#now I only have to survive new year's eve

[cerise-on-top]

IT'S MEEEE! 😆 how're you doing?

I want some ANGST! But with a happy ending with Fluff!

Valeria/Laswell/Farah have a stressful day, and they are in a bad mood and take it out in the reader.

Take your time and take care! 🫶

Hello again! Welcome back! I'm doing fine, I'm just a bit tired right now, but I should be alright by tomorrow! First off, I'm so sorry this took so long! I tried to make it a bit longer than I usually would as an apology! There's not a whole lot of angst, aside from the girls having had a rough day and accidentally letting it out on reader, but I tried! I hope it's to your liking! Thank you for your request!

Valeria, Farah and Laswell Taking their Anger out on Reader but then Comforting them

Valeria: It was likely Alejandro who got on her nerves, chasing her like a dog would its own tail, only to never catch her after all. If she could, she would have him killed just like that. Much to her dismay, however, he was slippery, a trained killer whose only weakness was either himself or Rudy. But even the latter was hard to catch, so both of them meeting a fitting end would yet have to wait some more. At that moment, all Valeria wanted was to spill some blood. Anyone’s would have been fine. Walking through the door to your shared home, she watched you fold some clothes in the living room, putting them aside carefully so as to not put too many folds in them. Waving to her once you put down the sweater, you greeted her, wanting to throw your arms around your partner. Yet, fear struck you as Valeria glared at you, looking as though she was about to rip your throat out using her bare teeth. Thus, you kept your hug to yourself, a bit intimidated by her.

Instead, you tell her that you made some food, some vegetable stew, which she could easily reheat in the kitchen. Somehow, that information made her even more furious. Seemingly disappointed in your choice of cooking, she cussed. At first not at you, but when you tried to deescalate the situation, insisting that you could cook her a meat based dish as well, Valeria’s fuse blew. Her voice grew louder, almost booming, with her explicitly telling you that she didn’t fucking care about the food. It wasn’t the first time you had seen her act like this, but not towards you. Therefore you figured she must have had an extremely rough day. Even so, when she was done, you muttered an apology, going to your room and avoiding her for the rest of the evening so she could blow off some steam. It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have known after all, but you still felt like a failure, awaiting the seconds, the minutes, the hours, until you could finally go to bed. Just hearing Valeria stomp around outside your room made your blood freeze in your veins.

It wasn’t until 21:23, as you were just about to head to bed, that you heard a knock on your door. Even without your permission, it was opened, showcasing Valeria on the other side, seemingly having calmed down a bit. Leaning against the doorframe, she complimented your cooking. It was as delicious as it had always been, very well seasoned and very filling after all. You did nothing wrong, she, too, assured you of that. While she won’t go into detail regarding what exactly happened for her to snap at you like that, simply mentioning a few sleazebags who had caught up with her, you will hear something that only ever leaves her mouth when she’s wronged you for no good reason: an apology.

If you let her in, then she’s more than happy to try and comfort you. Yes, it’s a bit awkward since she’s not used to doing so, but seeing your eyes wide, your body tense, all because of her does take its toll on her. If you don’t wanna be touched just yet, that’s fine, she can respect that. But if you do allow it, then she’ll gently grab your hand and squeeze it a few times. She’s tired too, so she likely won’t be doing anything big with you anymore that night, but she’s open to making plans with you and discussing them. She really wants to right her wrongs when it comes to you, so you’re more than welcome to make a suggestion. You wanna have a picnic with her? She knows Las Almas quite well, some beautiful, undisturbed spots coming to mind almost immediately. You wanna go shopping? You can ask her for just about anything you want, she’ll give you extras to go this time too. You wanna stay in and watch a comfort movie? While she may not be one for watching movies, she will make an exception for you. She always does when she can.

Discussing those plans with you, she’ll try to make you smile at least a little bit. Once she’s sure you’re not afraid of her anymore, she’ll give your cheek a little kiss, joking around a bit more than she did before. She won’t bother you for the rest of the evening unless you explicitly seek her out, but she will keep an eye out for you, leaving you a few snacks right in front of your door. Maybe even some money so you can get yourself something fancy and nice. Problem is, she likely won’t have too much time, but she’ll be damned if she won’t take better care of you, if just temporarily. Even though she’ll always try her best to take care of you, it’s you we’re talking about, after all.

Farah: Another stressful day during the revolution. With an ambush surprising her, leaving her and her people a bit more vulnerable than usual, with her almost losing some of her best and closest fighters, it was only natural for Farah to be a bit more on edge than usual. Normally so calm, able to calculate the best moves and maneuvers for just about anything, no matter what happens, this was something she did not foresee at the time, thinking she had had the upper hand instead. It was only when she finally had the time, just a day or two, for you, mad as she usually never was, that she walked through the door, throwing her gun to the cabinet. Despite not being such a loud person, a sniper had to be quiet and patient, after all, she made quite a ruckus when she had finally returned. You were ready to greet Farah, give her a big smile and make her feel welcome and home as only you could. Soon enough, however, you did feel that something was off. Despite being stressed more often than not, she usually wouldn’t scowl at you like that for no reason.

You offered her a hug, opening your arms wide despite your expression betraying your nervousness. Aside from a glare, you got no reaction. Eventually, you put your arms down and she greeted you, venom spewing from her words. The toxins could corrode even the strongest iron walls, leaving you defenseless in your fear. Did you do something this time? Likely not, Farah just got home after all, but the thought still lingered. Although she was normally so chatty when she was just a bit exhausted, she stomped away, not saying a single word to you. First the bathroom, then the kitchen and lastly her bedroom. The clanking of cutlery against a plate could be heard, but that’s about it. You felt awful, something properly terrible must have happened to her for her to act like that. But it wasn’t like you could change it, so you lowered the volume of your TV instead before turning it off entirely and reading something on your phone.

Another few hours had passed, you barely even dared to move a muscle aside from scrolling on your phone, much less make any noise. What if it was you after all? What is Farah was about to leave you for something you didn’t even know about? Your thoughts spiraled, with every following one being worse than the previous one. You folded the blanket and put it on the arm of the couch, ready to head to bed when you bumped into her. Quickly, you uttered an apology before being ready to dart off to your own room, but Farah held you in place, asking you if you had a moment to spare and listen to her. It was dark already, with the dim artificial lights doing you no favors in seeing her any better either, but she sounded calmer than before. Still slightly annoyed, but it seemed like whatever had gotten into her had lessened its grasp on her. Tugging you onto the couch, she apologized for giving you such a harsh and cold treatment, simply figuring that waiting until she had calmed down would be better than letting it out on you, who had no part in it. The situation was dire for her, she told you a bit about it. About the ambush, about the people she’s almost lost during it. She knew that she really shouldn’t have been acting like that towards you, and for that she apologizes one last time.

Once she was done explaining what had upset her to you, she’d be quiet, remorseful, until you’d speak up again. She’d love to make it up to you, you really didn’t deserve such harsh treatment after all. If you just want a hug or a kiss as a form of apology, she’ll smile at you, being more than willing to give you just that. However, she will also ask you if that’s everything you wanted. That would be your chance to ask for something reasonable from her. Sure, she won’t be able to buy you a new car, but you’re more than welcome to ask her for some alone time, just the two of you. She might only have a day or two away from the fight, which she was going to spend with you either way since she rarely gets to see you, but if you have special requests, that would be the best time to suggest them. There may not be too many fancy restaurants or malls nearby, but you can always just watch a silly movie or take a walk together.

Farah would literally swear to you that she’s going to make it back in one piece to you. After all, there’s no one else she’d rather roam the streets with during a beautiful cloudless night. Besides, she made two promises that night: to make it back to you and to make it up to you. Farah would fight any deities out there to make it back to you, no matter if it was a losing battle or not. If it’s you then she’ll fight as dirty as possible to see you smile again.

Laswell: She was likely taken off a case, in spite of her having enough evidence to prove everything that needed to come to light. With her wit, with her having the right people at her disposal, she could have brought this to an end. However, her incompetent superior had other plans, letting it all rot in darkness instead, until everyone forgot it ever even happened. Laswell was furious, no matter how much she argued, her superior wouldn’t budge and for that she silently cursed. Normally so calm and composed, this time she wished she could have blown someone’s brain out for being the dumbest creature alive. But alas, such a thing was illegal, if someone ever were to find out. She entertains the idea for a few minutes, but quickly enough shakes her head, thinking of other ways to accomplish her goal. Walking through the door, she already heard you singing along to some tune, the music unnecessarily loud. You likely didn’t hear her come in, which in and of itself wouldn’t have been a problem. On any other day.

Only when she turns off the music do you realize she’s here. However, her grimace was already telling. Shyly, you greeted her, but not much else, letting her speak instead. The fury had gotten to her head, her face being slightly more red than usual. This time, she was stern, telling you that you really shouldn’t listen to your dumb music this loudly at such an hour. She was going to get a massive headache from today, if only because of you needing to turn up the volume impossibly high. While Laswell wouldn’t yell at you, her words would be sharper than an obsidian knife instead. Indeed, she’s not trying to actively hurt you, in fact, once her little lesson on you maybe being a bit more quiet is over, she’ll feel bad, apologizing immediately. It would take her much, much longer than that to actually calm down, but once she sees your scared, saddened expression, unable to really say much, she’ll say she’s sorry and let you go, watching you as you quietly trot away with your head hung low. Sighing to herself, she already comes up with plans on making it up to you, but she knows she can’t control her anger as she was right now.

A few hours later, you’d hear the bell ring, but not be quite ready to leave your room just yet. It likely was for Laswell, not for you, so you simply stayed put, hoping that she had calmed down a bit by then. However, your ears would perk up upon hearing her knock on your door, asking you to come to the living room so you could eat something together. Despite being a little bit skittish still, afraid to anger her further, you soon enough noticed she had calmed down again, with your favorite takeout from a restaurant you usually suggest lying on the table. Once seated, Laswell opened the packages, handing you your food. In a much more serene tone, she’d apologize yet again. Your music wasn’t dumb, it wasn’t giving her a headache, she just had a very rough day and needed some peace and quiet. Laswell hopes you can understand this, even if she did treat you unfairly. She recognizes that, and that she also tells you, with her promising to try her best to not have it happen again.

Laswell won’t go into detail either regarding what happened, for obvious reasons, only that some inconvenience happened today, which upset her a great deal. But that wasn’t what was important at that moment. She was calm, hopefully you were as well. And if not, then she’d try her darndest to make it that way. Considering she, technically speaking, had more time that day, and the following ones as well, she’d be the one to suggest going out the next evening. Maybe a nice and fancy restaurant, maybe a show like a musical at the broadway. Or maybe the two of you just want to take a vacation somewhere nearby. Either way, Laswell has plans for the two of you, having brainstormed a few in the past few hours. She’ll get her way at work eventually, it just might take some time, so she’ll happily “indulge” her superior for a few days before going back to crack the case either way. It would make her all the less suspicious. Besides, she’d get to spend time with you as well, even if all you wanted was to just go window shopping at the local mall.

That evening, she’d likely just want to watch TV with you, continuing to discuss your plans for the next few days. But after that she’s more than happy to book whatever it is you want to do afterwards. While she might not be the biggest fan of such, she will even go to the nearest Six Flags with you and ride a few attractions just to see you smile and hear your laughter, as well as excited screams, yet again.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

"Efficiency" left the Big Three vulnerable to smart UAW tactics

Tomorrow (September 22), I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. Tomorrow night, I'll be in person at LA's Book Soup for the launch of Justin C Key's "The World Wasn’t Ready for You." On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

It's been 143 days since the WGA went on strike against the Hollywood studios. While early tactical leaks from the studios had studio execs chortling and twirling their mustaches about writers caving once they started losing their homes, the strikers aren't wavering – they're still out there, pounding the picket lines, every weekday:

https://www.cnbc.com/2023/08/09/how-hollywood-writers-make-ends-meet-100-days-into-the-writers-guild-strike.html

The studios obviously need writers. That gleeful, anonymous studio exec who got such an obvious erotic charge at the thought of workers being rendered homeless as punishment for challenging his corporate power completely misread the room, and his comments didn't demoralize the writers. Instead, they inspired the actors to go on strike, too.

But how have the writers stayed out since May Day? How have the actors stayed out for 69 days since their strike started on Bastille Day? We can thank the studios for that! As it turns out, the studios have devoted so much energy to rendering creative workers as precarious as possible, hiring as little as they can getting away with and using punishing overtime as a substitute for adequate staffing that they've eliminated all the workers who can't survive on side-hustles and savings for six or seven months at a time.

But even for those layoff-hardened workers, long strikes are brutal, and of course, all the affiliated trades, from costumers to grips, are feeling the pain. The strike fund only goes so far, and non-striking, affected workers don't even get that. That's why I've been donating regularly to the Entertainment Community Fund, which helps all affected workers out with cash transfers (I just gave them another $500):

https://secure2.convio.net/afa/site/Donation2?df_id=8117&8117.donation=form1&mfc_pref=T

As hot labor summer is revealed as a turning point – not just a season – long strikes will become the norm. Bosses still don't believe in worker power, and until they get their minds right, they're going to keep on trying to starve their workforces back inside. To get a sense of how long workers will have to hold out, just consider the Warrior Met strike, where Alabama coal-miners stayed out for 23 months:

https://www.thenation.com/article/activism/warrior-met-strike-union/

As Kim Kelly explained to Adam Conover in the latest Factually podcast, the Alabama coal strikers didn't get anywhere near the attention that the Hollywood strikers have enjoyed:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvyMHf7Yg0Q

(To learn more about the untold story of worker organizing, from prison unions to the key role that people of color and women played in labor history, check out Kelly's book, "Fight Like Hell," now in paperback:)

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Fight-Like-Hell/Kim-Kelly/9781982171063

Which brings me to the UAW strike. This is an historic strike, the first time that the UAW has struck all of the Big Three automakers at once. Past autoworkers' strikes have marked turning points for all American workers. The 1945/46 GM strike established employers' duty to cover worker pensions, health care, and cost of living allowances. The GM strike created the American middle-class:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-18-uaw-strikes-built-american-middle-class/

The Big Three are fighting for all the marbles here. They are refusing to allow unions to organize EV factories. Given that no more internal combustion cars will be in production in just a few short years, that's tantamount to eliminating auto unions altogether. The automakers are flush with cash, including billions in public subsidies from multiple bailouts, along with billions more from greedflation price-gouging. A long siege is inevitable, as the decimillionaires running these companies earn their pay by starving out their workers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/general-motors-ceo-mary-barra-salary-auto-workers-strike-uaw-2023-9

The UAW knows this, of course, and their new leadership – helmed by the union's radical president Shawn Fain – has a plan. UAW workers are engaged in tactical striking, shutting down key parts of the supply chain on a rolling basis, making the 90-day strike fund stretch much farther:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2023-09-18-labors-militant-creativity/

In this project, they are greatly aided by Big Car's own relentless pursuit of profit. The automakers – like every monopolized, financialized sector – have stripped all the buffers and slack out of their operations. Inventory on hand is kept to a bare minimum. Inputs are sourced from the cheapest bidder, and they're brought to the factory by the lowest-cost option. Resiliency – spare parts, backup machinery – is forever at war with profits, and profits have won and won and won, leaving auto production in a brittle, and easily shattered state.

