#if i were to take ash to meet any of my other partners it would probably be the boys in Japan bc i want him to see them w his own eyesnkehf

[but-a-humble-selfshipper]

This might be the most self indulgent crossover ever but idc, i think it would be extremely cute if Harry and Brandy met. I wanna see my step kids get along 🥺💞

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Eleven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

no tw’s for this chapter

a/n: next chapter finna be just a little just a tad just the slightest bit unhinged

<— previous chapter

“How much longer until she’s awake?”

“There’s not even a rough estimate I can give you. Shes lost a lot of blood. But nevertheless, you need to think of a payment method.”

“Can you at least let her wake up before you start yapping about getting reimbursed?”

“Considering The Operator would hang me if he found out i’m helping any of you, I think not.”

You shifted uncomfortably, stiff metal underneath you as you began to stir. “The Operator hangs people?” You mumbled. You felt your wrist and ankles being restricted, causing your eyes to fly open. You were secured to a metal operating table, leather straps securing your wrist to your sides and your ankles to stay straight. You began to thrash under the restraints, panicking. “Woah woah woah it’s okay, relax,” Brian ushered. Three people stood around you, two of which you actually recognized.

Toby and Brian stood to your left, Toby’s eyes filled with concern. On your right, was someone you’ve never seen before. A blue mask with eerie black eye sockets stared down at you. A jet black hoodie hid any other features, your mind starting to spin. “Holy fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck,” You rambled, trying to move away from the unknown masked man. Brian grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you down. “Relax it’s just EJ, he here to help,” He said, attempting to comfort you. The tall man known as EJ seemed unamused, tilting his head to the side.

“If this is how she reacts to me standing here, what was her reaction to Toby’s face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What about his face?” You questioned. You blinked a few times, trying to understand why your vision was so blinded. “J-Jesus Christ dude move the l-lamp,” Toby intervened. He shoved the blinding spotlight out of the way, allowing your vision to settle. Brian and EJ began undoing your restraints, allowing you to sit up. As you did you hissed in pain, grabbing your stomach. “Take it easy. You’ll rip the stitches,” Brian said. He placed his large hand on your upper back, helping you sit up slowly.

“If you rip them i’m not stitching them up again,” EJ grumbled unhappily. He helped Toby free your ankles, your hands rubbing your wrist. “Is there a particular reason you had me tied up?” You inquired. Brian looked at EJ before answering. “There’s a chance that you could’ve had a seizure during your surgery,” He said slowly. You blinked a few times, lifting up your shirt. It was oversized on you and smelled like Toby. You almost asked how your clothes had been changed, but then you remembered Nova. “Yes, when my patients move during my operation it’s quite irritable,” EJ added. Your eyes searched the room, looking past the three that surrounded you.

“Where’s Nova? Is she alright? And Tim?” You asked. You went to jump off of the table, Toby stopping you. “T-They’re fine. They’re outside,” Toby informed you. It then occurred to you that you didn’t recognize your surroundings, at all. You appeared to be in a small cabin, a small fire crackling in the nearby living room. Despite how tiny it seemed, the soft essence made it comfortable. “EJ only let two of us in at a time. And it’s better Nova and Toby don’t get partnered together,” Brian explained. You glanced at EJ, whose soulless gaze seemed to stare directly into your soul. “Those regulations are over, if you’re going to stay here I need to have a meeting with all of you,” EJ said plainly. He sounded so unamused. So unfazed. As he removed his hands from his hoodie you noticed his ash gray skin.

Maybe all kinds of monsters were actually real, not just the one terrorizing you. Toby helped you over to the couch, Brian off to get Tim and Nova. Once you were all seated, EJ stood in front of you. Tim tried his hardest not to look at you, the guilt of almost getting you killed eating him alive. “I have been friends with The Operator for a long time. Longer than some of you have been born,” EJ began. Friends? Was this guy for real? You glanced over at Nova, whose gaze reminded on EJ. Despite her eyes looking elsewhere, she affectionately put her hand on top of yours. You wanted to question her sudden affection, the two of you hardly hugging before you met the boys. “I’m just going to say it like it is. The five of you are not going to make it out of this alive. I estimate maybe two or three of you. But not all of you,” He continued. You were searching for Toby and Brian’s reactions, the two listening intently.

You expected Tim to argue. Toby to interrupt. Brian to mumble an insult. But they all sat perfectly still, listening to the creature before them. Whoever EJ was, he meant business. “Which of the three of you survives depends on how you want to play your cards,” EJ stated flatly. Tim crossed his arms. “Skip over the drama and get to the point please,” He huffed. Despite EJ’s gaze being concealed by a mask, it wasn’t hard to sense that he despised being interrupted. “Nova and Y/n you’re both targets. Given the situation I suspect we won’t have any visitors for a while. He wants to push Nova to the point of suicide and I can only assume for Y/n he wants her as a proxy,” EJ continued. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Toby put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I can smell your curiosity. Being willing to die in an instant for someone you care about is noble. Too noble. He wants to exercise that nobility to its fullest extent,” He explained. Could he read thoughts too? What did he mean by he could smell you? “So what’s your recommendation for a plan wise guy?” Tim asked. EJ thought for a moment, his body stilling as he thought to himself. “Keep moving until your legs hurt. Train the girl to look after herself. Maybe start to pray,” He suggested sarcastically. Tim frowned as he stood up, glaring at EJ. “Dont push your luck Tim. You’re lucky she’s made it this far anyways,” The demon said plainly. Tim stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. You rose from the couch, abandoning Nova and Toby to shoot daggers at one another. You brushed past EJ, avoiding his eerie gaze.

You reached Tim on the back porch, a cigarette in between his fingers. “Tim…” You started. The brunette refused to look at you, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch. Endless rows of trees surrounded the cabin, the sun beaming through the leafs above. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for this,” You say. Tim flicked some ash off of his cigarette, before returning it to his lips. “My selfishness and greed landed you here. You know it,” He said harshly. A breeze blew past the two of you, your hand involuntarily cradling your wound. You slowly walked over to him, each step taking all of your energy. “Tim, I wanted this,” You argued. Tim noticed how weak you were, his gaze now avoiding looking at you. If he were to, he’d fold and want to touch you.

“You wanted a life stealing demon attached to you? I don’t think so,” Tim debated. You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I wanted you. The three of you. Everything else will work itself out,” You replied. Tim finally turned to face you, carelessly tossing his cigarette aside. “Tim I can’t do this without you. Masky isn’t enough. I need you too,” You say softly. You bring your hands to his face, cupping it. Tim brought his gloved hands to your wrist, admiring your soft features. When was the last time anyone preferred him over Masky? “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Tim whispered. His eyes became glassy, internally fighting the urge to cry. “You can show me,” You suggested. This made Tim chuckle, the brunette delivering a kiss to your forehead. “With your stitches healing? Absolutely not. Nice try princess,” He chuckled.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your gaze meeting his. “Hey Tim?” You whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his large hands settling on your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Tim’s lips met yours, his kiss hungry and soft. He tasted like cigarettes and spearmint, your eyes fluttering shut. Your lips moved against his in harmony, the two of you like magnetics. You couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him, your hands gripping his jacket to bring him closer. Tim pulled away first, his face visibly flushed. He gave you a smile, before gathering both of your hands into his own. “I’m going to do everything to protect you. You’re going to be one of the three that survive,” He promised you. He brought you to his chest, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

In the distance, beyond a few rows of trees, the unknowing couple had an observer. He wasn’t a tall slender being like his boss, no. He was something much worse, much more sinister. Unlike his boss, who deployed mindless drones to continue his reign of terror, he considered himself to be much different. He preferred this. To be alone, slaughtering those he was instructed to. It gave him a justification. It gave him a pleasure so strong it was nearly greater than an orgasm.

He was tasked with finishing what Kate started. Except this time, where the chips fall where they may lay. The Operator was very clear. There were no restrictions now. Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, could easily be eliminated as well if they interfered with his task. Crouched in a tree his eyebrows furrowed as he observed you and Tim. You had three lovers? Possibly a fourth with the hot headed detective? He tilted his head to the side as Tim kissed you again. You were an intriguing target indeed. As he fiddled with his metal claws, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of you had figured out the truth yet.

The Operator didn’t want you as a proxy anymore, he wanted you dead.

\/

“Guys seriously I can get in bed just fine i’m okay,” You protested. Toby and Tim had been carrying you everywhere, determined to baby you to the highest extent. You refused to acknowledge or admit how much your stomach hurt. “You got stabbed through the kidney. It’s a miracle not only that you survived, but that EJ didn’t take the opportunity to eat it,” Tim said. They lowered you on to the bed, the oversized pants you were clothed with sagging. “EJ eats kidneys?” You questioned. You could feel your stomach churn. Tim went silent for a moment, realizing he hadn’t thought twice about what he had said.

“H-he eats much much more than that. But we were ver-r-ry clear in our deal with him,” Toby intervened. You propped yourself up against the headboard, the ancient oil lamp on your nightstand accompanying you with a dim light. “What deal?” You asked. Tim ran his fingers through his hair. “Dont worry about it,” He said, steering the conversation in a different direction. You frowned. Toby made himself quite comfortable beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Brian?” You asked. You leaned your head against Toby’s chest, trying to ignore how sore your body felt. “Out on patrol with Nova and EJ. There is no telling who The Operator might try to send here now that Kate’s dead,” Tim stated.

The memory of the blade of the axe slamming down into her skull resurfaced in your mind. The cold blooded killer in question was cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was humming to himself, like he hadn’t committed atrocious acts against God. Tim’s eyes flickered between you and Toby, the brunette swallowing. “Well, i’ll leave you guys to it,” Tim said quietly. He turned to leave, causing you to lean forward to try to grab his wrist. You hissed in pain at the sudden movement, your hand flying down to your healing wound. Your whine caused Tim to turn around, looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Please stay. I need all of the support I can get right now,” You admitted weakly. Tim glanced at Toby, who gave him a subtle nod. The bed was a full sized one at most. Tim sighed, sliding off his boots and jacket. “You’re lucky I-” Tim began, stopping dead in his tracks once he realized what words were about to fall off of his lips. Your eyes widened, your heart beginning to race. Tim didn’t deserve to say those words to you. He didn’t think he was worthy. “You’re just lucky, princess,” He finished. He shuffled over to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside you. It was then a knock on the door drew your attention, a tired Brian stumbling inside.

“Please for the love of God let me sleep with you guys instead of being on patrol,” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows, glancing at Tim. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. Brian sighed, shoving off his hoodie. You couldn’t help but momentarily stare at his built chest. He only wore a thin wife beater underneath, the sight making your heart skip a a beat. “EJ and Nova won’t stop yapping. They won’t stop talking and it’s driving me insane. The point of being on watch is to be subtle. Something neither of them know how to do apparently,” He groaned. Brian plopped down onto the bed, carefully laying his head on your inner thighs.

“A demon and Nova. S-sounds like the p-p-perfect match to me!” Toby snickered. You rolled your eyes, elbowing him. Tim laid his head on your shoulder, your right hand lacing its fingers with his. Your left found its way to Brian’s hair, playing with the locs as his eyes fluttered shut. “Shut up Toby,” Tim grumbled. You knew it wasn’t always going to be this easy. Recovery was going to be a bitch. Your mind began to spin, your eyes wide open as fears circulated around your mind. Tim seemed to notice your tension, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Relax princess we’re right here. No ones going anywhere.”

Your feet seemed to carry themselves, trudging through the forest. Thick vines littered themselves across the ground, causing you to consistently look down to watch your step. When you finally looked up, your eyes widened. A rusty gate fenced in what appeared to be a small graveyard. A cold chill ran down your spine, goosebumps rising across your skin as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. On the gate was a piece of paper, a chaotic and unhinged drawing of The Operator scribbled across the page.

Narrowing your eyes, you grabbed the page angrily. “Stupid drawing,” You muttered. You crumbled up the page, tossing it aside. You shoved the gate open, the fog concealing a clear view of the gravestones. An owl hooted in the distance, the dim moonlight not able to illuminate anything past the relentless fog. You ignored the overgrown moist grass tickling your exposed ankles, continuing forward. Unsettled you hugged your arms, ignoring the eerie feeling of being watched. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, unable to see anything.

Swallowing your fear and unsettlement you walked forward, with each step creating a louder sound of static. You reached the headstones, noticing five of them sat in a perfect row. You managed to see past the fog, your heart beginning to pound as you read the names.

Timothy Wright. Brian Thomas. Nova Parker. Tobias Rogers. Y/n Y/l/n.

You felt your stomach churn, your body boiling with rage. “You can’t have them! I won’t let you!” You yelled into the void. You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palms. “You hear me you bald fuck!? You can’t have them! They mine,” You screamed. Your voice echoed throughout the trees, your words ringing throughout your ears. You gritted your teeth, the sound of static overpowering your words. You fell to your knees, clutching your head. Your lips were apart, a scream surely escaping your throat, yet you couldn’t hear it.

With every ounce of energy you had left you swallowed, forcing yourself to formulate words. “You’ll never find us anyways you bastard!” You screeched. An abnormally large snow white hand grabbed your shoulder, its fingers digging into your skin.

“Oh my foolish child, I already have.”

—> next chapter

[bohemianblasphemy]

request from @jdms-kus-babygirl i hope this is okay and that you enjoy✨

the tension in the air was palpable. sitting in a dingy bar in a small corner in the city were the Boys, a bottle of whiskey is being shared between them. the group was quiet, interrupted by the occasional cough or refill of a glass. mumbling conversations and a jukebox in the corner playing 80s rock dwindled in the background as you focused on Butcher, who was swirling the brown liquid in his glass, pondering near future conflict with the thorn in his side, Homelander.

you studied his features- admiring your partner. Butcher had been your rock since you joined the Boys. your bond was unbreakable and the love you shared only grew over the time you spent together. Billy looks back you from across the booth, smiling at you. he reaches for your hand “you alright love?” he asks you, noticing your worried look. your increased anxiety of facing homelander grew stronger by the minute. you shook your head, before speaking out for the group to hear, breaking the silence. “ we need to destroy him. he can’t continue to play games with us, with the entire country… soon the world.” billy speaks up “we are going to get that son of a cunt, he’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him and more.” his eyes flicked up to meet yours “i’m not letting you get hurt… not on my watch. we will right behind you the entire time my love.” you smiled glumly at him, knowing that the only way to be rid of Homelander forever would mean sacrifice.

the plan of attack was straightforward- distracting Homelander for a long enough time for the group to take him down. you volunteered to bait him, there was no other way of doing it despite major objections by Billy. the group knew about your past with him; you both used to be friends- almost like siblings, until Vought took him away and ruined what once was an innocent boy now the ruthless, evil monstrosity of Vought. these memories ran through your mind as you were travelling to the dank alleyway where you were to meet him, to trap him.

“Look who it is, my most dearest friend Y/N.” Homelander smirks at you, mocking you for contacting him to ‘talk’. “finally crawling back to the good side of society?” your heart was pounding, a bead of sweat racing down your forehead. “John.. please you cannot continue this destructive behaviour, you will lose everything…” you pleaded, earning a scowl, his smirk had faded realising that you weren’t alone- he could sense the rest of the group hiding amongst the rubbish and decay in the surrounding area. “it’s Homelander to you Y/N. who the fuck do you think you are bringing your scum of the earth friends-“

“look around you JOHN.” you interrupted, bringing the attention back to you. “you cannot be blind about the absolute annihilation that YOU have caused to this country, hell to the world! you will be the reason that this will all go to dust and all the shit the matters will no longer exist.” homelanders mouth twitches with anger, his eyes growing dark. “you have no idea what good i have brought to humanity, I have brought the world back from the ashes, like a phoenix. you don’t know what i have sacrificed for all of this,” he gestures around him. you took a deep breath and looked right into his eyes. “ i can tell you exactly what you sacrificed. your own humanity, just for cheap thrills.” you exhaled.

Homelander suddenly lunged at you, which caused Billy, Hughie, Annie, MM, Kimiko and Frenchie to emerge from the shadows of the alley, Billy shouted your name which triggered Homelander to turn towards the on coming group to charge at them, not before stepped in front of him, creating a barrier between him and the Boys. “stop.” you stood there, Homelander’s looming figure towering over your own. Billy’s heart dropped, terrified for your safety. “you’re not gonna touch a hair on any one of them, you’re gonna have to kill me first.” your breathing was erratic, tears forming in your eyes.

Homelander’s demenour changed, his eyes suddenly showing the ghost of the boy you once knew- a glimpse of the friend that you knew once before. you choked back tears until Billy ran forward towards you, his fear and fury taking over. “get the fuck away from her, you grimey cunt.” he shouts, snapping Homelander back into his hostile, rage fueled state. in a split second, he unleashes his power onto you sending your body flying into the air, crashing into a concrete slab across the way. your body lays limp on the ground, the pain that swept its way through your body was indescribable. in your last moments of consciousness before slipping into darkness, you could hear Billy screaming your name.

a few days had passed, you had woken up and were met with the sound of machines and the bright white lights of the hospital. your eyes shift around the hospital room and you were met with Billy’s tired eyes, as he realised that you were awake and alive. “Y/N…” his eyes well up in tears, overwhelmed with emotions as he holds your hand, gently pressing kisses to your bruised knuckles, leaning forward to give you a sweet kiss on the lips. “i thought i lost you…” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. your eyes caught the doorway as multiple bodies waltzed in- the rest of the group went wide eyed and surround your bed, spreading their relief towards you. you smiled weakly at them, eternally grateful for every one of them.

“w-what happened? is homelander… gone?” you questioned and the room fell silent, all eyes on you. billy cleared his throat “about that… we, need to talk to ya.” you sit up in your bed, giving your full attention to your partner but not before you’re interrupted by a brief knock at the door, and a soft “Y/N?” is heard. everyone’s heads turn towards the door and in the door way is Homelander in his disguise, which causes the group to jump in your defence. “ you’re alive… i thought i would’ve killed you.” his voice hinted at remorse, almost heartbroken. your heart rate started to rise, the heart monitor machine started to beep rapidly. “what the fuck do you think your doin’ waltzin’ in here?” Billy growls. “why don’t ya just fuck off and fly home like ya did on that day?” Homelander holds his hands up, his way of waving a white flag in surrender. “please, let me speak.”

“i… was wrong.” the words fell out of his mouth. “i was wrong about Vought, about all of this…” he paused for a moment. “when you hit that wall Y/N something in me switched and all that i knew had seemed to crack. all i can think of was us as kids and how it used to be. i don’t want this anymore.” he points to himself, voices cracking slightly. “i want to help.” his words created the feeling of disbelief amongst the group, hearing the words ‘I want to help’ from someone who’s goal was to destroy them was ludicrous, but something inside you believed him - his manner was very different to when you last met, his words seemed genuine and his humanity had appeared to flow through the cracks of his rough demeanour.

“help us then.” your voice broke in the room, billy’s eyes swing back around to you. “help us take down Vought. all of us can find a way to take them down. we would have an advantage… if you’re serious about this.” you were surprised that you considering this as he was the reason you were laying in that hospital bed. the murmur of astonishment. “Y/N, after what he did to you, why would we want to recruit him into the group? why should we trust him?” MM questions you. “i’m not saying that you should trust him, but if we are gonna take down Vought we need any and all help we can get.”

“i’m ready to break free from Vought. i’m done with being their mascot, i want to fight- fight with you, Y/N.” the room goes quiet once more, the group debating before Billy pipes up. “alright. we’ll do it. but one wrong fuckin’ move and he goes bye bye yeah? no fuckin’ games… i swear if he lays a fuckin’ hand on you-“ his words are interrupted by Homelander “i understand.” he nods over to butcher who stares him down, the trust in him not present as of yet. the boys eyed him down, skepticism plaguing them. you turn to billy, placing your palm against his cheek. “we can fight this, i swear we will.” he looks longingly at you, leaning into your touch.

The path ahead for the group was a dark one, with danger looming heavily over them. Although the rest of the Boys still questioned Homelander's reclaimed humanity, they were united in their determination to dismantle Vought and confront the corruption.

[devourers-of-god]

Hii :D

for first i wanted to say that i love your blog and the way you describe the characters!

can i request HC of the characters on valentine's day? if you don't want to do it to everyone, it could be just Travis and Sal. i'll let you decide there, take as much time as you want and if you don't want to do it, everything is fine. (i hope i wrote it well, it's a bit difficult for me to write in english)

HIII! thank you so much for the compliments it is very heart warming :( SOrry im late about your request HAHAH I will indeed do Sal and Travis only,,, you know me so well anon ,,, You wrote everything perfectly !! I couldn't have guessed if you didn't tell me :) ILY REQUESTS ARE OPEN PEOPLE! LOOK ALIVE! /ref but plz everyone, read my carrd In my bio before submitting.. its upsetting to see asks that doesn't meet my rules...

SAL AND TRAVIS ON VALENTINES DAY

Type : Headcanons

Warnings: None! Mostly Fluff sorry y'all I don't write nsfw

SAL

= Sal prepared some things for you by the gentle help of Ashley, because sal didn't know how to please you and Ash is your best friend.

= I think Sal would make you a valentines boo basket like the ones you see on TikTok. Filled with your favourite chocolates and CDS, cute slippers, horror movie blanket, jewelry and some surprises connected to your interests.

= He would come by your apartment/house and wear ''clean clothes'' ( Jeans he washed the night before and his favourite shirt lol), with his nails freshly painted of a beautiful black colour.

= He also brought movies to watch, romantic ones you say? Hell nah this Sal Fisher, he brought horror movies that you would enjoy.

= You were so happy by his gifts that you jumped right into his arms and dragged him into your room, he cuddled and kissed you A BUNCH because boy was he happy his partner liked what he bought them. He filled your entire face with kisses, when Sal started he couldn't stop.

= After all the affection was received, you two were stuck on the couch, under your new blanket, cuddling and watching movies. For the occasion Sal took off his mask, only if no one was there that day, which made you very happy and flustered to see your lover's face after a long day.

TRAVIS (ARGHBHHH EEEK ^0^DNWAODNSNF)

= Travis already struggles with showing affection, it was very hard to warp his mind around celebrating for the first time in his life Valentines day with his boyfriend.

= He also had to ask Ashley because she's your best friend after all, she recommended following his heart and doing something classic to not stress him too much. And that he did!

= My sweet boy put on a suit for you and bought flowers, not just any flowers tho, Travis believe in flower language. Which is that every single flower has a different meaning when given. He carefully chose Daisies (I truly love you), Red Carnation (My heart aches for you), Honey Suckles (Devoted affection) and lastly, Salvia Red (forever mine). Yes he could've chosen classic roses but he felt like you might think that he didn't put in any effort.

= This boy is an hopeless romantic and decided to write you a letter about his true feelings since he was so bad at expressing them in front of you, words couldn't leave his mouth but they were flowing with the help of his fountain pen.

= He then picked up gourmet chocolates, a bit expensive but he thought it would make you happy. Ashley suggested that he makes a mixtape of your favourite songs on a cassette since you had a walkman. He made 2 mixtapes, one of your favourites and the other one is songs that reminds him of you.

= He showed up to your door in the evening and your jaw dropped, seeing your boyfriend in a suit made you feel things you've never felt before. He felt super happy by your reaction and the letter was so profound it made you cry. You also knew flower language and you were basically bawling because of the effort (and money) he spent on you.

OKAY DONE ! you guys can see that I prefer travis over sal oops,,, I hope everyone still loved it! plz plz plz send me things because im desperate.... I love you all guys.......

[zablife]

And another gif request before I'm done (for today) 🤭

You are trying to make a deal with the Shelbys and you have to get through John first... (maybe Solomons!reader? 🤔)

Afternoon Tea (Partners in Crime AU)

John Shelby x Solomons sister reader

"Can I offer you some tea, sweetheart?" a smug looking blonde asked, gesturing toward a delicate china teapot, woefully out of place in the ash and smoke surrounding you.

You scrunched your nose at him in disgust. "I didn't walk through horseshit for a cup of rosie, you fucking berk! And I was told Tommy Shelby would meet me," you said, clenching your jaw in frustration.

Gazing up at you with piercing blue eyes, the young man leaned back in his chair, taking his time to slurp from his cup loudly. You rolled your eyes in annoyance as he proclaimed with an air of self importance, "He's busy so you can speak to me."

"And you are?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm a Shelby which means I can do what I like," he offered.

"Not according to my boss," you informed him, turning to leave. "I don't think we'll be doing any business today."

Rising from his seat with a sigh he called out, "Alright, no need to be unfriendly. Sit down and let's start over, love. You don't want to talk business? I can think of other things to amuse us."

You whipped around to find him grinning like the cat that got the cream, probably hoping you'd succumbed to his clumsy charms. Attempting to remain calm, you sauntered back to the rickety table with a sultry smile. Tracing the rim of the empty cup with your fingertip you asked, "What did you have in mind, handsome?"

Neck and ears flushing pink, John scratched behind his neck at your forward behavior, unable to believe his luck. "You're in blinder territory. We can go anywhere you like for a drink and then back to mine. I'll show you a good time," he promised, regaining his courage to reach across the table and stroke your cheek.

"S that right?" you asked, licking your lips.

"No one's ever complained before," he said with cocky assurance.

Nodding thoughtfully you answered, "That's what I thought. Pity I have to say no then," you said shaking your head.

His face fell at your words. "You have a man?" he asked with confusion.

"Got five waiting to take your kneecaps for this," you grinned, baring your teeth menacingly. John's nostrils flared and he stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from smashing the china. What were you playing at?

Just then a lanky man with a mustache approached calling out, "Oi, John boy! What the fuck's taking so long with the Solomons girl?"

"Course you're the thick one they call John! Should've known," you said to yourself, but loud enough for John to hear.

"Y/n Solomons, Alfie's sister and the biggest tart in London," John tossed back.

"Reckon you'll never find out cos I don't fuck useless little cunts ," you retorted. His face turned a deep shade of crimson and he tossed a chair across the yard, splintering in two as it fell. You huffed out a laugh at his childishness as you motioned for your men, abandoning all hopes of a civilized meeting.

"Tell Alfie we do business man to man in Birmingham," John spat.

"If I happen to see one, I'll let him know he should make the trip," you said, patting John's cheek before you left with your bodyguards.

"Fuck, this one's gonna be trouble," Arthur muttered.

Part 2--Co-Workers

[rabbit-or-rib]

FOLLOWER CELEBRATION TIME !!!!

you guys have shown me soso much support and it really means the whole world to me, and i wanna show y'all that with my writing !!

i'm gonna be opening up requests for NSFW / romantic / platonic alphabets, romantic / platonic matchups, and songs for characters!! this is gonna be a longer post, so all of the specifics are under the cut :)

also, i'll of course still be taking normal requests, but while these are open they'll be the priority for me to get to :)

Who's available for requests?

EverymanHYBRID

HABIT

Evan Myers

Marble Hornets

Tim Wright

Masky

Brian Thomas

Hoodie

Jessica Locke (fem/gn reader only)

Creepypasta

Toby Rogers

Eyeless Jack

Jeff the Killer

Jane the Killer (fem/gn reader only)

Nina the Killer

Clockwork (fem/gn reader only)

BEN

Overwatch

Cole Cassidy

Ashe

Reaper / Gabriel Reyes

Soldier: 76 / Jack Morrison (masc/gn reader only)

(this includes the Blackwatch and Deadlock eras! just lemme know, without specifics I'll assume it's current era)

Songs for characters ;

a song for how i think a character would react/feel about certain things! being in love, their thoughts on themselves, things like that :) i'd be posting a song link, specific lyrics i think really match with what's being asked, and an explanation/break down on how it relates.

