about as much sense as her barging in to say yellow snow had been declared a health supplement by the FDA.

“I – Darren?” you said, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Sara shrugged. “I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered and that’s what he said. He said you never responded to his last text and he got worried. Honestly, I didn’t even know he had my number.”

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

You’d decided not to respond to the Instagram message the other day, re-blocking him from all your social media. This was a gross invasion of privacy to reach out to Sara like this. Dimly, you recalled giving him Sara’s number the time you lost your phone in case of an emergency.

Before you could speak, Hoseok let out a soft laugh. “Of course,” he said quietly. “You’re texting him still?”

Your eyes flew open. “Hoseok, no, I –”

“Yeah, okay,” he said roughly, brushing past you to walk down the hall.

You stared at his back, too stunned to move. Everything Hoseok said about needing distance came back to you. He said your break-up wasn’t just about the last fight you’d had. Questions began to burn in your mind, but aside from that you felt angry.

After everything you’d told him, after everything you’d confessed about Darren, Hoseok still thought you’d gone crawling back.

Suddenly livid, you pushed yourself off the counter. As you passed Sara, you paused. “Block him,” you said. “I didn’t answer him earlier, so I definitely don’t want to answer him now.”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “You got it, sis.”

You walked past, catching Hoseok at the door as he pulled on his coat. Grabbing him by the elbow, you turned him sideways to face you.

“Hey,” you said. “What the fuck?”

Hoseok stared at you, bewildered. “What?”

“Why did you leave?” you demanded, gesturing at the kitchen. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Hoseok glanced in the direction you pointed. “I think the conversation was over.”

“It was not over.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.” Hoseok rubbed his temples. “We always do this. We’re best friends until you date someone and then – poof! You’re gone. That’s why I didn’t call,” he said, teeth gritted. “It was easier not to be friends with you while you were dating.”

“Okay, but I’m not with Darren anymore!”

“Who was just calling you, then?”

“That’s not – that was a coincidence!”

“Right.” Jaw tight, Hoseok looked away. “Look, Y/N. You can date whoever you want, but you deserve better than that guy. You deserve someone who looks at you and sees someone real, not just whatever they can get from your career.”

“What’s that… that’s not what I had with Darren,” you said, reeling a little.

Hoseok returned to you. “Maybe not. Maybe he really did love you, but he never deserved you, Y/N. None of them have ever deserved you.”

“What do you even care, anyways?” you said hotly.

Hoseok went still. In the background, you could hear distant laughter and holiday music but, in that moment, all you could hear was the beating of your own heart.

Eventually, he shook his head. “If you don’t know that by now,” Hoseok murmured. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Finishing buttoning his coat, Hoseok opened the door. He paused for a moment, snowflakes drifting past as he glanced back to see you.

His expression softened a little. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said, and then he was gone.

You were left staring at a closed door, a chill in your veins which had nothing to do with outside.

Wandering inside, you poured a glass of wine some might call ‘obscenely full.’ What you really wanted to do was leave, but your parents had been the ones who’d driven and were, unfortunately, your only way home.

Besides, it would only hurt more to go home alone and cry in your bed. Instead, you forced yourself to stay and seated yourself on the couch beside Seokjin. He shot you a concerned look, but you shrugged it aside and took a deep sip of your drink.

Ignoring your phone, you tried to focus on the drinking game you were playing. Hoseok’s words continued to occupy your thoughts though, making you wonder what he had meant.

If you don’t know that by now, then I guess it doesn’t matter.

That’s all he’d said, as maddeningly unclear as he usually was. You wanted to find him and shake him, to clarify what he meant. Of course, it mattered. It mattered what Hoseok thought because he was the only person you ever thought about.

That was twice now you’d asked why he’d cut you out, only to receive a vague answer. It had hurt you – you hadn’t been lying about that. Compared to your break-up with Darren, losing Hoseok had been far worse.

It had hurt so bad in the months after, you’d briefly lost your mind and last October, you’d flown out to New York to see him.

You had never told Hoseok that, but you did. It had been two months since he’d left in LA and you were growing desperate, trying and failing to get him to return your calls. At the last minute, you’d booked a plane flight, hopped in a cab from LaGuardia and shown up at his apartment – just in time to catch Hoseok coming home from a date.

You had stood there on the sidewalk, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while he laughed at something his date said. Vision blurring, you could still recall the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had remained long after they went inside, then hailed a cab to the airport and flew home that night.

On your way, you’d realized Hoseok had been right. Possibly, your time as friends had come to an end because you were acting insane. It was insane to fly across the country on a moment’s notice. It was insane to feel this wicked, burning jealousy each time you saw him with someone else.

Deep down, you knew something was wrong. It was wrong to have feelings for Hoseok while you were dating Darren and so, you hadn’t contacted Hoseok again after that. You’d cut him out of your life the same way he did to you – only yours hadn’t worked out, because here you were.

Eyes shut, you leaned back on the sofa. Even now, you heard Hoseok’s critique in your mind. He’d called your main character too perfect, not flawed enough. Hoseok had always been the one who said your flaws were okay. Growing up, he’d been the one who encouraged you to be messy, to make mistakes and fail if you wanted.

Opening your eyes, you felt the raw pain of missing him hit you again. It was even worse now because last time, you’d assumed Hoseok had left because of Darren. Now, you knew he’d left because of you. Hoseok didn’t want you anymore.

As the night came to an end, your emotions hovered close to a breaking point. You stood in the foyer, smiling bleakly while you thanked the Jeons. They disappeared inside, leaving you and your family to pull on your coats.

Gently, Sara leaned over to touch your arm. “Is everything okay?” she murmured.

Dimly, you realized you hadn’t touched base after Darren called her.

“Yeah,” you said, then paused. “And no.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “I saw you talking with Hobi. What happened? It looked as though you’d been fighting.”

“A little,” you said, giving a weak smile. “Long overdue, I guess. He made some good points. I’ve been… caught up in things lately.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Y/N!” your mom interrupted, pulling on gloves. “You know who I spoke to tonight? The Donoghue’s! Their son is thinking of moving to LA, so I told them you’d reach out. I thought it might be nice, since you’ve done so well for yourself out there.”