This is especially true for staffing. Automakers are violently allergic to hiring workers, because new workers get benefits and workplace protection. Instead, the car companies routinely offer "voluntary" overtime to their existing workforce. By refusing this overtime, workers can kneecap production, without striking.

Enter "Eight and Skate," a campaign among UAW workers to clock out after their eight hour shift. As Keith Brower Brown writes for Labor Notes, the UAW organizers are telling workers that "It’s crossing an unofficial picket line to work overtime. It’s helping out the company":

https://labornotes.org/2023/09/work-extra-during-strike-auto-workers-say-eight-and-skate

Eight and Skate has already started to work; the Buffalo Ford plant can no longer run its normal weekend shifts because workers are refusing to put in voluntary overtime. Of course, bosses will strike back: the next step will be forced overtime, which will lead to the unsafe conditions that unionized workers are contractually obliged to call paid work-stoppages over, shutting down operations without touching the strike fund.

What's more, car bosses can't just halt safety stoppages or change the rules on overtime; per the UAW's last contract, bosses are required to bargain on changes to overtime rules:

https://uaw.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Working-Without-Contract-FAQ-FINAL-2.pdf

Car bosses have become lazily dependent on overtime. At GM's "highly profitable" SUV factory in Arlington, TX, normal production runs a six-days, 24 hours per day. Workers typically work five eight-hour days and nine hours on Saturdays. That's been the status quo for 11 years, but when bosses circulated the usual overtime signup sheet last week, every worker wrote "a big fat NO" next to their names.

Writing for The American Prospect, David Dayen points out that this overtime addiction puts a new complexion on the much-hyped workerpocalypse that EVs will supposedly bring about. EVs are much simpler to build than conventional cars, the argument goes, so a US transition to EVs will throw many autoworkers out of work:

https://prospect.org/labor/2023-09-20-big-threes-labor-shortages-uaw/

But the reality is that most autoworkers are doing one and a half jobs already. Reducing the "workforce" by a third could leave all these workers with their existing jobs, and the 40-hour workweek that their forebears fought for at GM inn 1945/46. Add to that the additional workers needed to make batteries, build and maintain charging infrastructure, and so on, and there's no reason to think that EVs will weaken autoworker power.

And as Dayen points out, this overtime addiction isn't limited to cars. It's also endemic to the entertainment industry, where writers' "mini rooms" and other forms of chronic understaffing are used to keep workforces at a skeleton crew, even when the overtime costs more than hiring new workers.

Bosses call themselves job creators, but they have a relentless drive to destroy jobs. If there's one thing bosses hate, it's paying workers – hence all the hype about AI and automation. The stories about looming AI-driven mass unemployment are fairy tales, but they're tailor made for financiers who get alarming, life-threatening priapism at the though of firing us all and replacing us with shell-scripts:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/09/autocomplete-worshippers/#the-real-ai-was-the-corporations-that-we-fought-along-the-way

This is why Republican "workerism" rings so hollow. Trump's GOP talks a big game about protecting "workers" (by which they mean anglo men) from immigrants and "woke captialism," but they have nothing to say about protecting workers from bosses and bankers who see every dime a worker gets as misappropriated from their dividend.

Unsurprisingly, conservative message-discipline sucks. As Luke Savage writes in Jacobin, for every mealymouthed Josh Hawley mouthing talking points that "support workers" by blaming China and Joe Biden for the Big Three's greed, there's a Tim Scott, saying the quiet part aloud:

https://jacobin.com/2023/09/republicans-uaw-strike-hawley-trump-scott/

Quoth Senator Scott: "I think Ronald Reagan gave us a great example when federal employees decided they were going to strike. He said, you strike, you’re fired. Simple concept to me. To the extent that we can use that once again, absolutely":

https://twitter.com/American_Bridge/status/1704136706574741988

The GOP's workerism is a tissue-thin fake. They can never and will never support real worker power. That creates an opportunity for Biden and Democrats to seize:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/18/co-determination/#now-make-me-do-it

Reversing two generations of anti-worker politics is a marathon, not a sprint. The strikes are going to run for months, even years. Every worker will be called upon to support their striking siblings, every day. We can do it. Solidarity now. Solidarity forever.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/21/eight-and-skate/#strike-to-rule

[the-boy-meets-evil]

a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” 

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off. 

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds. 

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred. 

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends. 

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say. 

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?” 

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth. 

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask. 

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow. 

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it. 

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.” 

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.” 

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say. 

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?” 

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face. 

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under. 

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?” 

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes. 

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him. 

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak. 

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.” 

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not. 

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now. 

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore. 

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says. 

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?” 

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.” 

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments. 

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns. 

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this. 

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it. 

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees. 

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want. 

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you. 

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?” 

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.” 

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?” 

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?” 

“Would it matter if I said no?” 

“Of course it would.” 

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.” 

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well. 

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person. 

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.” 

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?” 

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.” 

“I get that,” he says. 

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.” 

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits. 

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart. 

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned. 

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.” 

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide. 

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug. 

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all. 

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized. 

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream. 

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace. 

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen. 

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it. 

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you. 

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask. 

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows. 

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.” 

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake. 

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?” 

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.” 

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.” 

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out. 

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer. 

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?” 

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you. 

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching. 

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be. 

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.” 

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be. 

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out. 

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication. 

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.” 

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you. 

“I think I want it all,” you whisper. 

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks. 

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady. 

“I do.” 

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into. 

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly. 

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.” 

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable. 

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down. 

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.” 

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed. 

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time. 

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees. 

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need. 

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!” 

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager. 

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says. 

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing. 

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit. 

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says. 

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.” 

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over. 

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you. 

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out. 

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again. 

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.” 

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you. 

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.” 

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles. 

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.” 

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits. 

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft. 

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.” 

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start. 

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say. 

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.” 

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him. 

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off. 

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry. 

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you. 

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out. 

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs. 

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out. 

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side. 

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree. 

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair. 

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer. 

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response. 

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse. 

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed. 

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours. 

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away. 

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room. 

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box. 

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look. 

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.” 

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him. 

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things. 

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle. 

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling. 

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine. 

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table. 

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over. 

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though. 

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…” 

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine. 

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words. 

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.” 

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” 

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree. 

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too. 

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.” 

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows. 

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper. 

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

[itsonlydana]

Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

[prodagustd]

the road not taken | myg

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part one: back home

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all. 

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said. 

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad. 

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much. 

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again. 

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again. 

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent. 

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house. 

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.” 

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but  laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands. 

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little.  “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes. 

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked. 

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.” 

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy. 

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee  “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows. 

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine. 

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you. 

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details. 

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived. 

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you. 

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?” 

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why you are here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse. 

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen. 

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows. 

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him. 

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference. 

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you. 

“So?” He asked, persistent as always. 

“So what?” You played dumb. 

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up. 

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking. 

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.” 

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more. 

“The black sheep?” He repeated. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you.  “You’re not giving me a lot of context.” 

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you. 

 “Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie. 

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car. 

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options. 

 “Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.” 

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am” 

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth? 

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?” 

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him. 

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly. 

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he’s going to agree with you. 

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.” 

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy. 

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes. 

He laughed. “Well boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl. 

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell are you doing right now with my car.” 

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained 

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.” 

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?” 

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that. 

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.” 

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what. 

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing. 

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.” 

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back. 

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.” 

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong. 

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different. 

 “C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.” 

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you. 

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood. 

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.” 

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?”  You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well. 

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.”  He leaned over your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments of her neighbor’s daughter, how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.” 

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool. 

“And since when do you care what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to be born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again, that woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body?”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right. 

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.” 

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured. 

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.” 

Believing Yoongi surely is not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it comes to believing in yourself is a whole different thing. 

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously. 

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed. 

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.” 

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay. 

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words are sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.” 

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed.  “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes. 

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes  “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.” 

You can hardly hide the smile on your face, you have to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love it if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it. 

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart. 

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl. 

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi. 

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself. 

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home. 

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either. 

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him. 

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal. 

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when your best friend, Emma, finally got a girlfriend last summer, then it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years. 

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight. 

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.  

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.  

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around. 

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy. 

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather. 

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?” 

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm. 

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed. 

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.” 

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.” 

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first. 

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had. 

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned. 

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.” 

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was. 

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking. 

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could. 

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be. 

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2. 

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas” 

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best. 

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were. 

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you. 

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell. 

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet. 

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little. 

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.” 

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.” 

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.” 

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap. 

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!” 

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?” 

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room? 

“Mom, what are you talking about?” 

“I’m sure I told you!” 

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in. 

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today. 

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.” 

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it. 

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended. 

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie. 

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked. 

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?” 

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?” 

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.” 

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.” 

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused. 

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened. 

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work. 

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right. 

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls. 

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?” 

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.  

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered. 

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours. 

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat. 

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer. 

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback? 

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?” 

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied. 

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?” 

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work,  you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place. 

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do. 

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words. 

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved. 

 “We are clear.” You confirmed. 

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach. 

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.” 

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened. 

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were. 

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying. 

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded. 

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.” 

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth. 

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away. 

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long. 

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months. 

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now. 

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.  

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist. 

@kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopefulchick @heroinanne

[zh-lele]

Playing Games

You didn't yet see my worth, so you try to play me. But I was so in love that I just got a little bit too complicated.

▪︎ Summary: A chaotic New Year's party makes you rethink the kind of relationship you've been having with Donghyuck for the past few months. He is a player, but you love the game.

▪︎ Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x female reader

▪︎ Genres: friends with benefits, smut, angst

▪︎ Word count: 7.4k (I'm so sorry.)

▪︎ Warnings: explicit sexual content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; profanity; substance consumption; toxic behavior. (Please let me know if I missed something.)

Listen to the playlist here. | Click to see Hyuck's moodboard.

Author's note: This is my secret santa gift for @neochan as part of the event hosted by @neowritingsnet . Hey Sam, I was your secret santa! Happy holidays and I hope you can enjoy the fic :) Didn't have the time to get it proof read so I'm really sorry about that.

Lolo.

1. Forget about it, forget about him

"How are you surviving the New Year's party?"

Your question takes Rina by surprise, since you see her get a little scared when she hears your voice from behind. But, seeing that it's only you, it doesn't take long for that beautiful smile that characterizes her to reappear.

"It's going really well, I think." She answers by returning her gaze to the front, where your group of friends is preparing for the main event of the night.

It's exactly two minutes to midnight. You know this not only because of the gigantic TV screen in the living room of the mansion—that has been broadcasting the countdown to the new year in different parts of the world since you arrived at the boys' house— but because you can also feel it in the air.

Aeri is helping Mia bring the glasses into the living room and set them ready for the cocktail party. Donghyuck is arguing with Jaemin because he's not helping Jisung with the Champagne bottles he's too scared to open. Chenle's laughter can be heard from the kitchen followed by some groans, and Mark telling him "it's not funny at all". You only find out what the mess is about when Jeno comes and lights up the room with his eye smile, telling the guys that Mark splashed his own eyes cutting the lime for the margaritas, and now he can't see anything.

You and Renjun share a cigarette on the balcony, now with Rina on your side.

"You know things are about to get weird, right?" Renjun asks the girl.

"Yeah, the other girls warned me you have this tradition going on," she starts. "No one leaves without a kiss from your New Year's parties." And her face flushes red as he finishes the sentence with his eyes locked on Donghyuck, who is finally pouring the champagne into the glasses with a smirk, looking as handsome as ever.

The action doesn't go unnoticed by you or Renjun, so you decide to push the new girl a little more. "You've got someone in mind?"

"Well…" She laughs, and without taking her eyes off him, she drops it: "I might go for Donghyuck."

The clock strikes midnight and the cheers are heard, both inside the mansion and outside in the street. As you approach inside to celebrate and drink the champagne together with your friends, you are surprised and intercepted by your friend Aeri, who plants a quick New Year's kiss on your lips before throwing herself into her boyfriend's arms and doing the same with him. You just laugh it off and empty the drink in your glass to set your eyes on a different pair meters away from you.

Rina had been the newest addition to the group, and obviously, before inviting her to the mansion and one of the chaotic New Year's Eve parties, someone had to warn her how things were. It was only fair that Rina was aware of an agreement made years ago between you and your friends: everyone gets at least one midnight kiss during the new year celebration. She was told just enough to try to survive the night.

The mansion is the boys' rented house and private studio. All of them have been making good amounts of money in the music industry lately, gaining popularity really fast, and it's a privilege that she isn't paying anymore to enter a party in the mansion.

It wasn't her fault that no one told her that something has been going on between you and Donghyuck for months, and that you were hoping that he wouldn't kiss anyone but you that night. When you didn't tell Rina anything as soon as she said she wanted to go for him, you were only waiting to test Donghyuck.