Romantic / platonic matchups ;

give me a rundown of who you are, if you want it to be romantic, platonic (or both), and i'll match you up with someone :) quick physical, personality and partner preference/needs descriptions would be great, the fandoms you want, and anything else you'd want me to know would be great !! if you'd want a basic template, i have this one right here !!

NSFW / romantic / platonic alphabets ;

you can ask for a full alphabet, or just specific letters, for characters :) all three are down below if you wanna get a feel for them before you request

PLATONIC

A = Adventures, what kind of crazy shit would you get into together?

B = Bond, what kind of - platonic, obviously - relationship do you have with each other?

C = Cuddling, do you ever cuddle? how physically affectionate are you?

D = Dance, do you ever dance together? how?

E = Enemies, were you ever enemies? Do you share the same enemies?

F = Fight, how often do you fight? how do you resolve conflict?

G = Gain, how have you helped each other improve as people?

H = Help, how do they ask you for help? how do they help you when you need it?

I = Injured/Ill, how would they act if you got hurt or sick?

J = Jokes, what’s their sense of humor like? how do you joke about things together?

K = Kisses, do you ever kiss? how? Kisses not on the lips count

L = Love, how do they show you they care?

M = Meeting, how did you meet? how did you become friends?

N = Nesting, do you co-habitate at all? how?

O = Oasis, is there a specific place that is “your place”? what is it?

P = Protection, how protective are they over you?

Q = Query, how inquisitive are they when it comes to getting to know you?

R = Record, what’s something you’ll never let them live down?

S = Support, how would they show their support for you? how far would that support go?

T = Trust, how much do they trust you? how do they show you that?

U = Uplift, how do you bring each other up?

V = Vacation, do you ever travel together? what’s that like?

W = Worry, do they worry about you? how often?

X = Xerox, are there any traits or habits of theirs that you’ve picked up by accident?

Y = Yahoo, what’s an inside joke you share?

Z = Zany, do they have a weird side only you get to see? what’s it like?

ROMANTIC

A = Attention, how much attention do they want in the relationship?

B = Baby, do they want a family? Why/why not?

C = Cuddle, do they like to cuddle and show affection? How?

D = Dates, what are dates with them like? What do they like to do? 

E = Equal, do they prefer to be more dominant or submissive in the relationship?

F = Fights, how do they handle arguments? How quick are they to forgive?

G = Gratitude, how grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them? 

H = Honesty, are they honest with their s/o? How important is it to them in a relationship? 

I = Insight, how easy is it for them to read their partner? (Mood, thoughts, etc.)

J = Jealousy, do they get jealous? If so, how easily? How do they deal with it?

K = Kiss, what are their kisses like? Who kissed who first?

L = Love, who said “I love you” first? How often do they say it? When did they realize they were in love?

M = Marriage, do they want to get married? How long do they have to be in the relationship beforehand? What would the marriage be like? 

N = Nickname, what are the nicknames they have for their s/o? Do they like when their s/o uses nicknames?

O = Open, how long does it take for them to open up to their s/o?

P = PDA, how do they feel about public displays of affection? What kind of PDA do they show?

Q = Quality Time, what do they like to do for quality time with their s/o?

R = Reunion, how do they react after being apart from their s/o? How do they cope when they’re away?

S = Sad, how do they cheer their s/o up when they are feeling down? How do they like to be cheered up?

T = Thrill, do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine? 

U = Understanding, how well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

V = Value, how important is the relationship to them? What is its worth in comparison to other things in their life?

W = Wild Card, a random relationship headcanon

X = Explicit, a NSFW headcanon

Y = Your Name, if they did get married to their s/o, who would take whose last name?

Z = Zz, how do they like to sleep with their partner? What time do they like to go to sleep/wake up, ideally?

NSFW

A = Aftercare, what they’re like after sex

B = Body part, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

C = Cum, anything to do with cum, basically

D = Dirty secret, pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

E = Experience, how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

F = Favorite position, this goes without saying

G = Goofy, are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.

H = Hair, how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

I = Intimacy, how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

J = Jack off, masturbation headcanon

K = Kink, one or more of their kinks

L = Location, favorite places to do they do

M = Motivation, what turns them on, gets them going

N = No, something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs

O = Oral, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

P = Pace, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

Q = Quickie, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

R = Risk, are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.

S = Stamina, how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

T = Toys, do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?

U = Unfair, how much they like to tease

V = Volume, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

W = Wild card, a random headcanon for the character

X = X-ray, let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

Y = Yearning, how high is their sex drive?

Z = Zzz, how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?

[nyarlathotep-the-dark-pharaoh]

My dearest Mikhail,

Your letter to René did not find them well. Few can be found well these days. I am one such who can. I am a kind stranger, and since I believe you ought to know, I will recount to you in earnest the recent events concerning your ‘dearest René’.

On Monday, they went to the florist. They purchased a peony, placed it in a vase on the dining room table, and ate alone. Alone except for the peony. I do not mean to imply that the peony was particularly sapient or that a Jubokko could form in such a plant, I only mean to say that in the absence of their usual dining partner, they took deliberate action to place another living thing at the table, Mikhail. René has always been astoundingly sane in that way, haven’t they? Do you remember on your second– no, third date, when you went out to the backcountry to look at the stars? Do you remember how afraid you’ve always been of the night sky? How unpleasant you find the scale of the dark? Do you remember how they knew those stars by name? How they looked unabashed into deep space and understood it? That was when you fell in love, Mikhail.

On Tuesday, Yggdrasil, the plume of life, was born. Many fled east in fear of falling ash. A fair decision, after all, how often does a volcanic plume choose to linger in the air? Entropy demands that it spread its ashes forth across the earth to choke all that dares to breathe the frigid air. Fleeing east is what any sane person would do. René stayed home. They didn’t know what would happen to them. But they couldn’t think east so long as their dearest Mikhail was west. The history channel was on. A man with a British accent whispered to them about Mount Vesuvius. The peony nodded solemnly along. They texted you, twice, but nothing goes in or out of Gore-Texas these days. It got dark early that night. Their dreams smelled of pine, and tasted like you.

On Wednesday, two men entered town. Both were tall, and only one was funny. René looked at the unread messages on their phone and chose to day drink. This required them to leave the home, as you two generally don’t keep alcohol in the house, except for holidays, and natural disasters. Between home and a drink is when they met the two men. The funny one introduced himself as Nigel Throne, and the other did not introduce himself at all. They got along well with Nigel, though, and exchanged contact information by the end of the day. Few people were left in town and they’ve always been in the habit of making friends. Don’t worry, Mikhail, they wouldn’t fall in love with a stranger without inviting you to join. They shared drinks and stories for several hours. As it turned out, Nigel was rather knowledgeable on the less understandable goings-on, and proved a comfort in the face of the unknown.

On Thursday, the Nuppeppō arrived, along with a patrol of Gore-Tex soldiers. René again remained indoors, as the Nuppeppō made them uncomfortable. They watched TV and ate those fruit snacks you keep in the shelf above the fridge, for emergencies. They checked the weather on their phone, and noticed that on Friday, it would rain. They tried to call you. They closed the curtains, as they didn’t want to see the Nuppeppō, and had a creeping feeling that someone was watching them. Rest assured Mikhail, I was the only one watching them. Hours passed, and they felt the faint rumblings of the distant storm. They dreamt of nothing, and woke before dawn to a knock at the door. They drearily limped from bed to meet Nigel at the door. He informed them that the storm was expected to be very bad, and that people were going to the storm shelter in the community center. René thought this was a fine idea and gathered a small satchel of their things and the storm box. Do you remember stocking that cooler with water, snacks, a flashlight, blankets, toilet paper? Do you wish you had put anything else in there, knowing they would take it with them that Thursday night? They slept on the ground, but it wasn’t too bad. Their dream felt like you, and looked like the Nuppeppō.

On Friday, they woke to the sound of an argument. A soldier was bickering loudly with a small group of civilians, which included Nigel Throne. René couldn’t make out what they were fighting about, but they saw how the argument ended. Out from neither side came the second tall man, the one who wasn’t funny like Nigel; with him he had what looked to René like a ring box. Nigel backed nervously away from the other tall man as he placed his hand on the shoulder of the soldier and beckoned him away. René did not see where the tall man went with the soldier, and they didn’t see any soldiers in town again. The tall man remained though, always carrying that ring box with him. They let the sounds of thunder and rain lull them back to sleep. Their dream sounded like tinnitus, and was shaped like a well lacquered ring box. When they woke in the afternoon, ring box on the mind, they resolved to ask Nigel what had happened. They didn’t really understand his response, but it seemed unsettling. “There are some things that even I don’t want to know.” They spent a rainy evening indoors, and headed home alone when it cleared up. They made a bolognese for dinner, even though it was supposed to be leftovers day. They shut the blinds tight, stared at their unreceived messages, and went to bed.

On Saturday, they went for a walk. They spoke briefly with a few neighbors who remained in town, and reveled in the Nuppeppō free streets. Her spawn never stayed when it rained. They went all the way to the edge of town. They looked up at Yggdrasil, the world plume, unabashed, and understood it. Do you remember when you fell in love? Not six feet away was a Jubokko, Mikhail. You were dead if I hadn’t been watching. I gazed at you as you gazed up at the stars that made you so nervous. No Kaidan would touch you as I knew your name. You do not need to thank me. I know you aren’t grateful. They are grateful for you, though. They truly do love you, Mikhail, beyond anything I could imagine. They didn’t dream that night.

On Sunday, they met God in a ring box.

On Monday, I went alone to the florist. I purchased a peony, placed it in a vase on your dining room table, and ate alone. Alone except for the peony. I do hope this letter finds you well.

Your dearest,

Nigel Throne

[warrior-cats-rewritten]

Hey. Semi-Serious post here. I'm gonna be quite frank, this is about the death of a real animal. My animal.

The one I made the dedication of WCR!Into The Wild for. Because the wounds are still so raw that I can barely get through typing this very sentence without feeling choked up. So... If this post isn't for you, enjoy the first cat picture, the rest will be under the cut.

Meet Cleo.

She was my best friend. I moved into her home when I was a child, and her being there got me through the ensuing abusive situation I'd found myself in. I quickly became her favorite person. She was always there for me, and I was always there for her. I read Warriors books to her.

I met someone online that I fell in love with, and planned to have them move here. I worried about Cleo, who was now getting on in her years, but still healthy and strong.

I was granted full, effective ownership of her, since she was never really registered with a breeder. An oopsie, runt of the litter kitten of a genuine bred Maine Coon, unknown father.

Plan fell through, immigrating to Canada is difficult and the economy was about to fall apart. So I made the choice to move to the UK.

I was then informed that I could not take Cleo with me, they said she was too old, and that the plane ride would be too much for her. She was roughly 14/15 years old and, again, healthy. This next part is hard to write.

I spent every day after that, for a year, spending as much time as she wanted with me. She got every cuddle and snuggle she wanted.

I still remember that last time I ever saw her, the night I left the country. I held her like a baby, because she liked that. I remember what the back of her neck smelled like (warm chocolate). I rubbed her belly, and whispered to her that I loved her, and promised to come back again and see her. Then I placed her on her favorite spot on the back of the chair, and left.

I got regular updates from my mom about her, but something was clear. When I was on the phone, I was not to call out to her, because when I did, it made her search the whole house, meowing and calling out for me, looking for me. The dogs never did that, just Cleo.

4 months away from home, she started peeing in... Odd places. Visible places. Like... Middle of the living room and on bathroom rug.

Mind you, she used to do that in front of her litter box as a protest when it wasn't clean enough for her liking. But... Not like that.

Other than that, normal behavior.

Then, about 6 months in, she started being weird with food. Still demanded it, of course, but... Wouldn't eat it. Mind you, there were times when she really was just happy to have the wet food there... And then go off and eat her kibble as if she hadn't just acted like she would die without her wet food. Typical, right?

After a week straight, and not much kibble eaten, it... Was concerning. I offered my mom to cover the cost of any medical bills she would need, but was told to not be 'ridiculous', that she was too old. That she didn't need a vet, that nothing would help.

7 months in. July 7th, 2023. Ordinary day, kinda fun, sunny out, a relaxing day where I wasn't looking at my phone much. My partner gets a text from my mom asking if I am around. I get a call from my mom.

She hadn't eaten in days. She wasn't in her box anymore. She was barely drinking. All her chub was gone, leaving my poor girl at only 5 pounds. A fraction of her weight.

My mom was not calling me to say goodbye. Goodbye had already been said. And I wasn't there.

I asked if my mom could bury her, so at the very least I could have something to visit when I got home.

To get Cleo's body back, it would have cost 200 dollars. She would be cremated, and her ashes not given back either. Gone.

The older woman next to me later said she had never, in all her years, heard a person wail and scream the way I had. I barely remember it, or anything after that. The grief is so bad that I feel chest pains, and my throat will close, I could cry myself hoarse still, just from thinking about her.

On one hand I don't want to feel this way anymore. On the other I feel horrific guilt about that, about wanting to "move on". I hate that term, it needs something new. Moving on isn't forgetting about them, it just means it doesn't hurt as badly anymore, but... What does THAT mean?

Below is the very last picture I have of her.

I'm sorry, Cleo. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I sorry I wasn't there for you. I'm sorry I broke my promise. And I'm sorry I wasn't there to say goodbye.

I'll never forget you. I'll never love you any less.

It'll be hard to visit home without you in it.

If you read this post, thanks for listening. I'm really struggling with grief processing, even though it's been almost a year. 208 days as of today. She isn't the first I've lost, she won't be the last, but WCR is partially dedicated to her.

I hope you like the pictures of her, knowing how vain she was I'm sure she would enjoy me showing them off.

Bye guys.

[maarriiii]

Simp (Part 10) | Wilbur Soot

A/N: I really wanted to do a double update so that’s why i’ve been putting this off since I haven’t written the date part but i really don’t want to put this off any longer, so here you go lovely people!!

Summary: Countdown to you and Wilbur meeting and everything that happened in between

Pairing(s): CC!Wilbur Soot x gender neutral!reader, CC!Wilbur Soot x actor!reader

Warning(s): It’s pretty long guys. So, get comfortable

italics: tweets

my masterlist :))

~~

4 months before the show. This was it. The end. After two weeks of traveling multiple cities and countries for press tour, this premiere would be your last before heading back home to Los Angeles, free from any obligations. You smiled and waved to the blaring lights of cameras and shouts of your name, facing here and there as they asked. To your left and right were your costars and people that worked on the movie, director and producers. Some of them were accompanied by their partners or family members. Some were with their publicist and team, including you.

You caught the eyes of one of the family members—a mother to a particularly young actor—she was holding their hand, smiling but you could tell she was overwhelmed. You smiled and mouthed 'you're doing great'. At that her shoulders relaxed and she mouthed back 'thank you'. You gave her a wink before flashing your award winning smile back at the camera—seconds after the three of you posed together and clips of you comforting the mother went viral the next day.

By the time the walking and the posing was done, you were finally inside the theater where seats were filled with the cast, crew, critics, fans, and other people you might don't know. Companion of The West was met with pretty good reviews so far from all the early screenings, praising the writing, directing, the ensemble of cast, and your acting in the new genre. You rarely look up reviews but when it's good things you've been hearing, how can one resist—the movie might even get nominated in major categories in the upcoming awards season.

~~

"Thank you, Nottingham. You've been fucking amazing!"

The crowd cheered as Lovejoy walked backstage, adrenaline still coursing through their bodies and sweat pouring down on it. Wilbur dabbed a white towel on his face and neck, smiling and cheering with his bandmates for yet another good show on the tour. Although, he played shows before it still felt like the first time. He was on cloud nine and no anchor heavy enough could pull him down. He loves every second of every moment he get to play with his friends and hearing the crowds shout back the very lyrics he wrote.

Wilbur muttered a 'thanks' when his friends congratulate him for a great show, still wiping down the sweat trailing down his body like a flood. He took a few bottle of beers in his hand, gave it to Ash, Joe, and Mark, before gulping down his. The cold liquid managed to quench his thirst and after singing the last few songs.

Wilbur and the rest of the band and crew started packing up their instruments and gear after hydrating themselves and taking a few polaroid pictures backstage. They carried all the bags, cases, and whatnot to the van they've rented before driving back to the hotel they stayed in and going out for a few drinks before leaving Nottingham.

~~

2 months before the show. You did something incredibly embarrassing earlier that made you want to dig up a hole, crawl into it, and bury yourself for eternity in an attempt to conceal yourself from the internet. It was an accident. You tweeted something with the intention of putting it in your second and private account, where only your closest friends follows you, after seeing a picture of Wilbur on stage. The tweet itself might be classified as to what the internet calls a 'thirst tweet' and although you've denied it multiple times—when Sam called you out and tease you for it—the longer the notion swam inside your mind, the more convinced you were that they were right. And that just made it worse.

You were in the kitchen getting some snacks when the thought suddenly appeared in your head. Anxiety builds up inside you, fear and assurance trying to beat the other and take control. You fast walked to the living room where the TV was paused on a show and your phone lay on the couch. You hurriedly typed in the password, cursing when you got it wrong a couple of times. You mumbled words of encouragement to yourself, saying that you couldn't possibly do such a thing and that you were always careful. Spoiler alert, you were wrong.

Dread washes over you when you saw the tweet with already 500 likes and retweets. You knew it won't have any effect since your fans would definitely screenshot it and immortalize it for people to see and make articles about, but you still wanted to save yourself.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh god, you're lagging, really?" You pressed the screen with a little too much force trying to delete the tweet.

~~

It seemed to be an occurrence now that Wilbur always chokes—be it on water or even just air—at the sudden mention of your name. He was amused, honored, and embarrassed at his current predicament. How can he not? Ash was the first one who came across your tweet and decided to show it to everyone first then him. They were hollering, cheering, whistling, and Wilbur couldn't run and hide, so he just opted to curse everyone off but it prove useless since he had a smile on his lips.

when he's british and in a band 🤤🥰

If Wilbur was being honest seeing that kinda boosted his ego just a tad. He tried to find it later, when he was no longer in the bus and wasn't practically surrounded by everyone but all he could find was screenshot of it from both of your fans which led him to think that you probably didn't mean to post for your millions of followers. He kinda felt bad for you—lord knows he'd been embarrassed before—and there was a part of him that wanted to reach out to you but he thought of another way to try and comfort you or maybe even tease you.

He typed something in his phone and after a few words of encouragement before finally saying 'fuck it', Wilbur pressed the blue tweet button.

when you're british and in a band 😏

He'd definitely be hearing about this in the upcoming days. 

~~

2 weeks before the show Months went by quickly and before you know it, the Lovejoy show in Los Angeles was getting closer and closer. You and Wilbur were constantly communicating; phone calls, texts, video calls. You name it, both of you probably did it. He always told you how the shows went, where he and the rest of the band went to unwind and explore after the show. He would send you a picture of a film poster that had your face in it. He would tell you facts about the states he was in and you would find it endearing, adorable, and impressive how he knows all of that. You did the same to him. You told him about your days. You told him about future roles that you might want to audition for. You recommended places to visit if you've ever been where he was. It was beginning to be a part of your routine, listening and talking to Wilbur, and you love every minute of it.

This time it was no different. You were out and about, headphones plugged in your ear, Wilbur's voice drowning out all the other noises, while your sunglasses covered eyes scoured the storefronts decorated in mannequins.

"Oh, I'm just wandering around. Nothing exciting, really. I just--"

You saw two young women approached you, phone in their hand, a book and pen in the other. The nervous smiles and whispers shared amongst them was something you became accustomed to by now whenever people recognize you.

"y/n? Are you still there?" Wilbur asked, a slight worry in his voice at your sudden pause.

"Yeah, sorry, Wil. I'm fine. Could you just give me a second?"

"Yeah, of course."

You put your sunglasses over your head and flashed a friendly smile, trying to make them comfortable.

"Hey guys, how are you?"

"Hi, y/n. It's nice to meet you. We love your new movie."

"Aww. Thank you so much. I'm glad you like it. Do you want me to sign that?" You asked, pointing at the book.

"Yeah, and could we get a picture too if that's not too much?"

You nodded. "Yeah, of course. Not at all."

~~

On the other side of the line, Wilbur just sat and listened to your voice. You didn't mute the call and he was glad you didn't--not because he wanted to eavesdrop or anything like that. He just enjoyed hearing the sound of your voice. Everyday he just looks forward to it, hearing you say hello and his name coming out your lips. He dreads whenever you had to say goodbye or 'I have to go' and it took every will power inside of him to not just beg for you to stay for another second. He was absolutely and utterly smitten with you. 

"Are you going to the lovejoy show soon, y/n?" A distant voice asked.

At the mention of his band, Wilbur perked up.

"Yeah, I am." His heart fluttered at how excited you were. Damn you. "Are you guys too?"

"Yeah,  we came here to see them actually."

"Oh, that's awesome."

The two of you exchanged a few more words until a different voice spoke.

"I think you and Wilbur are really cute together."

You laughed, but it was quite awkward. He knew you didn't expect hearing that and neither did he.

"Are you guys dating?"

Wilbur cringed at the question and by now he knew you well enough that you probably did too. It's an awkward and quite frankly intrusive questions to ask someone but for some reason the questions lingered inside his mind. Are you dating? The two of you flirted at each other, more so him than you. You spent an ungodly amount of time talking to each other. Both of you knew about the other's feeling but, you never really said it out loud. It was just there, in the air--if he had to put it dramatically. He cursed at himself mentally before devising a plan, a mission. He was going to tell you, straight up. When he see you in two weeks, he would muster up all the courage in his 6'6 body and ask you out on a date.

"Tell them no and that you fucking hate my guts." Wilbur said to the phone.

He could tell you were smiling from how you sounded and during the entire encounter Wilbur's voice filled your ears, talking about things that made you want to laugh.

~~

The day of the show. A sudden gush of wind flew by and you shivered, tugging the jacket you wore closer. Sam stood beside you with a matching jacket--something that you didn't coordinate at all--with hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. In front and behind you, people were waiting in line outside the venue Lovejoy will be playing at. A few people recognized the two of you, excited whispers shared amongst friends who no doubt were convinced that there's definitely something going on with you and Wilbur while others just didn't care at all which you were thankful for.

"Do you think I would make it here back in time if I went and grab us some food from that place we like?" Sam asked, a bored look on his face.

You gave him a look. "Did you not eat before?"

He shook his head nonchalantly.

"Dude, this is a--what, two hours show? Why didn't you eat before?"

"Cause I wasn't hungry before."

"Then, why didn't you get something on the way here?"

"Because-" Sam wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer, lowering his voice. "-I want to make sure you get to meet your prince charming right on time."

You shrugged off his arm. "Shut up. Also, I don't mind if we're late just a little bit, you know."

"I know."

Suddenly, the line started to move and the crowd cheered, including you. With the supervision of a security guard at the door, everyone walked in an orderly fashion, and with every step you took, the anticipation grew inside you. Out of habit, you held onto Sam's arm. He knew you well enough to know what the action meant so, he just tapped your hand twice, a silent gesture to tell you that he was there.

~~

He couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe his fucking eyes. There you were like you said you would. In the middle of crowd, bright and wide eyes, like something out of a movie. It was a cliche happening in real life, his life, and it was unexplainable what he felt. Your eyes was magnet, pulling his line of sight to you only. He could feel his cheeks stretched, smiling at the sight of your gorgeous face in the dim light. The guy next to you, who he thinks must be Sam, smirked at him and it made Wilbur hide his smile behind the microphone in front of him. He thought to himself if he noticed, did other people notice too? And to answer his own question, he looked to his left where Ash were and there was that smile, the smile that tease him on the van when he found your tweet. He looked to his right, at Joe, and he found him laughing.

Wilbur found the situation amusing and slightly embarrasing. God, he's so incredibly taken by you that he was making a fool himself. The show hasn't even started yet. They've yet to play the first song. How was he to get through the entire night? He would probably be a certified clown or joker by that point. He looked to you again, the smile that he saw never left your lips.

"Hello, Los Angeles! Thank you all for coming."

The crowd cheered including you. He swore he could you amongst the other voices.

"Thanks for having us here and hope you all enjoy the show."

Mark started them off and without a second to waste they played the first song of the night with Wilbur in a newfound spirit at the presence of you. 

~~

The night didn't end at the show for you. Not long after Lovejoy left the stage, your phone buzzed inside your pocket. A notification from Wilbur, telling you to stay and that someone will come and get you and Sam. After a long wait, since you had to wait until everyone left the venue, someone you least expected came. It was Wilbur himself. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of him. When he said someone will come and get you, you didn't realized it was going to be him. You knew he was tall but seeing him in real life, face to face, just made you realize how tall he actually was. You both stared at each other, smiling sheepishly. The moment both of you had been waiting for was there yet you could only stare into each other's eyes.

Wilbur spoke first. "Hey, y/n."

"Hi, Wil."

There was this awkward moment where one of you went for a handshake and the other for a hug before finally going for the latter. You had to stand on your tiptoes to wrapped your arms around his neck. When you felt his arms around your waist, butterflies burst inside you. You didn't understand how a single touch could make you feel this way, traveling all over your body. You gave the hug, Wilbur really, a squeeze despite the fact he had probably been sweating. If him just putting your arms around your waist made you feel things then him squeezing you back made your heart combust.

When Sam cleared his throat, the two of you pulled away like a pair of teenagers getting caught doing something. Your hands was on Wilbur's chest, albeit clenched, and Wilbur's had his still on your waist.

"Hey there, I'm Sam." He smiled, reaching out his hand.

Wilbur stumbled over his words, his hands left your waist when he realized it was still there. He shook Sam's hand. "Hi, sorry, I'm Wilbur, uh, Wil-" Wilbur shook his head. "-Anything works, really."

Sam nodded. "Congrats on the show."

"Thanks, man. I'm glad you enjoy it."

The two men let go of their hands and you hoped Sam doesn't do any passive-aggressive threatening on Wilbur like he did with people that have shown interest in you.

~~

"So, hi. Finally."

You giggled at Wilbur. You couldn't remember if you giggled this much when talking to someone that you like, when you were still with Alex. There's just something about Wilbur that made your cheeks hurt by smiling too wide and laughing to hard. The two of you were in a bar, along with Sam and the rest of the band, a place that you and Sam recommended. It was your hidden gem, a place to unwind without attracting any attention. The guys were in the booth, Sam fitting in well with the brits, discussing music or something else. You and Wilbur sat on the stools, intentionally distancing yourself away from your friends for a time alone.

"Hi, finally." You smiled. You realized you haven't stop smiling this whole night.

Wilbur ducked his head, smiling. "I'm sorry if I'm being weird. I just—I can't believe I'm here, with you. Seems unreal."

"I get what you mean. I keep imagining how seeing you would be like and now that I am, it still feels weird almost."

"Oh." He quirked up his brow, a teasing smile. "So, you've been imagining me?"

You felt the heat rose to your cheeks. Shit. "N–not like that."