Any other night, you would have smiled and nodded. The Donoghue son was probably nice, but right then, you found yourself at a breaking point. Everything for the past year had been piling on and suddenly, the frayed knot in you snapped.

“That’s not a good idea,” you snapped.

Your mom stopped, looking at you in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not doing well,” you blurted out. “I’m barely hanging on, and LA is terrible. My boyfriend cheated on me, I’m about to be jobless and every major studio keeps rejecting my spec script. Everything is falling apart, and I can barely keep it together anymore!”

Eyes wide, your dad stared with his fingers stilled on his zipper. Sara froze as well, one arm in her pea coat.

“Y/N?” your dad asked, sounding tentative. “What’s going on?”

“I was about to say the same thing,” said your mom, a bit stiff. “Why don’t we have this conversation in the car?”

“Oh, sure,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Because it’s embarrassing to talk about my problems in public, right? It would be terrible if the neighbors heard I’m struggling. Well, I’m done pretending everything is okay.”

“Now, Y/N,” your dad started, but you cut in.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come home for the holidays,” you huffed. “I didn’t want to pretend I was fine for two weeks. Didn’t want to pretend to be perfect. Because that’s the only daughter you want, right?”

Both of your parents stared as, tears brimming, you pushed open the door.

“I’ll be in the car,” you muttered and walked outside.

Sara was the first one to move, pulling on her coat and hurrying after. Your parents soon followed, keeping a wary distance between you while entering the car.

Most of the way home, you stared out the window. At some point, Sara reached out to squeeze your knee. Sara had always been the oddball of the family. The only one for whom emotions came easy, the only one well-equipped enough to have the tough conversations. Everyone else pushed things aside, shoving them down until they blew up in their face.

It seemed your problems were large enough now to blow up.

When you parked, you made to exit the car, but your mom cleared her throat. She looked over the front seat and, to your surprise, you saw tears in her eyes.

“Y/N.” She exhaled. “We never… we never wanted you to feel like you had to be perfect. Or like you couldn’t tell us things. Of course, we’ll always have our opinions, and they might not be what you want to hear – wait, let me finish,” she said, seeing your face. “We want what’s best for you and we don’t want you to struggle. Like you’re doing now. That doesn’t mean if you are struggling though, we won’t love and support you. I’m so, so sorry you thought that.”

Now, you were the one who had tears in their eyes.

“She’s right,” said your dad. “Of course, we’re proud of what you’ve done. But we’re also proud of you for taking risks, for not being afraid and going after what you want. We’re just as proud of you now as we were before. Maybe more so.”

“Oh no,” you mumbled, wiping your cheek.

“Yeah, oh no,” said Sara, also tearing up.

Snorting, you turned to laugh at her through your tears.

“You and your sister,” said your dad with a meaningful glance at Sara.

“You know I can’t handle emotional speeches!” said Sara, blowing her nose on her sleeve.

“We love you both,” said your mom with a faint smile. “I’m sorry if we don’t say that enough.”

Opening your door, you got out and hugged your mom tightly. Walking into the house, you began to relax for the first time in ages. Telling your parents was such a massive weight lifted from your chest.

You hugged your dad as well, burying your face in his coat. Your parents loved to tell the story of the first time you saw fireworks. You had been a toddler, mad at your dad for some reason when the first rocket had launched. Terrified, you’d immediately forgotten your anger and scrambled into his arms. There, you’d hidden until the fireworks had subsided.

You were no longer a child, but you couldn’t help wanting that shelter sometimes. People always said when you grew up, you’d need your parents less and maybe this was true, but it didn’t mean you stopped needing them entirely.

When you finally went upstairs, you found you couldn’t sleep. Lying on your back, you stared at the constellations and both your words and Hoseok’s continued to run through your mind.

Sitting up, you turned on the light and pulled out your laptop. Frowning at your screenplay, you opened a new document and slowly exhaled.

Leaning forward, you began to write.

For the next day and a half, you were lost in your work. Despite it being the day before Christmas Eve, there really wasn’t anywhere for you to be. Once you told your parents you were writing, they left you alone, making themselves scarce on the main floor of the house.

Locked in your bedroom, you made mug after mug of hot chocolate and slowly tore down the block in your mind. Something Hoseok had said set a fire beneath you. Your main character was unlikeable and unflawed. You could change that – you could write someone inherently flawed and still somehow likeable.

As you began the new script, a familiar world bloomed in your mind. At the top of the screenplay, you wrote Untitled: An Unlikely Superhero Story. The main character’s name was changed from Hoseok to Carlos, but you kept most of the story the same.

Carlos was a college student in his senior year. He came from a long line of famed superheroes but somehow, the genes seemed to have skipped over him. The only power Carlos had inherited was the power to turn water to wine. Very biblical, and a fun party trick, but not exactly the crème of the crop.

That is, until disaster strikes the country, and Carlos is the only available superhero to stop a new super-villain.

Head bent to your keyboard, you lost yourself in the new story. You added yourself without thinking, as Carlos’ best friend, Raya. Ray is hopelessly in love with Carlos and everyone around them knows except him.

Unlike with your prior screenplay, the words seemed to flow from somewhere deep within. While you were writing, you no longer found yourself concerned about whether people would like Carlos and Raya. Instead, you simply focused on the story you had to tell.

You were so busy writing you almost didn’t hear the soft knock at your door. Continuing to type, you wrote several more lines before someone said your name.

“Y/N?”

Glancing up, you realized Yoongi stood at your threshold. Surprised to see him without Sara, you dropped your hands from the keys and sat back.

“Yoongi!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Yoongi nodded and glanced about your room. It had been a while since he’d last been here. He and Hoseok became friends during college and by then, you’d mostly moved out of your parents’ house. Still, Yoongi and Hoseok had hung out with you on breaks, so the room wasn’t unfamiliar.

“Sure.” Yoongi glanced at your laptop. “You seemed pretty invested in what you were doing.”

“Writing my screenplay,” you said, and then paused. “I thought of something I wanted to change, and things kind of spiraled.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “I hope your writing goes well.”