Because if you think about the situation, it was all his fault, honestly.

Everyone in your friend group knows Donghyuck and you have been exclusively seeing each other for months now. Your girl friends know very well he isn't afraid to fill your ears with sweet things and words of affection when you are alone. Yet, he won't show you around and would act like you're no more than friends when there's someone else.

You still don't know what his problem is, but you are growing sick and tired of crying for nights because he won't talk to you. Instead, he would have you thinking you did something wrong to upset him or that he doesn't care about you anymore, to then come and act like he didn't just ignore you for days. But you aren't going to take your anger on Rina.

You are going to do it on Donghyuck later, definitely.

Lee Donghyuck, or one of the most recognized and well paid r&b artists from this new movement of kids coming up in the industry, making some of the best music of the continent independently. But for the ones who know him privately, he’s just a kid wasting a lot of talent and potential, who's only got a big ton of pressure on his shoulders and stacks of money he doesn't know how to spend more than on parties, alcohol, and drugs.

He’s also the boy you've been chasing and trying to get with for years. And now that you have him, you can't lose him just like that.

If he kisses Rina right in front of you and everyone else when he refuses to do that with you, that's going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

The white lights go down until it is only the colored lights hanging from the tall ceiling, and the Christmas lights taped on the wall that illuminate the room very dimly. You can appreciate some of your best friends still exchanging their midnight kisses. You can also spot Jaemin in one corner pouring out one margarita after another, and Donghyuck with Rina huddled against the wall in the other corner of the room. The millisecond he makes eye contact with you and smiles all the way from there, then returning his attention to Rina is actually what sets you on fire. Not in the way you would want to, though.

You don't need to stay there to know Donghyuck's gonna try and play you dirty. And you won't give him the satisfaction of standing there alone, watching him kiss with someone else.

You should have listened to your friends when they told you over and over again that Donghyuck is and always will be a player, not worth all your tears. You should have also heard your other side of consciousness telling you "don't do it, don't go there." But it's too late to regret it when you take the cup from Jaemin's hands and drink all of its contents, then grab the bottle of tequila and Jaemin's hand and drag him with you to the kitchen.

You know Donghyuck like the palm of your hand. You could try and play his games too.

When you set the tequila bottle on the kitchen counter and sit yourself on it to grab Jaemin by the collar and put him between your parted legs, the mischief reaches his eyes and reflects on the smirk of his mouth.

"I feel like we're not here for more margaritas," he says looking into your eyes and placing his hands on your thighs.

You give the bottle one last swallow before confirming his suspicions.

"You're right. Happy New Year."

Kissing Jaemin has always been a pleasure, in every sense of the word. His kisses are as lazy as he is, and feel as full of affection as if you were in love with each other, which makes you think about how there is no doubt why everyone falls in love with him so easily.

His lips taste like salt and lime, and explore yours sweetly until he opens his way to the inside of your mouth. There, the salty taste is replaced by a sweetness that contrasts with the rest of his movements. His hands caress your legs, look to get you closer to his body, squeezing your thighs and butt and making you approach the edge of the counter, but never completely losing that calm that characterizes him. Jaemin is the perfect definition of a tease.

"Thought we wouldn't be doing this anymore." You feel the vibrations of his vocal chords under your lips that leave his neck wet with kisses. When you don't answer him, he cups your face separating you from his skin, and makes you look him in the eyes. "Aren't you and Hyuck together?"

Well, that's a hard question. Because it seems like it depends on the situation and the mood. When Donghyuck feels like treating you like his girlfriend, you really feel like the luckiest girl in the world. He's sweet, caring, and funny. He comes to your home to share dinner with your family and spend the night, and you do the same at his. He even let you spend the entire Christmas day at the mansion—and you know that's something reserved for the couples only. You had morning sex, breakfast together, opened presents, and even cuddled while watching movies until it was dark outside.

You could say you are together only when he's feeling like giving you his attention. The rest of the time, you only try to figure out his feelings: when he will disappear for an entire day, won't talk to you for a week or will get mad if you go partying without him, but then flirt with other girls right in front of you.

Following that line of thought:

"No, we are not together." You finally tell Jaemin.

He only clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before moving closer to your ear to whisper. "That's a shame, because I think this would be much hotter if you were."

It sends a shiver down your spine and settles a strange feeling in your stomach at the same time. It's kind of frustrating, the way no matter how much you want to get Donghyuck out of your head and just have a good time with other boys, you can't get yourself to do it.

Donghyuck doesn't need to know, but it's not the first time you try forgetting you're mad at him with a little help from others. And that's the thing about it: that you only ever get to try, because the guilt takes over you despite how he has neglected and hurt you, and you end up going back to him over and over.

That unsettling feeling washes over you like a bucket of cold water, so you have to separate Jaemin from your lips before apologizing and rushing out of the kitchen to find your friends.

2. I think I wanna kiss you, right here in front of everybody

"You know what's your problem? You're always being too nice." Mia leans on the balcony railing with a joint between his lips, and stretches an open hand to you. The lighter lands on her palm and she's quickly lighting up the rolled paper, passing it to you after a couple of deep puffs.

"Well," you start exhaling the smoke. "That depends on who's saying it."

"You just need to fuck someone else, not letting remorse or sad feelings get in between. Just to know if you really wanna stop seeing Hyuck after it or not."

"But you don't understand," the lump in your throat can be noticed through your shaky voice, and the tears begin to threaten to fall from your eyes so Aeri—who has positioned herself in front of you and is covering you from the rest of the people inside the party—takes your hand and gives it a little comforting squeeze. "I've liked him for so long. I really, really only want to be with him."

"You really want to be with someone who's been making you cry for months now? I remember you having more sad than happy nights," Mia points out once again. You quickly dry your tears with your hands before they keep falling. "Even on fucking New Year's. New Year's party and you're crying over this dickhead." She says in disbelief.

"Must be some reaaally good dick if it got you this down bad."

The three of you manage to laugh at Aeri's comment, thankfully. You maintain the order of the round and pass the joint back to Aeri.

"It is," you confess, blowing out the smoke. "He really is that good."

"Does he at least make you cum?"

"Not all the time—"

"Then you have to leave him, sister." Mia interrupts. There's a smile on her face now that indicates she's just half-joking.

"But he's seriously so good!" You shake your head in frustration followed by an exasperated sigh. It's embarrassing to say it out loud, but your friends had known you for years, and they know that this talk and all the shed tears won't change a thing. "You know I'm not leaving him."

"Yeah, I know this conversation is fucking pointless." Mia's face is illuminated by the light from her cell phone when she takes it out ready to play one of her latest obsessions. Cats Café, a new game that locks her up in your bathroom for hours, playing seated on your toilet and leaving you and Aeri hanging out in the living room of your house, just the two of you during girls' nights. "Just please, try to keep in mind how bad you've had it the last few days the next time he tries to sugarcoat you with his words."

"You wouldn't be having such a bad time if you were going out with me, instead of him."

"Aeri, you literally have a boyfriend." You tell her with a roll of your eyes. 

"And you literally took my midnight kiss in front of him, with no complains," she replies to you. "And Mark told me he wouldn't care if I ever wanna try something with a girl!"

"Wait," you observe Mia pause his game and look up at your other friend with furrowed eyebrows. "You mean as in a threesome?"

"Who's having a threesome?" Donghyuck asks throwing his arm around Aeri's shoulders, and taking the drink out of her hands to empty it down his throat.

"The three of us," she answers looking at Donghyuck with a smile, and doing a circular motion with her hand pointing at you, Mia, and herself.

His eyes open up in astonishment when you laugh hearing Aeri's words, but an amused smile takes over his face at the same time. "That's extremely unfair, don't you think?"

"Want me to film it for you? So you don’t miss out." You ask him in return.

"I'd rather film you and me, alone." He says in a teasing tone.

"Okaaaaaay," Mia gets up from her place to shove her phone down her jean pockets and starts walking back inside. "Can't a girl play Cats Café in peace without having to listen to you being some horny motherfuckers all the time?!"

"Go get fucked, Mia." Donghyuck tells your friend and you get to punch him in the arm when he comes to stand to your left, which gets him laughing and complaining.

Mia only points her middle finger at him and yells something like “I'll ask your brother.” Next thing you know, Mark has joined Aeri on the balcony after communicating that Mia and Jeno have, in fact, taken over his room to do God knows what, and you are lighting up the second joint of the night with Donghyuck standing very close to your side. 

The four of you smoke in silence until there are only a few puffs left before it goes out. When the stub comes back to you, you light it again sure you'll be the one to finish it off.

Donghyuck watches you exhale the smoke from your lungs and then looks down at the joint between your fingers. He's not going to ask for it, so you raise your hand to the level of his mouth and position the end of it between his lips—which feel as soft as ever, and he leaves a little tempting kiss on your fingertips.

A few meters away from you the party is still going on. Sweaty bodies, blinding colored lights, and wet tongues that move to the rhythm of an ear-piercing song played by Renjun. He is a genius, the best of them all when it comes to producing music, and it shows in the way he makes you feel like your heart is gonna come out of your chest when he plays with the console.

It could be the music, the weed, the alcohol, the boy in front of you—who is looking into your eyes like you're the only one at the party, as if you were his favorite and he hadn't had multiple girls hitting on him all night—or a mix of all that, but you start to believe he got you hypnotized. You know you could have anyone else too, but it's never enough if they aren't Donghyuck.

He takes a hit making it burn until he hurts your fingers, so you have to move them away from his lips. However, the pain isn't enough to bring you back to reality, and a little touch on his lips doesn't calm the incessant desire you have to kiss him—it shows in the dilated pupils of your eyes that look for his gaze, in your agitated breathing, and in his sly smile as if he was reading all your thoughts.

What does it take to break Lee Donghyuck?

The tension can be felt in the air, so your friends are quick to leave the two of you alone in the balcony, maybe hoping you would sort your feelings out.

"Kiss me? Please, kiss me."

After throwing the end of the joint to the floor, he gently caresses your face with his nose and hugs your waist to get you closer, forcing you to cross your arms behind his neck.

You continue begging in his ear. "No more hiding, Hyuck."

His nose reaches your neck where you feel him plant a subtle wet kiss and then leave an intense bite. His teeth scraping your skin while his two hands squeeze your butt, drawing you firmly into his body. One last suck to your neck that you're sure will be leaving a mark, and then he's getting off you, staring down as if nothing just happened.

"Just came here to tell you we'll be leaving to Yangyang's."

Donghyuck lights up a cigarette and goes back inside without another word, probably hoping you'll go after him since that's what you've gotten him used to; you can't deny it.

You often feel like his babysitter and his mother at the same time: making sure that he won't make stupid decisions when he's out and intoxicated, that he won't miss any important schedules, that he can communicate himself better with his friends and family. You've been Donghyuck's unconditional support from the day you met, but since he's shown nothing in return it has started to feel like a burden. Like trying to make an already grown man grow. You know that it isn't your responsibility, though, and that he isn't likely to change for good.

You can't break Lee Donghyuck, but you still like to try.

3. Tell her sweet lies

A quick stop before heading to the after-party at Yangyang's has Donghyuck's car sitting in the McDonald's parking lot, while he and Rina order takeout after you said you were feeling extremely hungry. It's you and Mia waiting inside, sitting on the heated seats with music blasting from the stereo.

You've made sure to make the ride awkward enough for Rina after you saw her with Donghyuck, caressing the nape of his neck and hair and squeezing his thigh as he drove in front of her. You know it's not an idea that Donghyuck likes too much, but the anger caused by his rejection combined with the desinhibition caused by the weed has you making bad decisions.

Donghyuck has left his phone unlocked for you to be able to change the music while he's gone. So you take the opportunity to enter his text messages and look for you and Mia's names through the chats.

Multiple results from the times you have been mentioned appear instantly. Some are funny ones, some are the result of important conversations in your group chat, and others are part of the private chats between Donghyuck and some of the boys.

"Did you know Yangyang talks about you to Donghyuck?" You ask Mia with a smirk.

"Oh my god!" She rips the phone out of your hands before you can get to read what it's about. "You're not reading that out loud."

Her pupils narrow when she brings the light of the screen closer to his eyes, to read the conversations between her "best friend" and Donghyuck. You immediately think that there can't be anything wrong with it because of the smile that Mia can't contain while she scrolls down the screen.

Mia throws the phone back at you and hides her blushed face on her hands before you can make fun at her.

"What is it?" You ask laughing. “Are you ever gonna stop messing around with other boys and confess to him?”

"I think he likes me," she says now looking at you, her cheeks still red from the temperature.

"Yeah, I think so too. I think he fucks you for a reason."

"Shut up! What does it say about you?"

You laugh once more and grab the phone, making sure to touch the screen before it locks up. The first mention of your name is from a chat from tonight, in which Donghyuck asked you if you wanted him to pick you up to go to the mansion. A few more meaningless mentions in your private conversation with him here and there. Some pictures and messages that you exchange that there's no chance to reveal. Lastly, you find several mentions of you in a private chat with Jaemin, which makes you curious so you open it to read the full conversations.

"There's something off here," you tell Mia with a furrow of your brows.

A little bit of concern is shown in her voice after watching your expression. "Huh? What is it?"

"He's been talking to Jaemin… And Jaemin asked if we've fucked." You tell your friend without stopping from scrolling through Donghyuck's phone, a deeper frown taking over your face the more you read his conversations with Jaemin that involve you.

"What did Hyuck say?"

"'I fucked her so good she won't go looking for you or any other guy ever again.'" You read Donghyuck's reply to Jaemin out loud. So that means he knew about you and Jaemin all this time. "'She gets so desperate for me it makes me sick, you can't imagine how much she cums when she's riding me–"

"I think that's enough." Mia scratches the phone from your hands and blocks it to prevent you from reading any more texts. A short silence falls between the two of you before she's speaking again. "I saw them kiss at midnight."

"Who?"

"Donghyuck and Rina."