"Like what then?"

"Stop it. You're messing with me."

Wilbur laughed and god you want to hear that for the rest of your life. "I'm sorry. You look very adorable when flustered."

You only laughed, looking at your hands since his eyes on you starting to become overwhelming. It wasn’t bad or uncomfortable by any means. It’s just that you don’t think someone has ever looked at you like that, with so much affection. “God, I think I’m gonna die of embarassement at this point.

He smiled, then the words left his lips. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

Your body straightened, eyes wide. “What?”

“Go on a date with me. Tomorrow. Before I head back on tour.”

It felt like your brain was lagging. It took awhile for his proposition to sink into your head but when it did it you wanted nothing more than grab Sam by the shoulder, shook him, and scream ‘he’s asking me out on a date’. You didn’t any of that, of course—you were an adult—so, instead, you had the biggest smile on your face, eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.

“I would love to go on a date with you.”

Joe nudged Ash on his side, nodding towards the two of you smiling like idiots. Sam and Mark noticed as well and the group of men shared knowing looks amongst themselves. They talked about the two of you among other things, discussing on when Wilbur will finally ask you out. They didn’t have super hearing but just by the looks of him, they knew he did it and you said yes. Without any warning, Sam started clapping and cheering, surprising everyone.

“Finally. I thought the two of you are just gonna sit there and stare into each other’s eyes the entire night. You did ask them out, right, Wil?”

Wilbur nodded, smiling. “Yes, I did.”

“Sam!” You scolded him.

“What?” He shrugged.  “It’s true. They can vouch for me.”

The three of them nodded, followed by murmurs of yeah’s and definitely’.

You shook your head, before turning back around to Wilbur, face flushed.  

“At least I know that he approves of me.”

You spend the rest of the night smiling, laughing and drinking, exchanging stories with your new friends and Wilbur. When the night had to end and all of you had to leave, you wrapped your arms around Wilbur’s neck. He leaned down a little to make it easier for you and wrapped his arms around your torso. You whispered how much you enjoy the night and the show, he whispered the same. When you pulled away from his warm embrace, a task proven difficult to do, you planted a kiss on his cheek. He was surprised to say the least. The action, albeit small, left him speechless. The feeling of your lips on his skin almost send him into an overdrive. He was sure the pounding he heard in his eardrums was the sound of his heartbeat beating rapidly. When you said goodbye all he could muster up was a weak wave and a lovestruck smile. All he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to see you again tomorrow.  

~~

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[theharrowing]

Hope for the Holidays

Meeting someone extraordinary and deciding to leave your partner of three years wasn’t quite what you had in mind for the holiday season, but life rarely goes as planned, does it?

❄ Hoseok x Non-binary (AFAB) Reader ❄ word count: 25.9k ❄ strangers to lovers, chance encounters, slow burn, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw ❄ warnings: a smidgen of emotional infidelity (but mc tries not to!), emotionally manipulative, toxic and vindictive partner, having complicated feelings about a relationship, breaking up, hurt/comfort, falling for someone new, angst, fluff, not going home for the holidays, strained relationship with family, panic & anxiety, recreational drinking, moving on very fast, falling in love, honestly just trying to live their best lives ❄ this fic is part of a hyung holiday collab! check out the other fics by @here2bbtstrash, @gimmethatagustd and @sailoryooons! ❄ beta read by @neoneunnajimin, banner by @sailoryooons ❄ posted on dec. 2022 | read on ao3

❄ note: hi friends! this is a breakup fic, as advertised. but it is also a discover someone new fic and a feel alive for the first time in a long time fic. although mc's relationship isn't explicitly abusive, the way Ash behaves may be reminiscent of the way abusers behave so please proceed with caution. this has a happy ending, so don't fret! i poured a lot of my personal feelings into mc, their relationship to the holidays, and their strained relationship to their family. there is going to be angst and lots of fluff (and in a separate part, there will be smut, so if you are not an enjoyer of smut, then the ending of this part is also an ending.) also! shout out to @m1sss1mp for letting me use her name (sorry you were a chismosa in this story hehe i'll give you a kinder role next time! <3) since Ave is a real person, i did not describe her, so you are free to imagine she looks any way you would like!

With each buzz of your cell phone, you take a deep, shaky breath in an attempt to steel yourself. You already know what to expect, and this is not the conversation you want to be having on this bright—albeit frigid—Wednesday afternoon. 

You answer the call and do your best not to sound too nervous as you say, “Hey, Ash!” in a practiced, bright tone.

They sigh, which sends a pang of anxiety to your guts, and you squeeze your eyes closed, turning from the sun that suddenly shines far too brightly into your reading nook. 

“Baby! Hey! I miss your voice, oh my god.”

Their chipper tone brings you a hint of relief, and you smile in an effort to keep your voice smiling, as well. “I miss you too. How is everything? How are the parents?”

“Parents are good,” they respond, sounding a bit out of breath. “Dad and I just took a little hike around the land, and mom’s been cooking up a storm! They’re both stoked to see you. Any, uh…any word on that?”

Of course, Ash would jump straight to the point. You feel like mold in a petri dish, ready for examination. 

“I, uh…” you cringe. “No. No, I haven’t been able to find any good prices, and—“

Ash sighs—heavy, exasperated. “Baby, please just let us chip in,” they mutter quietly, as if to hide their words from eavesdroppers. “It’s fine, they want to help—“

“I don’t want that, Ash,” you insist, absolutely unwilling to let their parents send you any money. “Look, I’ll keep trying. There’s bound to be a holiday deal, maybe I can cope with a long layover somewhere warm…I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

It’s silent for a beat, and you inhale slowly, count to three, and then let the breath out. 

“It’s okay, baby. If things don’t work out, there’s always next year.”

You hum a weak, “mmhmm,” feeling anxiety pound at your rib cage. 

“At least you got yourself a tree,” Ash says brightly, as if attempting to save the mood. 

You glance around your reading nook, where the large, ornate pine tree would ordinarily stand, finding only pillows and stacks of books. “Yup.”

“Send me a pic! I want to see it!”

Panic rises like bile in your throat, and you do your best to swallow it down. “I w—I will. I haven’t found the perfect topper, yet, so once I do that, I’ll send a pic,” you lie. 

“Just use mine! It's in a box somewhere."

"Uh–okay, I'll look for it."

"Alright, well, I have to go. Let me know if you find any tickets! Mom and dad really miss you!” There’s an insistent bite in Ash’s tone, and you do your best to ignore it. 

“I will, baby," you respond, unable to hide the shake in your voice. "I miss them too.” 

“Bye, I love you!”

With shaky hands, you end the call, and glance around the space. A tree. If you won’t fly out to San Francisco, the least you can do is get yourself a tree. What a bother. 

The thing about living in the middle of a big city and choosing not to own a vehicle—because the public transit is okay enough to get you where you need to go—is that getting large things like an eight-foot fucking pine tree is a bit of a hassle. 

Thankfully, with the internet comes people ready and willing to deliver pretty much anything you could possibly desire, often within the span of several days. 

And that is how you wind up in the crowded foyer of your apartment building, attempting to heave a giant box toward the elevator. As soon as you laid eyes on the thing standing tall beside the mailboxes, you burst out laughing. There is just no fucking way—absolutely ridiculous. 

You probably make it two inches in the correct direction before deciding that this box is not only too tall, but too heavy to move, and instead, you sit on the foot of the steps with your head in your hands, running through a list of people you may be able to bribe to help you out, shooting off a few texts starting with folks who live nearby. 

“This is just fucking great,” you mutter under your breath. 

All of this, you’re doing to appease someone who won’t even be here to see the damn tree, just so that you can prove to them that you’re not miserable without them. 

The truth is, this is the first time you’ve really gotten to breathe in months, and having a holiday-tree-free home has been just fine. But that is a thought you do not let yourself dwell on. You and Ash have been together for three years; you have a history. Every relationship has its rough patches. This is simply one of those. And who knows, maybe having the damn tree around will brighten your mood. That is, if you can get it into your apartment.

With a defeated sigh, you bury your face in your hands and let out a heavy exhale. Why is it that the holidays always come with some sort of nonsense? This is truly the cherry on top of a towering nonsense cake. 

You are about to say fuck it and leave the box in the lobby for someone else to claim, when the front door of the building opens, and in comes a large, cold gust of wind and one of the prettiest people you have ever seen. 

They’re tall, wearing a long, camel tan jacket with fur lining the hood and perfectly framing their face—sharp yet soft, and scrunched in the cutest frown you have ever seen. 

“Shit,” they mutter under their breath in a slightly high-pitched, nasally voice. “It's cold!”

The pretty stranger meets your eye and gives a wide smile, and if you weren’t already swooning, their heart-shaped lips would have done you in. You sit up straight, beginning to worry that you are in the way of this stranger, and start to shift around on the steps that are effectively blocked by a large box.

"Need some help?" the person asks with an accent that rolls their words ever so slightly. 

You shake your head and mutter, "No, no it's too heavy. I think I'll leave it."

"Leave it here?" the person asks with wide eyes, and you nod your head. 

"Yeah."

They hum and glance around the box, then ask, "Which floor are you on?"

"Three," you respond meekly, hoping that with that information, they will surmise that it is, in fact, too big to get to your door, and that you should leave it out on the street. 

They hum again, then say, "Wait here. Two minutes!" and take off running toward the elevator. 

You stand, holding a hand out while shouting, "Wait, no, it's alright," but as they press a button, closing the elevator doors, they smile widely, holding up two fingers, convincing you to stay. 

With a huff, you sit back on the steps and take out your phone. Of course, your traitor friends have not responded to your pleas for assistance, leaving you to wait on some beautiful stranger who left in a flash, just as chaotically as they arrived.

When the elevator dings, you sit up straight and turn toward the sound, and you actually feel disappointed to find someone else exiting and walking down the hall. They pause to ask if you need help with the box, but the way they stand—chest and shoulders puffed out with a frown on their face—has you certain they are just asking to be polite.

"Nah," you say, shaking your head. "I'm waiting for someone."

They shrug and leave, and that is that. Now, you are some weirdo on the steps with a giant box who has been perceived by not one building tenant, but two, and you are ready to bury a deep, deep hole in the earth where you can go lay down and freeze to death.

Certain that two minutes have passed and the pretty stranger may have just been messing with you, you stand and begin to push the box back toward the front door. They never said what they were going to get; maybe they decided that offering you help was a mistake and that the best thing for them to do is run far away and never show their face on the third floor. You can't say you would blame them.

The elevator dings once more, and you hear the sound of wheels against the shitty linoleum of the foyer. You turn to find your beautiful building-mate standing before you with a layer of clothing shed, and a dolly in their hand. How and why they even have that device is beyond you, and you nearly cry when they wheel it up and stop it just before the box.

With an eyebrow raised, they ask, "You were pushing it to the door, weren't you?" in a teasing tone.

Warmth floods your cheeks, and you give a sheepish glance, responding, "Noooo..." sarcastically. 

"Here," they offer, pointing the dolly at you to hold onto, and you walk around them to take the handles, which come up to your ribs, holding it in place while they wiggle the box onto the rectangular base on the bottom, which sits between two large wheels. Then, they come back around and hold out their hands, muttering, "I got this," so you step aside and watch in horror as they slowly lift the far end of the box from the floor, tilting it toward their body, then begin to walk backwards toward the elevator. 

You charge ahead and push the call button, then run inside as soon as the doors open to hold the button that keeps them from closing. It is a precarious feat to get the eight-foot tall box into the small elevator with the two of you, and there is quite a bit of squishing yourselves against the wall with your feet nearly getting rolled over before the doors are able to close.

As you crane your neck to look at the person standing with their shoulder pressed into yours, they look at you and smile. 

"My name is Hoseok, by the way."

"Hoseok," you repeat, enjoying how it sounds on your tongue. You tell them your name, followed by, "They, them pronouns."

Hoseok's eyes widen, and he smiles softly. "My pronouns are he, him."

"Nice to meet you," you mutter, glad to have that all sorted out.

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but the elevator dings open. The fight to get out and into the hallway begins, though it is much easier this time around, and you pause briefly after exiting, allowing your heartbeat to even out. It takes you a moment to realize Hoseok does not know where to deliver the tree, and you spring into action, walking a few doors down before coming to a stop in front of yours and fishing a key from your pocket.

"Will someone be by to help you decorate this later?" Hoseok asks politely.

You shove the door open, kicking stray shoes out of the way, and allow Hoseok to enter the space. A kitchenette is to the left, with a countertop that separates it from the small dining area and living room. Ahead, past the restored wood tables and forest green couches, is a nook where the windows jut out, creating a nice, cozy space for you to sit and read. You lead the way, picking up stray clothing items, then tell Hoseok to set the box down beside a pile of books.

"No," you finally respond. "It's just me."

Sheepishly, you glance around and scratch your head as the realization hits that you don't have anything to decorate the tree with. Ash has a bin of holiday items, and you are certain that there are some that are meant for a tree, but the idea of digging through their things makes you uncomfortable.

"Actually, I don't have anything to put on this yet," you admit.

"I guess we have to go shopping, then," Hoseok says with a soft smile.

We. Just like that, Hoseok breezes into your life and makes himself at home, and you feel helpless to stop him, returning his smile with a smaller one, as you mutter, "I guess we do."

While shopping with Hoseok, you learn several things about him. The first of which is that he is from Gwangju, South Korea, which is about three hours south of the capital city Seoul, by car. He moved halfway across the globe about a year and a half ago to study fashion abroad, and since he isn't a huge traditionalist when it comes to Christmas, he opted to save his trip home for the Lunar New Year, instead. 

You also learn that Hoseok is extremely curious and animated, and he enjoys pointing at and touching things, making tiny little sound effects, and turning everything into characters for which he creates special voices. You found it alarming at first and shied away from the excitement, ducking your head and looking on in confusion. But as you eased into the afternoon with Hoseok, you found yourself pointing to things that reminded you of previous characters and moments, and laughing along. 

"It's nice to see you relax," Hoseok says over a steaming paper cup of hot chocolate, and you look up with a start, tilting your head the way he tilts his whenever you say something that doesn't sink in immediately. 

"What do you mean?" you mutter, bringing your own paper cup of cocoa to your lips and blowing over the top to cool it enough for a sip. 

"You've just been really tense all day," Hoseok continues, still holding his drink to his lips but making no move to taste it. "Not a complaint, though; just an observation."

You hum and accept Hoseok's observation. Truth be told, you have been tense for months—not just this morning. And, in fact, this time spent with Hoseok is the first time you have really laughed and let yourself go in so long, you actually feel embarrassed. Holing up in your apartment by yourself and being a recluse has been too easy, especially with the weather as cold as it has been, and you have forgotten how nice it is to get out and have a cup of hot chocolate. 

Try as you might to not let your mind wander to when things used to be this carefree and simple, you can't help it. You imagine the early days with Ash when you would meet up at the local cafes and initiate impromptu snowball fights, falling into a pile of goose feather padded fabric and giggling with snow stuck to your hair and a chill on your cheeks. 

Now it's tense smiles and words replaced by hums and grunts. You can't remember the last time you bought a gift out of the blue because you saw something that reminded you of them, or suggested trying a new eatery just for the fun of it. Even meals cooked at home are usually performed by one, without consulting the other, and you either share the food or choose to make something else.

How depressing. 

"Earth to marshmallow," Hoseok chimes, waving a hand over your face, and you blink away from your thoughts, tasting rich, warm chocolate on your lips. 

"Marsh—" you begin, questioning his choice of nickname, when you feel a stray, small marshmallow stuck to your bottom lip. You tug your lip into your mouth while warmth rises to your cheeks and set your cup down so you can bury your face in your hands. 

"Embarrassing," you groan. 

Hoseok begins to yank at one of your wrists, and you give in, smiling as your one free eye reveals his smiling face. 

"It was cute," Hoseok teases, releasing his grasp on you. 

The spot Hoseok touched tingles, and you drop both hands to the table and rub your fingers over your wrist in the hope of making the feeling go away. 

"So," Hoseok says with a wide, pretty grin, "we got tinsel, lights, some ornaments—but maybe not enough ornaments?"

You shake your head. "Definitely not enough ornaments."

"So we just need more of those and a topper, and this tree is ready to decorate!"

You nod and worry your bottom lip. Shopping with Hoseok has been nice, but you feel bad for dragging him all around downtown, looking for the perfect decorations. Why you are being so picky about the final product in the first place is beyond you, since this tree is more to appease Ash than anything, and they won't be back in time to even see the fucking thing. Why should you care so much?

"I think we should find something that is less traditional than an angel for the top," Hoseok suggests, eyes staring off into the distance as he takes a sip from his cup and lets it settle in his mouth before swallowing. "You don't strike me as an angel person."

"Like a star?" you recommend, considering the shades of gold and pretty pastel colors that the rest of the decorations are. 

Hoseok hums. "Exactly! I think a star would be perfect."

The realization hits you, sinking into your guts to swirl with all the bile and acid: You care about the way the tree looks because Hoseok cares, and you want his approval. During the entire shopping trip, you deferred to his opinion and considered his feedback. And now, here you are, sipping hot chocolate and planning the star—the piece de resistance—with him as if this tree is also his. 

If you had any shame at all—even just a single ounce of it—you would cut the excursion short, lie about something you need to do back home, and take what decorations you have back to your place to adorn the tree alone while shopping online for the rest of what you need, thus cutting all ties between Hoseok and the entire event. 

But you do not want to exclude him from even a second of this project because his company is warm and comforting, and you hate the thought of doing it alone. And sure, you can remind yourself all day that you wouldn't be doing any of this alone in the first place if you had just gone to San Francisco with your partner as is tradition, which you have done for the last two Christmas and New Year seasons, mostly to make them happy. 

But things don't always work out according to plan, and you think maybe it is time to start new holiday traditions that bring you joy. Hoseok is the only reason you got the damn thing into your apartment in the first place; he deserves to see this through to the end, as well. 

At least, that's what you tell yourself in order to abate the guilt.

With a fortifying breath, you put the compostable plastic lid back onto your hot chocolate, take a drink, and then ask, "Ready?"

Hoseok beams at you, eyes turning into pretty little crescent moons as he replies, "Ready."

Ash That's...interesting.

You Interesting? Really?

Ash I mean, it's not really Christmas-y.

You It is literally a Christmas tree. 

Ash Why didn't you use any of my decorations? Seems like a hassle to go out and buy all new stuff when I have a bin full of shit that you could have used. 

You IDK it felt weird going through your stuff.

Your phone rings, and you sigh, watching as Ash's name and smiling face appear on the screen. Beside you—on your couch, watching some shitty Hallmark movie that you have all but spaced away from paying attention to—Hoseok cocks his head to the side and knits his eyebrows, studying your sullen expression. 

"I have to take this," you grumble, standing from the warmth of your fuzzy baby blue blanket and making sure the large bowl of popcorn that sits between the two of you is undisturbed. 

Hoseok nods and reaches for the remote, but you shake your head and say, "It's fine, don't pause it," as you leave the living room and walk to your bedroom. 

Ash has already cut the unanswered call short, and you thumb through your phone and call them back. It rings twice before they pick up and let out a familiar sigh, setting your nerves on end.

"Sorry, I—"

"You can text but you can't answer your phone?" Ash snaps.

Your jaw tenses and you take a deep breath, attempting to keep your voice steady. "I was on the toilet, geez. Did you want to listen to me flush and wash my hands that badly?"

"It's not like I haven't literally watched you take a piss," they respond, and you roll your eyes.

"Pardon me for wanting a moment of privacy."

Silence hangs, and you wait for Ash to speak since they were the one to initiate a conversation by calling first. When they say nothing, you mutter, "So you hate the tree?"

"I don't hate the tree, babe, I just...I don't understand what you're doing."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Ash sighs loudly, "it feels like you're not even trying to come here, and now you're decorating the tree with shit that you went out to get yourself rather than just using what I have. It's like you're trying to cut me out of your holiday altogether, and it just feels fucking...weird."

Your gut instinct is to get defensive and question where this newfound paranoia is coming from, but although Ash is not correct in their assumption, they are also not entirely wrong. No, you are not trying to cut them intentionally out of your holiday, but it is true that some part of you has begun to pull away from them, in general. 

"Ash," you respond, keeping your voice as level and guilt-free as you can manage, "I'm not trying to cut you out of anything, alright? I just had some free time and wanted to go trudge around in the snow for my own decorations. I'm sorry if that made you feel left out."

Ash hums, and mutters, "Alright. Sorry for getting defensive."

Although nobody can see you, you shrug as you say, "Nah, I think it's a perfectly reasonable way to feel. And I'm glad you voiced those feelings."

"Thanks for being understanding," Ash says, then, after some chatter is heard in the background, they mutter, "Gotta go, babe. Love you," and hang up before you can say anything back.

As you shove your phone into your hoodie pocket, you rock in place, unsure where you want to settle your feet. It would be rude to stay in your room while your guest is on the sofa, but returning to the living room and explaining your relationship to Hoseok feels...awkward.

And you are unsure why it feels that way because it's not as if he would judge you for being in a relationship. At least, you assume that to be the case; you don't really know. It is late evening on day one of your whirlwind friendship with Hoseok, and he has already taken up more space in your life than anyone else has in months. 

After the shopping excursion, Hoseok ran to his place—also on the third floor, on the far end of the hallway—to change into dry socks and some sweatpants while you also changed, and then he returned promptly to help you clear away the piles of your books, unpack the tree, decorate the tree, and help himself to two bags of microwavable popcorn that you had forgotten were in the kitchen cabinet. 

There were talks of eating actual dinner, but Hoseok became very invested in a film about two neighbors competing to decorate their house for Christmas, so you settled on popcorn because you are an adult and are free to make poor dietary choices from time to time. 

All day, despite the ebb and flow of emotions, everything with Hoseok has felt really easy.

Hoseok is very friendly and open, and he would most likely be understanding of whatever version of the situation you choose to tell him. So why would it be awkward? Assuming today is not just a one-time thing, Ash will eventually come home and meet your new friend. So he should therefore know they exist, right?

You trudge back to the living room with an impassive smile, hoping that your presence alone will be enough and that Hoseok will refrain from asking questions. And your wish is granted as he shoves popcorn into his mouth while attempting to explain everything you missed in what he has adorably coined The Battle of the Dads. With a nod and a smile you listen, despite having no idea which dad is which in this story. It doesn't matter; Hoseok is smiling. 

Your apartment feels empty when Hoseok leaves—too quiet for comfort. You had gotten so used to the chattering, the humming and singing, the sounds of busy shopping malls, hanging decorations with hip-hop tracks playing in the background, and winding down in front of the television. This one day feels like several have passed, and you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, fighting the urge to text Hoseok, just for something to do. 

You failed to bring up Ash after returning from the phone call, but there are signs of them all over, so you reason that Hoseok has probably picked up on the fact that another person lives in the apartment with you. Earlier, when you were talking about Hoseok's life, and how he was not intending on going home for the holiday, you had mentioned that you were also not planning to visit any family, but you left out the part about Ash's family. For once, it felt good to have a conversation about the holiday season and not really think about their family at all.

It is not as if they are bad people; Ash's parents are wonderful. But there is something about being the add-on to someone else's holiday celebration that makes you feel a little displaced. And not for lack of trying on their part; Ash's mother always goes out of her way to make sure your favorite snacks are stocked, and she is very considerate with the gifts she buys you. But, no matter how hard she tries, you will always feel like an outlier. And this year, you are not in the mood to feel that way.

Perhaps, in the back of your mind, you are allowing yourself to admit that you and Ash are drifting apart a little too much, and that things will probably never be as exciting and nice as they used to be. Ash is becoming more standoffish and defensive, always assuming the worst about every little thing—even from miles and miles away. 

And you are tired. Work is stagnant, the city doesn't feel as charming as it used to, your friends are all getting married and having children, and you feel like there is nothing left to do but let the tides carry you like a hunk of driftwood. Will the waters pull you back out to sea, to discover new and exciting things? Or will they toss you onto the sand and leave you to rot in the sun for the rest of your days? It does not matter because you simply do not have the energy to care one way or another. 

Except...for today, with Hoseok. 

For one day, everything else felt tertiary; less important. Hanging out with him felt so natural and comfortable—as if you had known each other for years—and time flew past in the blink of an eye. When he disagreed with one of your suggestions, he was polite and non-judgmental, and he never attempted to talk you out of something—even when the pink tinsel you wanted was evidently "bland and inferior" to the pink tinsel he liked best, he encouraged you to buy it anyway. In the end, you bought them both, just to make him smile. 

Hoseok feels like a breath of fresh air—a tide gently pulling you away with a promise to no longer let you smash into the cliff sides over and over again. Hoseok is full of life, abundant with joy, and shrouded in mystery. Though, if you continue to play on the ocean cliche, the mysterious bit becomes less appealing, as the ocean is literally full of unimaginable horrors, but in your sleep-addled state, you reason that you can let the metaphor slip just this once.

With a sigh, you turn to your side and close your eyes. Staring at the ceiling all night is not going to do you any good, so instead, you begin to replay the moments of your day that stood out the most. Hoseok whooshing into the building like a friendly wind elemental to save you from your sorrows. Hoseok suggesting hot chocolate and taking you to a place he recently discovered and was so giddy to show you. Hoseok smiling, and giggling, and laughing, and being so calm and patient while a silent storm raged inside you. 

With a smile on your face, you fall asleep thinking about Hoseok. 

"Wait," you mutter against his lips. "I can't."

He pulls you closer, makes you whine as your bodies press together flush and fitting, like they were always meant to be.

"Of course, we can," he teases, voice far lower than you remember. 

Your palms are on his chest, and you attempt to push him away, but he holds you tighter, tighter, tighter. 

"You don't love them," he growls, words stinging like capsaicin across your lips.

You push some more, afraid to agree but far more afraid to disagree. Whatever this is, it cannot be happening. Especially not with him. 

"Give in to your desires," he growls like a wild beast. "You want me, so have me."

"I can't!" you shout, attempting to push him away. 

When you wake up, sweat beading on your forehead, you sit with a start, muttering, "I can't," under your breath. 

Your heart pounds like a drum behind your ribs, and you attempt to get your bearings, searching your bedroom for any sign that something is amiss—desperate to be out of that dream.  

If you try hard enough, you can remember the smell of Hoseok's musky, floral cologne and how, in your dream, it invaded your senses and made you dizzy with desire, against your better judgment. 

This is bad. You have only known Hoseok for one day, and already, you are having dreams of infidelity while in his arms. Your only reprieve is that you cannot imagine Hoseok actually behaving in that manner. That was purely a work of your imagination. Though, where it is coming from, is a mystery. 

Hoseok is attractive, yes, but you barely know him. Ordinarily, it takes a lot of emotional connection before you begin to feel the arousal butterflies flitting about, and although you did feel incredibly comfortable with Hoseok yesterday, it should take far more than that to have you dreaming about nearly kissing him. 

At least you manage to wake up at an appropriate hour, and rather than having to fight to get more shut-eye, you toss aside your blankets, slip your feet into a pair of bright yellow chicken slippers, and pad into the kitchen to start up your coffee pot. 

As a rule, you try to begin your day without immediately checking your phone, and you usually have no problem with going through the motions of making coffee and breakfast, consuming the coffee and breakfast, and then returning to your room to check your notifications before you shower and get on with the day. But today, as you set out the frying pan and open the fridge to grab two eggs, you find your mind wandering to your phone again and again. 