You waited, but he said nothing more and after a moment, you glanced at the screen. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were kind of on a roll. If Yoongi wanted to talk about wedding plans, Sara was right downstairs.

“Is that… all?” you asked. It wasn’t like Yoongi to interrupt you for nothing.

After a moment, he sighed and glanced down the hall. Downstairs, you could hear a Christmas movie playing. He was probably in the middle of watching it with Sara. Somewhat uneasily, Yoongi looked back.

“That’s not all,” he admitted.

“Is it… do you want to come in, or something?”

Yoongi considered. “I saw you talking to Hoseok in the kitchen last night.”

Uncertain, you froze. It seemed your argument with Hoseok had been less private than you’d thought.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Oh? I’m sorry if we were being loud… I didn’t mean to interrupt the movie, or anything.”

His upper lip twitched. “You didn’t. I went to the bathroom and heard you two arguing.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yoongi sighed. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking to you about any of this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you said. “I have no idea what ‘any of this’ is, so it’s almost like we’re not talking at all.”

“What did you and Hobi fight about?”

You paused. “I… that’s kind of personal, Yoongi.”

Folding his arms, Yoongi leaned a shoulder against your door. He didn’t look away, which made you feel oddly on display.

“What’d you say to him?” he asked.

Immediately, you bristled. “Why does everyone assume I said something?”

“Because you tend to be the more clueless one.”

“I am not clueless,” you sputtered.

Yoongi gave you a look. “Well, what’d you fight about then?”

“I – I don’t know. A lot of things,” you said, falling back in your chair. “I got mad at him for cutting me out last year and he kept saying things were better this way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frustrated. “A way where we’re not friends, I guess.”

“Well. Were you ever really friends to begin with?”

Startled, your eyes widened. “Of course, we were!”

“Y/N.” Yoongi stepped forward. “Think back. Really think. Why did all of your past boyfriends hate Hoseok so much?”

“I… I don’t know. Toxic masculinity? Guys always are threatened by male-female friendships.”

“It’s because Hobi was in love with you,” Yoongi said bluntly. “Always has been. He’s been in love with you for so fucking long and all your boyfriends knew it. Hell, everyone’s known it but you.”

Although you opened and closed your mouth, no noise came out.

Staring at Yoongi, the room started to spin. What he said made no sense. Hoseok couldn’t be in love with you. He couldn’t be in love with you because you would’ve known. Somehow, you would’ve known. He had been your best friend for nearly two decades. There was no way you would’ve missed something important like that.

“Hobi…” you managed to say. “Hoseok is in love with me?”

Seeing your expression, Yoongi softened. “I don’t know about love, present tense,” he corrected. “I know it destroyed him when you left New York. When you first told him about Darren, I think it finally scared Hoseok into doing something. He was coming to confess to you that weekend, you know.”

“He was what?”

“He was coming to confess,” Yoongi repeated. “He wanted to tell you he loved you, but you picked him up from the airport and said you’d moved in with Darren.”

“I – no,” you said, horrified.

Something like pity entered his gaze. “Yeah. He’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but you’ve both been idiots for so long. You’re not even speaking to each other, which is just stupid.”

“But…” Dizzily, you shook your head. “Why are you saying this, then? You don’t even know if Hoseok feels the same way.”

“Please.” Yoongi scoffed. “Hoseok might be your best friend, but he’s also mine. I saw the way he looked at you at my engagement party. Hell, I saw the way you looked at him.”

“How… did I look at him?”

Yoongi paused. “Like you’d come home.”

Swallowing hard, you looked away. You had no words left to say because Yoongi was right – Hoseok was home. He meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life, more than anyone ever would, and you were a fool for thinking this could be friendship.

There was a reason you’d wanted to skip an entire season rather than see Hoseok again. Why losing Hoseok had hurt worse than losing Darren; why seeing Hoseok last week had instantly crumbled your defenses, and a phone call from Darren could easily be dismissed.

You loved Hoseok. You always had.

“If you don’t love him,” Yoongi continued. “I honestly have no idea what’s going on. Haven’t you ever wondered why neither one of your relationships last?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “We keep picking crappy people?”

“True.” He raised a brow. “But maybe the reason you keep picking crappy people is because you both know you’re right for each other but are too cowardly to say anything. It’s easier to say nothing and keep being friends than risk losing each other completely.”

You stared at Yoongi over your laptop. “Let’s say that’s true. Let’s say Hoseok used to love me. Why are you telling me this now?”

Yoongi hesitated. “You’re both clinging to the past so desperately, I don’t think either of you see what’s in front of your noses. Hoseok went after you last time. I think it’s about time you knew and decided what to do next.”

“And what if you’re right?” you said softly. “What if the idea of losing him is too much to bear?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Yoongi gave a sad smile. “You don’t really have him right now, do you?”

With that, he turned to leave your room. Halfway into the hall, he paused. “Hope the rewrite goes well,” Yoongi said, then disappeared.

You stared at the empty door frame for a long time after that.

Letting the influx of emotions you felt after Yoongi’s visit fuel you, you finished writing around 3:00 AM Christmas Eve. Falling asleep in the light of your laptop, you awoke groggily around 4:00 AM and moved to your bed to continue.

Your alarm went off early and for a moment, you thought you were under attack and nearly fell out of bed. Then you remembered that, in a moment of stupidity, you’d done this to yourself. Wearily rolling from bed, you padded into the bathroom and washed your face.

Around 8:00 AM, you pulled on your coat and rushed out the door, yelling to your dad you needed to borrow the car. Luckily, he was fine with this and soon you were seated in the car on your way to Kinko’s. It was the only copy place open on Christmas Eve, which you sorely needed since your dad’s printer was broken.

After printing out your screenplay, you drove all the way to Hoseok’s and parked at the curb. Here, you took several deep breaths and stared at his house.

It was as familiar to you as your own. There had been a point back in high school when you may have spent more time here than at your own house. You’d even had sleepovers because, to quote your mom, ‘it was only Hoseok.’

This thought made your cheeks heat because he had been anything but ‘only Hoseok.’ You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him that way in high school. You had often thought about Hoseok naked, and then immediately felt guilty because he was supposed to be your best friend.