Disgust quickly takes over your face and you feel like throwing up, the hunger you felt earlier leaving your body in an instant. It's been too much in such a short period of time.

The atmosphere in the car becomes awkward once more, a heavy trap base being the only sound filling the space. You don't really want to turn to look at the backseat where Mia sits because your teary eyes would give you away. You have known her long enough to be sure she won't hesitate destroying Donghyuck's car with a bat this time if she ever sees you crying because of him, again. And once you finally have such a good and stable group of friends, you don't want to ruin it just because you wanted to get involved with one of them and it turned out wrong.

You also knew who you were messing with since the start, but you still decided to ignore everything that Hyuck is and fall into lust and believe in his promises.

"He also said he doesn't really like me."

"Now that's ridiculous." Mia lets out a scoff.

You shrug, "It's what it said. That I’m only a good fuck."

"Hyuck has been seeing you for months, and you are going to believe what a silly text message says?" You feel Mia place her torso between the two front seats to try to meet your gaze while questioning you. "You know Hyuck becomes an asshole when he's with Jaemin," she continues. "He would say whatever bullshit to try to look cool–"

"But we haven't been doing so well lately."

"He likes you," she still tries to reassure you.

"Mia, it's fine. I don't care." You cut her off, crossing your arms and sulking in the passenger's seat. That tense silence keeps falling between both of you until she decides to speak.

"You can be sad about it, you know, he was being an asshole." She tells you in a much calmer tone, placing a hand on your left shoulder.

"I said it's fine." You turn to look at her the moment Donghyuck makes it back to the car with Rina, and takes his seat behind the steering wheel, passing the bags of takeout to Mia and placing yours in the middle of the car. Your eyes never meet Mia or Rina though, falling on Donghyuck's subtle smile, and getting lost in his glazed up eyes until you decide to lie to yourself for the millionth time that night. "I don't like him anyway."

Donghyuck looks a little lost as his eyes start wondering from you to Mia after hearing that last sentence. "Who's this guy we don't like?" You only smile in return, and ask him to take you home because you are too tired and intoxicated. He's quick to comply with your request, answering in a sweet and even more intoxicating tone than every other substance you had that night. "Of course, baby."

The car ride is awfully quiet when Donghyuck drops Mia and Rina at Yangyang's and, after a weird exchange of looks between Hyuck and the boys, the two of you continue your way to your house.

The night has gone from bad to terribly bad, and you're not sure how much longer you can take. After reflecting on every conversation you had with your friends tonight, you finally decide to speak.

"I think we should quit it."

He stops the car at the door of your house and looks at you with a crooked eyebrow. "What?" The disgust is evident in the tone of his voice.

"I just–" you struggle to take the words out. You aren't sure if you should tell him how hurt it made you that he talks like that about you with his friends, without shame or respect for your privacy. You aren't sure if you can reproach him for having been with other girls when you have also done it, when he has made clear you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, and when you agreed on it. "I know we'll never be in a real relationship, but I don't think you're treating me right, okay?"

Donghyuck lets out a scoff and his hands fall off the steering wheel like dead-weight. An expression on his face that tells you he's already done with this conversation. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That it feels like I'm a game to you? That you only want me around when your dick is in need or whatever?"

"I just spent like a hundred on food for you and your friends. Again, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"And I don't want your fucking food, okay? I don't care how much money you spend on me," you say looking at him with teary eyes at this point. "What if I just want a hug, a kiss, a little affection, huh? Just that you care for me all the time, you know?"

"Baby," Donghyuck looks for your hands and you let him intertwine your fingers over the middle of the car. "But I show you my affection all the time," he says with a sweeter tone now.

"But not in front of others," you shake your head. He squeezes your hands and his thumbs caress the back of your hands, making it even harder to contain all your emotions. "It's like you're scared of others finding out, like you're ashamed. When literally everyone knows we're seeing each other."

"We've kissed in front of others multiple times."

"Yeah, but all those times you've been drunk off your ass and high as a kite. Like I'm just a random girl for you to hook-up at parties."

Donghyuck bites his lower lip to contain a smile, and gets closer to you to speak in your ear. "What if I told you you make me nervous when I'm sober?"

"Get off, you're ridiculous."

"But you know you are the only one I really like."

That's what makes you stop fighting him to search for his eyes. You know it isn't the best option, that he always tricks you into thinking whatever he wants when he looks at you oh so sweetly, even if he makes no sense, but you are hoping to finally find the truth somehow.

"Some things tell me otherwise. Mia told me–"

"Your friends are lying to you, might be trying to fuck up what we have."

“She told me you kissed Rina.”

“I didn’t,” he says. “I swear I didn’t. Nothing happened between me and her.”

His gaze is cold and his lips a straight line devoid of emotion, while he still holds you by the arms preventing you from getting out of the car. And that sentence feels like it's enough to ruin all the good things you've been through together. He keeps lying, talking about your intimacies with his friends, ignoring your feelings, and pretending that he really cares about you.

You open the car door and get out to slam it again, pretty sure it might leave the lock damaged. Outside the temperature is very low despite the fact that it is about to dawn, the sky turning purple and slowly turning off the stars. So you rush to open the door of your house before freezing outside, but especially because you hear Donghyuck get out of the car too and call your name closer and closer, indicating that he has no intention of ending the talk yet.

4. She knows what I am, and she loves and evades what I am

"I'm staying over." He says making his way through your door, shutting it and blocking it once the two of you are inside.

"No you're not." The walk down to your room gets constantly interrupted by him trying to reach for you and stopping you from moving any more. He grabs your arms to get you to look at him, so when he finally makes you turn around and you see his face, you break down. "Fuck you, Donghyuck! I told you you're not staying."

"Yeah, I am. And I'mma fuck you silly."

"No you're fucking not."

"Gonna take all that anger out of you."

"Fuck you, asshole." You almost spit in his face trying to talk to him at his same height.

"Is that what you want?" He asks, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to keep the eye contact, the other hand placing you flush from his body. "Fuck you so good you don't even understand why you got so mad in the first place?"

Your eyes fall to his gripped teeth and to his lips, wet with spit from all the previous arguing looking more tempting than usual.

You have to admit that, if you really think about it, it didn't make much sense why you got so mad at him. He already made it clear to you that absolutely nothing happened between him and Rina or anyone else all night while you, instead, jumped to conclusions and went looking for unwarranted revenge.

Maybe you and Mia thought he was being an asshole and was making fun of you when, in reality, that isn't much like Hyuck. What if it really was just a stupid conversation between boys? What if it was his way of showing off, of presuming to Jaemin about your relationship because he felt proud of you?

Because if he supposedly gets as sick of you as he said in the text messages, then why would he decide to be with you again?

A gasp comes out from your open mouth when you feel his hand squeezing on your ass and pushing you even closer to him.

"I just want you to be honest with me." You reply in a whisper. The smile that gets over his features is wicked, and his left hand tightens his grip around your face one last time before he shoves you to the bed.

An airy laugh comes out of him. "Silly girl gets angry and if I fuck her she calms down."

He gets over you placing both hands on the sides of your head and looks into your eyes once more. But there's something different this time. His look is so soft and tender it makes you want to tear up a little. It might show, because Donghyuck pouts lightly before opening his mouth to swear to you: "You know I'd never hurt you on purpose."

It's hard to trust him. But it's also hard to believe he would dare lie to you while looking at you in the eyes that way. So you only grab his locks and pull to give him a kiss full of emotion. There's passion, there's anger, there's pain and there's so much obsession it could be mistaken for love.

His palm travels up and down from your sides, caressing and squeezing firmly, to your back under your top until he unties the straps and gets it out of the way. His fingers explore and touch all the newly exposed skin sending shivers down your spine. He kisses you back aggressively, making you pull on his hair like you know he likes and feeling him grow hard above you.

His hands start to undo the buttons of your jeans and he slides his fingers under it and over your skin, massaging your ass, grinding on you even more.

Small whimpers leave from you and mix with the sighs coming out from his mouth. You take a moment to remove your pants completely, tossing them to the side and quickly starting to get Donghyuck out of his.

When his hands move up again, he gets them under the straps of your panties and moves them down, freeing you from the fabric, parting your legs and giving your clit direct contact with his boxers.

It's always too easy when he's alone with you. He knows perfectly when to kiss you and where to touch you to make you want more of him—an expert of your body, always looking for you to have the best time.

Guilt takes over you for the second time tonight, remembering how selfish you were earlier when you went looking out for his friend, and then getting mad at him when Donghyuck has really been nothing but the sweetest when it's just the two of you.

What was the problem with keeping things private? What was your obsession with him showing you off? You never considered he’s a public figure and he might like his privacy, to keep things on the low because of his fans, the paparazzi and the media who’s never got anything nice to say about him and your friends.

When you get away from him all of a sudden, there's a remaining blush on his cheeks as his lustful but confused eyes follow you, until you get on the floor and land on your knees in between his legs. His pupils expand as you tug on his boxer, grab his semi-hard cock and lick the tip of it. As soon as you repeatedly run your tongue around it, you hear him groan deeply. Not much time passes until he is fully hard while you keep moving your hand along his dick, squeezing and passing your thumb over the tip making Donghyuck hiss, and he pushes your head down to make you wrap your mouth around him one more time.

"Fuuuck baby," he groans one more time before grabbing your shoulders and pushing you away.

You look at him with shiny eyes, your lips red and moisturized with his pre-cum. And because of the way his chest moves up and down from the heavy breathing and the look he's giving you, you think Donghyuck might come just at the sight of you.

He doesn't waste another second to attach your mouths in a desperate kiss, leading you to lay on top of the bed once again. His weight on your body maintains your back pressed against the mattress, and he makes room between your legs. You're sure he's more than ready for you, but you know he always wants to make sure you are fully ready for him. His digits tease your entry and you whine in desperation to just have him. 

"Hyuck," you can't help but cry his name.

"What?" He asks as his fingers keep going in and out of you. The feeling of his lips on yours help you momentarily stop from moaning and complaining.

When he finally breaks the kiss to breathe, you manage to speak. "Quit teasing and fuck me."

He only grins at you and you can finally feel the head of his cock replacing his fingers in your pussy. But he doesn't push in yet. Instead, his fingers coated in your juices come in contact with your lips and somehow you know what he wants.

"Did you have fun playing the angry girlfriend with me?" He comes closer and whispers in your ear as you open your mouth and suck them for him. "Silly girl. Look at you, you are so beautiful." Donghyuck talks in between wet kisses that move from your cheeks to your neck. "How could you believe what your friends say?"

A moan escapes you—whether because of his actions or his words, it doesn't matter too much, because he slams his dick into you, taking away all the air from your lungs.

The oxygen only reaches your blood again once he slightly pulls off to bottom out immediately after, setting a steady pace. You are restricted from making any sounds, as his fingers are still on your mouth while he keeps pleasuring you, obliging you to suck and bite at them because he just feels too good.

Once again, you think every doubt you ever had about him before was dumb, as there isn't a possibility he would want to make you feel this good if he didn't like you at all.

His girth is perfectly adjustable to you and quick to form a knot on the low of your stomach. It would suddenly disappear when he completely pulls out of you and grabs your hips to turn you around, making you stand on your elbows and knees. With your head down on the mattress and ass up in the air, Donghyuck doesn't waste another second and gets inside you.

His thrusts are slow and deep, way too deep. This position allows him perfectly to play with your clit and to squeeze your breasts at the same time, quickly sending you over the edge in a minute, then stopping completely, then stimulating you to the limit over again.

When he finally gets his hands off your body completely, you start to accelerate the pace on your own, fucking yourself on his dick before Donghyuck interrupts suggesting you move to straddle him.

He's quick to get himself sitting with his back against the bed frame, then dragging you to sit comfortably on top of him. Hyuck rubs the head of his dick back and forth between your folds, reaching your clit repeatedly and spreading your wetness all over him, making you whine in the process.

"Hyuck, please." You are a panting mess on top of him, moving yourself to keep the friction stimulating you and sighing dreamily. 

He lets you grind and stimulate your clit through his length for a bit, taking his shirt off in the process and going back to massaging your boobs. You whimper when he manages to sink you down on him without a warning, which makes you fall forward and rest the side of your head on his chest, your ear right above where his heart should be.

His arms embrace your body and press you against his chest that is warm, allowing you to hear the rhythm of his heart, slow and controlled, like you could find all the right answers by just listening to it.

"I would make love to you," he whispers, "but you made me mad with your little scene."

"Hyuck, don't be like that." Your eyes fall shut trying to hold back the tears, when at the same time you desperately want to see his satisfied smile hearing you cry and moan his name as he rolls his hips, stretching your walls again and again without having started to move back and forth again. "Hyuck, fucking move!" You ask desperately, sitting and trying to bounce on him but his hands on your waist keep you in place, glued to his torturing hips.

A strong smack on your right ass cheek makes another filthy sound escape from your lips right before you hear his voice. "Talk to me nicely," he warned.

"Do that again." 

Your plea makes him smile and move your ass up a bit to give you the first thrust after a while. His palm violently comes in contact with your cheek one more time and you fall even forward, hiding your face on his neck and whispering all the praises you could think of in his ear.

"That's it," he says as he continues hitting all the right spots inside you.

When his hand slides between your bodies and finds your clit you can't contain yourself anymore and fully sit on top of him to take a little bit of control, riding him while you chase your orgasm.

Even when you start begging for it over and over, he doesn't say a thing at your tireless plea. He knows you are once again at the verge of it by the way your inner walls clench around him. Instead, he keeps stimulating your clit while squeezing and sucking your boobs. Sitting in the middle of his bed with his dick buried inside you, he makes you work for it until you are coming all over him.

You keep moving, supporting yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck and riding out your orgasm until you feel the cold air hit your nipples, wet with the warmth of Hyuck's mouth before he was moaning out his own orgasm.

"Love you," he places a kiss at the top of your head, and caresses you gently along your back down to your thighs. "You're so, so beautiful."

You open your eyes and take a look at your surroundings while still hiding your face on Donghyuck's neck. Things look blurry and you feel a little dizzy. You're breathing heavily, but not only because of the amazing angry-make up sex you two just had. You're coming back to your senses, and your chest hurts and your eyes sting from holding on the tears; it's everything that happened this night taking over you all at once.