You wonder whether Hoseok is awake and if he has plans for the day. He still has classes, but he mentioned half of them are online, and you wonder if he is on campus yet, or still just down the hall. Or, perhaps, at a third, unknown location. 

Although you work as a freelance writer, you tend to have the holiday months carved out for traveling, and for that reason, you do not have much to do. The pile of books began to accumulate at the reading-nook-turned-tree-nook all thanks to not having much of anything to do without Ash around. Before meeting Hoseok, you were comfortable in the vast nothingness, but now you feel antsy. 

With your breakfast cooked and your coffee steaming up from your favorite mug, you trudge into your bedroom and grab your phone from its charger. It is only 8 AM, but you still find yourself surprised to have no notifications, and even feel a tinge of sadness. Surely your new platonic bestie would think to message you the moment his eyes opened to the new day. 

Just thinking about it makes you cringe. Seriously, who are you?

With a huff, you return to the small dining table and plop down to go through the motions of breaking fast despite barely being awake enough to be hungry. The coffee helps to perk you up, but you still feel listless and out of sorts after that very tame but alarming dream. You are no stranger to your subconscious thrusting arousal upon you at unsuspecting times over people you adore, but this...this just seems far too hasty. 

For the rest of the morning, you make motions through the apartment, navigating around the giant tree to find your copy of Bell Hooks' All About Love, and curling up on your couch with your favorite blanket. 

In a blink, your coffee is empty, the words are beginning to blur, and you stretch your limbs before getting up and walking around, glancing outside to see the early afternoon sun hanging high. 

You should go out and do something, you tell yourself. Yesterday was a blast; you should make today another blast. But you hesitate to text your neighbor, and there is nobody else who lives nearby and is not already fully absorbed in the chaos that this time of year brings. You could always go alone—something you have happily done plenty of times before—but a voice scratches at the back of your mind, telling you to text him, text him, text him. 

You Busy? I was thinking about going out to grab lunch.

You chew on the inside of your mouth while you wait, anxious for a response. When your phone finally dings—a mere thirty or so seconds later—you let out a light, excited huff of air and check the notification immediately.

Hoseok Not busy. Give me 10?

You Sounds perfect.

In a flash, you toss the book aside and jump to your feet, making your way to your bedroom to attempt to become presentable. Luckily, Hoseok already saw you dressed in typical jeans and hoodie attire with no makeup yesterday, because you were not anticipating interacting with another human being when he came breezing into your life, so you don't feel too much pressure to get done up. 

A coat of mascara to make your eyes pop, and a black sweater that is more form-fitting than a hoodie, coupled with a pair of skinny black jeans feels decent enough. You leave your hair down and find your favorite mustard beanie, then check your phone to find twelve minutes have passed since Hoseok asked for ten. 

You wonder if he is the type to take a long time getting ready, and nearly return to your book on the couch when there is a knock at your door. The sound startles you, and you call a shaky, "One moment!" as you make your way to the entrance.

When you twist your knob and fling the door open, the sight nearly takes your breath away. Hoseok's hair is parted over his forehead, and he also looks a little more put together than yesterday, despite wearing the same camel, fur-lined knee-length jacket. Beneath the jacket is a brown, blue, and white argyle sweater and light grey slacks.

"What did you have in mind?" Hoseok asks with a pretty heart-shaped grin, leaning into the doorway.

You take a step back and begin sliding your feet into chunky, brown snow boots. "Honestly, I haven't gotten that far," you admit sheepishly.

"Do you like Korean food?"

You think briefly about what your past experience with Korean food has been. "I've only had Korean barbecue, but I really liked what I had."

"How do you feel about soup?"

Soup does sound good, and you nod as you tie the strings of one boot and then the other. "Soup would hit the spot."

With a pleased hum, Hoseok says, "There's a spot kind of nearby that makes it close to how my mom does...well, as close as I will hope to get away from home."

Eager to know that little detail about Hoseok and his life back home, you agree to trek several neighborhoods over, just to have some soup. Without another word, you throw on a long, black pea coat and wrap a mustard scarf around your neck that matches your hat.

The walk through the hallway, to the elevator, and out to the front entrance of the building all feel uncharacteristically quiet, but you don't question it. There are many reasons a person might be chipper and talkative one day and not the next, and it feels weird to pry. You still don't fully know Hoseok or what kind of a person he is, and this is only day two of discovering the various sides of him. 

Despite the sun hanging high and bright in the sky, the afternoon air chills you to the bone the moment it touches your skin, and you instinctively bring your scarf up to your cheeks. 

"Does it get this cold back home?" you ask, watching your footsteps make prints in the shallow snow, which crunches under every step.

Hoseok hums. "The weather is similar. Cold in the winter and humid in the summer."

At the thought of heat and humidity, you roll your shoulders back, thankful for the cold. Soon enough, your breathing is steady, your posture is relaxed enough not to shiver, and you feel comfortable. And, perhaps, there is a warmth that radiates from your new friend, as well. 

"You wear a lot of black," Hoseok says after a block of comfortable silence. 

You snicker. "I do."

"You would look nice with some color."

Something in your stomach lurches at Hoseok's words, but not necessarily in a bad way; it's hard to put your finger on it. Sure, the thought of looking nice for Hoseok is something that has crossed your mind, but it is much easier to have these thoughts without the added pressure of knowing that he has an opinion on the matter.

"Color is overrated," you tease, turning to watch Hoseok's expression go from calm to feigned offense. "Anyway, you wear enough color for the both of us."

Hoseok laughs, then playfully nudges your shoulder with his, throwing you momentarily off balance. It's so subtle he could not possibly detect the way his touch makes your world spin—throwing you off trajectory entirely—but you can feel it. 

Conversation the rest of the way is so light and relaxed, you keep remembering that you and Hoseok only just met yesterday. You point out cafes, bars, and restaurants that you like and discuss going to them one day together as if there is no question that your future is now forever entwined with his. 

It feels nice to talk about things with no pressure or fear of being judged. So far, the only judgment Hoseok has offered is that you would look nice wearing color—something you can hardly hold against him. He is, after all, a fashion major.

"Does the black make me seem like a gloomy person?" you ask somewhat out of the blue when the conversation lulls. 

Hoseok chuckles beside you. "It was just an observation. Don't let it make you feel insecure."

"It doesn't," you respond somewhat insistently. "I'm just curious."

"Not gloomy," Hoseok says, offering you a smile. "Just less...I don't know...bright?"

The uncertainty in Hoseok's voice could be from worrying about whether you are likely to be offended, and you give him time to sort it out.

"I guess, yeah, gloomy. Black makes you gloomy."

You can't help but laugh and nudge Hoseok with your shoulder. He gasps in surprise and holds his hands up defensively, whining innocently, "I was just repeating what you said!"

All you can do is giggle as Hoseok links his elbow with yours and trudges you forward quickly. It takes about thirty minutes to arrive to your destination, so your cheeks are numb as you walk in the front door, and warmth instantly settles over your skin, tingling ever so slightly. 

The place is quaint, with wooden tables spread throughout and a bar that overlooks part of the kitchen on the far end. Hoseok leads you past all of the tables and pulls out a seat at the bar. Then, he calls to the older woman behind the counter, and they banter in Korean. 

Hoseok speaking his native language kicks up a new feeling in your chest—seeds taking root and germinating into sprouts. Whereas he is usually slow and calculated in his speech with you, with the older lady he is fast, giggly, and emphatic—alive in an all new way. It is beautiful, and you do your best not to stare. 

The older lady disappears into the back, and Hoseok apologizes for speaking for so long and leaving you out. Warmth crawls up to your cheeks when you observe how flushed and giddy he is, and you shake your head and say, "It's alright. I don't mind."

"Do you drink alcohol?" Hoseok asks, and you nod, cracking a smile. 

"From time to time."

"Have you had soju?"

You think you have had soju at the Korean barbeque spot and say, "Maybe? It was clear and reminded me a little of sake."

Hoseok nods and smiles widely. "She's going to warm some up for us."

You grab a menu and look through it, suddenly overwhelmed by the choices. Soups and stews, rice and meat bowls—some with an egg on top. Everything looks amazing. But you want to have the meal that Hoseok says tastes like home.

"Which one is the soup that you mentioned before?" you ask, running your finger somewhat aimlessly over the pictures. 

"Oh, you don't have to get that specific one," Hoseok says as his lips turn into a slight frown. "Everything here is great."

"I want to," you respond with playful defiance, making Hoseok laugh.

"Alright. It's this one," he points to the menu. "Kimchi jjigae. You can get it with pork, tofu, seafood, or a combination. I usually get pork and tofu."

You repeat jjigae quietly to yourself as you read the description, and decide on getting pork and tofu, as well. "That sounds good. I'll have that."

"Should we just get different things to share?" Hoseok suggests. "Or are you afraid of my germs?"

A laugh rocks through your chest before you can stop yourself, and you lightly smack Hoseok on the arm. "We can share. I think I can handle a little soup spit."

There's a sparkle in Hoseok's eyes as he observes you, and it makes your heart pound wildly in your chest. You duck your head down, suddenly feeling shy under his gaze, and pretend to read the menu despite everything blurring and becoming impossible to parse. 

"How about some appetizers, so you can try some different things?" Hoseok suggests, voice softer than before. 

You can't bring yourself to meet his eye and nod instead, looking over the options. Rice cakes in sweet, spicy sauce sounds appealing, and you point at the photo, unsure how to pronounce tteokbokki. Hoseok hums happily, suggests also getting fried chicken, and then it's settled. When the older lady returns, Hoseok slips between speaking Korean and English, sometimes repeating himself in both languages, and once the food is ordered, he gets to work pouring the two of you small glasses of soju.

"She speaks English too, but it's nice to fall back into Korean," Hoseok explains. 

"Understandable," you respond, feeling a myriad of questions bubble up. You want to learn everything there is to know about Hoseok, about the language he grew up speaking and the city he moved so far away from. But you also feel at a loss for what to say and instead accept the small, warm cup of clear liquid. 

"Repeat after me," Hoseok says, "geon—"

"Geon—"

"—bae."

"—bae."

Hoseok taps his class to the side of yours and says, "Geonbae," and you recite it with a smile, then follow his lead of drinking the liquid back.

The taste is subtly heady and bitter, and not too strong, but it warms your mouth, throat, and chest instantly. Hoseok watches expectantly with his eyebrows raised, and you nod with a smile, telling him, "It's good."

As Hoseok pours the next round of shots, it dawns on you that you are still bundled up, and the warmth is beginning to feel stifling. You peel off your hat and scarf and set them on the counter beside your glass of water, which has a foot or so of extra space before the wall. Then, you begin the precarious feat of wiggling your shoulders and arms out of your jacket while sitting in a somewhat narrow space. Hoseok follows suit, shrugging much more easily from his jacket. Then, he slides your cup of soju over, and you pick it up. 

"Does geonbae mean cheers?" you ask, holding the glass up for him to tap his against. 

"It means empty cup," Hoseok responds cheerfully, with the same shimmering gaze as before.

"Ah, like bottoms up," you say as he taps his cup to yours. 

Hoseok cocks his head, and you tap your middle finger against the bottom of the cup, then mimic throwing it back without actually moving enough to spill any liquid.

"Oh, yes!" Hoseok says as he grins. "Bottoms up!"

You take your shots, setting the small glasses down with a light thunk. The warmth slowly spreads throughout your chest, giving you a slightly dizzying haze as sweet intoxication ripples at the edges of everything. 

"I wonder how many strange sayings and words there are for you to learn, in English," you muse.

"Too many," Hoseok responds with a laugh. "You will have to teach them all to me."

Once again, your future feels woven with his, and you nod and say, "I will do my best."

After two more shots, the appetizers arrive, and you feel somewhat overwhelmed by the inviting smells, unsure where to start. Hoseok picks up his phone and takes a photo, then grabs two sets of wooden chopsticks and hands one to you. As you pull the chopsticks from their paper sheath, you remember Hoseok taking a photo of his hot chocolate at the cafe yesterday and you smile to yourself at the thought that he likes to document things. 

"Do you post those online? Or just keep the photos for yourself."

"I post them usually," Hoseok responds, taking a piece of fried chicken and blowing on it before taking a bite, wincing and hissing as he perseveres through chewing, grumbling, "Fuck that's good," with his mouth full.

You decide to try the chicken first, finding a smaller piece and giving the skin a little nibble before blowing on it to cool it down. Ultimately, like Hoseok, you give in too soon and take a steaming hot bite, quickly inhaling air with the hope of cooling down your mouth as the chicken heats it up.

The skin is crispy and crunchy and paper-thin, with a perfect blend of spice that brings out the flavor of the juicy meat inside. You hum and close your eyes, savoring it to the sounds of Hoseok gasping and hissing, undoubtedly eating a second piece before letting it cool.

The tteokbokki is equally as delicious, with a rich, spicy flavor that is delicately sweet. And when the soup comes out, you can barely contain your excitement as you grab a plastic spoon and have a taste. The broth is hearty and reminds you of home in a way that is inexplicable and impossible to articulate—a warm, comforting home that is not yours. Hoseok waits quietly for your opinion, and when your wide-eyed surprise turns to soft appreciation, he smiles and nods, hastily shouting something to the older lady who brought out the food.

"It's perfect for winter," you mutter after a second slurp, and Hoseok hums. 

"It's a really simple dish to make, and sometimes I break down and make it myself, but there is something special about receiving it from someone else."

You nod and watch as Hoseok's smile downturns into a slight frown. 

"My mother always made it when I was sick. She swore it could cure anything. So when my heart feels sick thinking about her, I eat it."

"Ah, homesick," you mutter, suddenly feeling a heavy sadness hanging over you.

Hoseok nods, shrugs, then smiles. "I made the choice to move away, but sometimes it feels hard to be so far, you know?"

"I do know," you respond, using chopsticks to grab a piece of the pork. "Sometimes, even if the choice is necessary or good, it can still be painful to reconcile."

At this, Hoseok watches you, eyes soft and intent. Embarrassed under the undivided attention, you duck your head and eat the pork that has cooled at the end of your chopsticks. 

"You're wise, marshmallow," Hoseok teases. "I appreciate it."

"I need a better nickname," you groan past half-eaten pork, and Hoseok shakes his head, muttering that it is cute, then joins you in eating.

By the time the dishes are empty, you are full and warm and ready for a nap. Hoseok huffs out a sigh as he sits back in his chair, and you nod, agreeing with the sentiment.

"Caffeine?" Hoseok suggests.

"Caffeine sounds amazing," you groan, sitting up and stretching your limbs. 

"I know just the spot," Hoseok says—because, of course, he does—and you both stand and begin to put on your jackets before heading out into the cool afternoon air. 

Coffee leads to walking the long way home, which leads to Hoseok inviting you to his apartment for more soju and another terrible Hallmark movie. You concede without much of a fight—only a few groans at the mention of the movie genre—and that is how you wind up curled up on Hoseok's cozy, brown faux leather couch, falling asleep against the armrest with a belly full of soju and food and a head full of him.

For the next two weeks, Hoseok says he has to keep his head down and focus on studying. He has exams in all of his classes and rattles off a list of essay, presentation, and project deadlines that are also coming up, over the phone on Monday afternoon, in between classes.

"I just wanted to call and tell you that I will be distant, even though we live in the same hallway."

You smile to yourself, glancing out into the city from your nook window beside the tree that the two of you decorated two days ago. "That's fine. If you need me to bring you anything, just let me know. I can grab coffees or something."

Hoseok hums and says, "Maybe. I will probably be on campus a lot more, only coming home to sleep. But if I am home and need to call in reinforcements, you're at the top of the list."

You chuckle at Hoseok's response despite feeling a tinge of sadness at the thought of not seeing him for a little while. It feels silly to admit how much you expect to miss someone who only just met and began spending time with, and when Hoseok teases you about it, you very flatly tell him that you are an adult and will handle his absence just fine, thank you very much.

But you do miss him. It surprises you how much, in fact, considering you hardly know him, all things considered. Although, even as you tell yourself that over and over—an attempt at talking yourself out of caring as much as you do—you know that it is not true. Hoseok is radiant and open and loves talking about himself as much as he seems to enjoy learning about you, and he has shared quite a lot of himself over the span of just two days. His presence is hard not to miss. 

Tuesday afternoon, when Hoseok calls to catch up between classes, you learn that gender and identity are fluid to him and that—although Hoseok uses he, him pronouns and presents as male—he loves to play with androgyny and fashion in a way that attempts to erase any cisheteronormative assumption. He tells you that he sticks with he, him pronouns because things back home are a little different when it comes to gay and trans rights, and, for now, changing the language is something he is not fully ready to embrace, but he thinks he feels closer to how you describe your feelings, and that warms your heart. 

"I can't really put into words what I think about gender," Hoseok mutters before sipping loudly from a compostable coffee lid. "But I feel disconnected from it. Indifferent."

"Me too," is all you could bring yourself to say as you stare at the bright red cover of your open copy of All About Love that sits sprawled open, page-down on your lap. Suddenly, you find yourself overwhelmed with feeling a deep, strong connection to him.

"Anyway," Hoseok continues brightly over the phone, "I have to run, but once finals are over, I want to show you some of the pieces I have designed."

"I can't wait," you respond happily as the call comes to an end.

On Wednesday, when your phone dings thrice in a row, you drop your book onto the table and grab your phone excitedly, only for the feeling to dissolve into disappointment when you find the messages are not from whom you want to hear. 

You almost don't open them until you take a moment to read the third message that has come in succession, sitting on top of the notifications, and decide that whatever Ash is going on about needs to be addressed.

Ash So you're definitely not coming for Christmas, right? I know you said you would look into it and search for deals, but you're not actually doing that, are you?  I wish you would just be honest with me.

With a deep, fortifying sigh, you close your eyes and center yourself. This is a conversation that you have been putting off, but you are tired of always feeling put on the spot by them, and it is partially your fault for not being forthcoming. 

You I have looked, but not as much as I could have. I'm sorry, I guess I'm not in the mood to travel this year.

Not ten seconds after you send the message, your phone begins to ring, and your anxiety spikes to the ceiling. Talking to Ash right now feels like willingly throwing yourself into a lion's pit covered in fresh meat, and you end the call and shoot off another text.

You I'm not in a great place to talk. Can we text instead?

Ash Are you fucking serious?

Your hands tremble, and you take another breath, but this one is less deep than the last, and when you close your eyes, tears form around your lashes. When did things reach this point? You and Ash used to be open and honest and receptive to one another's problems, and now everything they say is laced with impatience and vitriol. Which of you was the first to begin pulling away? When did the pulling begin?

You Geez, Ash. I'm sorry that this is upsetting, but behaving this way is not going to make me change my mind.

Ash Behaving what way, exactly??? Because last I checked, you were the one telling me one thing while wanting another, and you have also been keeping my hopes up. My family has been eager to see you, and now I have to let them down.

You Every single thing I say and do seems to piss you off. You were angry when I had to stay behind for work, angry when I bought my own tree decorations, and now you can't respect the fact that I'm not in the mood to travel to someone else's family event for a holiday that I'm not a huge fan of, in the dead of fucking winter. Even if I had been excited to fly out, the ticket prices were already exorbitant. And during all of this time, you haven't once asked how I am, how things have been going with work, or what I have been doing to keep myself busy. You just complain and take everything personally and treat me like an inconvenience.

Ash Wow.

You Yeah. Wow.

Minutes pass, and you brace yourself as you see Ash typing a response. 

Ash Please can I call you? I just want to hear your voice.

You almost concede and tell them yes. A part of you would even like to hear their voice, hoping to find comfort in their familiar cadence and tone. But you know that all they are going to do is backtrack and offer empty apologies that will only last until the next time they blow up again. Or, worse, they will just yell over the phone until you feel forced to hang up on them.

You I don't want to speak right now. I need some space to think.

Ash That's rich coming from someone who is not only physically far away but has the entire apartment to themself. How much more space do you require, exactly? Should we fly you to the moon?  My family has been nothing but good to you, and this is how you treat them.

With an exasperated sigh, you fire off your response—

You And this is exactly why I didn't want to talk to you. Not an ounce of understanding for how I am feeling, just jab after jab about how inconsiderate I am when I have been telling you for years that I would like a quiet holiday all to myself or just the two of us. And I understand if you want to be with your family, but please understand that maybe I don't. Being on the sidelines of someone else's event is really fucking difficult when all I can think about is how much I wish I had that too. No matter how nice your parents are, they still aren't my parents. I just want one fucking holiday with a clear head and no stress, and you can't even grant me that because you would rather be pissed off at me for not doing what you want than try to understand how I feel. I'm muting my phone now; I need to walk away from this conversation for a bit. 

—and then mute your phone before shoving it between the couch cushions. All at once, you heave for air and fall forward against the armrest as tears pour into your open hands. Things have been rocky for a while, but when did they get so bad? Ash used to be your safe space, and now all they make you feel is anguish and frustration. 

Although your phone is muted, you still hear it vibrate as a message comes in, followed by another. There have been times in recent weeks that you have considered blocking their number altogether, but at that point, you figure you would be better off just ending the relationship.

Tears continue, and you breathe deeply, attempting to quell them. A good cry is cathartic, yes, but this is not how you would like to spend your sunny Wednesday afternoon. Determined to pick up the pieces and attempt to have a good day, you decide a trip to the cafe will be nice. You can get something warm and covered in marshmallows. Maybe you can take your laptop and start working on a new writing project to take your mind off things for a little while. 

Between the cushions, your phone vibrates consistently—an incoming call. At first, you sigh and squeeze your eyes closed, eager to ignore it. But then you remember it could be Hoseok calling, and you fish the device out, careful not to hit the answer or end call buttons in the process. Hoseok's name greets you, and you fumble to answer before it disconnects 

"Hey, Hoseok," you say with an obvious shake to your voice. 

"H-hey," Hoseok responds carefully. "Did I call at a bad time?"

You sniffle and let out a chuckle over how unconvincing you must sound. "No. I mean, I'm not having the best day, but it's always a good time to talk to you."

"Corny," Hoseok responds, though the laugh in his voice is more subdued than usual.

"God, it was, wasn't it?" you cringe, replaying what you just said and how it must have sounded. 

Silence hangs, and you fiddle with a loose thread at the bottom of your shirt as you try to come up with something to say that is unrelated to having a fight with your partner of three years. Ordinarily, Hoseok launches into how his day is going over the phone, and his silence makes your tension rise. 

"Are you sure it's not a bad time?" Hoseok asks again, softly.

"I'm sure," you respond, voice unsteady but more measured than moments ago. "What did you call to tell me?"

Hoseok hums and says, "I actually called to ask about your day. Everything here has been boring me to death and I need some excitement. But whatever made you cry doesn't sound too exciting, so now I don't know. I don't want to pry."

"Ah," you respond, letting your shoulders fall. Then, you remember you were going to set out to try to enjoy the day, and sit up straight. "Well, I was going to leave the house and get some fresh air to clear my head. Do you want to talk to me while I get bundled up and head out?"

"Sure," Hoseok beams, smile evident in his voice. "Where are you going?"

You get up and stretch your shoulders, arching your back as you stand on your toes, then let out a yawn. "I was thinking about the cafe we went to for hot chocolates. I might take my laptop and do some writing."

"Ooh, writing?" Hoseok asks excitedly. "What kind of writing?"

You make your way toward your bedroom to grab your favorite black hoodie, then you pause. Hoseok telling you that you would look good in color rings out in your mind, and you drop the sweater back onto the bed and head toward your closet, putting your phone on speaker so you can set it atop your dresser and look through the shirts that are hanging. 

"I don't know. I usually write articles and essays for money, but occasionally, I like to write short stories."

"Like fanfiction?" 

You can't help but laugh at the suggestion, and although you have certainly penned a steamy scene or twenty in your day, that is not quite what you had in mind. "It concerns me that that's your first thought."

"Write a story about the handsome stranger who turns your world upside down and makes you believe in love again."

Hoseok's words are playful, but you can't help but wonder if he is trying to tell you something without saying it explicitly, and it makes your hands tingle and your heart pound. "Sounds unrealistic. Aim lower."

Hoseok laughs loudly and brightly, and you chuckle along, though panic still surges through you. Surely, Hoseok does not have those kinds of feelings for you, and is only joking, right?

You pull out a forest green sweater with a loose turtleneck and pull it over your head, shoving your arms through the holes and attempting to steady your breathing, but the garment makes you feel somewhat claustrophobic. Still, you keep it on and grab your phone, making your way to the dining table, where you have left your hat and scarf. 

"First the Hallmark hate and now this? You really are not romantic at all, are you, marshmallow?"

The nickname makes you scoff as you pull the hat over your head and loosely wrap the scarf around your neck. "On second thought, maybe I will not get any writing done," you chide, getting bundled up. 

Hoseok laughs again, and you picture his wide, heart-shaped smile and eyes scrunched into tiny crescent moons. You grab your black coat from where it hangs beside the front door and shove your feet into your chunky brown boots, placing your phone atop a black Vans sneaker that sits on the top shelf of a very chaotic shoe rack. 

"Almost bundled up and ready to head out."

A sigh comes through the phone, followed by, "I wish I could join you."

"Me too," you say softly before you can stop yourself. 

Thursday passes quietly, with a few texts exchanged from a very stressed Hoseok. You wish him luck, sending more kaomoji than you might ordinarily use, then get dressed to head out to the cafe again. Getting out and walking in the cold air and warm sun has been doing wonders for your mental health, and having a sweet treat to look forward to is the perfect incentive. 

You still haven't opened the messages that Ash sent the day before, and you are not sure when you will.

On Friday evening, after not hearing from Hoseok all day, he calls. You are in the middle of scrolling through recipes for kimchi jjigae and wondering if making a soup from scratch for the holiday is a challenge you are up for, when his name glows brightly on your screen.

"What are you doing?" Hoseok asks, rather than saying hello.

"It's top secret," you respond. "What are you doing?"

Hoseok chuckles—music to your ears. "Keeping secrets already? I'm hurt."

"I'll reveal it soon. Consider it a Christmas gift."

You think you may hear Hoseok gasp, then he mutters something in Korean before saying, "Really? A gift for me?"

Warmth spreads to your cheeks, and you hum. "It's nothing big. Don't get too excited, okay?"

"Nope! This is exciting. Shit, now I have to do something for you."

"Absolutely not," you chuckle, closing your laptop with the soup recipe left open in a tab. "Don't feel obligated to do anything."

Silence, save for the sounds of Hoseok humming softly, hangs between you. Then, he continues. 

"Hey, so, I don't have anything too big coming up on Monday. We can hang out this weekend if you'd like."

Hope blooms behind your ribs, and the sprouts that have begun to grow behind your ribs stretch toward the sun for sustenance. "Of course I would."

"Awe, missing me already?"

"Shut up," you complain with a laugh.

Hoseok hums. "It's fine if you do, because I miss you. Tomorrow?"

Your heart pounds as you agree, "Tomorrow."

Thrice since Wednesday, your phone has buzzed with messages from Ash, and each time you have ignored them, clearing the notifications and allowing the little red dot beside your messenger app to increase its number. This morning, as you open your messenger app to find out what time Hoseok was thinking about hanging out, you hover a thumb over the row containing the message preview from your partner and open Hoseok's text thread, instead. 