If what Yoongi said was true though, you were the biggest pair of idiots because you’d liked Hoseok at the same time Hoseok had liked you. You’d both wasted so much time, love and energy on other people.

Removing the key from your ignition, you pushed open the door and promptly stepped in a snowdrift. Groaning out loud, you glanced down. Shaking your shoe free of snow, you limped awkwardly up Hoseok’s driveway. Shoe squelching, you muttered some choice words about snow and where it could shove its puffy, white ass.

“… Y/N?”

Startled, you whirled and saw Hoseok emerging from his garage, snow shovel in hand. He stared at you in confusion, having seemingly overheard everything you just said. When he realized you were limping, his gaze dropped to your foot.

“Oh.” Hoseok paused. “Sorry. I hadn’t shoved yet.”

“Hi. It’s okay,” you said, air frosting before you.

Hoseok nodded but didn’t add on and you felt suddenly nervous. This was Hoseok standing before you. It was Hoseok and yet, it wasn’t, because your Hoseok was completely untouchable. Your Hoseok was your ex-best friend, your childhood crush, and the man you were desperately, unrequitedly in love with.

This Hoseok – the one who maybe loved you back – was a stranger.

Remembering why you’d come, you tucked the papers under one arm and hurried forward. Hoseok was wearing a red puffer jacket which matched his cold cheeks. Coming to a stop, you fought the sudden nausea within you.

“Hey,” you repeated.

Hoseok stared at you, a little bewildered. He seemed like he didn’t understand why you were here, and you wilted a little, remembering how you’d left things at the holiday party.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked, echoing your thoughts.

“I wanted to give you this.”

Awkward, you thrust out both hands with the papers. Hoseok stared blankly at the pages, then looked at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my screenplay,” you said. “Well, my new screenplay. I came up with a different idea after we talked.”

Despite himself, a glimmer of curiosity entered his gaze. Hoseok glanced once more at the pages. “And why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I want you to read it,” you said.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked to yours. “I don’t think you really want my opinion, Y/N.”

“I do, though.”

Something uncertain seemed to enter his gaze the longer he looked at you. “Y/N…” Hoseok said lowly. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be friends.”

“Hoseok… please,” you said quietly. “Please read it. Just this once?”

Hoseok looked at you another moment, then nodded and took the papers. Your hands touched for the briefest of moments and you felt your heart skip, but then he pulled back and the cold settled in.

No matter how much you wanted to blurt what Yoongi had said, you stopped yourself. This was what you’d decided sometime around midnight. It would be cheating to simply relay to Hoseok how Yoongi had said he felt. You needed to show him in your own way what he meant to you.

Hence, the screenplay and ungodly hour.

Hoseok looked at the papers, then back at you. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try to read this sometimes this week, okay?”

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Okay.”

That was all you could hope for, really. One thing was for certain – your friendship couldn’t continue the way it currently was. Something needed to change, one way or the other.

After another look, you nodded and turned towards your car. Sliding into the seat, you cranked up the heat and pulled from the curb. You tried not to look in the rearview mirror but failed as soon as you reached the stop sign. Glancing up, you saw Hoseok turn the papers over in hand.

Then you turned the corner and he disappeared.

Christmas Eve was fairly typical in your house.

Christmas Day was the main event; you usually spent this at your grandma’s house. All your aunts, uncles and cousins would gather, and you’d spend the day drinking mimosas and unwrapping gifts by the fireplace.

There was tons of cooking to do, so your mom usually went over the night before to help. Usually you, your dad and Sara watched Christmas movies at home but this year, Sara was spending Christmas Eve at Yoongi’s. Your dad had volunteered to help your mom cook, which left you alone in the house for the evening.

You’d been invited to your grandma’s place, of course, but it was a halfhearted invitation, and you knew it. Your grandma was nothing if not a perfectionist and had zero patience for your brand of burnt toast. Besides, someone needed to make sure the Christmas lights were turned on.

In this way, you found yourself alone on Christmas Eve. Weirdly, this didn’t upset you at all. Wrapping yourself in your fuzziest blanket, you made yourself a cup of hot chocolate and settled in to watch the Grinch. Everyone else in your family refused to watch with you because you could quote every line by heart – and often did.

You tried not to think about Hoseok but kept coming up short. Every few minutes, a memory would drift to the surface and you’d wonder if he’d read your screenplay yet, if he’d understood what you’d meant and if he had any thoughts.

Frown deepening, you turned up the volume and tried to drown out your thoughts. It was Christmas Eve, and you had the entire place to yourself. You’d be damned if you let Hoseok –

A knock sounded at your front door.

Pressing pause, you sat up and listened. Someone knocked again and, setting down your mug, you stood to pad down the hall. It was around 7:30 PM, but you weren’t expecting either your parents or Sara back until 11:00 PM, which meant it had to be someone else.

Maybe a neighbor. It wouldn’t be the first time a strand of lights had come loose from your roof and landed on someone’s lawn. Halfway to the door, the person knocked a third time, and you noticed a shadow on your doorstep.

“Coming!” you yelled. In your haste, you’d nearly forgotten about the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “Hang on!”

Undoing the lock, you opened the front door to find Hoseok before you. He stood on your porch, clutching your papers and looking indignant.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting them forward.

You stared at him in alarm. “Um. My new screenplay?”

“Right.” Hoseok paused. “Let’s start there. This person – Carlos. Is he based on me?”

“I…” Suddenly hesitant, you tugged on the blanket. “A little. Maybe.”

“Okay. And his best friend – Raya,” Hoseok said. “Who’s that?”

Awkward, you shifted your weight to your other foot.

This was what you’d intended by giving him the screenplay. You’d wanted Hoseok to understand how deeply you felt about him, how much you’d missed having him in your life. Hoseok had always been a superhero to you, even if he didn’t know it.

“She’s…” Helpless, you looked at Hoseok. “She’s Carlos’ best friend.”

Hoseok stared at you a moment. “Alright.” Looking down, he flipped through pages until he found the one he sought. A page scrawled with your handwriting. “And what about this?” Hoseok demanded, turning it around. “What’s this?”