A sip from your nose is what gives you away and makes Donghyuck laugh.

"Aw, baby," he says with a squeeze on your asscheek. "Fucked you so good I got you crying?" Donghyuck takes your face in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. His thumbs wipe away the thick tears that fall down your cheeks with care, and he kisses the pout on your lips over and over again, until they form a straight line. "Shh, it's okay baby. I know you didn't mean to get mad at me."

You shake your head and open your mouth, determined to speak, to tell him that things can no longer work like this, but you are interrupted by his lips and his hands making you start to move again on his dick, still buried deep inside you.

"I love you," he repeats in between kisses, and you moan. "I love you. Happy New Year."

And this time you shake your head in agreement, up and down in the same way that Donghyuck starts to move your body on him, hoping he would just shut up and stop lying for once. But you try to convince yourself that if you do it all again, that if you choose to keep seeing him, there will be just lust. No playing games, no believing in promises, no loving him, but lust. Because you can't let him go just like that.

Happy holidays everyone! If you liked this fic, please let me know. Feedback is always appreciated.

[gurugirl]

how do we feel about a New Years party stepdad!h blurb? <3

A/n: You wanted a blurb? SORRY! LOL! Got carried away babe! This is a bit more than a blurb. Happy New Year to everyone! Hope your parties are just as fun as this one 💦 3.4k words

Warning: stepdad!harry x stepdaughter!reader, inappropriate relationship, smut

stepdad!harry masterlist

New Year's Eve had always been a fun little thing that your mother loved to celebrate, maybe more than any other holiday. She always planned well in advance, inviting dozens of guests, warning the neighbors that it was going to be loud and bribing them with her famous tiramisu, having food catered in, decorations, champagne, noise makers...

You were dressed in your little red, sequin dress with a low back and black heels, hair smoothed and waved, red lips, and lots of butterflies in your tummy. You didn't know how tonight was going to go down. Harry would probably kiss your mom at midnight - that was a given actually. You were used to that, though. What had you feeling the fluttery nerves in your tummy was what Harry was going to do with himself.

The moment he saw you in your little red number he let out an audible scoff that even your mother noticed, "She's gorgeous isn't she, Harry?" Your mom poked her elbow at her husband and winked at you.

She truly just had no idea. But you'd also gotten used to pushing the guilt down so deep it almost didn't even bother you anymore. Almost.

As the guests began to arrive, everyone was handed a drink and ate snacks, and gathered in small groups to chat. The music playing over the speakers was nice and chill. The atmosphere was really relaxed and exciting all at once.

You invited a couple of your girlfriends and they were dressed just as cute as you. Cassidy was somewhat aware of how you felt about Harry. Well, actually she wasn't really aware. She only knew that you found him attractive. She had no idea of your secret. No one did.

"He's so fucking fine. How do you survive listening to him fuck your mom?" She laughed into her red solo cup. She was already half in the bag.

You rolled your eyes and made a gagging noise, acting as if you were grossed out by anything to do with Harry and sex, "Gross! Cas, you're nasty. I don't think of him like that."

She scoffed and shook her head, "I know you think he's hot. You told me. Don't lie."

You shrugged, "Not anymore really. Now he's just my stepdad. I don't think of him that way."

But you could feel his eyes on you all night. You even had to take your pointer finger and make a slicing gesture across your neck to tell him to cut it out. He was going to get himself caught. He wasn't being sly.

It had you a bit worried in fact. So your butterflies were warranted. Harry was being a bit too obvious.

One of Harry's friends, LJ, was also eyeing you. But you didn't like his attention. Not one bit. The guy was ogling you and he kept coming up to you and very openly flirted with you a good handful of times before Harry had had enough and he interrupted one such moment.

"That's enough, mate. That's my stepdaughter..." Harry had placed a palm on the man's shoulder to pull him back a few inches.

You watched on as LJ and Harry went back and forth, "No worries, dude. She's an adult. Right?" He looked at you with brows raised.

You shrugged but looked at Harry with pleading eyes. You wanted LJ to fuck off.

"Nah, let's go, man. Anyone but her..." Harry pulled LJ along and LJ turned back to you as he stumbled in step with Harry and waved at you, but the look on his face was a promise that he'd return.

Your mom was ER doctor, but her true calling was a party planner and host. She threw the best parties. She always had everything perfectly organized and planned out. Anything that went wrong, she took care of by improvising or adapting to doing something a little differently.

So, when one of the drunk guests fell into a table and knocked all of the drinks, cups, and liquor bottles to the ground, your mom had already bought extra liquor and mixers. She immediately got into host most and pointed to you and Harry, "In the basement, bring up the boxes labeled NYE Backup. There are seven of them."

You and Harry quickly went into the house and you kicked your heels off the moment you walked into the kitchen so you could more easily go up and down the stairs. This would likely involve more than one trip.

Harry led the way to the basement and just as you thought he'd do, he pulled you into his arms when you were both hidden away from any eyes that might see.

He groped your ass and then brought a hand up to your chin, holding your jaw, "Why are you wearing this? Trying to make me lose my mind? I've gotta fuckin' fight all my friends to stay away from you," he asked you with his face close to yours. The stance he had over you was possessive and animalistic.

You chuckled and grasped Harry's forearm that held your jaw, "Just for you, Daddy. Thought you'd like it."

Harry pressed his mouth to yours and moved his hands down again. He slid his fingers to your thighs and slowly moved the hem of your dress upward. He began moving you back toward the wall until you felt the cool, flat surface against your back.

Harry broke from the kiss and backed away enough so he could take a look at your panties. He was always obsessed with seeing what panties you had on no matter what you were wearing. You wore something that wouldn't show panty lines. a red and thin lacy thong.

Harry opened his mouth and smoothed his hands over your hips, his thumbs dragging the material down a little. He pushed your dress up further and brushed his fingers over your tummy and ducked down to kiss your belly button which made you laugh because the scruff on his face tickled a bit.

"S'mine..." he spoke against your belly as he settled onto the floor to his knees. His lips made their way down over your panties until he kissed right over the crotch of your panties. His hands pushed your thighs apart and for a moment, you forgot that you had a task to do and your mom's drill sergeant was about to come out if she didn't see you two back upstairs soon.

You leaned your head back to the wall and nodded, "Yours, Daddy."

Harry groaned and pinched the inside of your right thigh as he lifted your left leg and draped your thigh over his shoulder. He quickly pushed the material that was hiding your pussy away to the side and took one, wide and long lick upwards. He looked up at you with that devilish grin you loved before he took another long lick up, his tongue pressing into your labia before slurping your clit gently.

You gasped and put your hands into his hair just as he took his index and middle finger into your folds with his mouth wrapped around your sensitive button.

"Harry? Y/n?" Your mom's voice traveled down into the basement.

Harry quickly stood back up, straightening his clothes out and adjusting his dick as you moved your panties into place and slid your dress back down to cover your bottom.

You both looked at one another and laughed before bringing up the boxes. It did take a few trips. And on each one, Harry tried something but you slapped his hand away, "Mom is going to catch us. You need to stop!" But you couldn't stop the smile and the giggle when you warned him.

The backup liquor and mixers saved the party. Everyone got back to drinking and dancing and being loud. But now you were on edge after getting a little attention from Harry in the basement and your panties got progressively wetter through the night just thinking about his mouth on you. It also didn't help that he kept looking at you or when he'd get close enough he'd whisper into your ear so no one could hear or he'd graze his knuckles down your arm.

Harry didn't get too drunk, but he was feeling quite comfortable with himself. He was dancing and mingling, but he kept looking toward you throughout the night. But the only reason you noticed it was because you kept looking toward him. He was hot. And he wanted you bad, so you were in a state of constant horniness.

When the karaoke machine came out Harry was on it. Harry was a singer in a band. They were okay. It was mostly just for fun, but Harry was good. He took the microphone and put the song in.

When you first heard the music you weren't sure what the song was, but then you realized that it was Elvis. A Little Less Conversation. One of Harry's favorite songs.

Everyone laughed and cheered. It was quite ridiculous. Harry was just having fun, really getting into it. He was singing directly to one of his friends, Joe, touching his shoulders and swaying to the beat. It was a good show.

"He's hard not to stare at," Cassidy said as she leaned into you watching Harry sing the Elvis song. She had a smile on her face as she watched your stepdad sing and move around. Harry had his striped button-up shirt unbuttoned to just past his pecs and his sleeves pushed up to past his elbows, showcasing the tattoos on his forearms. Because of course, he did.

You looked around and realized most of the women were looking at Harry just like Cassidy was. You smiled because you knew Harry was yours at the end of the night. Well, mostly. You'd see how the night turned out once the guests left. Things were a bit more tricky when your mom was home.

Everyone who sang karaoke after Harry had a tough act to follow but it was fun to watch. You wouldn't dare get up and sing in front of anyone. You'd probably have the police called if you tried.

When the hour was closing in at midnight everyone had their champagne glasses and their partner. You and Cassidy stuck next to one another. You'd kiss her at midnight, just a peck.

Harry jumped up on a chair and started the countdown from 10. Your mom stood next to him and everyone watched Harry and counted down.

He shot you a look as the seconds ticked and then he jumped down from his chair and took your mom in his arms and kissed her just as you gave Cassidy a playful peck to her mouth at midnight.

Guests stayed well past midnight. You weren't sure what time they finally started leaving. Cassidy and Michaela planned to stay the night so they were already in your bed by the time you had finished clearing most things from the backyard with your mom and Harry and a few people who stayed to help.

Your mom snuck away before the last guests left and when it was just you and Harry he dragged you into the house and quietly into the basement.

"Your mom's in bed already. I think we need to finish what we started down here, don't you? Start the new year off right?" He had you pressed up against the wall again as he pushed his body against yours, trapping you between himself and the cold wall.

You leaned your head back and nodded with a smile, "I think so." You moved your hands over his chest and slid your fingers into the opening of his shirt, feeling his hard chest with hair scattered over his pecs. Harry's body was delicious.

Moving your hands down you unbuckled his belt and undid his pants as quickly as you could. Harry moved your dress up above your hips to expose your panties again.

"Fuck, I need you. I always need you so bad, Y/n..." Harry moaned as you pulled him out of his pants. He was already hard and ready. Heavy in your hand.

Harry moved your panties to the side and pressed his mouth back onto yours as he slipped his fingers into your crease and circled your clit.

You stroked him with your palm, but it was dry, so you pushed at him a little and spit into your hand, keeping your eyes on his, and then lowered your hand back down to his gorgeous cock. The cock that you knew would soon be taking up all the space inside of your cunt.

You gasped when he pushed two fingers into your tight little hole.

You and Harry stood in the basement, against the wall, watching each other as you got fingered and he got a hand job.

You both began to pant softly as it got more heated. Harry's fingers were long and worked you better than anyone else's.

"My hand is drenched. I think this pussy is ready for my cock now," Harry spoke through his teeth. His tip was leaking just the tiniest bit, his precum letting you know he was aching in your hand.

Harry removed his hand and pushed his pants all the way down and then he grabbed the back of your thighs and bent at the knees as he lifted you upward, your back still to the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist and Harry guided his thick, hard cock into your sopping hole. You both let out a moan that was louder than it should have been.

"Fuck... that's all I needed..." Harry moaned as he felt you lather his cock in arousal, your walls pressing all around him.

"Mmmm... me too, Daddy..." you put your arms over his shoulders for leverage as he began to press upward into you deeper. Harry couldn't pull out too much, but with your back pressed into the wall, he could bend down a little and move himself in and out a few inches, but mostly, he stayed deep inside of you, fucking upward.

Harry had his hands squeezing your ass as he thrusted and you kept your legs locked around his waist so you wouldn't fall.

"Oh my god! Fuck, you’re so deep!" You grunted at his harsh plunges.

Harry put his mouth to yours to keep you quiet because your moans and yelps were too loud. His tongue swirled over your tongue and he licked at your lips and your mouth as he panted his breaths in between.

Harry began to pound into you harder as you fucked yourself down over his cock, moving your hips as much as you could. He kept his mouth over yours but the sound of your back against the wall as he rutted into you was thudding in time with his thrusts.

Harry's cock was throbbing inside of you and he moaned against your mouth as his jaw went slack. He was about to come.

"Come inside of me, Daddy. Fill me up..." you whispered as you pulled at his hair and Harry began to tremble.

"What do you need, baby? Want your clit rubbed? Can you reach?" Harry's words were breathy and tight.

You actually couldn't reach because of the angle and you were worried that if you let go with one of your arms you might lose your balance.

"I don't think I can. But that's okay..."

Harry grunted and moved his hands to your thighs and put your feet onto the floor before pulling out, his heavy cock swaying and shiny.

"Get on your hands and knees. I'll fuck you doggy and you rub that sweet little clit," Harry moved you so you were bending downward.

You got to your hands and knees, knowing you'd have carpet burn afterward, but it'd be worth it.

Harry got in right behind you and softly palmed over your bottom and leaned over your back, "Need to keep quiet, okay?"

You nodded and spread your thighs for him as you started to rub your clit.

Harry impaled you quickly and the feel of his cock parting your soft inner walls and the noise it made when his hips met your ass was so sexy.

Harry's pace was better like this. He could really fuck you in this position. You ran your fingers over your clit as Harry's cock glided in and then backed out to his crown, before pushing back in, reaching that one spot, deep inside, his tip and the swollen frenulum dragging over it and making you see stars each time.

It was like Harry's cock was made for your pussy. Curved perfectly to reach and rub into the magic area that had your toes curling and your pussy creaming over him with how good it felt.

Things only got wetter as Harry went harder. He was tempted to spank your round ass but he resisted because the sound of a palm landing on soft flesh could be a bit loud at times. And besides, his skin and balls slapping against you each time he rocked inward were loud enough. But those noises couldn't be helped. The sound of two people fucking would be enough of a giveaway. Having the sound of him spanking you, which would probably make you yelp was not wise.