You What time did you have in mind? 

Certain that Hoseok will not respond immediately, you set your phone down on your dresser and begin pushing the various hangers around in your closet, looking for something with a splash of color. A red flannel button-up catches your eye, and you grab a white long-sleeve tee to accompany that and your standard black skinny jeans. You may be trying to be less gloomy when you visit with your friend, but he will have to pry the black denim from your cold dead hands. 

Your phone dings and you step out of your closet and grab your phone, unlocking it before checking the notification. When you find yourself peering down at a wall of text from the person you were not wishing to hear from, your heart sinks. Although you do your best not to read every message, your eyes flit over certain words—ungrateful, selfish—and you back out of the app, wishing you could erase the image from your mind—childish, a waste of time.

Another ding accompanied by a gentle buzz from your phone causes you to jolt, nearly dropping the device to the floor. "Shit," you mutter as you fumble to unlock the screen, checking the notification bar first. Luckily, this message is from Hoseok, but your excitement is now dimmed.

Hoseok Just showered. I could be ready in 20? Or is that too soon?

You 20 is fine. I was already getting ready for the day.

Hoseok What if it only takes me 15?

You Then show up in 15.

Hoseok See you soon! :)

You :)

As you get dressed, you remind yourself that today is a day for positive, happy feelings, and you do your best not to let the weight of the other messages bring you down. There is something to be said for their accusations—you are being childish and selfish by ignoring them flat out. But you cannot ignore the way your anxiety rises when you think about confronting the conversation, even if you remind yourself that the longer you wait, the worse it might become. 

At least you are making an effort to get out of the house and see a friendly face rather than sitting in the apartment in a bubble of self-loathing like you would otherwise be if you stuck to doing what you had been doing prior to The Great Tree Incident, as you have begun to call it in your head. So, whatever Ash is assuming of you and spitting at you daily without giving you a chance to gather your thoughts and form a response is likely only partially true. 

You apply a little mascara despite knowing it will just make your lashes sticky and eventually sweat onto your cheeks, then apply a nice lip balm to ward off chapped skin, rubbing your lips together while attempting to stay grounded and not get so far into your head that it will be impossible to come out by the time your friend arrives. 

And, when he does show up with his signature single knock followed by three quicker knocks, you give yourself a once-over in the mirror and decide that red flannel is definitely your look before trotting from your bedroom to the entryway.

When you swing open the door, you can't help but smile widely. Hoseok must have gotten the flannel memo, though his is less traditional than the lumberjack-type style, and instead, has larger squares in muted blues, greens, and yellows against white. He wears a white tee underneath, khaki pants, and his camel tan jacket overtop. 

"Wow!" Hoseok exclaims, holding his arms out. 

You are unsure whether he is using his arms to signal that he is impressed with your choice, or if he is expecting a hug, and you hesitate, lifting your arms after a beat and cocking your head. With a chuckle, Hoseok steps through the threshold, into your personal space, and wraps you in an embrace, squeezing you tight. You reciprocate the hug but in a looser fashion, awkwardly giving him a pat with your hands when you are unsure whether it has lasted too long. 

"Nervous?" Hoseok asks, and you hate how easy you must be to read. 

"Nah," you respond, "just a little tired still."

"Well, you're in for a treat, because I found a new coffee shop on Instagram that has been going viral for their latte art, so let's go get caffeinated."

And that is how your Saturday began—and your third day of spending nearly every waking moment with Hoseok. The latte art was just the tip of the iceberg. After deciding to grab a reasonable lunch and not just snack on pastries from the cafe, the two of you found a noodle bar nearby and had udon and some sake. Then, you walked to a neighboring park and moseyed along with two fresh cups of coffee and a bit of a buzz. 

"Should we go to a bar later and keep this momentum going, or do you want to have a chill night in, falling asleep while I watch another holiday movie?"

You roll your eyes and bump your shoulder into Hoseok's, groaning at the mention of more holiday movies. "Don't you get sick of that sappy shit?"

Hoseok chuckles and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a tight side hug that nearly throws you off balance. "No. I like sappiness and romance. Don't you?"

You scoff and shake your head, though something settles in the pit of your stomach. Sadness, perhaps. Envy. It's hard to put a name to, and you do your best to ignore it. 

"No. I don't know. Maybe? I've never dated someone who was romantic," you admit. "Or someone who has made me want to be romantic, you know? I guess if someone I loved enjoyed romantic gestures, I would do them, but it's not my default."

Hoseok hums, gives your shoulder a squeeze, and lets you go. You are curious about the hum, and the squeeze, and the hug itself, but you swallow it down and decide not to ask. 

"This could be romantic," Hoseok says after silence has settled, and you glance at him to find him looking out over a frozen body of water covered in ice. Trees line the area, giving it a calm, serene feel, and around you, people chatter quietly and walk by, their feet thudding softly against the wooden bridge on which the two of you stand. "What I mean is, it's not something that needs to be forced or bought. Small, quiet moments count, as well; enjoying something simple together."

Eager to sway away from the thought of the two of you sharing a romantic moment, you circle back to the topic at hand. "Okay, but the romance in those movies is always so over the top."

"True," Hoseok concedes with a playful smile. He turns to you, eyes soft and full of something you dare not try to define, and you smile briefly and turn away, looking over the scenery once more. "Over the top is fun to indulge in from time to time. You're just a scrooge."

"Oh, okay," you chide, stepping back from the wooden railing and continuing your walk down the bridge, in the direction you had been going. "I'm a scrooge. Right."

"I have hope for you, though," Hoseok says as he catches up, falling into step beside you. 

"Oh thank god for that," you mutter under your breath, pulling your coffee to your lips. 

Hoseok laughs and nudges you, nearly making you spill, and you swat at his arm playfully. "You just need more corny holiday films to melt that icy heart and you'll be a true romantic in no time. A soft little marshmallow."

After spending the afternoon walking around, you and Hoseok agree to return to your apartments for new socks and dry shoes before you decide on what else to do. There is a bar nearby that you and Ash used to frequent, and you remember the conjoining pizzeria being pretty good. Hoseok agrees to the idea the moment he returns to your door, and you head back out into the chilly winter evening. 

The bar is only two blocks from your apartments, and it is a bit of a dive. The tables are all scratched up, the music is a little too loud, and the drinks are cheap. The bartenders have been working there for ages, and tend to know the regulars pretty well, making it a welcoming atmosphere, overall. 

Hoseok surprises you by suggesting whiskey shots to go with your cheap cans of beer, and you agree. Two shots and cheap beers in, the world has a haze around the edges, but you feel good, and Hoseok is so friendly and pretty, and everything is great. The two of you order a medium pepperoni pizza to share, and when it comes, you thank your lucky stars to have greasy bread to sop up the alcohol.

After finishing your pizza, the two of you sit with your heads close, looking at the jukebox app on your phone, making selections from the comfort of your rickety barstools, when someone taps you on the shoulder.

"Hey," the voice calls, and you turn to find Ave, one of Ash's friends, standing with her arms folded over her chest.

"Ave, hey," you respond in a forced chipper tone, not exactly thrilled to see her. 

Ave nods her chin toward Hoseok. "Who's this?"

"Oh," you say, half-turning toward Hoseok before turning back to her, "this is Hoseok. He lives in our building."

With a hum, Ave nods her head and squints her eyes. "Are you not spending the holiday with Ash's family?"

A chill runs down your back, and you shake your head. "No, work kept me here too long, and then flights got too expensive."

"But you work from home, right?" Ave presses. Anger rises, and you keep your smile pulled tight, lest you scowl. "So you could have just gone."

You exhale, steeling yourself. "Is that all?"

Ave takes a small step back and cocks her head. "Excuse me?"

"I don't owe you an explanation," you grit through a stiff grin. "So if you have no other questions, I would like to get back to hanging out with my friend."

With a huff, Ave turns on her heels, and you flag down the bartender for two more shots before downing a quarter of your third beer. You can see that Hoseok is fidgeting with his hands on the bartop, but you try not to draw too much attention to the situation, and instead stare ahead, desperately searching for something to say to change the topic, but falling short. 

"You don't have to tell me," Hoseok says, leaning in to make sure you can hear him over the music. Your eyes fall to your phone—the screen of which has gone black, abandoning your task of finding songs to play—and you feel guilt begin to rise to your chest and throat. "But if you want to talk about anything, I'm here."

"Thanks," you respond, turning to offer Hoseok a smile, aware that your eyes betray you. "I should talk about it but I guess I'm not ready."

Hoseok nods in response as the bartender drops off two shots, and you slide his glass toward him, then pick yours up. "Gunbear!" you shout, which is what you said earlier when you couldn't remember the word Hoseok had taught you, to Hoseok's utter delight, with the hope of lightening the mood. 

"Geonbae," Hoseok responds with a smirk, tapping his glass to yours and shooting back the bittersweet liquid. 

Three shots and three beers may just be too many, and you stumble out of the bar with your elbows linked, leaning into Hoseok's side. The night is still relatively young, and you would rather continue to hang out than go to bed, but you also feel nervous to ask, not wanting to intrude on Hoseok's time any longer than necessary. Luckily, Hoseok does not share the same worry.

"So, my couch or yours?" he asks as you approach your apartment building. 

"Yours is cozier," you respond, leaving the thought of not wanting to return to a home surrounded by Ash's stuff left unsaid. 

Hoseok hums and leads the way through the building, to the elevator, and you ride to the third floor in silence, eyes glued to the silver doors ahead. Blurred figures are reflected back, standing with their elbows linked together, and suddenly, you worry that you might be doing something wrong. But you don't want to drop your arm to the side, letting go of Hoseok; you need your anchor now more than ever. 

The doors slide open, and Hoseok leads you down to the far end of the hall in silence, stumbling slightly and letting out soft giggles here and there. You knock your hip into his for comic effect when he over-adjusts and knocks slightly into you, and this sets off a game of back and forth of hips hitting hips and feet stumbling to trudge forward. By the time you reach his door, you are doubled over laughing and gripping onto his arm like a lifeline. 

As Hoseok fishes his key from his pocket, you lean against his door, attempting to get your bearings. Three whiskey shots and three cheap beers have never gotten you so drunk before, and you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to replay the night, but all you can picture is Hoseok's pretty smile flashing over and over again. 

With a hum, Hoseok nudges you, and you open your eyes to find him looking at you with concern. 

"I was trying to sort out how we got so drunk from just those shots and beers," you grumble, words coming out in a slur. 

Hoseok laughs as he slowly opens the door, which you continue to lean into, stumbling as its momentum carries you over the threshold into his apartment. "We had sake with lunch and a bunch of caffeine."

The laughter that rocks through you at the realization that you had been drinking earlier in the day threatens to throw you completely off balance, and you reach with your free hand to try to grip the open door but end up flailing, instead. Hoseok grabs your arm with his free hand and gently pulls and rotates you forward, steadying you on your feet, and you stare at him with surprise.

"You're strong," you mutter, only realizing now how close the two of you are—inches apart. 

Hoseok smiles and nods, then releases his hold on your arm and allows you to move into his apartment. You stand a while longer, however, still surprised by how Hoseok effortlessly handled you, and by how, in this tiny, confined space, he smells like a freshly picked bouquet on a cool autumn morning. 

"May I..." Hoseok begins, nodding his chin toward the rest of his apartment, and you snap out of your daze, clear your throat, and take a step back and around, pressing your back flat against the wall to give Hoseok room to close the door, bend to remove his shoes, and walk into his kitchen. 

Your shoes slide off easily enough, and you attempt to chuck them in a mindful place, in the general direction of his neatly organized rows, but they tumble out into the middle of the floor, where you decide they shall live because bending over right now feels precarious and you need water. 

"Since you'll fall asleep anyway, I'll pick the movie," Hoseok calls from the kitchen. 

You can hear popcorn popping away in the microwave, followed by the sound of the sink running, and you shrug your jacket off, hang it on a hook above the shoes and round the corner from the small entryway. You find Hoseok has removed his sweater, and he stands in a white tee and khakis. His arms are much more toned than you had expected for his otherwise willowy body, and before you can help yourself, you wonder about his chest, then immediately blink heavily and instead try to conjure images of kittens laying in a basket that has a pretty bow tied on the handle—anything to clear your mind.

"Did you hear me?" Hoseok asks, and you meet his gaze to find his eyebrow raised. 

The microwave dings and Hoseok opens it up, retrieves the bag of popcorn, and tears it open. You watch as the steam wafts up, past his smiling face. Then, he dumps it into a large plastic bowl and turns you. 

"Loud and clear," you respond with a small smile. "I have simply given up on trying to argue about the movie. The choice is all yours!"

Hoseok approaches and holds the bowl out, which you reach out to grab. Then he taps you on the chin with the pad of his index finger and says, "So good for me," sending a chill down your spine as he turns back to the kitchen to grab the two glasses he had filled with water. 

You have no idea why those four little words leave you stunned, standing in the threshold of the kitchen as if you have been glued to the spot, but when Hoseok turns back toward you, you clear your throat and will your feet to move, turning in a daze toward the living room where his cozy brown sofa awaits. 

Hoseok walks past you, hurrying to put the glasses down and grab one of the three blankets that lay hung over the back of the couch. He likes to lay a large, fuzzy royal blue throw down, then cover himself up with a thin white blanket with a birds of paradise pattern, or with another fuzzy throw that is soft and thick and has a black and white plaid pattern. 

As you approach, Hoseok reaches over the sofa for the bowl of popcorn, and you open your palms, handing it over while still feeling a bit discombobulated and holding your hands open for a few seconds too long. Hoseok either does not seem to notice the shift in your demeanor or he is unfazed by it. You have never heard someone tell another they were "so good" for them outside of a sexual context with the tone his voice took, but maybe he is too drunk to realize what he said. 

Hoseok turns on the TV and pats the cushion beside him, telling you to sit. As you make your way around the small wooden table, to the end of the couch your phone starts to vibrate in your pocket. You attempt to ignore it, but it keeps going and going, stopping by the time you take a seat, only to start up again. 

"Fuck," you mutter as you pull your phone from your pocket at glance at the screen to find Ash's name and face lighting it up.

You silence the vibrating and sit back with a huff, then drop your hand to the cushion with the phone clenched tight, keeping your gaze on the TV. "What movie did you have in mind?"

Hoseok hesitates, then asks, "Do you need to take that?"

"No," you respond quickly but softly. "I don't need to."

"That person at the bar..." Hoseok begins, but he trails off as your phone starts to buzz again, lighting up the space beside you. 

You end the call and open your messenger app, to type, "Trying to sleep. Text and I will respond in the morning." Then you set your phone screen face-down on the cushion. 

"Sorry," you mutter. "I can shut my phone off."

"Is it important?" Hoseok asks cautiously, voice slow and measured.

"It is," you admit, swallowing a lump of worry as your heart pounds, sending the room into a dizzying spiral. "But I don't want to deal with it right now. I should, but...I just don't want to."

Your phone buzzes again, just once to signal a text has come through, and you squeeze your eyes closed, nausea pooling and threatening to rise. 

Gently, Hoseok places a hand over your knee, and you open your eyes to find his expression worried—pleading. "Can I ask why?"

All at once, your breathing becomes shallow, tears threaten to spill, and you have to gasp for oxygen. "They're my—" you begin, then swallow saliva that has pooled too quickly under your tongue. 

"I'm in a—in a relationship," you try again, eyes falling to your hands, which are clenched tightly together against your thigh. "But I want to end it. I've been wanting to for a while."

You have never voiced it before, and now that the words are spoken to the universe, a sob rattles through your chest, settling in your throat, and you attempt to breathe past it, finding the task difficult.

"Oh," Hoseok says, moving his hand away from your knee. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," you mutter softly, suddenly feeling guilty for keeping something like this from your new friend for the entire week of your friendship. "I didn't want to lie, I just...they're away with their parents for the holiday, and...it's been nice pretending they aren't coming back."

Hoseok remains silent, and your anxiety rises to great new heights as you wait for him to respond. Of course, you have no idea whether this information will matter to him at all or not, but you imagine that he might feel upset that you haven't been as forthcoming about your personal life as he has been about his. 

When Hoseok says nothing, you turn to him and mutter, "Say something," instantly feeling regret over the distant look on his face.

"I just..." Hoseok trails off, throat bobbing as he thinks. "I guess I saw the photos of the two of you and didn't think much of it. Nobody else has been around, nobody was going to help you with that Christmas tree...maybe I was seeing their stuff all along and assuming it was also yours."

"To be fair," you make an attempt at lightening the mood, "most of the shoes by the front door are mine."

Hoseok cracks a smile, undoubtedly because there are many pairs of shoes by the front door, and the thought of them all belonging to one person is a bit ridiculous. But then his lips tug back into a frown, and his eyes fall to his hands.

"I don't want to tell you that you should leave, and I don't want to shut you out when you seem to be going through something difficult," Hoseok says, bringing his earnest, doleful gaze to meet yours. "But I was really starting to have feelings for you, and this news is kind of hard to take."

All at once, the air feels knocked from your chest, and you heave out a silent sob, blinking through a fresh set of tears. Hoseok's hand lifts slightly and twitches as if he wants to reach out to you, but he pulls it back and shoves it beneath his thigh. 

You nod and take this as your cue to leave. Hoseok is not asking you to, but it clearly pains him to sit with you, and the last thing you want to do is hurt yet another person, especially one who you have quickly come to care for so much.

"I'm gonna go," you mutter softly, watching as Hoseok's eyes fall to the floor, and he nods. "I need to deal with this, and then we can talk."

Hoseok doesn't look at you as you leave, simply muttering, "Okay."

In a daze, you walk back to Hoseok's front entrance to step into your shoes, letting your heels bend the backs, wasting no time to put them on correctly, and grab your jacket from the hook, draping it over your arm with a sad sigh. You slip out the door as quietly as possible, twisting the nob as you pull it shut, then releasing it slowly. 

The fluorescent lighting in the hallway is bright and boring into your brain, and you stumble down to your door as quickly as you can, fishing your key from your jacket pocket and fumbling to get it into the lock. The familiar smell of your apartment fills you with a heavy emptiness, and tears begin to pour once more from your eyes as you drop your jacket and key to the floor and step out of your shoes. 

All you want is to throw yourself into bed and disappear from the world, but you make a pitstop in the kitchen, pulling a glass from the drying rack and shoving it into the slot on your fridge that produces water. You only have the energy to fill the glass halfway, then you stumble out and pause, making a choice.

If you go to the bedroom, you will undoubtedly climb under your covers and cry yourself to sleep with your head buried half under your favorite pillow. But if you go to the living room, you can sit and read through Ash's messages once and for all, and make a choice. 

As you pad toward the couch, you tell yourself that your decision cannot be swayed by Hoseok admitting that he is starting to have feelings for you. Especially considering you have no idea what he is thinking right now—what if his feelings change after tonight? You can't say you would blame him. 

With a huff, you sit and pull the soft baby blue blanket that is bunched up on an armrest to drape over your knees. Then, you take a deep, fortifying breath, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly release it. The whiskey and beer continue to swirl and knock you off your axis, but you feel more sober than you did stumbling into Hoseok's apartment less than an hour earlier.

First, you read the messages that came in from Wednesday, sent just after your novella about feeling misunderstood. 

Ash Ignoring me to "clear your head" sounds more like shutting me out, but okay. Do whatever you fucking want, just like always.  I just think it's funny that you had nothing to say about this trip before and then waited until after I fucking left to drop the bombshell. How long have you been planning not to come? You are so fucking ungrateful. 

And then you read their texts from Thursday—

Ash Are you seriously going to leave me hanging this close to Christmas? How selfish are you??? For three years, I have put up with your fickle, shitty moods, and this is how you repay me? This is childish, even for you.  How am I supposed to wrap my head around everything when you make me feel like it has all just been a waste of time? You know how much Christmas means to my family, why are you acting like this?

—and from Friday.

Ash Baby, please just talk to me. 

And finally, you read what was sent tonight after you ignored their call at Hoseok's place. 

Ash Are you fucking joking? Pick up the phone.

You Trying to sleep. Text and I will respond in the morning.

Ash Trying to sleep??? Less than an hour after Ave saw you at the bar with some guy??? I don't want to jump to conclusions, but I need to know who this friend is and why you haven't bothered to mention him to me. Ave said you were rude, which sounds like you, but it still raises concerns if you were giving an attitude simply because she was asking about him. This is fucked up. I can't believe the person you've become.  Maybe I shouldn't come back home once the holiday is over.

Your thumbs shake as they hover over the keys, and instead, you bite the bullet and dial Ash. Everything you want to say to them feels too big to say over text. The tone rings for so long, you wonder if they might not pick up. But then, they do, and your heart sinks a little.

"Trying to sleep, huh?" There is a bite to their voice that makes the hairs on your neck stand tall.

"Ash—"

"Tell me what is going on."

You take a deep breath and close your eyes. "Maybe you should stay there for a while."

Silence hangs, and when Ash speaks, their voice is meek. "What?"

"I can mail your things."

"Wait, baby, what are you saying?" Ash asks, sounding panicked.

Numbness fills you, warm and heavy, and you open your eyes to stare past the tree—a dark, looming figure without its lights plugged in—out the window. A golden glow dapples through the thin curtains from the streetlights below, and you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"We haven't been happy for a while. I don't know when it began but...I want it to end."

Ash sighs, then lets out a humorless laugh. "So that new guy is more than just a—"

"No," you interrupt firmly. "He's a friend, and that's all. I wouldn't do that to you, or to him. That's not fair."

"When did you meet him?"

"A week ago," you admit. "I couldn't get the tree upstairs and he saw me struggling and helped me."

"A week ago? You told me you bought the tree before then."

"I know. I originally didn't want it at all. Funny, how I got it to appease someone who isn't here to see it."

"So he lives in the building?" It's more of a statement, sounding accusatory. 

"Yup."

"And you're sure you're not fucking him?"

Anger builds, and you grit your teeth. "Don't do this."

"So you're really breaking up with me?" Ash practically shouts, voice shaking. "Over the fucking phone, two weeks before Christmas."

"Yup."

"Wh—"

"Look, I know you haven't been happy, either. You've been so fucking cold lately; I don't know who you are. So, consider this your gift from me this year. I'm putting an end to everything before it could get any worse and we could become any more miserable."

"Oh, fuck you!"

All you can do in response is sigh. Truth be told, you feel really good—like this should have been done months ago, but neither of you had the guts to see the problem, much less voice it.

"You can't just break up with me!" Ash pleads, voice breaking. It feels like a final test to hear them on the verge of tears and have no emotional reaction of your own.

"I'm sorry. I can find a new place if you want to return to this one, or I can mail your things in the new year."

"Baby, please—"

"I'm happy to draw a contract promising to send your half of the security deposit when I move—"

"—you can't do this!"

"—just let me know what you feel the most comfortable with."

A loud sob comes through the phone, and you fold yourself in half, leaning forward to rest your forehead against your knee. Intoxicated or not, you know you are doing the right thing and that you need to be patient, now. But you are also fucking exhausted.

"You c-can't just break up with me," Ash sobs, sniffling loudly.

"I'm sorry," you say flatly, making no attempt to show emotion. 

"You are not fucking sorry!" Ash shouts before breaking down into more sobs. 

Tears do threaten your waterline, and when you move to readjust your bent forward position, one even falls down your cheek. But you do not sob, and you do not feel all that sad. You are simply letting go. If anything, you feel lighter. 

"I need sleep," you say after a long moment filled only with Ash's anguish as the backdrop. "We can talk more about this tomorrow."

"Fuck you. I never want to talk to you again."

You yawn and sit up straight, stretching your back. "Be that as it may, we still have to figure out the living situation, or the stuff situation. Whichever it comes down to."

"I hope that new boy knows what a fucking coward you are!"

"I can always look for a new place if you need to move back for the time being."

"I hope he breaks your heart twice as hard as you fucking broke mine!"

"Just let me know what works best for you. We have time; I don't want to rush you."

"Stop it!" Ash screams, and you wince, pulling your ear an inch away from the phone. "How are you so fucking heartless? Aren't you sad at all?"

With a sigh, you lean your head to the side, against the backrest sofa cushion. "I've been sad for months. For months, you have been cold and callous and distant. For months we haven't been intimate—have barely had a conversation about anything but work. We don't cook together, we don't go out together. I am done with feeling insignificant. I loved you, and we had some good times, but I don't want to do this anymore."

With another sniffle, Ash says, "Fine. We're done. If I am so fucking terrible, then, by all means, shut me out. But nobody else will love you like I do."

"Sure," you respond with an anger-tarnished smirk. "They'll love me better."

And with that, you hang up and drop your phone to the couch, then let your face fall to your palms to rub the heels of your hands against your eyelids. Exhaustion covers you in a thick blanket, and you grab the glass of water, take a nice big gulp, then abandon it on the table to take your phone with you and go to bed.

Hoseok Good morning, sunshine!  Thank you for giving me the space to think. I'm sure leaving wasn't easy, and I honestly hated to see you go, but it seemed like we both had some soul-searching to do. I would like to catch up and chat over coffee when you are feeling up for it, though I fear it will either have to be today or next Friday, because of exams and all that. If today is too soon for you and you need more time or space, I will respect that. And if not, I will be looking forward to seeing you later.

You smile and hug your phone to your chest, then stretch and get out of bed. At the very least, your friendship with Hoseok seems intact, which is the best news you can hope for. Anything beyond friendship is something the two of you will have to build up to and figure out along the way.

You Today would be nice, actually. I could use a friend to talk to if you have the energy to listen to me finally open up about all of this.

This morning, you skip breakfast and jump straight to taking a quick shower, letting the steaming warm water beat down against your muscles for a little longer than usual before washing up and getting out. As you towel off, you do your best not to rush, allowing your mind to be clear and patiently ready for whatever this day may bring. 

Once you are finally dressed in the same green turtleneck you wore earlier in the week and your signature black jeans, you make your way to your bedroom and find your cell phone sitting face up with one new text message.

Hoseok I definitely have enough energy for both of us. I hope you haven't already had breakfast.

You I have not. And I am showered and dressed, so I could be ready for breakfast as early as right now.

Hoseok See you in 10. :)

Although you feel optimistic about the day ahead, you worry that things may become a bit emotional, so you skip the mascara, instead deciding to pull your hair back from your face, pinning it just above your ears and attempting to keep the back and sides as tame as possible. 

As ready as you'll ever be, you make your way to the entrance and pick up your discarded jacket and keys from the floor, then search around for your scarf and hat, wondering if you had worn them to—and, consequently, left them at—Hoseok's place. You look around a bit, but, ultimately, decide that one day with your ears and cheeks out in the cold air will be fine. 

Several minutes pass before Hoseok's signature knock pulls you from your thoughts—which had led you to meander into your living room to twirl aimlessly on the balls of your socked feet—and you make your way to the front door, plastering on your brightest smile as you pull it open. 

Hoseok is bundled up with cheeks pink from the cool winter air, and he is holding a bag full of to-go containers and a drink tray with two coffee cups. 

"Oh!" you exclaim as you retrieve the cups and take a few steps back into the entranceway to give Hoseok room. "I didn't realize you meant you would bring breakfast."