Slightly cross-eyed, you read your own writing.

To the only person who’s ever seen the real me. Here’s how I see you.

Swallowing hard, you looked up. “It’s dedicated to you,” you said, a bit hoarse.

Slowly, Hoseok lowered the page.

Something uncertain entered his gaze, as though he didn’t dare to believe what you said. The idea of this made you want to laugh – the idea of Hoseok not understanding how you felt for him. He was so indescribably out of your league and somehow, he thought you didn’t want him.

“Alright.” Hoseok spoke quietly, taking a step forward. “I’m going to ask this again, at the risk of sounding like an absolute idiot. Who’s Raya, Y/N?”

He was inside now, across your threshold and still, you fought back a shiver. Mistaking this for cold, Hoseok turned and shut the door. In the warm glow of your hallway, he turned back, his cheeks red with cold.

“Me,” you whispered, gathering all your courage. “She’s me, Hobi.”

Hoseok seemed to stop breathing.

“I didn’t know how else to explain,” you said in a rush. “I just… Hobi, do you know why I didn’t want to come home for Christmas?”

Mutely, he shook his head.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you confessed. “I could barely hold things together in LA, where I had my own life which didn’t involve you. Coming home and seeing you, knowing you weren’t mine and not being able to do anything about it? I couldn’t stand the idea,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t.”

Hoseok paused, and then said, “You were with Darren, though. You loved him.”

“Maybe,” you said softly. “Or maybe he was someone I could keep at arms-length. Someone who couldn’t really hurt me. Do you know how I felt after he cheated?”

“I – I don’t.”

Roughly, you exhaled. “I was hurt. But more than that, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed I’d stayed with him for as long as I had. What does that say about how fucked up that relationship was? When you love someone, you care about what they do. You care if they love you back, or not. You… you want to cross entire countries just to say how you feel,” you said, all in one breath.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “I – how did you…? Yoongi,” he breathed as he realized.

For a second Hoseok looked so livid, you nearly smiled.

“Don’t hurt him,” you said, stepping closer. “He’s the only reason I’m telling you any of this. I had no idea… I mean, you were certainly no help.”

“I was no help?” Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many times I tried to tell you?”

“I’m guessing zero,” you scoffed. “Seeing as I never realized what you were trying to say.”

Hoseok looked at you a moment, still wearing that giant, red puffer jacket. It reminded you of one he had in high school, one he saved up all winter to buy. He lost it that spring at a party – the same one you had your first kiss at. That night was also known as the first time Hoseok got drunk.

“The first time I tried to tell you I loved you, I was eleven,” Hoseok said softly. “It was the first time you slept over at my house and you fell asleep playing mario kart. You looked so pretty, even though you drooled on my pillow. I whispered I love you.”

“You… you told me you loved me when I was asleep?” you said, stunned.

Hoseok’s upper lip twitched. “The next time, we were fourteen. You got food poisoning at Wild Fun Land and I spent that night holding your hair over the toilet. After a really gross bout, you looked up and mumbled, ‘Hey, Hobi. Can you call Sara and tell her I won’t be home for dinner? Tell her… something came up.’ Then you looked at the toilet, wiggled your brows and I lost it. I told you I loved you, but I don’t think you understood.”

You realized then your mouth was hanging open, but somehow couldn’t find the strength to close it. You also remembered that day, but Hoseok was right, you’d thought he meant it in a friend way, not in a real I love you way.

“You… you tried to confess after I made a vomit pun?” you squeaked.

“The third time,” Hoseok continued, as though you’d said nothing. “We were both sixteen. It was that time Jungkook convinced everyone to go camping. We were the last ones outside, star-gazing in that field and you told me you loved the little dipper. You said you loved the idea of something guiding you home. I said–”

“You said I was that to you,” you whispered, remembering.

A strange, fluttery feeling began to take flight in your stomach. You remembered that night, too. You’d been deeply in love with Hoseok at the time but lacked the courage to tell him. His words that night had sustained you for weeks, but when you’d returned and nothing happened, you’d slowly lost hope.

“Then there was prom,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “That was the last time I tried to tell you – for a while, at least. Do you remember? Your asshole date made out with someone else on the floor, and I found you crying in the family restroom. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“You said you hoped his eyebrows fell off.”

“After that.”

“You said,” you whispered, suddenly parched. “You said it didn’t matter what my date thought, since I’d always have someone who thought I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Me,” Hoseok said quietly.

Staring at him, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid. When he said it like that, it all fell into place, but you remembered being so confused at the time.

“That was the last time?”

Hoseok hesitated. “When you began dating Ren, I tried to keep my distance. I tried to move on, but then we were together in New York… I don’t know. I realized I’d never stopped loving you. I didn’t know how to stop loving you.”

“So, you came to LA,” you murmured.

He nodded. “The night we almost kissed haunted me for months. I wanted to say something so badly, but then you said you were moving… I figured it was a sign. But then you left, and my feelings wouldn’t go away. I needed to tell you, or I’d never move on.”

“But I’d moved in with Darren.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightened. “I… I couldn’t handle being friends with you like that,” he said quietly. “I was in love with you and it was killing me. I needed to try and get over you. The only way I could think to do that was to cut you out of my life.”

“It makes sense,” you whispered, even as your heart lodged in your throat. “Did you know I came to see you?”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Last October. I missed you so badly, I flew to New York. I don’t even know what I meant to say, but then I got to your place and saw you coming back from a date. I – I realized you were right. We couldn’t be friends.”

He looked at you quizzically and you buried your face in your hands.

Slowly, you shook your head side to side. “It sounds so stupid now that I’m saying it out loud. God, how did I not realize? I loved you, Hobi. I loved you so much and it was all right there! I hated all your girlfriends. Not because they were stupid – although they were – but because I couldn’t stand the idea of you being anyone else.”

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok said, gently taking your hands in his.

He lowered them to your sides, waiting until you looked up. When you met his gaze, you tentatively traced over his face in a way you hadn’t before.

He was so beautiful.

You’d always thought this but hadn’t let yourself linger because it hurt too much to see him. It was dizzying to look at him now, to have him so near and know you were allowed. Hoseok wanted this as much as you did.