Harry began to tremble behind you again, his long cock slicking into you and punching you deep in your tummy. You sped up the speed of your fingers and groaned when Harry's hips rocked into you so hard you were being knocked forward.

"M'gonna come, baby. Come on Daddy's cock. Come on... Need to see your cream all over it. Oooohh..." he let out a low and quiet moan and gasp when you started to quiver and moan.

You bit your lip to keep your noises down because your orgasm was about to take you out. You'd been on edge and pent up all night, which only meant your orgasm was going to wreck you.

Harry shifted deep into you and he grasped your hips. You felt him lean over your body as he fucked inward, inward, deeper, deeper, never moving his cock out as his tip was smashed into your magic spot, smoothing over it and pressing into it, never letting up contact.

You lost it. You did your best not to make a peep but you shook and your ears rang, your heart pounded harshly as your orgasm took over. You creamed over his cock, just like he wanted and you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned over your body.

Harry gasped and stilled his hips as he released inside of you, deep into your guts. You felt drool hit the top of your shoulder blades as Harry's mouth was hanging open in ecstasy. He couldn't help it. You made his mouth water and his orgasm burst into you and took over all of his senses. He groaned quietly as he unloaded himself into you, coating you with his sperm.

It was a lot. You both came hard. His come began to drip out of you before he'd even pulled out. You were both still a little shaky when he finally did pull out and you heard him laugh as he slipped his fingers through your folds to scoop up his come. He put his arm around your body and you saw his finger in front of your face.

"Suck," he said in a dark voice.

You wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked his still-warm come into your mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp.

"Good girl."

You both got up, wobbly and breathless and smiling. Harry brought you in for another kiss as he pulled your dress down to cover your body.

"Happy New Year, baby. I love you." Harry kissed you deeply and you slung your arms over his shoulders and made out like teenagers. You could probably have gone another round but it was best to get back to your respective rooms before anyone caught you. "Happy New Year, Daddy," you smiled at the man and he pinched your cheek with a grin before you both headed upstairs and went your separate ways for the night.

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[wildemaven]

fall apart, again : chapter one | joel miller

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x OFC!Genevieve

WC: 5k

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Heavy on the Angst, post-outbreak world, no specific age mentioned but reader is close in age to Joel, minor character death, Ellie and her smart mouth, leaving the rest to read at your own risk to not spoil things, reader has a name but there are zero references to her appearance/she’s a blank slate character, 2nd POV, this is way AU so can be read as Game Joel or TV Joel

A/N: I’ve been so excited and nervous for this series. I don’t have a timeline for posting with this one, just going to take my time with it. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to me wrack my brain over this series and for being my second set of eyes!! Please go check out her new Dieter Series!!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Inspo Board

Next

Spring was slowly transitioning into the next season. 

Bright fragrant blooms wilting away into the dry soil from where they were born— a poetic reminder of the time. 

21 Summers. 

21 years of surviving. 

Enduring. 

Remembering—  the normal life before the outbreak that you mourn daily. 

A giant Bur Oak lends itself to you, branches providing ample shade as you sit resting against its sturdy trunk, the ground cool beneath where you sit. 

The harsh sunlight filters through the tree’s canopy, a warm dapple light speckled all around you. 

There’s a gentle flicker to your left that catches your attention, a single light-ray hits the small diamond on your dainty gold band where it sits heavy on your ring finger. You hold your hand up, remembering back to when you both had found it, he had immediately dropped to his knee— it wasn’t much, but it was perfect. 

“I give you this ring as a reminder that we face this world together. We’re an unbreakable team.”

Even after all these years and the circumstances of the world around you, it’s a vow you stand by. 

Branches above rustle and crack as a breeze sweeps through, the edges of the paper that is resting on a book in your lap fold over with each small gust, drawing your attention back to the words you’ve written. 

…We passed what looked like it was a small farm at one point. It made me yearn for normalcy. Where we could settle into the small farmhouse, drink our morning coffee on the wraparound porch while we watch the sun rise. Have all the animals that would give a homestead atmosphere. A coup of chickens where we would gather eggs daily, a flock of sheep and goats for milk, and a small herd of cows— because what’s a farm without some cows I can give silly names to. 

We’d raise a family in that farmhouse— lots of babies running around to wrangle. Breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs, all of us together around our table, then tucking them all in at night after we’ve read them several stories. 

We’d lay in each other’s arms as the crickets sing their chirping songs. A breeze washing over us through the open windows, the evening air lighter and crisp as the night fades and our worn bodies succumb to sleep. 

There wouldn’t be heartache or sadness. No fighting or stressing over jobs. We’d be happy. We’d be together… 

“Eve! Let’s get goin’— we only got a few more hours of light left. Should be at the cabin before sundown.” The thick Texas twang breaks through your thoughts. 

Steve standing off in the distance, his blonde hair disheveled and wind blown as he looks back to where you’re tucked under the tree. 

He’s handsome in his own right, not someone you would have ever found yourself with in different circumstances, but now you wouldn’t know how to function without him. 

A chance meeting the day of the outbreak had brought the two of you together. 

You were working as a traveling nurse at a hospital 4 hours from where you lived, instantly going into crisis mode as lead of the trauma response team, the ER quickly overwhelmed with patients seeking treatment for bites or flu-like symptoms— it was unlike anything you had ever seen before in all your years as a nurse. 

Steve, a retired detective, was on vacation with his wife visiting a friend before the initial outbreak happened. The morning of, he’d gone on a duck hunting trip, while his wife went to breakfast with some girlfriends at a local Waffle House. He had brought her into your ER when he noticed she was acting strangely, similar to the symptoms the news was reporting as a widespread epidemic. Her outcome was not hopeful as you did your best to administer vials of antibiotics and fluids, the infection moving through her was beyond anything you could treat. 

It was Steve who made the call to abandon his wife and the hospital and the realization hit fairly quickly that there was less you could actually do to help others. 

Fleeing the area, seeking solace in one another as you both navigated through quarantine zones— searching for familiarity in your former hometown, only to be met with decimation and nothingness. 

Steve’s way around a gun helped keep you safe when evading FEDRA, the nursing kit you put together came in handy when stitching him up between shootouts and fighting off the infected— this was now your new normal. 

As the years progressed, you both found contentment with each other. Security gave way to a sense of comfort and revival, falling into a deeper connection beyond two people surviving a post outbreak apocalypse— if you were going to be in each other’s lives, you might as well be fully committed. 

“Eve! Pack your shit up— let’s go!” He spits out a little harsher, no real malice behind his tone— he likes to stick to his schedule. 

You don't respond, folding your letter carefully then tucking all of  your items into your canvas pack.  Standing to your full height, you give your legs a minute to let the blood reacquaint fully, your hands brushing the bits of dust and weeds from your pants. 

You hear Steve continue his huffing, as you make your way closer to where he’s standing. 

“I thought I told you to knock it off with those pointless letters!” He gruffs, hands secure at his hips and his head cocked to the side, hoping to catch your gaze. 

Your letters. They had become a loose journal, your stream of thoughts you needed to get out so you were not plagued by the pain and anxiety that came with them whirling around your brain. 

Letters to your past, letters to a new life that awaits you and sometimes to no one at all— you wrote about your travels, things you missed or longed for now, hope for the future. 

They were too much to keep, pages and pages filled with your words and stories, some containing memories too painful to read or share, a weight you didn’t want to carry, so you scattered them throughout your travels. In the last 21 years, you’ve written hundreds of them, dropping them in abandoned mailboxes, or tucked away in the abandoned spaces you’d settled into in passing, as if to send them to whomever you were writing to— leaving a trail of your life across cities and states. 

“And I thought I told you to stop calling me Eve— guess we don’t always get what we want?” You had asked him multiple times over the years to not call you Eve, that was your former life and you hated the reminder, but you know he doesn’t do it out of spite. 

The gravel crunches under your boots as you walk past, not looking to argue with him in the heat of the sun. 

Steve’s hand reaches out clasping around yours, halting your movements, his eyes fixed on you, furrowed brows as if he wants to say something. 

“Hey— Ya know I love you, right?” He sighs, his fingers toying with the gold band on your ring finger. 

You look to where your hands are joined, the twisting of the gold band a small gesture of his when things get tough or tense, you smile when you meet his gaze again. 

“I know.” You do know, and you feel it too. “Come on, we’ve only got a few hours of light left.” He shakes his head, but gives you a smile at the way you throw his comment back at him. 

*

It had been close to 2 hours of walking, nearly dark, by the time you both made it to the cabin, nestled among dozens of other abandoned cabins on the hillside of an old ski resort. 

You imagine it was a popular spot in its prime, filled with families taking their kids on their first snow trips, friends racing each other down the slopes, non-skiers enjoying warm beverages in the lodge while everyone else enjoyed the snowy weather. 

Now desolate and forgotten, a stop for raiders on the hunt for supplies and hostages or survivors seeking refuge in search of a town just north of here, Jackson. 

Steve had managed to trade for a hand-held CB radio early on, he kept tabs on chatter that happened among FEDRA, staying one step ahead of their whereabouts. At some point he had stumbled upon private channels used by other survivors, he didn’t talk much about what they discussed with you, it was his realm of expertise and a small thing that was just his, so you didn’t push him to share more than what he was willing to. 

It was a year ago he had connected with someone and heard about Jackson. There was an offer for a place for a fresh start, a community of other survivors, somewhere to feel safe and comfortable without fear of being attacked, placed in solitary confinement, killed— or infected. Steve decided it was where you both were meant to be, hashing out a plan and specific route on his tattered map, making sure to stay in constant contact with this person in Jackson as you both traveled. 

Venturing further into the resort, you both settled on the lesser marred of the dilapidated cabins.

“I’m gonna check the perimeter, you go on inside— check each room first, I’ll be right in. But remember, if I’m not back in ten minutes, you don’t come looking for me— you wait until morning and you head over that mountain, under no circumstances do you leave that cabin before sunrise.” Steve instructed, his hands on your shoulders reassuring the doubt he can see written all over your face. 

“Steve— W-what if, there’s something inside—“ Your voice is barely a whisper, nervousness creeping in as your hands grip onto Steve’s wrists that have moved to cup your face, his thumbs smoothing across the apples of your cheeks. 

“We’ve done this a million times before, I know you can do it— I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you were capable, you’ll be fine. Just think, this is the last time we have to do this. Then it’s you and me, in Jackson, together and safe— ‘kay?” His direct eye contact really drives home the message— together and safe.

“Okay.”

“I love you, go be brave.” Romantic and encouraging as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“I love you— be safe, please.” 

“Always.” He shoots a wink with his mustached smile, a few slow steps backwards then turning to make his way up the backside of the cabin, pulling the butt of his rifle close to his chest, hunched and scanning every inch of the surrounding area. 

The cabin would seem warm and inviting if the possibility of a Clicker behind the door wasn’t a high probability. 

Armed with the knife Steve insisted you keep on you at all times, your refusal at his request for you to carry a gun, you make your way up the front steps. 

Each move was slow and calculated, the wood beneath your boots wobbled and creaked the closer you got to the front door. The handle is cold to the touch as you twist it open, pushing the door with a little extra effort to unstick it from the doorframe. 

It’s dark and musty, uninhabited by the living and anything beyond that at first glance. Dust and cobwebs cover every surface, pictures still mounted on the walls slightly hanging uneven. A floral couch with two side chairs still arranged in an inviting way, waiting to be enjoyed during a long conversation. The kitchen was small but large enough that it still would have been possible to whip up a hearty meal over the stove, then gather at the tiny table to enjoy the meal and dessert. 

You’re grateful the floor plan is an open space, no immediate threat to you upon entering. 

There’s only two doors, which you assume hide a bathroom and a bedroom. 

The first door reveals nothing but a sink, toilet and shower-tub combo— you’re looking forward to a hot shower when you get to Jackson. 

You stare at the closed remaining door, the handle of the knife twisting in your hand as you prepare yourself, not really feeling like you have it in you to take out anything that might be waiting for you on the other side. 

A deep breath in, reaching for the the handle you give it a quick jiggle announcing your presence, twist and a quick swing open— a queen size bed draped in outdated sheets, bedside tables with lamps covered in a layer of dust, a dresser opposite the bed with a giant mirror hanging above it. 

Empty. 

Relief washing away the dread. 

Stepping into the room, you toss your pack and knife onto the dresser before finding a seat at the end of the bed, the mattress shifting under you, the springs groan as you settle into a comfortable spot. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed since you entered the house, noting it’s been a while since you had heard or seen anything from Steve, but knowing he likes to be thorough, you’re hoping he makes his way through the front door soon. 

The moon has crept into the night sky, shining through the small bedroom window, illuminating the reflection staring back at you. 

Sometimes you forget how long it’s been since you’ve seen what you really look like. While it’s you that you’re staring at in the mirror, you feel slightly unrecognizable to yourself— aged by 21 years in every sense, tired and worn down by the state of the world and lack of sleep. 

Your fingers lightly trace over your skin, taking in every detail, rediscovering every angle of your appearance— the old characteristics blending into the new ones. 

A yawn escapes you, remembering what Steve had said about not leaving, you decide to get yourself comfortable in bed and wait for him. 

Kicking your boots off, you crawl up the length of the bed, plopping your head down onto the stack of lumpy pillows, your mind wandering as you run through all the scenarios as to why Steve hasn’t returned yet, debating whether you should go take a look outside or listen and wait for morning— scared of what you might find waiting for you. 

Your eyelids begin a heavy blink, struggling to remain open and alert, your breathing evening out as your body relaxes into the mattress, sleep consuming your mind. 

Warmth surrounds you, the bed dipping and creaking pulls you from your sleep, immediate panic bursts in your chest as your eyes shoot open, your vision blurred as you seek out the movement of a shadowy figure behind you. 

“Hey, hey it’s okay— it’s just me.” 

“Steve?!” Turning your body to lay facing him, your hands fisting his shirt, scanning his face for any sign of distress or discomfort. “What took you so long?”