With a soft, perhaps apprehensive smile, Hoseok says, "Well, I didn't think either of us would want to have a heart-to-heart in a restaurant. I don't know about you, but I hate to cry in public."

Gently, Hoseok nudges the front door closed behind him with his foot, and you reach out to grab the bag while the tray balances on your other hand, so Hoseok can get out of his jacket and boots. 

"You were anticipating crying?" you tease. "Interesting turn of events."

Hoseok gently sets his boots among your chaotic pile of footwear and unravels a royal blue scarf from his neck. "Well, I am the romantic one, after all."

You turn and take the items past the perfectly good dining room table to the living room and set everything on that table, instead. As you begin to unpack the boxes, the smell of fruit and maple syrup hits your nose. 

"I got us pancakes," Hoseok explains as he joins you on the couch, "and peppermint mochas. I actually placed the order after your first text, and received it after your second. Talk about perfect timing."

Excited to dig in, you turn to Hoseok and flash him a grin. "Perfect, indeed."

Hoseok offers a small smile, and you get to work unpacking everything and immediately digging in. The pancakes are fluffy and sweet, complemented nicely by strawberries and blueberries—which are just slightly tart—and salty pads of butter. There are also sides of bacon and sausage, which you slather in the rich, thick maple syrup.

"Wow," you groan with a mouthful, and Hoseok hums in agreement. 

The two of you eat in near silence, with only groans and hums voiced. Once the containers are empty, you grab your paper coffee cup in both hands and adjust on the cushion with your legs bent, facing Hoseok. He takes the last two bites of his food, then has a drink of his mocha and sits the same, turning to you and leaning against the backrest of the couch.

For the first time since he has arrived, you finally take in the sight of him. His hair is parted over his forehead, and he wears a simple black turtleneck tucked into tight-fitting black slacks. 

"Now who's dressed gloomy?" you tease, and Hoseok gives a soft smile, eyes falling to his hands. 

"I wasn't sure what to expect," Hoseok admits, "so I dressed for the worst."

"Well, why don't we start from the top? I'll tell you everything that I wasn't telling you before, and then we'll go from there."

Hoseok nods, and you take a deep, slow breath. You start from the beginning with Ash, how you had been together for about three years, and how you usually went to their parent's place for Christmas. You briefly explain how—despite how wonderful their parents are—being there makes you feel like an outsider. And, if you are being totally honest, getting closer to the parents of someone who you were beginning to drift away from felt disingenuous. 

You explain not wanting to travel, putting it off, and ultimately buying a tree because Ash insisted that if you were going to be spending some of the holiday season alone, you should at least do so in style. Hoseok nods and listens attentively, only pulling his gaze away from time to time to look down at his fidgeting hands that cradle his coffee cup, before looking back at you.

"And that brings me to the day you found me on the stoop, ready to leave the damn thing to die or be stolen in the hallway. When we were watching The Battle of the Dads, I was in my bedroom arguing with them over whether or not my tree was festive enough, because of course, they hated our choice of decorations and wondered why I didn't just use theirs, instead."

"You seemed unhappy when you came back, but it felt rude to pry."

You nibble on your bottom lip. "Honestly, if you had asked me about it, I would have told you. I wasn't planning on keeping my relationship a secret. It just felt so good to forget a little."

"And when I called last week and you had been crying," Hoseok mentions gently. 

"We had been fighting over text. I finally admitted that I didn't want to go to their parent's place, and that I wasn't actively looking for tickets, and they were just so angry and defensive, and unwilling to see my point of view."

"That's rough."

"I haven't been perfect," you admit. "The spark between us has all but died out months ago and I have been allowing myself to become numb rather than try to rekindle it. I guess I wanted them to try harder, too, and it already began to feel like the relationship was over."

Hoseok nods and takes a drink from his mocha, and you take the opportunity to have a sip, too. It is perfectly balanced between mint and chocolate, and you hum with delight before resting the cup against your knee and diving into the conclusion. 

"So, anyway, I broke up with them last night."

Hoseok's head shoots up, and he watches you with wide, worried eyes.

"They had been nasty over text all week, bombarding me with messages despite me not sending anything in response, and it just became so clear that they did not have my concerns or interests at heart. When I called, after I left your place last night, they were quick to accuse me of cheating with you and told me they hope you break my heart one day, even after I insisted we were just friends. Then they sobbed and shouted, and didn't seem to care at all about my reasoning. So I told them it was over, and in the end, they agreed that it was for the best."

Hoseok's eyes seem misty with tears, and he sets his cup down on the table, then opens his arms. "Can I hug you?"

You smile and nod, reaching to place your cup on the table before walking on your knees across the couch and allowing yourself to fall into Hoseok's arms. His familiar light, floral musk fills your senses, and you wrap your arms around his ribs, smiling as he pulls you into a tight embrace. 

"Are you alright with everything?" Hoseok asks against your head, voice reverberating from his chest to your cheek. "Are you sure you made the right choice?"

"Honestly, I feel amazing," you admit, and Hoseok squeezes you tighter. "I am sad when I think of little things that I have lost, but over the course of the last year or so, I have felt like a ghost merely existing in this apartment with them. I can't do that anymore."

You loosen your hold on Hoseok and begin to sit back, and he drops his arms and watches you settle in front of him. "And, I feel like it's only fair to tell you that, in a lot of ways, you have helped me realize that this was something I needed to do." Hoseok's eyes widen, and you worry that he may take it the wrong way, so you continue to explain. 

"Even before last night, when you admitted to maybe having feelings for me, I felt a lot of platonic love and appreciation from you in such a short amount of time, that it honestly blew me away and made me wonder why the fuck I had been settling for someone who wasn't giving me even an ounce of that."

Slowly, Hoseok reaches for your hands, and you place your palms in his larger ones, smiling when he gives them a gentle squeeze. "I wanted to talk to you about that."

Anxiety and anticipation race through you, and you nod, doing your best to seem perfectly calm, despite the storm brewing within. "I meant what I said. Since pretty much day one, I have felt a connection with you, and I have wanted to spend every waking moment near you and speaking with you. The affection was not all platonic, but I was also trying to show my feelings without being pushy because it was impossible to gauge whether or not you had feelings for me, too. And now I understand why."

Embarrassed, you look down at your hands, and Hoseok gives them another gentle squeeze. 

"Do you...have feelings for me?" Hoseok asks softly, with a slight tremble to his voice.

For the first time since the start of the conversation, tears well, and although you try to blink them away, one falls down your cheek. You nod in small, quick movements, then finally utter what has been blooming behind your chest for a week. "Yes. I do have feelings for you."

Hoseok looks stunned—mouth agape with eyes wide and brimming with tears, and you smile, then softly shake your head. "I didn't fully realize it at first. Or, rather, I wasn't ready to let myself. There were moments when you would say or do something that gave me butterflies, but I would try to ignore it. I didn't want to be unfaithful, even emotionally. Although, there were times when I think I was. But then you told me how you felt, and I played back different moments from the last week and realized that, if I let myself, I would feel the exact same way."

With a pleased sigh, Hoseok brings your hands to his lips, leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles, and you smile as the flowers behind your ribs bloom brightly. It feels so good to have everything out in the open, you never want to keep a single thing from Hoseok again. 

"If you do want to be more than just friends, then I want to take things a little slow," Hoseok says, lips moving against your skin as his warm breath ghosts between your fingers. "At least, I want to wait until after this week. Our friendship was already whirlwind, and, if we're on the same page, I honestly don't know how long I will be able to hold out before I want more."

"I can wait a week," you respond with a grin, feeling adoration swell at the sight of his wide, eager grin. 

The rest of the day is spent on your couch, watching holiday movies back to back. You manage to stay awake for one and a half before curling up against a pillow placed on Hoseok's lap and drifting to sleep while he plays with the hairs at the nape of your neck. 

When you wake up to the ending credits of what might be the second movie—but could also be a third, for all you know—Hoseok stretches and rubs his hand over your shoulder, down your arm.

"I should get going. Although I don't have much to do for tomorrow, I have a lot to do for Tuesday, and I should get a head start."

"Sounds good," you say with a yawn, and you sit up to stretch your arms out and fall against the backrest of the couch. 

"I'll call you everyday," Hoseok promises, lifting a hand to caress your cheek ever so gently before dropping it.

"I hope you do," you respond, feeling lightheaded both from having just woken up and from Hoseok's gentle caress. 

"On Friday, after my last final, we'll talk about this some more, yeah?"

You nod, smile, and say, "Yeah," feeling hopeful.

For the next week, Hoseok does call every day. 

He spends a chunk of Monday with you on speaker while finishing up a sewing project, pausing what he is saying from time to time to let a machine whirr loudly in the background.

On Tuesday, he only has time between classes to tell you that he hopes you have a lovely day, and on Wednesday, you don't hear from him until late evening, when you are returning home from a trip to the convenience store because you have been feeling a bit lonely and wanted to soothe your weary soul with chips. 

"You sound a little down tonight," He remarks as you unlock your apartment door and quietly close it behind you. 

"Yeah," you admit, "I find myself missing you a lot. But it's alright. I have Friday to look forward to."

Thursday, Hoseok calls in the morning, nervous for his big final presentation; in the afternoon, antsy after showing his pieces to the professor and to his class; and on his way home late in the evening to say he thinks he did well, and that your well wishes in the morning have helped him get through everything. 

Then, on Friday, Hoseok calls between exams, telling you to be ready by 5 PM sharp. He instructs you not to dress fancy, so when 4 PM rolls around, you settle on wearing the red flannel with the first few buttons undone and a form-fitting black tee underneath. You apply some mascara and lip balm, then proceed to pace around your apartment for a while, realizing you still have a little over thirty minutes before he is supposed to meet you. 

As you settle in to do a little reading, your phone dings with an incoming text. The rational part of your brain knows that Hoseok is likely not messaging while taking his exam, but you are antsy and unlock your screen, clicking on the notification with reckless abandon. And, of course, it is not from Hoseok. 

Ash I have been giving it a lot of thought, and I am not ready to let you go. I know things haven't been great for the last several months, but what we had before that was amazing, and I know we can find that again. Please reconsider. I will be coming home as planned on the first weekend of the new year, and I would like for us to talk and reconcile.

The wind feels knocked from your sails as you read over Ash's message, and your eyes prickle with fresh tears. The absolute fucking audacity, after everything you have been through—everything you have voiced to them—for them to steamroll through it all and demand a reunion.

You I am disappointed that this is the conclusion you have drawn from our last conversation and the texts that came before it, and I have no desire to reconcile. 

You hate how quickly your pulse goes from antsy over seeing Hoseok to frantic and angry to be communicating with Ash, and you lay back on the couch, waiting for their inevitable response to come through with a ding and a buzz. 

Ash You are being so unfair, you know that, right? I'm pouring my heart out to you and all you can say is no.

You Coming from the person who didn't listen to a word I said over the phone. If you really do care about how I feel about any of this, then you will be able to clearly see that I am unhappy and ready to move on.

Ash But I'm not.

You I don't know what to tell you, Ash, but we're not getting back together. If you really do plan on coming back here, then I will begin looking for a new apartment and put my stuff into storage for the time being.

When Ash says nothing in response, you sit up and begin to pace around, once more. Threatening to move out is more or less empty at this time of year, and you would hate to leave the convenient proximity to your favorite neighbor. You hope that, as per usual, Ash is all bark and no bite.

A knock at your door pulls you from your spiral, and you flounce to the door, flailing your arms happily. As you swing it open, you only briefly check to make sure nothing is in Hoseok's hands before throwing your arms around his shoulders and taking a nice, deep inhale of his scent. 

"Wh—hey, marshmallow," Hoseok greets, voice surprised, yet soft and deep.

With a pleased and somewhat exasperated sigh, you loosen your hold and let your head rest against him. Hoseok's arms gently wrap around your sides and give you a squeeze. 

"They're tormenting me again and I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack," you admit, feeling Hoseok's hold tense slightly, briefly. 

"Your ex?"

You hum in response and take a step back to get a good look at Hoseok's pretty, understanding face. He continues to gently hold you, and you rub your fingertips over the hair at the nape of his neck. "Sorry, that's not a pleasant way to greet someone."

Hoseok chuckles and slowly begins to move forward, forcing you to step backward, into your apartment. Your heart pounds, heat rises to your cheeks, and you do your best to keep your eyes on him. 

"A hug is the perfect way to greet someone," Hoseok counters, closing your door gently with his foot and spinning you until your back is flush with the wall. "And I want you to always tell me what's bothering you."

The two of you stand so close that one of your legs is slotted between his and one of his, yours. His breath is warm as it ghosts your face, and you can pick up a hint of coffee on his breath. 

Ordinarily, this is where the two leads of a story would lock lips, moan in tandem to let out all the pent-up feelings between each other, and tighten their grasp on one another, desperate to never let go. But this is not a corny holiday film, and you want to allow Hoseok to make the first move. 

"I've missed you," Hoseok says as he leans in and brushes his lips gently over the apple of your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Instinctively, you tip your head to the side to give Hoseok access to anything he would like. He leaves a soft kiss against your cheek, and one on your temple, then he releases his hold and takes a step back.

You realize you had been holding your breath, and you release it in a slow, shaky exhale, voice coming out ragged. "I've missed you too."

"You look great," Hoseok beams quietly, heart-lips smiling wide. 

Hoseok's hair is styled partially off his forehead, with some bangs hanging parted, just above his eyes, and he has a fresh undercut with his short sideburns coming to points around his ears. He wears a black turtleneck with a black and white knit sweater vest overtop, tight-fit black slacks, and black boots. No jacket, this time. He is absolutely stunning.

"You look—" you begin, losing the words as you examine him up and down, smiling when your eyes meet his. There is a hunger in Hoseok's gaze you have never seen, and you mutter, "—ah-amazing," as the heat of his stare threatens to set you ablaze and turn you to dust. 

"I thought we could go to the dive down the street and celebrate the end of my semester and your breakup with some pizza and beers," Hoseok says as he lifts a hand and gently places it below your chin.

You can't help but chuckle, feeling the mood lighten despite the heat that radiates from his skin to yours. "Pizza and cheap drinks is how you want to celebrate?"

Hoseok grins and shakes his head. "I've been craving the pizza."

With a nod, you concede. You would have suggested something a little nicer to celebrate such important life events, but if Hoseok wants pizza and two-dollar cans of piss beer, then that is what he will get.

"Alright," you say with a lift of your eyebrows, "let's go."

Your whole body trembles as you bend to slip on some black boots—sleeker than the ones you tend to wear in the snow, but similar to the ones he wears. These are not warm-weather footwear, but being that the bar is close, you figure your toes can take it.

Once you are bundled in your favorite mustard scarf, Hoseok takes your hand, linking your fingers between his, and tugs you toward the exit. You lock up and allow yourself to be dragged down the hall, giggling as you stumble to keep up. Once the elevator doors close behind you, Hoseok turns and steps into your personal space, caging you in with his arms, and you feel your breath get stuck in your throat. 

"You seem so nervous," he teases.

"A little," you confess softly.

Hoseok hums, cocking his head to the side, and you can't help but chuckle at how simultaneously adorable and sexy he is. 

"You're making me nervous by getting in my face so much," you complain, grinning. 

Hoseok lifts an eyebrow and smirks. "Scared I might kiss you?" 

You open your mouth to respond, but you are so taken aback by his forwardness, and the opening of the elevator doors pulls you back to reality, leaving you dizzy and fumbling around loose vowels. 

Hoseok chuckles, mutters, "Cute," and tugs you through the building and out into the cold. 

The two of you walk hand in hand to the dive. It's a raucous affair inside, full of others who you presume are wrapping up their semester. In the back of the room is a small two-person couch with a dingy wooden table, and you slip your hand from Hoseok's and nod to the corner.

"I'll grab the seats, you get the drinks."

With a nod, Hoseok approaches the bar, and you make your way through the small crowd, to the worn, ripped black leather couch that wheezes as you sit on it. You glance up to find Hoseok leaning against the bar, placing an order, then you take a deep breath and pull out your phone, curious to see whether you have any messages. None. 

Hoseok returns with two shots of whiskey, then quickly spins and returns to the bar for four cans of beer cradled between his slender fingers and a long metal stand wedged in his armpit with a plastic card attached to the end displaying the number 13. You stand to slip the number out of his grasp to place it in the center of the table, then take two of the cans. Hoseok sits beside you with a huff and holds up both of his cans as if wanting to call cheers with two at the same time. 

"I got us pepperoni again," he announces. "To the illusion of freedom!"

You lift both cans and tap them to his, then take a drink from one, followed by the other. The first taste of cheap beer is always uncomfortably sweet, and you wince slightly as your taste buds adjust. 

"The illusion of freedom?" you ask, setting one of the cans down and settling with your body angled toward Hoseok. 

Hoseok nods and leans in, speaking over the music, "My semester is over, but I return in the fall. And your relationship is over, but I intend to sink my claws in soon."

Your pulse quickens, and you scoff in an attempt to hide just how affected you are by Hoseok's sudden change in demeanor. This new side of Hoseok is dangerous, and you are eager for more. 

"Is that so?" you ask, feigning resistance. 

Hoseok leans in, placing a hand gently on your knee, and speaks low into your ear. "I see how shy I make you. Am I wrong?"

You shake your head in small, quick movements and mutter, "N-no."

"Good," Hoseok responds, smacking a kiss to your cheek before sitting straight and causing your brain to buffer momentarily as you stare into space, then blink back into reality. 

Hoseok sets down his beer, then grabs both shots of whiskey and hands one to you. "Bottoms up!"

"Geonbae," you shout in response and tap your glass to his before shooting it back. 

The first shot of whiskey is vicious the way it settles over you in a thin blanket of warmth. You roll your shoulders back, feeling yourself loosen up just enough to lean in and sneak a peck on Hoseok's cheek. The startled look that melts into a smile kicks up a swarm of butterflies in your tummy, and you chuckle, then sit back in your shared seat. 

"You're a menace," you shout as you pull your beer to your lips and have a sip, eyes trained on Hoseok, who leans toward you. 

"Is that so?"

You nod. "I had no idea what kind of monster you would be once given the freedom to flirt with me."

Hoseok laughs, throwing himself back against the small sofa as his shoulders jolt and bob. He looks so pretty and carefree, and you want to kiss him stupid. 

"This is nothing!" he finally shouts once he has gotten his breath back. 

"Oh?"

"I'm holding back a lot, trust me. I don't want to rush anything; you're fresh out of a breakup. And I want to be more than a rebound."

You know that there is no ill intent in Hoseok's words, but they do make you feel a tinge of sadness, so you lean forward and take Hoseok's free hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. "You would never be a rebound. Even if we jumped into a whirlwind relationship before I had a chance to heal from my breakup, you would be so much more. But I appreciate the caution. We should take it a little slow."

The gaze Hoseok fixes you with is soft and warm, and you smile to match his. There is so much you want to express, but the bar is loud and you feel content with what has been said, to this point. 

The moment the pizza is set before you, your stomach groans, and you lean in to take a slice, flopping it onto a paper plate and settling back with it. Its warmth is welcome, and you hardly let it cool before taking a bite, letting the cheese and grease ooze into your mouth, hitting the spot. You understand why Hoseok has been craving it. 

The two of you eat and drink mostly in silence, and when all of the beers are empty, Hoseok returns to the bar for another round. In your pocket, a buzzing signals an incoming text, and you sigh before pulling out your phone. 

Ash I wish you could just be honest for once. Ave says you're at the bar again with the same guy, and the two of you are holding hands. How am I supposed to believe your intentions were pure before you broke up with me?

You Man, Ave really needs to get a life. 

Ash That's all you have to say?

You Nah, but what's the point? You aren't going to listen. 

Ash Try me.

Alcohol emboldens you, and you chew your bottom lip, ready to make a big fucking mess of things. To hell with it. 

You It's true that I have been holding hands with Hoseok tonight. Before tonight, we were just friends, spending most of the week speaking only on the phone, giving one another space while he finishes his semester, and I allow the breakup to settle over me. And now, we are treading the territory of becoming more than that.

Ash Wow.

You It's called moving on. You should try it.

Ash Fuck you.

You I'm good! Anyway, I have better things to do than argue. Have a good night.

Surprisingly, Ash does not fire off any snarky closing remark, and when Hoseok returns, you slip your phone back into your pocket and glance up to find Hoseok approaching with two more shots.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" you tease as Hoseok hands you a shot and taps his to yours, bent over the table.

"I'm trying to get us both drunk," Hoseok responds innocently. "We're celebrating!"

"Bottoms up!" you shout, met with his, "Geonbae!" and you shoot the liquid back. 

Hoseok takes the glasses, returns to the bar, and comes back holding two cans. You drink the beers while leaning in close, bumping shoulders and foreheads while people-watching and loudly singing along to the various songs that play just a bit too loudly. 

Then, you close out the tab and stumble out into the cool, winter night. It is still fairly early when you shuffle down the hallway and onto the elevator, and without a word spoken between the two of you, Hoseok leads you to his apartment, to his cozy sofa, where you fall asleep in his arms, watching some corny holiday film.

Waking up on Hoseok's couch used to feel awkward. The discombobulation of getting your bearings and realizing you had let your guard fall so far with someone who was not your partner always set off panic in your guts. 

But as you sit up in a daze, still drunk and wrapped in a soft, thick blanket, you smile at the sight of a sleepy Hoseok stirring below you. As he opens his eyes and his lips crack into a soft grin, endearment blooms and bursts behind your ribs. 

"You should get to bed," you grumble, poking at his sides.

"Don't want you to leave," Hoseok whines, tugging you closer.

You sigh; you also do not want to leave. "Soon," you say, pushing away from Hoseok's warmth and stretching your limbs. "I'll be ready to stay the night with you soon. And not cramped up on the couch."

Hoseok whines, and you will yourself to stand, tugging on his arm to encourage him to sit up. "Go to bed and stretch your limbs. I'll text you in the morning."

With a groggy smile, Hoseok nods and says, "Okay." 

He stands, stumbling slightly on his feet, then wraps you in a warm, tight hug, grumbling, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond with a chuckle, full of warmth. "You'll hear from me as soon as we wake up."

The next week breezes by in a flurry of trips to the local Korean market without Hoseok catching wise or tagging along. Christmas is on Sunday, and you want to surprise him with a homemade pot of kimchi jjigae. 

Luckily, Hoseok claims he has to make something special for the holiday, doing a very bad job of hiding the fact that he is planning a gift for you, as well. 

Several mornings are spent with one of you showing up at the other's front door with coffee in hand, or an invitation to trudge out to some cafe nearby. Most evenings are spent curled on one of your couches watching movies, either after breaking apart in the afternoon for a few hours or seeing each other for the first time, that day. 

The closer it gets to the holiday, the more Hoseok seems intent on sitting in front of the television, not voicing many thoughts or emotions, and you wonder if the weight of being away from home is starting to overwhelm him. 

You give Hoseok as much space and pampering as he needs, doing your best to pick up on cues for when he seems to need attention versus alone time. Hoseok is usually pretty forthcoming with his emotions, but some things are harder to voice than others, and you understand that better than anyone. 

The night before Christmas, Hoseok is particularly quiet, hinging on difficult to read. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close before leaving for the night, drowsy after having woken up on his couch, curled against his side. 

"Are you alright?" you ask, brushing the tip of your nose against his. 

Hoseok nods, but his eyes stay trained on the floor, and you pull him in for another embrace, muttering, "I miss my family too."

At this, Hoseok squeezes you tight and sighs. Then, he releases the hug and takes a step back, offering a soft smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect this week to take so much out of me. It feels like everything has passed by in a blur."

You nod and rub your palms up his long yellow sleeves. "I agree. But tomorrow should be nice. And if you need to talk about anything, you know I am here to listen, okay?"

"Okay," Hoseok responds. "Talking would be nice. I do have some things I need to tell you, and I have been trying to wait for tomorrow."

"Grand romantic gesture?" you tease. "I'm so shocked."

And with that, Hoseok pulls you into a hug, kisses your forehead, and wishes you good night. You feel a mix of sadness and happiness settle over you as you pad your way to your apartment. But also, hopefulness. Tonight, you have a gift to wrap before you can go to bed, and you really hope Hoseok will like it.

On Christmas morning, you wake up with a smile on your face and begin to prepare, marinating the pork belly in rice wine and black pepper, and putting two servings of rice into the rice maker. Then, you shoot off a text to Hoseok—

You Ho, Ho, Hoseok, good morning, and merry Christmas!

—smiling like an idiot at your phone as you type.

Everything has to be perfect, and you have each ingredient needed for two servings of stew already separated and kept neatly in the refrigerator. While on your various outings over the past week, you found a very adorably ugly hand-embroidered red sweater with a giant Christmas tree and gifts on the front, complete with ribbons hanging from the various ornaments and boxes to give it a nice 3-dimensional feel. 

You add a little glitter above the eyes, apply some mascara, and really take in your reflection as you stand before the mirror in all your glory. If Hoseok isn't instantly charmed by this nonsense, you truly do not know what will work. A ding from your phone pulls your attention, and you nibble on your lip as you read it.

Hoseok I guess the hot cocoas that I am cradling as I type this are not the only sweet treat I have to look forward to, today. Marshmallow, you made me laugh so hard, I embarrassed myself in public. 

You Cute.

Hoseok Be there in 10? Or do you need more time? I was hoping to surprise you, but I also don't want to rush you.

You Be here now, for all I care. I'm ready for you.

Hoseok See you soon. ;)

You walk to the living room to plug in the Christmas tree, stopping in your tracks at the sight of two gift boxes sitting below it. Earlier yesterday, Hoseok had come by to drop off your gift, sternly insisting that you not shake it. The recipe for kimchi jjigae was up on your laptop, and you rushed to the dining room table to close the screen, nearly letting Hoseok in on your surprise prematurely. 

And today, in mere moments from now, the two of you are going to exchange gifts. Yours wrapped in gold with pastel pink dots—a paper Hoseok helped you pick out back when you were buying ornaments and still not certain you would have any gifts to actually wrap this year—and his in shimmering green paper with little red bows. You plug in the tree and stand, marveling at the pastel colors and big, bright star. 

Everything feels surreal. The past several weeks have felt like a hurricane swept in and completely washed away traces of your former self, leaving you in ruins. But in a good way. You still have a huge mess to clean, and you are still not sure what the aftermath of the storm will entail, but as the sunshine breaks through the clouds, offering warmth and light, you can sit in the wreckage and smile. You can be ready to rebuild. 

Four rhythmic knocks on the door jolt you from your thoughts, and you gasp as you stand up straight. It has definitely not been ten minutes. 

As you prance over to the front door, giddy to finally get to see Hoseok, worry begins to stir in your guts. Worry that you are moving too fast, that your gesture is too big and too romantic, that you are not cut out for this at all—especially not so soon after a breakup. 

But you grin and swing the door open wide, ready to accept Hoseok into your heart and into your life as more than just a friend. And judging by the endeared smile Hoseok gives you as he eyes up your sweater and glances at the lit-up tree behind you, you think that perhaps, he is just as ready as you are. 

Hoseok is dressed in a green sweater that has poorly puff-painted ornaments covering it, and you huff out a laugh at how precious and ridiculous it looks. He wears khakis and slip-on shoes, and his hair is tousled somewhat messily. 

"You are full of surprises," Hoseok muses as you take a step back and allow him to enter the small space. 