“So.” Hoseok still hadn’t let go of your hands. “If I’m Carlos and you’re Raya, does that mean…”

“I love you, Hoseok,” you said without skipping a beat.

Happiness bloomed in his gaze. You’d said it during your rambles, but this time felt different. This time felt real – a moment in the present and not a regret from the past. Hands slipping to your cheeks, Hoseok thumbed your skin before he lowered his head to yours.

His lips were cold at first, warming as they moved against you. His hands slid into your hair, repositioning your mouth to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he walked the two of you backwards, letting your hips hit the wall as the blanket fell from your shoulders. Your head started spinning when you pulled him closer, clutching his waist and opening your mouth.

Grinning into his lips, you reached for his jacket to try and unzip him. The puffiness was getting in the way and you wanted to feel him against you. Hoseok obeyed, refusing to stop kissing as his right hand found yours, tugging down the zipper.

When his coat hit the floor, you realized he was dressed in a dark suit and button-down. His head bent, determined to pick up where you’d left off, but you pushed him back.

“Hang on,” you said, sweeping him with your gaze. “Holy shit.”

Hoseok paused, breathing hard. “What?”

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“Yeah.” He looked at you, bewildered. “I came straight from mass.”

“Hm.” You cocked your head. “I should probably talk to my therapist about why I find that hot.”

Hoseok chuckled and leaned in. Rather than kiss you, he pressed your hips to the wall and rested his hand by your head. Slowly, his gaze trailed your frame.

“I… Hoseok,” you said, heart beating faster. “I’m wearing pajamas.”

You were. They were matching flannel – short sleeves and short-shorts, but still hopelessly Christmas-y and endlessly dorky. Your sister had insisted you wear them on Christmas Eve, so you could wake up in them tomorrow morning.

Hoseok’s gaze glinted. “Mhm. What’s your point?”

“Stop… stop looking at me like that,” you said, a bit breathless.

His gaze flicked to yours. “Like what?”

“Like…” You swallowed. “Like you’re undressing me in your mind, or something.”

Hoseok grinned.

“Stop,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Instead, Hoseok lowered a finger to your clavicle and slowly dragged down. Equally gently, he undid a button. The top of your pajama shirt parted and Hoseok exhaled.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hand curling on the wall. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you naked.”

His voice made you shiver, pressing closer when his arm slid around your waist. Hoseok swallowed and lowered to kiss you again. His lips were softer, more tentative and you found yourself melting. Arms finding his neck, you pulled him even closer to feel him flush against you.

“So.” Hoseok pulled back, kissing the corner of your lips. “I hate to say something which might break the mood, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Your parents aren’t home, are they?”

Snorting, you buried your face in his neck. Hoseok smelled good, like citrus and linen. After breathing him in for a second, you looked up to see him.

“No,” you told him. “No one will be back for hours.”

“Good.”

Without further preamble, Hoseok resumed kissing you. You lost yourself in the feel of his hands, the touch of his lips and the delicious way Hoseok tasted. Sucking on his lower lip, you nibbled a little before you pulled back. Hoseok groaned, thumb stroking your neck as you opened your mouth.

Your hands slid under his suit jacket, trying to pull him even closer. Hoseok undid another button on your top to leave it half-open.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking down.

“Hobi.” You pushed your hips to his. “Take it all the way off.”

Sharply, he looked up and his jaw clenched. “Are you trying to kill me?” he said, sliding a finger down your chest. Hovering over your breastbone, he awaited further instruction.

Watching him, you reached up and undid the final two buttons. Inhaling, Hoseok pushed off your top until it fell to the floor. You were left standing in only your shorts, which had ridden up in a somewhat obscene manner.

Hoseok wet his lips.

“Hobi,” you groaned. He looked up. “Touch me.”

“God.” He slid both hands up your ribcage. “You are, aren’t you? You’re trying to kill me.”

Palms cupping your breasts, Hoseok flicked over each nipple. He stared appreciatively as they hardened, aroused by his touch.

“You had this bikini,” he said suddenly, looking up. “A white string bikini you wore to the pool senior year. Every guy in our grade loved that bikini,” he confessed, dipping his head. “We all used to pray the AC would be on, because then your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

“Hey!” you blurted, losing all train of thought when Hoseok’s lips closed around a nipple. “Oh,” you said breathlessly, head hitting the wall.

Hoseok continued, merciless as his tongue swept upward. He teasingly brought one to a peak, then the other, flicking the first with his thumb.

God, you were wet – so fucking wet, you were surprised Hoseok couldn’t tell as you ground on his leg. Hoseok had wedged his thigh between yours, giving you the perfect seat while he played with your breasts.

“H-hobi,” you whimpered.

Lifting his head, Hoseok smirked. There was something about seeing him fully clothed while you ground on his leg which set off a needy, primal part of you.

“We should go upstairs,” you said, glancing past him.

Hoseok went still. “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “I need you. Now.”

Without another word, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and made for the stairs. You laughed when he pulled you along, remembering to scoop your top from the ground as you went. Slapping his ass, you followed his lead and Hoseok paused on the landing to press you to the wall.

Beneath your terrible middle school photos, he kissed you, unable to keep from smiling.

“No more,” you whined, pulling back. “I want to see you naked.”

Hoseok snorted but followed you down the hall and into your bedroom. You walked inside but he paused, choosing to linger on the threshold instead.

“Fuck.” Hoseok glanced around. “I can’t believe you’re inviting me up to your room. Sixteen-year-old me is reaching through the time continuum to give me a high five.”

Taking a seat on your bed, you threw the shirt to the ground. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“What are you talking about?” you said, baffled. “You’ve been in my room plenty of times.”

His eyes gleamed as he walked closer. “It’s not the same,” Hoseok said, beginning to undo his belt. His jacket, then his pants found their way to the floor. “Do you know how many times I jacked off to the idea of you touching yourself in this room?”

“Oh,” you whispered, a bit breathless.

Without breaking his gaze, you slid the shorts from your waist and pushed them to the ground. Now, you were entirely naked. Spreading yourself on the sheets, you let Hoseok see you. Normally, you weren’t this aggressive in bed. Normally, you went along with whatever your partner wanted, but this was Hoseok. You needed him to know how badly you wanted him.