“I’m fine.” Placing a hand over one of yours that’s settled on his chest. “Decided to wait a bit, just to be sure nothin’ was out there— I’m sorry.” His hand moves to the base of your neck, his forehead resting against yours.

“S’okay.”

“No— I’m sorry for callin’ your letters pointless earlier. I know how much they mean to you.  I just—“ He releases a heavy sigh, voice quivering as he avoids eye contact with you. 

“What— what’s the matter?” You sense there’s something Steve’s not telling you. 

“Nothin’s the matter. I just worry about what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours— you shut down on me and I just wish you’d let me help you carry the burden.” His gaze moves back to yours. “Promise me, when we get to Jackson, you don’t let your thoughts weigh you down any longer— promise me you’ll let yourself be happy there.”

“I p-promise.” You say, brushing the blonde strands of hair off of his forehead. “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier.”

“Nah, I was pushin’ your buttons— I deserved it.” You both laugh at his response. 

Steve leans into your space, his lips slotting over yours, it’s angled and slow, his grip on your neck still steady as the kiss begins to deepen. Throwing your leg over his hip, canting against the sturdiness of his thigh, seeking out some sort of friction to relieve the building ache between your legs. 

But before things are about progress, Steve’s pulling away from your mouth, slowing the roll of your hips with his hand. 

“We should get some sleep— we’ve got close to a 3, maybe 4 hour walk tomorrow, we need to get all the rest we can get.”

“Y-yeah, of course.” Your response is breathy, a slight pang in your chest at his soft rejection, questioning whether you had been too harsh towards him earlier in the day— but your body could use the rest. 

Adjusting yourself, you turn away from Steve, his large arm wrapping around and pulling you closer to him. Your back now against his firm chest, each one of your tense muscles slowly relaxing into him and his warmth. 

Thoughts of a new start in Jackson flood your mind as you drift off into a deep sleep. A chance at a better life, where Steve and you can settle into normalcy together. Retire from the constant fear and panic of daily survival out in the open. The taste of prosperity and the sense of peace, an almost tangible reality for the two of you. 

Steve senses sleep has set in for you, the ease of your regulated breathing paired with your gentle snores. He nestles himself into the crook of your neck, his fingers instinctively migrate to your ring smoothing over the cool metal, his thick whiskers tickle lightly at your skin as he whispers reserved confessions into the balmy. A gentle kiss to your shoulder before allowing himself to fully breathe easy, deciding to keep a watchful eye throughout the night. 

“You’ll be happier Genevieve, I promise.”

*

The sun is in its full glory once you both set out on the last stretch of your journey over the mountain.

Steve had been rather short with you all morning, you chalked it up to his tossing and turning all night, his eyes bloodshot, evident in lacking sleep— he had promised everything was fine, so you believed him. 

“How much longer do you think we have?” Not really knowing what to talk about with the uneasiness that’s been going on all morning. 

“I don’t know, Eve— they guy said it was about a 3 hour walk from the resort. We’ve been walking close to 2 and a half, so we’re probably close.”

“Please don’t call me—“

“Jesus Christ Genevieve! I’m fucking sorry! But you don’t make it easy for me sometimes— I feel like I’m always at a fucking arms length away from you even after 21 fucking years.” Anger shoots from his mouth like bullets, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him like this, at least never towards you. “It’s a goddamn name! Gen, Eve, Genevieve— they’re all the fucking same!” 

“I-I’m sorry.” Tears prick at your eyes, you try your best to not let them fall— you’ll save them for when you’re alone in the safety of your new home. 

“Fuck! No, I’m sorry— shit! C’mere.”

Steve pulls you into him, his face hot against your cheek as he holds you close, the button down he’s wearing is drenched in sweat, there’s a slight tremble to the grip he has on you. 

“Are you okay?” You pull back to get a better look at him, beads of sweat glisten across his forehead, his cheeks flushed a bright red. 

“Yeah, just really fucking tired.” 

*CLICK*

“Hands where we can see them! Slowly, no fast movements!” A woman’s voice echoes through the air. 

Steve releases you from his arms, both of you slowly turning, arms raised up as you were told. 

There’s 5 of them, all on horses with their guns drawn in your direction. The woman seems to be in charge of the group, her horse placed a few feet in front of the others.

“We don’t mean no harm, we’re just trying to get to the settlement just over this mountain. You must be Maria? I was told you might greet us before we got there.” Steve says, keeping his tone even as explains himself. 

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” She asks, her expression still unreadable as she waits for Steve to respond. 

“No— you don’t, but I was told you would bring us the rest of the way in.” 

Maria takes a minute to decide whether she wants to believe Steve or not. 

“Scan them.” Looking back at one of the men behind her, nodding to where Steve and you are still standing with your arms raised. “I don’t care who you talked to, you get scanned before you come in.” 

The man grabs a device from his saddle pack, then makes his way towards you, the other 3 men’s guns still aimed, fingers hovering over their triggers. 

“Lady’s first.” The man states, placing the device on your neck, there’s a small zap to your skin when the scan is administered. 

“Green!” He shouts, holding the device up to show the green screen in Maria’s direction. 

You breathe a sigh of relief, even though you knew you were fine. 

Turning towards Steve, the man places the scanner on Steve’s neck, Steve’s eyes locking with yours as the man presses the designated button to conduct the virus scan. 

The man steps back quickly, a flash of red catches your attention. 

“RED!” He holds the device up. 

The other men direct their aim to Steve, his head hanging low and no sign of resistance to finding out he’s infected. 

“Steve! No— Tell them you’re not infected!” Insisting he speak up. “He’s not infected! Scan him again! Please!” You scream at the group, your voice straining as you plead with them to scan Steve again, convinced it was a bad read. 

“Please!! Scan him—“

“Genevieve— it’s not wrong.” Steve says. 

You turn to him, chest heaving and your throat burning from yelling, confused by what he’s saying.

“What? What do you mean it’s not wrong? You’re not infected Steve— you’re just tired, they need to scan you again!”

“I was bit.” 

You can feel the blood drain from your face as the words leave his mouth. Your brain takes a moment to register what he had said. 

Bit. 

Infected. 

“No— no! No, no no!”

“Genevieve—“

“W-when?”

“Last night, there was a runner that came out of one of the other cabins—“

Steve’s confession hits you like a ton of bricks in slow motion. You hate it and don’t want to believe a single thing he’s saying, because the reality is that this is where it ends for him— for you. 

The tears burn as they begin to stream down your face. 

“You didn’t say anything though—“

“I needed to get you here— I needed you to be safe.”

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, throwing yourself at him, anchoring your arms around his neck. 

“No! I can’t do this without you— I can’t lose you too!” 

“Yes, you can. You’re the bravest person I’ve known in a long time. You’re going to get there and you’re going to meet new people and you will be able to help out because that’s what you love— you love helping people and I love that about you. This is your chance to start over, to be happy— do that for me?” His hands cup your face so he can look at you, his eyes filled with tears as well. “Do me a favor, write me one of your letters— I want to know everything.”

You nod, unable to speak, the lump in your throat growing as your remaining time together dwindles away. 

“I love you, Genevieve.” His words muffled against your skin, leaving one last kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you, too.” You breathe out, your eyes closed savoring his soft touch one last time. 

“How long?” Maria asks Steve.

“Probably ‘nother hour left, give or take.”

“Alright Genevieve— you’re riding with me, hand your pack to one of my men. Andrew, you hang back with Steve— you know what to do.” Maria orders everyone. 

Wiping your tears before placing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then turning to where Maria is waiting for you, handing your pack to one of her men. Maria leans down to grab onto your arm, as you hoist yourself up onto the backside of the horse. 

“Let’s head back.” Maria says, pulling the reins up and to one side to signal the horse to turn around, a click of her tongue has the horse moving forward in the direction of the settlement. 

You can’t bear to look back in Steve’s direction, not trusting yourself to not run back to him. 

Leaving him and knowing his fate is like reliving the same pain you endured 21 years ago. The outbreak takes everything from you for a second time. 

Your world shatters, crumbling as the horse carries you further and further from him. 

*BANG*

The sound ricochets out over the valley, your heart sinks as a new wave of tears silently fall. 

*

You don’t remember the entire ride to the settlement or how you ended up on the porch of a two story house. 

Maria had mentioned putting you up in her brother-in-law's converted garage, a small studio bedroom where those new to the settlement would stay while their permanent residence were being cleaned and prepped. She said it wasn’t anything special and you’d have to use the main houses kitchen and bathroom, but you’d have your own space in a few days— so interacting with a few strangers was the least you could do for the hospitality. 

You honestly didn’t care where she put you for the time being, the stables would have been enough, you just wanted to be alone. 

Glancing over your shoulder you see others moving about freely, children running about in the open, a stark contrast between what you had been so used to. 

There’s rows and rows of homes, a small town-like area, a community garden— this place was everything that Steve had described to you, he would have loved it. 

The opening of the front door pulls you back to the front porch where you’re standing with Maria. 

“We’ve got a newcomer, she’s going to stay here until we get a room ready down the street.” Maria explained to the young girl who is glaring at you. 

“Why do you keep bringing them here? This isn’t a shelter— can’t she stay somewhere else?”

“No, she can’t. This is Ellie, her bark is worse than her bite— she’ll grow on you. Ellie, this is Genevieve let’s let her get comfortable and situated— she just lost whom I’m assuming was her husband, so please make her feel welcomed.” Maria coerses Ellie into letting you stay, but you don’t miss the eye rolling throw your way. 

The home is spacious and inviting, you decide it’s far more comfortable than the stables would have been. 

“Ellie, can you grab Genevieve a glass of water please.” It’s more of a demand than an ask. “Here Genevieve, have a seat here at the table. I’m sure Ellie can make you something to eat if you’re hungry too.”

“So now we’re a shelter and we have room service? Her legs don’t seem broken to me—.” 

“Ellie, glass of water!”

The girl grunts something under her breath as she follows through with getting you water, you settle into a chair and try to not let the unwelcome feeling that’s been looming over you since you set foot in the house add to the pain that is still radiating through you. 

You wipe a few tears you hadn’t realized had fallen, a new wave of emotions hitting you, another moment of realization of Steve not being here with you like you had both talked about. 

“Is there anything else I can get you Genevieve?” Maria cautiously places a hand on your shoulder, you take it as her way of apologizing for your loss. 

“Umm, just my bag would be great and a shower would be nice.” You sniffle, ready to lock yourself away for the day, not wanting to be forced to have unwanted conversations with a teenager who already hates your new presence. 

“I’ll go grab your bag from the stables, then you can start getting settled.” She gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning for the front door. “Ellie, be nice.”

A glass of water is placed in front of you, a few cubes of ice float around the clear liquid. You don’t even remember the last time you had enjoyed an ice cold drink. 

Ellie situates herself in the chair across from you, looking as if she wants to say something. 

“So— your husband is dead?” 14 years old and a great conversationalist. 

“No— y-yes.” Your chest aches at the mention of ‘your husband.’

“Well, that’s not confusing. So, did you watch him die?”

“Hmm?” 

“Your husband, did you watch your husband die?” She asks again. 

“N-no.”

“I’m all out of questions then.” She slinks back into her chair. 

You stare at the ice, almost half the size it was when it was placed in front of you. Wishing you could slowly melt away, become the nothingness you feel like. 

The front door swings open and closes with a gentle click, the clunking sound of boots makes the presence of whoever stepped into the house known. 

“Hey kid, sorry I’m late. Tommy wanted to get drinks after our patrol.” 

A deep husky voice permeates the room, its thick syrupy tone seeps into every little crevice of your memory, its familiarity prompting the goosebumps to form across your body. 

“I didn’t know we were having guests— this a new friend of yours?” He asks, his foot step getting closer to where you're still seated at the table, your back turned to him. 

“Fuck no! It’s one of Maria’s strays. Said she has to stay here until her room is available— which is bullshit if you ask me!” She spouts off, her annoyance very apparent. 

“Ellie, manners!” He grits out. 

You lift yourself from the chair, steadying your weak state on the table and chair as you turn in his direction. 

Your heart nearly stops the moment your eyes land on him— a ruggedness to him, his soft brown eyes filled with a darkness that comes with loss and sorrow, his dark locks and beard sprinkled with tuffs of gray, an overall hardness about him that hides his true self. 

“Joel?” Your eyes wide and filled with more tears, the name is barely a whisper as it falls into the air. 

“Eve?” A name he never thought he would say again. 

[frank1nsaint]

Franklin Part 1.

You look around the crowd of people, slightly overwhelmed by the turn out at the fair today. It was a Saturday night after all anyone who wanted to enjoy an ounce of fun weekend before work/school on Monday was here. Unfortunately for you crowds weren’t your thing since a fight tended to break out and nowadays a gun would be pulled quickly. 

“Damn! he walks like his dick is heavy” you hear 

You start coughing choking on your cola

“What?!!” Wanda comments

“She must be talking about Franklin”  Lashay adds as you all now looked towards where she looked, Franklin’s crew walked towards them mostly because of Leon but still they made their way towards you 

There’s a light laughter between you girls “Girl you crazy!” your best friend who just happens to be your cousin Harmony adds to the discussion 

“Oh shit they coming this way yall straighten up!” Tasha snaps quickly adjusting herself clothes  

You groan internally you didn’t want to deal with Franklin and his men. You were around them from elementary to now, and right now mentioning Franklin and his men was like mentioning the grim reaper and his minions. After Kevin's death and Franklin’s release, it was like they were untouchable, and anyone who crossed them ended up dead. Franklin didn’t have that innocent aura about him anymore, you couldn’t describe it he was different confident

“Ladies!” Mike Mike greets bowing his head

“Hey y'all” Lashay greets

“What y'all doing here?” Leon asks

“We are at the state fair duh we are here to get some drinks food and have fun” Wanda responds

“The questioning is what are y'all doing here?” Harmony asks

“Shit y'all can’t be the only ones having fun!” Jerome comments

You hang back as the group merges and moves through the fair. You would integrate, often joining the discussion, but for the most part you kinda just chilled in the back and watched as the couples (Tasha/Franklin, Wanda/Leon, Harmony/Sean Louie/Jerome) cupcaked while the rest of you walked at a distance from them. 