"I am," you respond, biting back a grin. 

Hoseok toes out of his shoes, handing you a nice, large paper cup of hot chocolate, and you turn to make your way through the apartment, to the couch. You are eager to open the gifts, especially when you turn to find Hoseok sniffing the air with a squint in his eyes, already on the path to discovering what his will be. 

"I smell rice."

You hum, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. "I read that Koreans eat rice for breakfast."

Hoseok's eyebrows lift, and he smiles playfully. "Just rice? How thoughtful."

"Not just rice," you tease in return, rounding the sofa and kneeling on the cushion to face Hoseok. "Come, open your gift."

Hoseok, nosy as ever, takes a step into your kitchen and leans over the counter to observe the plastic wrap-covered bowl, holding the marinating meat. Then, he lifts his head, cocking it to the side as he peers over the small island. "What's in here?"

With a huff, you stand and stomp over to Hoseok, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him toward the couch. He only puts up an ounce or two of resistance, giggling as you drag him along. With him settling down, you grab his gift—which is a bit heavy—and place it on the table in front of him. 

"Open at the same time?" Hoseok asks, and you smile and return to the tree, grabbing your featherlight shoebox-sized present and bringing it back.

Once you sit, you make a show of shaking your box while grinning at Hoseok, who gives you a wide, surprised gasp. There is some movement inside, but it is simultaneously too heavy and too light to give itself away. 

"Awe, you bought me socks," you chide, "how charming."

Blush creeps up Hoseok's neck, and he leans to pick up your gift, attempting to shake it before realizing how heavy it is and muttering something in Korean under his breath. 

"What is in this?"

You arch a brow and say, "Open it and find out," then take the edges of the shimmering green paper under your nails and begin to dig your fingers in. 

"Wait," Hoseok says, reaching a hand out, and you stop, looking up to find a worried expression. "I just—I don't want you to—" he takes a breath, "I made this for you. So...just don't expect something extravagant and expensive, okay? It's—it's not a big deal."

Your heart soars at the thought of Hoseok making you a gift, and you rip the paper open, clawing at it like a wild beast. Hoseok clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head as if ashamed, but a shy smile creeps across his face as he watches you.

"Open yours too!" you insist as you pull a plain brown box from the shredded paper, curling your fingers under the lid but waiting to lift. 

Hoseok tears at the taped paper flaps, opening his gift much more carefully and calmly, setting every nerve of yours alight with anticipation. Once enough paper is torn away, you begin to lift the lid from the box much more slowly than you ripped into the wrapping. 

"Oh!" Hoseok exclaims, examining the photo of the ceramic hot pot on the box. "This is great, but...I feel so bad telling you this...but I have one of these."

"Of course you do," you respond with a cheeky smile. "But I didn't have one, and that's...technically not your actual gift."

Hoseok cocks his head, and you watch the wheels turn. Then, he bursts out laughing. "You made me unwrap something that you're keeping?" 

With a cheeky grin and squint you lean in and say, "Your gift is what I am going to make in that pot once I open this box."

Hoseok's mouth drops, though he still hasn't seemed to figure it out, and you smile as you return to your task. As you lift the lid, you find a neatly folded pile of black knitted fabric with dots and lines of various yellows and golds—like shooting stars against a pitch-black sky. You lift it, and it unravels into a thick, beautiful infinity scarf, knit in a chevron pattern of deep v's. 

Tears well in your eyes, and you hug the scarf close, rubbing the soft fabric against your cheek. It smells like Hoseok, and you bury your face against it, taking a sniff as a sob chokes from your chest. 

"You made this for me," you whimper, overwhelmed by affection.

When you open your eyes and glance up, Hoseok is smiling soft and sweet. You can tell he is nervous about the gift, but that he no longer feels the need to apologize. You wrap the scarf over your head twice and bury your nose once more, shamelessly filling your senses with your favorite musk.

"Hoseok, this is—I love this. Thank you."

Hoseok sets the hot pot on the table and opens his arms, and you accept the invitation and throw yourself against his chest. Nobody has ever handmade something like this before, and you cannot fathom how long it must have taken him. 

Suddenly, your gift feels silly. A meal is hardly a tangible thing, not compared to a scarf. Fresh tears threaten your eyes, and you sit up, rubbing them away before they can form streaks on your face. 

"Now I have to finish making your gift," you say shyly, taking Hoseok's hands in yours. "And while I do that, you should put on The Battle of the Dads. This time I won't fall asleep."

Hoseok laughs and nods his head, and you let go of his hands and sit back, reaching for your hot chocolate to savor a nice, warm sip. Then, you take the hot pot and make your way to the kitchen, setting it on the counter and opening it up. You give it a quick wash and dry, then place it on the stove.

First, you take the prepped container of kimchi and tofu from the fridge and set it close to the stove, then you light a burner beneath a small skillet and take out the kimchi to warm and soften over the heat. After a few moments, movement comes from the living room, and you shut off the burner and turn in time to find Hoseok sliding into the entry on socked feet. 

"I smell Kimchi," Hoseok announces with wide eyes. Then, he glances again at the bowl of marinating pork, this time moving the plastic wrap from the edge, and back at you. 

"I know it won't taste like the soup your mother makes," you say shyly. Tears form in Hoseok's eyes, and he brings his hands to his mouth. "But I wanted to try. I know your heart has been sick for home lately."

Hoseok strides through the kitchen, wraps one arm around your back while the other comes up to gently take your chin. "I'm going to kiss you," he mutters softly, so close you can smell the cocoa on his breath. 

You nod and smile, tilting your chin in an invitation, and Hoseok closes the space between you, brushing his lips gently against yours. A light exhale leaves your lungs—a sigh of relief and joy and so many things left unsaid—and you wrap your arms around Hoseok's neck and pull him ever so slightly closer, slotting your lips between his and smiling as he lets out a sweet, contented groan. You kiss Hoseok slowly and steadily, movements languid and soft as if you have all the time in the world.

Hoseok turns you, maneuvering you away from the stove to press you against the countertop as he rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to find him looking down at you while tears streak his pretty face. 

"Be mine," Hoseok mutters an inch from your lips. "Please."

"Are you sure it's not too soon?" you ask, and Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head. 

"I should be asking you that."

Fondness and desire fill you with warmth, and you pull Hoseok closer, kissing his lips fully and eagerly. "I'm ready if you are," you mutter against him. 

Both of Hoseok's hands take you gently by the head, cradling you as he licks over your lips—as he grins against your mouth at the sound of your soft whimper. You push your fingers into his hair and part your lips, inviting Hoseok to have more, but he sucks your bottom lip gently between his teeth then releases, sliding his hands to your shoulders and pulling you into a firm embrace. 

"I want to kiss you until we're both dizzy and out of breath, but I am also very hungry," Hoseok mutters softly against your temple.

You laugh, overcome once more with emotion as hot tears fall down your cheeks, and you sniffle as Hoseok steps back to give you space to turn on the burners and resume preparing his gift. You expect him to return to the movie—which he has left playing in the living room—but he sits on your counter and watches as you work, asking about where you picked up this and that ingredient, impressed that you memorized the recipe—which you have stored on your phone, just in case.

"It's an easy recipe," you tease as you pack the tofu and kimchi on top of the pork and scoop in the rest of the ingredients. 

"It is, but everyone comes up with their own spin. My mom always adds a dash of sesame oil, something not everyone does."

With a frown, you chew on your bottom lip. The recipe you memorized didn't call for sesame oil, and it is not something you have cooked with before. Hoseok hops down from the counter and approaches, giving your forehead a kiss as he mutters, "Be right back," then slips on his shoes and runs out the door. 

As the pork cooks, you bring the scarf back to your face and smell, closing your eyes and smiling. Hoseok kissed you. Here, in your kitchen, on Christmas morning, Hoseok kissed you, and it made you feel more precious than any single kiss has made you feel in a good long time. Hoseok kissed you and the clouds parted and the birds began to sing and the sun warmed your cheeks.

Several minutes pass and Hoseok returns with sesame oil. He helps with the rest of the ingredients, measuring the water and scooping bowls of rice. Once the soup is ready, Hoseok uses oven mitts to carry it to the living room, where he has set out a pot holder, bowls, and utensils. 

"I was supposed to do all this," you complain with a smile as you walk to the living room empty-handed, "this was supposed to be my gift to you."

Hoseok sets down the soup, slides off the oven mitts, and places them on the table. Then he approaches you and gently places his hands on your cheeks. 

"You've already been my gift," Hoseok says softly, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. "Bringing me along for your errands, welcoming me into your home...I haven't felt this happy during the holidays since I left Korea. For weeks, you've been light," Hoseok kisses the tip of your nose, "warmth," he kisses your cheek, "home."

Tears spill as you wrap your arms around Hoseok and kiss his lips, chin, and cheeks in quick, wet smacks, one after another after another until he is quaking from laughter and pulling away.

"Soup first, then more kisses later," Hoseok proposes, holding his hand out toward the table. The Battle of the Dads plays on the television, and you smile widely, feeling truly at home in this apartment once again. Finally.

"Deal. Soup first, then kisses later."

“To return to love, to get the love we always wanted but never had, to have the love we want but are not prepared to give, we seek romantic relationships. We believe these relationships, more than any other, will rescue and redeem us. True love does have the power to redeem but only if we are ready for redemption. Love saves us only if we want to be saved.” ― bell hooks, All About Love: New Visions

writing this fic was incredibly cathartic, and even made me cry at times! thank you so much for reading. i love you and i hope you have a safe and happy new year!

please don't be a silent reader! comments and kudos go a long way and likes are always appreciated.

tags: @1dsn @btsiguess-kpop @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13  @giriiboyy  @moonleeai  @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki

Hope for the Holidays  is copyright 2022 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[fancyfeathers]

The Games We Play of Dust and Ash (Yandere Moriarty the Patriot Masterlist)

Thinking about when the darlings of William and Sherlock finally meet, I think it would happen after one of the murders in Durham, probably after both of them because two murders in such a short period of time is strange.

After class one day a young lady knocks on the door to William’s classroom and asks for a moment of his time. She is a crime reporter and is looking into the murders of Leonard Tomas Dublin and Dudley Bale and wonders if she could ask him about it because he knew both of them. He excuses himself because his brothers and wife are expecting him home for dinner but invites her over for tea tomorrow to conduct a proper interview.

The next day she shows up to the estate and William introduces her to his own darling wife. The three of them sit around the table and she conducts her questions, all pretty basic, William’s relationship with the deceased, who he think killed them, and any clues he may have. She is fairly polite, not pushing too much into his answers.

Then of course the professor has his own questions for her, like what drove her to choose to be a criminal reporter? What her favorite story to cover was? Has she ever been in danger during her field work?

Then there is knock at the front door and Louis, who was just making tea for his own wife is sick, goes to open the door, and into the lounge comes in a messenger boy.

“A telegram for you Miss, from a Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

“You have to be kidding me! This man- oh sorry, apologies for raising my voice like that, thank you.”

She tips the messenger boy and takes the telegram from him. She is reads it over and sighs, tucking the paper back into her pocket and then William’s darling chimes in with her own question…

“How do you know Mr. Holmes?”

“Well we are partners in a sense, work partners that is, I help him with his investigation of the crime scene and then he gives he his finding from his field work. Because of our little partnership I always am the first to publish… but he is a bit protective, ever since I started working with him he won’t let me take any of my own cases, only covering whatever he is working on, but you can’t blame him, took a nasty bullet to the shoulder one time, took weeks for me to recover… but honestly I would love to become a detective myself.”

“A detective… that sounds amazing.”

She excuses herself since she's he telegram told her how Sherlock needed her help immediately, but as William's darling lays down in their bed that night she realizes how different their lives are...

She is jealous, but she admires her all the same.

The next time they met it was that day on the train back from York to look into the death of the Viscount where Sherlock and William saw each other again. The detective had come and sat himself at their table in the dining car and a few minutes later she comes in running after the detective, scolding him for his childish mood today towards her and John.

"Just because the truth behind the death of Lord Drebber is driving you mad and- oh it's you."

There stands that crime reporter who simply looks like she is working off coffee at this point, she honestly looks exhausted. Sherlock looks at his darling then back at the darling of William.

"You two know each other?"

"Yes we do in fact, after the deaths of Leonard Tomas Dublin and Dudley Bale I was asked by my editor to look into the deaths, thinking they may be linked, but while I was there I was able to interview Professor Moriarty on the cases since he knew both of the deceased. As strange as the deaths were I could not find anything , not a scrap of evidence that could help identify the killer, then I got that telegram from you and I was back down to London.”

“That is true, your lady friend here as quite the eye for a story, after my interview I went to the library and found old stories of hers in the archives, quite impressive work.”

“That’s sounds like my girl.”

The conversation continues and the detective and the reporter seem to be quite good partners, friendly and quite close.

Then the murder happens…

And as William and Sherlock investigate the death, William’s darling notices how Sherlock’s darling keeps on trying to help with the case but the detective keeps on shutting her down.

“Sherlock I found-“

“William and I are handling this case, I am sure you will be able to cover it in the next story of yours when it is solved.”

“Did you think of-“

“Love, there is a murderer on this train and less than an hour to solve this. Go sit down with William’s wife, I don’t want you getting hurt-“

“Sherlock I can handle my own-“

“Last time you said that you got shot in the shoulder, I would rather not you get stabbed, so go sit down!”

She is left in silent shock and goes to sit down next to the wife of Professor Moriarty. Just by watching the two of them when there was a death she could see the change of demeanor between the two of them. The reporter was more than a capable woman, she was indeed a professional but it felt like she was not even allowed to do her job and-

“Your sister in law, married to Lord Albert James Moriarty.”

The sudden words from the reporter caught her off guard, mentioning Albert’s darling who was in an arranged marriage to him.

“Y-yes, what about her?”

“I was hired by her sister to look into the death of their parents a few months ago before I got shot and well I dropped the case for a while.”

“I am sorry I hear that-“

“My client thinks Lord Albert or his brothers to be behind it and after my interview with William awhile back I am thinking the same and I would be a fool to skip such an opportunity to speak to the wives of one of them alone.”

“So irritating Sherlock earlier…”

“Was just to get him to tell me to shut up and sit down, and since he and Mr. William are working together it is only natural that I converse with his wife, yes? Though I will say he does get pissy when I try and look into a case more than he’s like, he is quite scared something will happen to me if something goes wrong.”

“So you wanted to speak to me to see if I know anything about the murder?”

“I never explicitly said it was a murder, ai just said a death, but judging by your expression and voice, you know something don’t you?”

“I-I…”

She looks down at her hands that are resting on the table to see them violently shaking and feels a lump in her throat. In her state of shock she doesn’t notice the reporter coming to rest a hand on her own.

“You can tell me and I promise to do everything in my power to protect you.”

William’s darling looks around the cart to see if anyone is listening or nearby.

“I-I c-can’t, if you know…”

“Please, I am only trying to help.”

A few moments of tense silence pass and…

“The opera house that burned down a few months ago… it-“

“Ah there you are, good to see you two getting along.”

The voice of William interrupts their conversation as he steps through the train carriage door and an panic fills both of them as they realize he has been listening to their conversation from behind the door. He walks over to them, kissing his wife’s head before looking over at the reporter.

“The murderer has been taken into custody, I do hope this makes for a good story for you instead of just some rumor.”

“Yes, I believe it will be… if you would please excuse me, I should go find Sherlock.”

The reporter stands up from the table and as she is about to walk away William grabs her by the hand and she looks back at him to see him smiling at her.

“Do feel welcome to stop by anytime, I am sure my wife would love to have tea with you again.”

“Have a good evening, Professor Moriarty.”

When the detective drops her off at her apartment that night, she immediately goes digging through her old newspapers and articles that she kept, looking for something, the clue she got…

And then she finds it…

A paper from months ago…

“Fire at the Royal Opera House: Three Dead, Ten Casualties.”

Who is the woman that is called William’s wife? But more importantly, what were the Moriarty brothers up to?

Perhaps it is time to end her little deal with the detective and investigate this case alone.

[tavyliasin]

A Prequel? Haarlep, is that you?...

Hello darlings~ I have landed where all writers who love Haarlep end up eventually, imagining their first meeting with Raphael, how they came to be in the cambion's service, what they were like before taking his form. Both are probably around 120 years old, so they are well established in their own rights, but by their races' standards they are young and inexperienced. I'm only half working on this between my request list for now, because the idea won't let me go, but have a few little previews below the cut, including a version of their appearance that a very talented Tav-maker has made with their lovely mods~ Other renditions of them based on my imagined description are more than welcome, I do very much enjoy seeing different interpretations. Preview below the cut! If you'd rather wait for the first chapter to drop, give me a few more days while I work on a few deadline pieces ahead of event exchanges and I'll publish it on AO3 <3

The first appearance of the un-named incubus.

A young fiend stood before a glimmering doorway, uncertain of when precisely they were meant to cross the threshold. They were dressed in a black silk outfit that gave them an appearance of masculine androgyny. Dark tan skin and bright green eyes might have looked human, if it weren’t for the 4 short horns protruding from their brow, slightly parting black hair that cascaded down their back and over their shoulders almost blending with the silks they wore. The other tells of their demonic nature were more obvious, however. Huge wings with blackened edges, claws at the tip, coloured in sunset hues of red and gold stretched out behind them, quivering with nervous anticipation. A long tail with an arrow-tip end pawed at the ground behind them, kicking up a little infernal ash. All they carried was the clothing they wore and the instructions they had been given. A simple enough task, and they were hardly inexperienced, but their first meetings were usually within a dream. Subtly watching their target, learning their desires and their fears, finding every intimate secret they hid in their subconscious before they would ever appear before them physically. They sighed. They didn’t even have a name to bring with them. Whatever it was had been taken, a simple exchange for a promised reward. “Let him name you,” the instructions had been clear, “let him do as he wishes. Get close, learn all you can, and deliver it back to me. You are no fool, incubus, and neither is he. But play the game well, and you will have the life of your dreams in the end. A home all of your own, whatever meals you desire delivered to your door, complete power over the domain I shall grant you.” It was tempting. It would be tempting to any incubus or succubus. They also couldn’t deny a small amount of pride at having been chosen. It sounded like the advances of succubi had already been rejected, so they relished the thought of a challenge. Besides, the son of Mephistopheles was hardly without any power of his own. They took a deep breath, steeling their nerves before they stepped through the portal.  ------------

The sass starts early with this one...

The cambion put his feet on the floor and straightened up the papers, putting them in a neat stack on the table. He stood, walking towards the invited invader in his home, stalking around them to observe and assess them. “I’m not a piece of meat, Raphael.” They stood still nonetheless, allowing him to pace and take in all of their form. They flexed their wings and tail to put on more of a show. “Do you like what you see?~” “Passable.” The cambion grunted, the highest praise he had given any attempt yet. “And good you finally recognise your master’s name. So, why are you here?” “You know that much. Your dear father sent me. You are well aware that many of your kind take ours as advisors, partners in pleasure, or allies for whatever purposes you might have for our abilities.” The incubus grinned, the hint of slightly sharpened teeth glinting in the light as they looked down on the smaller human form of their supposed master. “You’re a spy.” Raphael said simply. “Obviously.” They replied, pleased that they were not being expected to work for a complete fool. “Do you wish to refuse me? Send me back?” “Honesty is a commodity that few of your kind trade in. You may stay. However, ground rules must be set.” He turned to walk away, beckoning for them to follow. “Come.” “Already?” The incubus laughed at their own humour. “It takes more than that, Raphael.” 

-----

The First Rendering of The Presently Un-Named Incubus

Lore Time

The description, appearance, and other details I'm using here are all from established lore for an incubus in 5e. The main source is an article titled for the succubus, but they are very similar beings. Click here for Incubus/Succubus Lore In the article there's a lot of binary gender talk and heteronormativity which irritates me, so I'll also be taking the literal latin descriptions here: Incubus - To lie on top of Succubus - To lie below Concubus - To lie beside (The literal Top/bottom/vers, where a Top gives, bottom receives, and vers is either. As an aside, this is not the same as Dom/sub/switch, as you can have a sub Top and a Dom bottom) From this line: "Legend held that incubi and succubi were wholly separate sexes,[1] and the males were significantly rarer than the female of their kind.[5][6] In fact, with their shapechanging powers, incubi and succubi could both change their sex with ease, though most had a preference for one or the other." I headcanon that Haarlep feels more comfortable in a masculine or androgynous form, but has no issue taking a feminine form or body. However their attitude to gender in general remains "stop boring me with the details and tell me what you desire, all that matters is pleasure. Gender is a boring mortal construct. My nature is an incubus, my form is immaterial." So the article also shows that incubi and succubi also have a more human range of skin tones, much smaller horns than cambions, and the distinct pointed triangle at the end of their tails - something which isn't present in Haarlep's scenes when he's in Raphael's form. I'll definitely go into more detail on these things later too, particularly the changing of forms for the first time.

This is an incubus from the lore page images, so you can see a difference between this and a cambion's fully reddened look. They are much closer to a human in all but the wings, tail, and horns. So that's where I'm leaning with dear Haarls, before they take the form of Raphael.

What about Raphael? What is he like now?

Well...he's younger. Not long taken ownership of the mansion that will later be known as the House of Hope. --- Quote --- Fine leather boots paced across stone floors, the click of heels echoing around the halls of the largely empty mansion that floated through Avernus. It was a start. A place of his own, somewhere to work with his own contracts and plans. The owner of the boots was a cambion, son of Mephistopheles, and already a powerful fiend in his own right. Raphael, if you were to ask a mortal, looked like a human in his mid 20s. Chestnut hair was swept back neatly from his brow, the ends curling a little just below his shoulders. His brown eyes were deep set but sparkled with ideas, face clean shaven and expression darkening by the moment. --- End Quote --- So as you see, Raphael is still finding his feet, working out the beginnings of far grander plans. He has already rejected several "gifts" sent his way, so that's why our dear incubus is nervous. They have to work to get his attention and approval, but they're not sacrificing everything of who they are to do so. As soon as I wrote the two of them in a room together again, it was flowing. I love their dynamic as they exist in my head, the push and pull, the absolute sass and shifting of power between them. I'm going to lean heavily on how this builds up, how they find the balance that leads to where they are in my game-era works with them.

Is this all an excuse for more Raphael and Haarlep? A self indulgent dive through their history just to keep writing their stories?

...Yes. I'm not sorry. I earned this. I love them both too much. I hope you'll join me in my endless adoration for the very best of fiends~ I can't wait to share the first chapter and begin proper work on the series in 2024!

[sothisblessmysoul]

Different anon but I'd love to see Ashe just because I love him so much (a threesome sounds super fun tho hohoho)

(This is my first time writing this type of stuff so I didn't go the whole way. If this is bad I'm so sorry. Also this is long, probably longer than it should be, you've been warned)

[ Warning: NSFW; Handjob. If you squint there is some Top!Reader and Bottom!Ashe and praise kink, and Reader taste Ashe (does this get marked as a warning?) ]

༓ʚ Sweet Like Candy ɞ༓

Summary: Somehow Ashe was able to be talked into wearing a maid’s outfit by his partner.

Ashe Ubert is the kind of boyfriend that someone brings home to meet the parents, the one that any parent would want their kid to marry. He is sweet like warm honey and soft like marshmallows, and he is almost too sweet that it leaves you with a sugar rush, wanting more and more of him that is so indescribable that you can't explain it.

And, perhaps that sweetness that makes you crave more of him is why you take guilty pleasure in teasing him. To see what his limits are, to see him melt into your hands like chocolate left in the sun for too long, to see him come undone. Like right this very moment as he stands in front of you with a fluffy innocent looking maid uniform with bright blushing cheeks.

His heartbeat was racing as Ashe looked into your eyes, slowly taking in his appearance. The silence in the room was far too quiet for his liking, praying with each breath that the silence would break it, say something, or do something. As if knowing how Ashe felt, you finally spoke, “Come here.” It felt awkward to walk in the uniform almost like he was relearning how to move properly but Ashe took no time to move closer to you who learned against a sturdy wooden office desk.

Your eyes take this moment to look at him closer in an attempt to burn this memory into the back of your mind. His freckled cheeks are flushed in a beautiful shade of red and yet despite the obvious bashful expression, Ashe stares at you openly with love. “Such a good boy,” You hummed, grabbing his hips to bring him even closer to stand in between your legs as the weight of Ashe’s body pinned you against the desk. Ashe sighed shaky, those words making a shiver run throughout his body. One of your hands stays on his hip, rubbing little circles as the other hand reaches up to grab the back of his head, fingers taking hold of his hair to guide Ashe down to your lips for him to claim. 

His lips taste sweet. You think, wondering if the rest of him is sweet too, is a follow-up thought as your tongue against his bottom lip to ask for entrance. When his lips part to allow your tongue to slip in, take that moment to tug on his hair that your fingers were still holding on to. Between your skillful tongue and the pull of his hair, Ashe whimpers quietly. But not so softly that it went unnoticed, making you pull away to smirk up at him, watching how out of breath Ashe is.

Using the hand that was still holding the back of his head to roughly tug Ashe’s hair so his head would go leaning back giving you perfect access to his neck that you began to place wet kisses on. The whole time that this was happening, Ashe welcomed it, each kiss and hair tug making him sigh in pleasure with goosebumps dancing on his skin. Neither you nor Ashe knows if it is subconscious or not but Ashe’s body automatically started to grind his pelvis against yours, letting you know how aroused Ashe is as his hands squeeze and clench your upper thighs. 

The friction that Ashe is making with you made both of you groan. You stop kissing him to now directly impatiently palming him through this maid uniform with the hand that formerly tugged on his neck, as the other hand is holding tightly on Ashe’s hip still. “Where do you want me to touch you?” You whisper, still palming but with more added pressure. He is beyond hard at this point. “Show me.” 

When Ashe didn’t immediately do it, focusing more on the pleasure, you pulled away from touching him. The removal of your touch and warmth made him let out a tiny whimper. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” Ashe moaned breathlessly this time, it sounded so heavenly that you want to hear more of it. However, you waited patiently as possible as he forcibly stopped himself from grinding against you.

His body trembled a little and a blush that even reached the tip of his ears, Ashe slowly lifted his skirt to reveal the white stocking and garter underneath. You touch them, making sure to brush your fingers on the inner space of his thighs, close enough to tease him with the touch that Ashe desperately needs. With remaining willpower, he fully lifted the skirt higher up to his hips this time, showing off the lovely white panties that looked on him that clung to the fully hard erection, the tip of its head peeking out from the panties.

“Such a good boy,” You whispered, staring at his length that you slowly reached out to softly touch with both of your hands that gently pulled his undergarment off to fully expose himself. Ashe shivered from the cold air that touched him, hands tightly continuing to hold the bottom ends of the maid uniform. Struggling to not let go of the skirt, to not reach out and take both sides of your face with Ashe’s hands to pull you roughly for a deep breathless kiss. Ashe wants to kiss you so deeply that it hurts to breathe.

But before the young man gets lost in thought, a deep groan escapes from his throat when your hand takes hold of his length. Soon, in a sort of pattern and rhythm, you moved your hand to stroke him up and down. Everything about him is beautiful from his heart to his personality and physical features. You want to ruin this sweet man. Ashe began to thrust into your hand that’s stroking him, adding more pressure and speed to the movement. He is panting with delicious-sounding moans, getting lost in the pleasure. 