Eyes widening, Hoseok undid his shirt. As soon as this was gone, you sucked in a breath. Hoseok was gorgeous. You’d known this of course, but his body was all lithe muscles and golden skin. His hips had an indent you loved – you saw this only briefly before he unzipped his pants.

Still looking at you, he lowered them to the floor, and you forgot how to breathe for a minute. You forgot everything but the sight of Hoseok standing naked before you.

Walking towards the bed, he lowered a knee to the mattress and slowly pushed you back. Your lips met as you inhaled, pulling him closer, grabbing a hold of whatever you could. There was so much to see, so much to touch – hands trembling, they slid down the broad panes of his back. Hoseok’s legs nestled between yours, your arousal getting all over his thighs.

Mouth opening, his tongue swept forward as you whimpered his name. Lowering you to your back, Hoseok kissed slowly down your front to close over a breast. Sucking into his mouth, his hips rolled against yours.

Gasping, your pelvis rocked forward, feeling his cock at your thigh. You needed him inside you so badly. Needed his length, his fingers, his mouth – it didn’t matter.

“Please, Hoseok,” you said, pulling up on his shoulders until he kissed you again.

“This isn’t fair,” he protested.

“What isn’t?”

“You.” He pulled back to sit on his heels. With one hand, Hoseok fisted his cock and stared at your dripping cunt. “We’ve been making out for ten minutes and already, my balls feel so tight, I’m going to come the second I get inside you.” His eyes widened. “I mean. If that’s… I don’t want to assume…”

Melting a little, you reached up and pulled him down to your chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged his cock with your center. This had to be the wettest you’d ever been in your life.

“You feel that?” you whispered, biting his ear.

Hoseok shuddered, fighting to keep still.

“That’s me saying I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Inhaling sharply, Hoseok reached down and slid a finger into your cunt. You groaned, clenching as you fell back on the bed. Hoseok pulled his finger back out, closing his mouth around the digit to suck it clean. Eyes closed, he exhaled.

“Mm.” He opened his eyes, dark with arousal. “God, I can’t wait to make your legs shake. Lick your whole pussy clean while you ride my face.”

Unwittingly, your eyes widened. “Hobi!”

Grin wicked, he leaned to cage you with his arms. “Yeah?”

“You…” Your face felt like it was on fire. “I’ve just… never heard you talk like that before.”

“Did you like it?” he murmured, brushing your neck with his lips.

“Yeah,” you said, arching upwards. “Tell me what else you want to do to me.”

Reaching down, Hoseok slid his finger back inside you. Sinking in deeper, he made wet, squelching sounds as he slowly fucked you. His thumb began rubbing your clit.

“Well first,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you like this – looking at you. Watching you come.”

You shuddered when he added a second finger, working you open. Hoseok curled his fingers in a forward gesture, brushing a spot deep inside you which made you moan.

“I wish we were somewhere else,” he said, adding a third finger. “I wish we had all the time in the world so I could do everything I have in mind. Eat your pussy like the meal it is. Lie back and let you ride my face. Have you hanging off the bed while I fuck your throat.”

“Shit,” you breathed, eyes slightly glazed.

Glancing down, Hoseok saw your arousal dripping around his hand. He smirked. “You like that, huh?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Want me to fuck your throat, baby?”

“Yes,” you groaned, head thrown back on the bed.

He made a noise partway to a growl, then abruptly pulled out his fingers. You gasped, clenching hard around nothing while you looked at him in dismay.

“I was so close,” you groaned. “Hobi!”

“I know,” he said, returning to rubbing your clit. “I know, but fuck – I can’t wait any longer to be inside you. I need to know what your pussy feels like around me.”

“Oh,” you exhaled. “Okay.”

Hoseok’s lips found yours, moving slowly as he thrust between your legs to get his cock wet. Each time he slid past your pussy, you whimpered and Hoseok grinned, pulling back.

“Hoseok,” you said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, if you don’t –”

He laughed. “Okay, okay,” he agreed and pushed his tip inside you.

Immediately, he froze.

“What?” you said, searching his face.

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed.

“What?” you whimpered, genuinely distressed at feeling him so close but not inside you. If he didn’t move – and soon – you might cry or come.

“Condom,” he blurted. “I didn’t grab one before coming here. Do you have one?”

Stomach sinking, you shook your head.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Hoseok hung his head. “I’m sorry, baby. We don’t have to–”

“I’m clean,” you said, and he froze. “I got tested after the breakup and I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m on the pill, too. So…”

Slowly, Hoseok looked up. “You want me to fuck you… raw?”

“If you want…”

You said this, uncertain because Hoseok had the oddest look on his face, as though your words physically pained him.

“Fuck, yes I want,” he whispered. “I’m clean, too. I promise. Got tested last month.”

“Okay,” you said, slipping your arms around him. “I trust you, Hobi.”

Gaze melting, Hoseok nodded and bent to kiss you again. With each roll of his hips, he worked his cock deeper. Lips parted, you groaned and enjoyed the feeling of him filling you. Hoseok moved slow, rubbing your clit with his thumb the entire way.

Somewhat dazed, you imagined what it would’ve been like to lose your virginity to Hoseok. It probably would’ve been much more pleasurable than the way it actually happened.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled as he bottomed out. Lowering himself to his elbows, he gave an experimental roll of his hips.

“Oh,” you whispered, clutching him closer.

Hoseok’s eyes shone in the darkness above you. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… how nice it would’ve been to lose my virginity to you.”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t just… fucking say things like that, Y/N.”

“Why not? You said way dirtier things to me earlier.”

“This is different, though,” he argued. “I actually could’ve been that person. I’ll never forgive the asshole who made you bleed.”

Heat rose to your face. “I should never have told you that.”

Hoseok shifted on top of you, causing his cock to go deeper. “No,” he exhaled, gaze roaming your face. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll just try and erase that experience from memory.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Hoseok thrust his hips forward. Your lips parted as he filled you, gasping a little as your hands found his back. Slower, he pulled out and pushed back inside. Spread out underneath him, Hoseok kept you at his mercy with each roll of his hips.