“Your moans sound so pretty.” His eyes lock on to yours after hearing that, attempting to keep eye contact but when you twist your wrist in a way that he likes, Ashe’s head falls back and a whimper leaves his lips as Ashe’s body starts to tremble. “Please.” He whimpered, finally speaking in a whiny and needy voice. Ashe couldn’t take anymore at this point. He needed release badly now. 

“Please what?” You replied, cooing at him as if he was something adorable and slowing down the speed and movement of your hand. God, Ashe was so close. Just needed more attention, more of your touch to him, just anything that you will give him. “Beg for me. Beg for what you want.” “Please let me cum.” Ashe sounded as if he was close to tearing up from the teasing because despite you stopped stroking Ashe, you would rub the tip of his length with your thumb, giving it the right amount of attention so that it begins to release more pre-cum. 

“As you wish.” You smiled, removing your hand from his length to spit your saliva on the palm of your hand to act as lubrication as your hand soon returned to touching him again. It did not take long for your hand to pick up the same speed and movement from earlier as Ashe had enough pre-cum to start to leak that which added more lubrication. Between friction and motion with your hand and Ashe thrusting violently into your hand, it’s not a surprise that he is coming to cum soon. 

Leaning upward to kiss him on the lips shortly followed with leaving kisses and hickeys from Ashe’s neck to shoulders, and even leaving some bite marks that leave him feeling weak in the knees. He groaned when you kissed and licked a new bite mark. Each moan, groan, and whimper from him makes you equally aroused that the place between your legs wants just as much attention. The image of Ashe in between your legs is so realistic that you could almost feel it. The sensation of his soft hair tickling the inner of your thighs as he begs to pleasure you that he’ll have to work till allowed him to touch you. 

To feel his warm wet tongue lick you so much that it is hard to tell whether it is his saliva or your juice. To have his callous slender fingers teasing your entrance hole, fingers curling in and out of you. The image makes a moan of your own to escape, lips parted and trying to not touch yourself because it has to wait, it needs to wait, as the desire to see Ashe come undone in your hand is stronger. 

The sound of your moan was the final push for Ashe as he stared at you with lustful but dazed eyes with his mouth open, panting. Impatiently he took hold of your wrist that’s stroking his length to make your hand grip Ashe become firm, increasing the speed that he is pumping and thrusting into your hand. His action had taken you by surprise since rarely does Ashe do this. The way that Ashe is making you touch, grip, and squeeze him leaves you to wonder if this is exactly how he touches himself and when he does it. Does he do it in his room? And that he pretends that his hand is yours, imagining you touch him in ways that Ashe might be too nervous to tell you. 

The thought makes you more excited as you feel Ashe coming with a full-body tremble and loud moan that the young man didn’t try to cover. Ashe’s semen spilled a little on the floor but most of it ended up on your hand, “Sorry,” He said breathlessly, burying his face in the crook of your neck only to whimper a little at your touch since Ashe is too sensitive at the moment. Even as Ashe needed a moment to breathe, he still placed very affectionate kisses against your neck while you had brought your cum covered hand up to your mouth to begin licking it clean, eyes locking onto Ashe's face who was blushing heavily at the sight. After making sure your hand was clean with a coy smile on your face, there were only two words offered. 

“So sweet.”

[devilofthehounds]

God Eater 3 Character Novel | Beginning of a Vow: Chapter 3

[image id: A novel cover. Hugo Pennywort from God Eater 3 is leaning against the bars of a prison cell. He is holding up his hand and looking at one of his armlets as if reminiscing. On the other side of the bars is a faded image of a young Hugo looking off into the distance. The text, when translated into English, reads “God Eater 3 Character Novel | Chapter 1: Hugo Edition | Beginning of a Vow”. /end id]

This is a fan translation. Original text here.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Adaptive God Eater. AGE.

It was explained to us that we would be special God Eaters infiltrating the Ashlands, where normal God Eaters couldn't operate.

They gathered kids from all over who had no relatives, forced them to take the aptitude test, then threw the survivors into the Ashlands to gather information.

That was how Port Pennywort operated.

PW­–01407: Hugo Pennywort.

That was my new name after surviving the aptitude test.

I was put in handcuff-like armlets and thrown into a prison cell. Still in a daze from the aptitude test, my first instinct was to lash out at the guards.

"Hey, what about the others... Are there any others from the satellite base?"

"Oh, those energetic brats. They probably got thrown in a different block. If you're a good boy, maybe I'll let you visit them."

The guard was mocking me, but my heart started to fill with hope.

"Then everyone's here, huh? ...Alright... Alright!"

I wanted them to be safe at the base if possible, but the fact that they were all here reassured me more than anything else.

Everyone in the defense team, and Luca.

I wasn't alone. That awareness inspired me, even in this prison, anxiety swirling around me.

It wasn't at all the way I wanted it to happen, but I knew we could make our dream come true here.

Even with a God Arc that looked like it was cobbled together out of junk, I didn't feel anxious at all.

With this thing, I'd kick the Aragami to the curb. And someday, along with the rest of the defense team, we'd return to everyone who was waiting for us at the satellite base.

Then we could proudly tell everyone we loved that they wouldn't have to worry about anything anymore.

Clutching the already familiar Long Blade-type God Arc in my hand, I decided to make that dream a reality as soon as possible.

I couldn't meet up with the rest of the defense team, since they were put in a different block, but even as the days were filled with grueling training, I continued to work hard without a single word of complaint. Perhaps influenced by my example, more and more of the kids in the prison began to smile, little by little.

The budding sense of camaraderie bolstered my heart even more, and then—

The day came when I was assigned my first mission as an AGE.

The first mission was reconnaissance.

Infiltrate an area where the ash density had recently risen and bring back information regarding the Ashlands.

The ones assigned were me and Luca.

I was sick of being shaken by the dark truck like that day, but I was also excited by the prospect of a real battle, with real opponents.

"Finally, our first mission... Let's do our best, Luca. They're expecting a lot from us. If we get results, maybe the guards will change their tune!"

Luca nodded with a thin smile, but his face betrayed his anxiety.

"It'll be okay. If you're in danger, just stay behind me. I'll protect you from any Aragami!"

I'd be the vanguard. Luca would hang back and play support. I figured that would work best.

"...Thank you. I'll... I'll protect you, too, Hugo."

"Aw, thanks. I'm counting on you, partner!"

In his own way, Luca must have summoned all his courage to say that.

With those words, what uneasiness was left in my heart completely disappeared.

"Alright, pups, it's time. Get ready."

The guard's orders came through the radio loud and clear.

We got out of the parked truck, dragging along the heavy cases containing our God Arcs.

"So, this is the Ashlands..."

Since being welcomed into the satellite base, I had rarely seen the scenery outside the armored wall. It felt like it had been a long time since I'd looked out over the world like this.

A desolate landscape that stretched on endlessly. The black ash floating in the air stung my skin, making me feel sick.

"I am now releasing the restraints on Pennywort AGEs Hound 1 and Hound 2."

The conjoined armlets detached with a violent flash of electricity.

The small amount of regained freedom made that feeling of sickness grow even stronger.

"Come on, let's go, Luca! We'll make it back alive, together!"

We took our God Arcs and ran to the point where the ash concentration had risen, keeping a close eye on our surroundings.

After becoming a God Eater, my physical capabilities had improved remarkably, but the farther we went, the heavier the air weighed on my body.

"Hugo, look over there."

A few minutes after the start of the mission, Luca was the first to catch a glimpse of the enemy. It was still a long way off, but five Ogretails—small Aragami with tails like demon masks—were running around.

"...What should we do? It looks like they're heading in the same direction as us."

"Let's sneak after them. They seem to be traveling in a pack. If there's a nest or something like that, we can find it and report back."

We followed the pack of Ogretails, keeping a safe distance so as not to be noticed.

I had been able to calmly assess the situation and give precise instructions. I thought it was going well.

However, even though they were small, there were five of them. The tension of wondering when they would notice us, combined with the heavy air of the Ashlands, was starting to make me feel a little fatigued.

"Is that...?"

Suddenly, I stopped and stared at something out of the corner of my eye.

"Hugo? What's wrong?"

There was a large, rocky hill that had been eaten away at by the Aragami. Part of it was unnaturally chipped away.

I felt like I recognized that hill.

"...Huh?"

I looked around again.

This was the Ashlands. An unknown, dangerous place where flesh and blood could never hope to operate.

That was what it was supposed to be, but even so, I felt like I had been here before.

"That's right... I had to get over that weird, rocky hill... really quickly."

I remembered. How could I forget?

Having lost my family in the Calamity, I had desperately kept moving forward on my wandering journey in despair.

The endpoint of that journey was just ahead.

Driven by an ominous premonition, I started running.

I scrambled up the hill and ran desperately to find a spot where I could get a bird's-eye view of the area ahead.

And then.

"Why... How...?"

I was speechless at the view below me.

A place surrounded by a huge armored wall with a dirty wolf emblem engraved in it.

A small cradle where people huddled together.

It was a satellite base.

"A satellite base... all the way out here, too. But this deep in the Ashlands..."

I could hardly hear Luca's words as he caught up to me.

The entrance to the armored wall was completely open. The Ogretails we'd been following entered the base like they were coming home.

"Hey, what are you doing? Report back when you reach the designated point."

The guard's cold voice echoed from the radio.

"This... This is... the satellite base where I..."

"Yeah, that's why you were picked for this assignment. We figured you'd have the lay of the land. Don't go zoning out now."

"Then, the area swallowed up by the Ashlands..."

"You ought to be grateful. If we hadn't picked you up when we did, you would've been swallowed up, too."

"Wh... What about everyone at the base?!"

"Does it look like there were any survivors? If there were, it'd be the discovery of the century! Ahahaha!"

The guard's harsh laughter echoed in my head.

The deafening sound caused a dark ripple to spread through my blank, still mind.

"Did you... Did you know from the beginning that this place was going to be swallowed up by the Ashlands...?"

They were supposed to be God Eaters.

They were supposed to wield their God Arcs for the sake of defending humanity.

And yet—And yet—

"Why... Why didn't you save everyone?!"

I screamed the words so loud, it felt like my throat was going to tear open.

But what came back was the same inorganic, disinterested voice.

"Hmph, idiot. There's no way we could afford to feed dozens of adults with no chance of passing the aptitude test."

"Don't... Don't mess with me...! It's a lie... It's a lie, it's a lie! It has to be a lie!"

I fell to my knees on the withered earth. I couldn't stop my tears from overflowing.

Were they all dead? I'd never gotten the chance to repay them.

None of them deserved to die.

They'd been kind, warm, precious—we'd been a real family.

"How am I going to tell the others...?"

There was no way any of the defense team members at the Port knew about this yet.

I was going to have to be the one to deliver the news to them, to bring them this despair.

The very thought made my chest tighten even more.

"Oh, yeah. Now that I think about it, there were some other kids brought from that base. Guess I'm the one that has to break it to you—"

At that moment.

I learned the true nature of this world.

"They're all dead."

".........What?"

"All four of them failed the aptitude test. One of them even transformed into an Aragami. Putting that one down was a real pain."

I had thought I couldn't see them because they were in a different block...

I never saw them because... they weren't here anymore...?

The moment I realized it, the memories of the days we'd spent at the base flashed through my mind.

The five of us would fulfill our dream together and become a real defense team to protect the base.

We would become heroes and make a triumphant return, telling everyone that we were home.

"You understand now? Your lives are cheap. Do your best to be of use to the masters that saved you, you dog."

A dry gust of wind blew through the air.

The wind, coarse and mixed with ash, coldly caressed my cheek.

"Ah... Ah... Aaaaaaaaah!"

The kids in the prison had been much more sober about reality than me.

We were going to die. We were nothing special. We were only being used because we happened to be around. And we would disappear for nothing.

I finally understood that we were nothing more than miserable dogs.

"You... All of you..."

However, in the depths of my despairing heart, there was a feeling that burned fiercely.

Even if my life was worthless, I would be the one to decide how to use it.

That, at the very least, was a form of rebellion. It was my way of proving that I was still alive.

I ripped off my radio and glared down at the Aragami, coming and going from the base as if they owned it. My grip on my God Arc tightened.

"I'll never forgive you!"

Driven by my fury, I tried to jump down from the hill.

But before I could, Luca grabbed my hand.

"Hugo, wait! I'll go, too!"

"Don't follow me! Just get away from here!"

This was my problem. I couldn't drag Luca into it—I couldn't let him die.

I shook his hand away and started running toward the base.

The armored wall was open; everyone must have noticed the Ashlands approaching and tried to escape.

Do we stay locked up in the base and wait for the ash to swallow us?

Or do we find hope outside, one way or another?

Everyone at the base making that choice... They wouldn't have given up. They would've tried to live.

However, the base's single truck was crushed to nothing just outside the armored wall.

There were lots of small explosives lying beside the truck, waiting to be used as a diversion, as if there hadn't even been time to use them.

"Everyone...!"

The image of the base in my memory had been painted over without a trace.

Houses had been reduced to rubble. Dried bloodstains could be seen all over.

This place of memories, where I'd been surrounded by warm people, had now transformed into a nest of small Aragami.

"Damn it... Damn it! You... Aaaaaaah!"

Ogretails. Axe Raiders. Cocoon Maidens. Blast Spiders.

There were more than several dozens of them. It would be suicidal, beyond reckless, for even a skilled fighter to take them on alone.

But so what?

From the very beginning, this was the place to set my life ablaze.

"Grrrrrroooooh!"

The Aragami noticed me and all let out roars in unison.

I dodged some spikes from an Ogretail and swung my God Arc at its face.

It melted through the Aragami like a hot knife through butter.

I could fight. With these hands, I could avenge everyone.

Using an Aragami's corpse as a shield, you could block small long-range attacks. You could also safely restore your depleted Oracle by slashing at the corpse.

Ironically, Pennywort's training program had been excellent in building a fighting style that used whatever was available.

Maybe it was because I was so beat up, but my body moved so nimbly that it was hard to believe this was my first battle.

But then, a flash of red Oracle energy rose into the ash-filled sky. The laser of a Cocoon Maiden.

Two, then three red lights flew in succession from all sides.

"Crap!"

I couldn't deploy my shield in time. I got hit by the lasers and blown away.

Somehow, I managed to regain my stance. But then, the huge maw of an Ogretail was right in front of me.

"...! Waaaah!"

Reflexively, I unleashed the Impulse Edge, the secret weapon of the Long Blade-type God Arc.

The shockwave was so powerful, it depleted all of my Oracle in a single shot, crushing not only the Ogretail in front of me, but also all of the Aragami that had been approaching me.

However, the recoil was so strong that I was sent flying back, rolling on the ground, and slammed into the armored wall.

The impact knocked me unconscious for a moment, but my body moved reflexively.

To try and open a path, I stabbed my God Arc straight through an approaching Blast Spider.

Its body swelled up eerily.

"Uh-oh!"

At the moment of the Blast Spider's death, its activated Oracle Cells set off an explosion.

Propelled by the heat of the blast, my body was flung through the air and slammed to the ground.

A pain I had never felt before assaulted my entire body. My Oracle was more depleted than I could have imagined.

But still.

"It's still... not enough...!"

Mustering what energy I could, I stood on my trembling legs and tried to charge the Aragami. But then—

From the ground, countless new Aragami sprang up.

Zygotes. Even though they could fly, they had been hiding underground.

"Damn it... More of them...?!"

I was more than a little annoyed that something so troublesome had appeared, but that wasn't the end of it.

More Aragami sprang up one after another from the ground of the base.

Had they been hiding this whole time? Or had they only come to life just now?

In a matter of seconds, more Aragami than I had killed were writhing around in my field of vision.

It was like watching ants swarm over crumbs of bread. There were so many Aragami that there was no room to move, and they were all closing the distance towards me at the same time.

"Hah... Haha... You gotta be kidding me..."

Aragami were the embodiment of despair. And that was the reason God Eaters fought.

All around the world, there had been even worse despair than this every day, for decades.

The moment that reality hit me, the fear I had managed to suppress with my fury overflowed in my heart.

With the sound of my God Arc hitting the ground, the strength drained from my knees.

"Everyone..."

I wanted to protect this place.

I wanted to protect the smiling faces of everyone who had been kind to me, together with my friends.

But that dream could no longer come true.

If I died, would I be able to see them again?

"Sorry... Luca..."

Please, please, please survive.

I looked down and uttered his name in a small voice, a final prayer.

The next moment—

There was a loud explosion from a corner of the satellite base.

"Hugo!"

Something leapt out from the rising flames, attracting the attention of all the Aragami in one fell swoop.

Luca, wielding shining twin blades—a Biting Edge-type God Arc—flew through the swarm of Aragami like a meteor and landed in front of me.

"Luca, you... you idiot! I told you to run!"

I shouted angrily at his back.

There was no point in both of us dying here.

"...I already told you."

Luca turned and shot me a determined look.

"I'll protect you, too, Hugo!"

Upon saying those words, Luca transformed his God Arc.

What appeared from the blade in his right hand was a jet-black captive mouth that could have been mistaken for an Aragami.

"Hraaaaah!"

The God Arc flashed and, as if it were having a feast, devoured the Aragami that were rushing in, slicing them to ribbons. When the mouth returned to Luca's hand, golden Oracle energy erupted from his body.

"I won't run away. We promised we wouldn't die... We promised we'd make it back alive, together!"

As he shouted, Luca combined his God Arc's blades into a singular weapon.

"I'll keep that promise, no matter what. So don't you run away, either, Hugo!"

Luca raised his God Arc, now in glaive form, toward a Zygote swarming from the air.

Golden Oracle energy erupted from the God Arc's activated blades, drawing a beautiful arc like the moon and slicing the Aragami in two.

A torrent of Oracle energy spread out from Luca's back like wings, knocking the surrounding Zygotes to the ground.

"Whoa..."

Seeing wings of light that could make even Aragami bow in submission, I was certain.

This was hope.

That light. The will to survive. It was the only power capable of surviving in this world.

And I—we—swore to protect that light.

"...Yeah, that's right."

Grasping my God Arc again, I stood next to Luca, newfound strength rising within me.

"My bad... Let's do this, Luca!"

"Yeah, let's go, Hugo! The armored wall will close soon. Can you make it to the exit?"

As if on cue, the armored wall began to close with an earth-shattering rumble.

"You set the armored wall to move?! How do you even know how to do that?"

Letting out a small chuckle, Luca's next words were the most unexpected thing yet.

"...Lucky guess."

"...Ahaha! You're a riot!"

Regardless, it was a good move.

The reason the inside of the base had become an Aragami nest was simple: the door was wide open.

Following that logic, sealing off the entrance would trap all the Aragami inside.

The only question left was whether we could break through this many Aragami and escape the base before getting sealed in ourselves.

"I used all of the explosives from the truck outside to get in here. We'll have to fight with everything we've got."

"Don't worry, the two of us can do it! Let's go!"

We leapt forward, aiming for the gap in the closing armored wall.

Luca took the lead, tearing through the Aragami blocking our path.

I was right at his heels, making assists and protecting his back.

The formation worked surprisingly well. Every fiber of my being told me this was the perfect formation for us.

The armored wall was closing.

Everyone in the defense team. All the people who had been kind to me.

A precious place where, for the first time in my life, I had found friends and a dream.

This place, where so many happy memories lingered, was somewhere I could never return.

I grit my teeth and shook off the memories flooding my mind as fast as I could.

"Hugo!"

Luca, one step ahead of me outside the base, turned back and reached out his hand.

The gap was just large enough that a kid could barely squeeze through.

Without hesitation, I jumped through the boundary between the past and the future.

When I came to, Luca and I were lying in a heap outside the base.

Thankfully, there were no signs of Aragami around us, and there didn't seem to be any chasing us over the wall.

I didn't have the energy to get back up. As we laid together on the ground, I asked him a single question.

"...How could you be so reckless?"

Luca, still lying on the ground, reached his hand out toward the sky as he spoke.

"...That day. In the truck. I thought I was going to die. I felt so scared and alone. But then... you found me, Hugo."

A single wall separated us from hell. Even without making a single sound, every second spent in the Ashlands threatened to cut our lives short.

Luca seemed to smile in relief, even though he had to be covered in wounds as well.

The way he was talking, you would think he was the one who had been saved.

"Your promise from back then—it's been my hope."

He was just like me.

Thanks. Sorry. Both sounded wrong. So instead—

I gave him a small smile and lifted my arm. Luca responded in kind.

"...Wanna head back?"

"Yeah. Let's go home."

The sound of our armlets colliding echoed throughout the Ashlands.

Translator's Note

[olliethescribe]

Maybe it’s the time of year and I’m really getting in my emotions, but damn, thinking about Warren and Hypno is making me super emotional. Reread one of my favorite fics tonight to decompress and wow, I sincerely love them.

It absolutely shouldn’t work, their relationship. They’re opposites of each other in all the ways that lead them to complete the other - narrative foils as I keep saying. Hypno started off as a forgettable human that never reached high levels of fame or recognition, likely wasn’t considered attractive (the guy had been tricked and toyed with romantically a few times given his reaction to Mikey tricking him in Newsworthy), and is this humble and sweet guy that’s very sincere and also quite petty (choosing to ignore the attempted murder). Being mutated made him formidable, a memorable and dazzling act. He had nothing to lose and gained plenty in becoming Hypno-Potamus. He commands attention and is actively seen as a threat. The only reason someone wouldn’t remember Hypno is if he hypnotized them. Beyond that, he has quite the presence.

Then there’s Warren. He was a famous guy that starred brilliantly on TV as a news anchor, was actively being looked for as his disappearance was alarming, and considered an insanely attractive guy. Becoming a mutant ruined his life and cost him everything; a forgettable and unremarkable person that is easily passed over. He can call himself a villain all he wants but there’s nothing anchoring that title to him. He’s more blood-thirsty than Hypno, however (hell, he killed a guy on-screen and smiled as the ELOM clapped). Warren is loud and self-serving, putting on a show for himself, essentially, as no one else puts in the effort to even acknowledge his existence (even the camera pans away from him in Newsworthy, much to his chagrin). What was once a big shot reduced to a rain drop in the ocean.

The differences pile up in other ways. Hypno loves his animals, even going as far as to try and resurrect his previous hippo assistant, Doug, on multiple occasions. Warren got annoyed with a pigeon once and reduced it to ashes before laughing manically. Hypno is very into fashion (“who wears knit caps?! In summer! Who does that?!” As well as the entirety of The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle). Warren’s a bit on the frumpier side, not expressing much of an opinion on clothes but very into keeping his hair in order. Hypno sticks to his promises and Warren picks betrayal.

They shouldn’t work. They almost didn’t! Their first meeting was full of animosity and Warren was the only thing keeping Hypno from killing four children. Yeesh. But, down the line, Hypno took Warren in and they made a domestic life together work. Falling into a rhythm, surprising the other with gifts and acts of service (Warren takes care of cleaning up around the house despite there being a chore chart, and Hypno made Warren a birthday cake and jumped out of it for him), encouraging the other’s acts and schemes, willing to do anything for the other. Hypno runs away the most out of any side villain in Rise, but took several punches for Warren just so his ‘roomie’ would be okay. They cry for each other, beg their enemies for help to make sure the other can be saved, that they could resume their lives and be together at all costs.

They’re so in love. They’d have hated each other if they met as humans, or at the very least would be unimpressed. They were too different as human beings in all the ways that make them perfect for each other as mutants. To find solace in someone going through the exact pain as you, in a similar career field no less! Spending late nights making fun of game show contestants and enjoying the other’s company. And it isn’t perfect but they have each other, can relax in the security of their relationship and know that the other isn’t leaving anytime soon. They’re partners in crime, makers of magic, co-hosts as they take the airwaves by storm illegally, long term roomies, lovers, husbands even.

Ain’t that magical?

[dalmascan-requiem]

Lente's Rondo: Pyre

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For those we lost.

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Read on AO3 or keep reading after the jump

content warnings: funeral, talk of death

Part of FFxivWrite 2023

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Day 21's prompt for FFxivWrite 2023 is 'grave'. It made me think about fighting in the Resistance--how fighting in a difficult war with so many losses would make it hard to properly honor the dead with burials and graves. This makes Gale truly think about life and death, which was never really on his mind, before.

Finally, this is the conversation he alludes to in the fic 'Letter'. Yes, he twisted that memory to mean something else completely, lol. Can't say I blame him given his mental state at the time, though.

Gale watches the smoke of the pyre rise to the sky. Another high price… 

The mission was deemed a success… technically. The Resistance managed to overtake an important Garlean outpost and disrupt the flow of supplies. But the success came at a high cost.

So many died for this mission… was it even really a victory? The funeral pyre still burned high, and spirits were low in the camp. Not to mention we'll need to pack up and move after, to ensure the Garleans don't find us.

Gale notices someone walk up next to him, and he turns to meet his partner. "How is your side, my love?" He smiles at Laurent, but it's clearly forced.

Laurent lightly touches his right side before meeting Gale's gaze. "About as well as can be. You've gotten much better with conjury… I barely feel anything."

"Well, please be careful regardless--healing magic can only do so much, and it won't do for you to reopen the wound."

The dark-haired Viera nods, and they both turn again to the fire. "...I count myself lucky that I survived, even."

"As do I…" Gale looks away, spinning a ring on one of his fingers. "I wish it didn't have to be like this. The sacrifices, so many dying just to put a small dent in the Empire's armor…"

Laurent turns to face Gale again, but remains silent, patiently waiting for the light-haired Viera to continue. After a moment, emerald eyes look back to the pyre. "All these deaths… and these were only the bodies we could recover. Their ashes will be scattered to the four winds in a fortnight--no memory, no graves, nothing but names to be forgotten by history."

It's simply… not fair… Gale doesn't voice his final thought, as childish as he knew it sounded. But with all the comrades he tried to save, all the pain they suffered, all the loss--was there truly any other way to think?

Gale sighs, then he feels Laurent's arms wrap around him in a soft embrace. "Eir…" He pulls back slightly to wipe a bit of soot off Gale's cheek. "We'll remember. And we'll make the Garleans pay ten-fold for everything they've done."

Fuchsia eyes shone with anger and determination, and Gale forced himself to smile again. "You're right…" He returns the embrace and mumbles into Laurent's shoulder. "Reyna, will you promise me something?"

Laurent takes a step back, a serious expression on his face. "What is it?"

Gale begins spinning a ring on his finger again. "Please promise… should something happen to me, you move on, alright?"

The dark-haired Viera quickly breaks Gale's gaze. "Eir, nothing will happen to you, this isn't something--"

"It is. It is something we need to talk about." Gale grabs one of Laurent's hands. "I don't want to, but we're fighting in a war." He gestures at the pyre. "Anything can happen… And we live long lives, compared to many of our comrades. I don't want you to spend decades alone. Please?"

Laurent stares into Gale's eyes for a long time, before squeezing his hand. "...Will you promise the same?"

"I…" I can't very well say no, after all that… "...Yes, I will." Gale lightly touches Laurent's side, which causes him to wince. "But let's do our best so that neither of us has to keep that promise, alright?"

"Alright." Laurent nods. "Let's get away from the fire, now. Staring at it won't improve our mood."

Gale's smile, this time, is not forced. "You're right. Let's get some rest."