His cock was – oh my god, you’d never felt anything like this. Each toe-curling thrust of his hips had you biting back moans. You’d had sex, but you didn’t think you’d ever been fucked like this. Like Hoseok knew what he was doing and wanted to make you come – needed to make you come. Already, you felt yourself tightening, unable to withstand the steady thrust of his cock.

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

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok said, trying to see you. “Slower?”

“No. I – I’m gonna come soon.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Already?”

“Stop it,” you groaned. “Who knew you were a fucking god amongst mortals?”

When you looked up, he smirked and slid his palms to your thighs. “Hold these open for me,” he said, thrusting in slow, shallow strokes.

You obliged, holding your thighs open so he could see you fully.

“Fuck.” Hoseok’s breath hitched a little. “About to come and I haven’t even done this.” Dragging his knuckles to either side of your clit, he squeezed and made you gasp. “Or this,” he added, moving to cup your breasts.

Tugging your nipples between fingers, he deftly pulled down and made you moan. Hoseok did this again before letting go, lowering himself to his forearms with a wicked smile.

“But baby already wants to come,” he said, kissing you softly. “This gorgeous pussy just wants to come on my cock. Is that right?”

“I can’t decide if I want to slap you,” you groaned, chest heaving. “Or tell you – fuck yes, it does.”

Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Shit. Both sound good to me.”

You moaned again, and this time Hoseok had pity on you. Hand sliding between you, he began to fuck faster and roll your clit with his thumb.

“That’s it,” he grunted, hips slamming against you. “Such a good girl, about to come so hard on my cock. Relax, baby. Let me take care of it,” he said, moving faster.

He began to fuck harder, deeper and everything within you tightened to a breaking point. Everything was too much, so sensitive – whimpering his name, you shuddered apart. A fresh wave of arousal soaked the sheets and Hoseok went still, hips faltering against yours.

Dazed, you managed to open your eyes. You wanted to tell him to keep going. You wanted to tell him to come inside you, but before you could utter a word, you saw Hoseok’s face.

“Oh,” you said, wincing as you looked down. “Sorry. I squirt sometimes – is that weird?”

Hoseok stared at you like he’d won the fucking lottery. “Is it – weird?” he breathed. “Weird? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.” Gaze glinting, he pushed your thighs upwards and onto your chest. “Wanna see if I can do it again.”

You nodded, trembling – and then gasped when Hoseok let go for real.

Back arching, you moaned as he began to fuck you. Hoseok moved hard and fast, his cock pounding relentlessly into your needy pussy. You could barely catch your breath but somehow, this just made you want it more. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it as you tightened around him.

He seemed determined to make good on his promise, giving in to the mind-numbing feeling of fucking you hard. You began to see stars, so whipped for the feeling of his cock pounding into you. Crying out his name, you arched your hips up to his.

He slammed into your g-spot, making you tremble beneath the force of his onslaught. Unyielding, he drove you towards your second orgasm of the night. Everything was overwhelming, making you clutch at him harder. The sensation was nothing but pure lust and pleasure – and then you broke, seeing black as you came for the second time.

You felt yourself clench, arousal gushing from your pussy to soak the sheets again. Hoseok groaned, saying your name when he finally came. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt and when he was finally done, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Eyes fluttering, you let out a shaky laugh. Hoseok exhaled, chest pressed to yours as his expression softened.

You grinned up at him, still breathless. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He smiled dreamily back. “Wow.”

When he tried to roll but keep himself inside you, you laughed.

“Hobi –”

“Shh. Let this happen.”

“Hobi!” you snorted, smacking his chest.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

Although his lips turned downwards, he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Once he’d pulled out, you rolled from bed and hurried into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you wandered into your bedroom and froze.

Hoseok had pulled all your sheets from the bed and stood helplessly in front of your closet.

“Uh.” You leaned your shoulder to the door. “What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to change your sheets, but your mom must keep them someplace different now.”

Unwittingly, you started to grin. It was just so strange having Hoseok in your room, trying to clean up after giving you the best double orgasm of your life. A good weird, though. The best kind of weird.

Heading into your bathroom, you returned with fresh sheets. “Here,” you said, handing them to Hoseok. Scooping the others from the floor, you stood. “I’ll throw these in the wash and be back.”

“Right back!”

You rolled your eyes at the demand but hurried to the laundry room and back. When you returned, you found Hoseok waiting for you in bed, sheets freshly changed. Slipping under the covers, you snuggled against his side.

Hoseok kissed the top of your head, leisurely stroking your arm with one hand. You stayed there for a while, happy to just be together again.

Then, Hoseok cleared his throat.

“What?” you said, looking up.

“I don’t remember if I said.” He sleepily smiled. “I loved the new script.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“The lead isn’t too perfect?”

Hoseok laughed, a bit sheepish. “I may have been projecting a little.”

“You were right, though. She was terrible.”

His gaze softened, looking at you. “No,” he said quietly. “But also, you can have the best screenplay in the world, Y/N and it’s still a game of chance. You’re talented and one day, everyone will see that. If not this screenplay, then the next one.”

His words were warm, settling over you like a blanket. Hoseok always believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself. You had more confidence in yourself now but sometimes, it was nice to have someone who supported you unconditionally. Someone without an agenda or anything in it for themselves. Someone who loved you and whom you loved back.

“Hobi?” you said, laying your head to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Are we dating?

His chest shook as he laughed. “If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

“Good. Me too.”

You nodded, waiting a little longer and then said, “Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned. “If my parents come home and find you naked in my bed, you won’t live long enough to see the honeymoon phase.”

Hoseok snorted and you laughed, rolling over to kiss him again. Eventually you got out of bed, put on your clothes, and went downstairs to watch the Christmas movie, but nothing seemed to change the ear-splitting grin on your face.

With Hoseok beside you and hot chocolate in hand, you begrudgingly admitted it may have been a good idea to come home for the holidays, after all.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 HAPPY HOBI-DAYS, ALL!

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

[buckybarnesdiaries]

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

© @capsgrantrogers

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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