“Girl Sean talking about making me his girl” Harmony comments as you two finally made it back to your rented out home 

“Oh nice!” you say removing your shoes

“You had fun tonight?” 

“Yea!” you smile 

“Good see it was fun” she says in a “i told you so” mocking tone 

“Yea yea whatever!” you wave her off before retreating to the kitchen. You two spend the night conversing before heading off to sleep. 

Life goes on and not much can be said about trying to survive and make it in a world that wouldn’t allow you to. 

“No,” you look at your cousin with a dead face

“WHYYY GIRL? COMME ONNNN” she begs

“Why do I” you point to your chest, “need to go? Tasha, Lashay, Bri, CiCi they are all going” 

“Because cousin, it's a christmas/new years party, damn you wanna be the only bitch in south central staying home on new years eve??”

“You know i don’t like crowds” you argue “and you know damn well that house is about to be packed” 

“When will you get to experience partying at a drug lords house again?” she counters 

“I would hope never Harmony”

She fake cries “come on girl pleaaassseee” she begs as she hugs you

“Harmony”

“Franklin said bring all your friends you know I cant show up without you” 

“Why not?” 

“Because you are part of the package” 

“Just go with the girls” should 

She turns you to face her “Y/N! why don’t you want to come?”

You sigh “i already told you!” 

She gives you a light push “Fine, be boring, have no social life, have no love life, just  survive, Work, school, home, bills thats it???” She throws her hands up when you give her a blanks stare in return 

You roll your eyes as she walks away. What she said got to you eventually, you didn’t want to only survive, you wanted to live just not around Saint and his men, it's like a body dropped every time he was around. 

You ponder for a few days before approaching her, what could hurt a one time party never to be mentioned again at least you could counter if she ever asked you to leave again. 

“Whats the dress code?” you ask as you stand by the kitchen counter 

“What?” She asks as she mixes the rice on the stove

“For this party” you clarify 

She turns to you with a stunned face, mouth a jar wide grin quickly taking over, “you coming?!!!” she asks softly, when you nod she screams and throws her arms around you “OH MY GOD!!!! AHHHH! YES GIRLLLL YESSSS WHAT MADE YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND?”

“Okay calm down!”

“Sorry” she takes a deep breath “I’m just soo excited” 

“Yea yea whats the dress code i mean can i show up in jeans or?” 

“Jeans girl really?” you shrug “You can or you can get a nice pretty dress stand out, get your hair done, nails?”

“So dress up is the dress code?” 

She shrugged “he never said just you know dress nice”

“I can dress nice in jeans”

“In a dress!” she stresses

“Fine” you weren’t going to argue your way through this party 

“Ooh girl, I can't wait to go shopping, let me call the girls and then we can plan to go out together!” she comments before returning to the stove.  You groan already regretting agreeing to go to this party.

The night of the party approaches quickly and you feel your stomach doing flips, it was too late to tell Harmony you changed your mind, you two were looking for a parking spot in the neighborhood, it seemed like half of south central had already showed up to the party. 

You don’t even know how time flew by so quickly, one minute you're in the chair getting your hair done, next thing you're putting on your lipstick, perfume, shoes, now walking towards the door. Watching as people poured in and out of the party. 

The chilly LA evening weather was much appreciated as you were not trying to arrive at the house with a thin layer of sweat on your body. Not after you've primped and primed the entire day. 

“HEEEEYYYYY!”  Harmony greets as you two walk in 

“MY BABY IS HERE!” Sean yells on top of his lungs

You stand back as you watch them greet

“Y/N?” you hear your name 

You turn to face one of Franklin's men “I’ll take your coat”  

“Oh you shrug off your trench coat.”

“I missed you baby” you hear harmony whine in a baby voice you can’t help but laugh 

The house was sorta full, you could still see across the room and make faces you knew that wouldn't be the case in the next hour or so. You just know the party was bound to get shut down

You step further in securing the coat check in your clutch. 

“Hey”  you greet Franklin

“Glad you could make it Y/N” he greets giving you a half hug, you quickly inhale his cologne he smelled good you make a quick note to yourself 

“Thanks for the invite, we brought you this” you say handing him a gift bag

“Oh shit you didn’t have to” he smiles at you

You shrug “well my mama said never show up to a person's house empty handed you know” 

He nods “what yall get me?” He asks trying to move the tissue paper around 

“Oh uh really good wine” 

“Expensive wine”  Harmony adds

“And some Bourbon” 

“Expensive bourbon” 

“Okay Harmony!” you look at her incredulously causing Franklin to chuckle

She chuckles “I’m fucking with you girl but”  she turns to face Franklin, “my cousin went around turn looking for the best wine for you”

“Oh word?” he turns to face you a bright smile on his face 

You feel yourself getting flustered “No I just” you feel yourself blushing “It's a gift and I  like to give good gifts” you defend, you don’t even know why you were blushing 

“That's true you ever want a good gift you ask her she’ll find some good shit” 

You smile “I’m gonna say hi to the girls and boys”  you say walking away from them

“Awkward ass” Harmony comments causing Franklin and Sean to burst out laughing. You throw your middle finger at her and keep walking

It wasn’t that you were purposely trying to impress Franklin, it was just a gift. What would it look like showing up with cheap wine and liquor when you kept hearing about the thousands he was moving weekly.He would probably be offended, you heard about his temper. 

1 hour you say to yourself as you made your way around the room, thats it thats how long you were staying 1 hour. You eventually find a small group of girls to talk to, avoiding Harmony and the rest as they were either in the circle with Franklin or right near it, in the center of the house. When you turn to look at that area you catch a glimpse of Tasha on Franklin's lap, with a flash she gets up and other women take a seat on his lap, you shake your head internally before returning to the conversation. 

The next time you look down at your watch you realise 2 hours had passed. It was already past 11pm and you should have been home by now. 

You quickly chug the water you have been drinking, (you weren’t gonna take risks drinking and driving) you slowly push your way through the massive crowd avoiding anyone from that group spotting you. Unbeknownst to you Franklin had his eye on you the entire night. He watched as you stood in the corner and talked to the girls, then back to the kitchen, bathroom, he even saw you spill water on yourself, he smiled slightly before returning to his conversation, no matter where you were tonight he made sure his eyes were on you. 

At one point you two make eye contact but you smile and quickly look away. Plus the comment Harmony made awhile back about him looking at you a certain way had you nervous being around the man, you can’t explain it you just wanted to get out of South Central unscathed and gaining the attention of Franklin wasn’t a plan. 

“Yea I’m leaving,”  you chuckle nervously while handing them the coat check

“Damn before New Years? it's gonna happen in like 40 minutes” 

“I know but I kinda wanna start getting home before traffic you know” you explain 

You already knew Harmony was gonna be with Sean tonight at his place you begged her to go to his instead of ruining your night with their sexcapeds gladly for you she agreed

He nodded in response “Yea that makes sense, LA traffic can get crazy” 

“Yea it can” You open your clutch to pull your keys but find nothing, you frantically push things around to see nothing, your lip gloss, napkins, mints and your wallet

“Shit” you say to yourself as you think back to the night? Did you leave them in the car? Are they with Harmony? Did they drop and you didn’t hear them? Your mind races trying to trace back the night. 

“Here you go” he says handing you your coat 

“Thanks”  

“Leaving so soon?”  you hear close to your ear from behind you, 

You instinctively tilt your head away, “Huh?”  as you continue to check the pockets quickly turning around slowly

You release your breath as you feel the keys in your coat pocket, you look up and see Franklin looking down at you smiling

“FUCK!”  you curse internally  “Heyyy” you smile quickly turning to glance at where he was to see if anyone else noticed. It was so packed now you couldn’t see past the sea of bodies now

“Leaving so soon?” he asks again pulling his hands behind his back 

You giggle nervously “Oh yea I don’t wanna get stuck in LA traffic”

He tilts his head slightly confused “But you just got here” 

“No i got here 2 hours ago” 

“I didn’t even get the chance to talk to you tonight” You make a face, he chuckles in response “I’m saying i wanted to catch up with you” he shrugs “we ain't really talked since highschool” 

“Oh” you shrug “nothing much going on with me” 

He smirks “Nah you more interesting than that, I aint even get the chance to tell you look good tonight yet,” You look down at your semi formal sweetheart dress, you were actually glad you agreed to dress up as many women were and you didn't’ want to be the odd one out actually even Franklin was dressed up suit tie the whole shebang

“Oh” you smile “thank you Franklin, you look good too clean up nice” 

He removes the coat from your hands gently “how about you stay a little longer?” he bargains

You chuckle nervously this could not be happening “Noo” you reach for the jacket but he puts it behind his back. “Franklin!”  you scold 

He smiles looking at you “comeon girl you can’t leave right before new years!” he argues 

“I don’t like driving at night. You know how the cops are? And its new years too!?” You catch his eyes drifting lower to your cleavage before making their way up to yours. You use that to your advantage and reach around but he quickly moves the jacket the opposite way

“Franklin!” you look towards where he was seating in the center of the house and see a very ugly mug on Tasha’s face and the other women seemed to share the same sentiment glaring in your direction 

“Come on its" he looks down at his watch, "only 30 more minutes, that can’t hurt” 

“No! Plus looks like Tasha is gonna kill you” you comment

“Tasha?”  he looks at where you tilted your head

“Oh shit!” he laughs “I don’t care about Tee” 

You cross your arms on your chest “Aren't you two dating?” 

“No!” 

“Mmmm well you might not be but she believes you two are and I need my coat Franklin” you open your hand out for him to give it to you

“I’ll take you home” 

“No how are you gonna get back here plus it's your party don’t be ridiculous!” 

“RIdiculous?” He guffaws  “I'm not the one leaving a new years party 30 minutes before new years that's the point of the party!” 

You huff and look up at the ceiling. You need to find a solution. You would leave the coat but it has your keys! He moves closer smiling at how flustered you were getting (“I just wanna go home”) you think to yourself, this shouldn’t be happening he should be dating Tasha. Why isn’t he? Weren't they over each other at the fair and tonight? What was this some freakyshit they were into or what?

“What is it?” He asks softly bringing your attention back to him, that damn smile, those dimples, nope no Y/N you need to go home

“Franklin I would like to go home please” 

“Y/N I told you I’ll take you home” 

“What about Tee?”

“Tee can get a ride home, why you keep brining her up?”

“Franklin”

“I’ll take you home. I promise”

“When?” 

“Right after the celebration is over!” he smiles slyly 

You frown “No thats like at 6am!” 

He chuckles you caught on quick “No give me till 1am at least” 

You contemplate no way you were getting the coat back that was for sure

“Fine you promise?” 

“I promise ima get Dreads or Mikey to take you”  You scoff “what?”

You  reach around and snatch your coat shocking him in the process

“No you said you were gonna take me home so you needed to take me home not punt me off to your men” you complain as you throw on your coat quickly 

He smiles at your brattiness “okay okay i will” he reaches for you

You move away from him “Nope i’m going home goodnight Franklin!” 

He sighs, “can you at least let me know you made it home safe?” 

“Fine i’ll page Tee” 

He  groans and you chuckle, he bites his bottom lip as he watches you walk away defiantly 

[beardedmrbean]

A woman in Canada has died after waiting for almost seven hours to receive emergency care at a hospital on New Year’s Eve in what has been described as a “senseless death”.

Allison Holthoff, 37, from the Nova Scotia province, was rushed to an emergency room on the morning of 31 December after her condition worsened from what was initially believed to be an upset stomach.

Her husband, Gunter Holthoff, told CBS news, that she had to be carried on his back to reach the Cumberland Regional Health Care Centre in Nova Scotia’s Amherst town at 11am local time before they spent hours in the waiting room.

“She was obviously in pain,” he said on Sunday, recalling his wife’s excruciating pain and their ordeal. “I was rolling her in the wheelchair and she could hardly sit up.”

Ms Holthoff’s pain worsened as the two waited for more than six hours in the emergency department’s waiting room. They were only able to see a doctor after 6pm in the evening, he said.

By then, the doctor said, it was already too late. She underwent a preliminary examination and the nurse asked for her urine sample.

Ms Holthoff then fell on the bathroom floor as she was not able to stand on her own and required the assistance of two other people to get back onto her wheelchair.

Her condition deteriorated to the point where she was unable to sit in the wheelchair and ended up lying on the floor, he said.

“I told the nurses and the lady at the desk there a couple of times, ‘It is getting worse,’ and nothing happened,” Mr Holthoff said. “So the security guards, in time, they brought a couple blankets out and they brought us a cup of water and I used it to put some ice on her lips.”

As they continued to wait, Ms Holthoff told her husband that she felt she was dying.

“I think that she actually started saying that she thought she was dying in the waiting room outside,” Gunter continued. “She said, ‘I think I’m dying. Don’t let me die here’”.

His wife was then taken to a room with a bed, but no medical equipment. A nurse checked her blood pressure and found it to be alarmingly low.

She then received more urgent care and a doctor came to see her. An X-ray was prepped, but she was unable to breathe.

“The next thing is [her] eyes rolled back in her head and her chest started rising. Something started beeping,” he said. “The next thing you hear is over the PA, ‘code blue, code blue in X-ray.’”

“Even if she would have survived at that point... she had too long a time without sufficient blood flow to the brain and vital organs. It would have been not a life worth living,” he said.

Mr Holthoff said the system is “obviously broken” and “we need change” as “I don’t want anybody else to go through this”.

Elizabeth Smith-McCrossin, a local MLA, wrote a letter to the provincial health minister to demand an “urgent investigation” into the case.

Alexandra Rose, the provincial co-ordinator for the Nova Scotia Health Coalition, said the situation is scary and the province’s healthcare system is in a “dire situation”.

“It’s so scary. And we have to wonder, when is the breaking point? Is this the breaking point now that somebody has passed away? It was a senseless death,” she said.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twelve: Down The Rabbit Hole

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 11k (the struggle was real)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, horror, gore

[A/N: immensely shocked at myself for finishing this chapter but ultimately that means there are some reallyyyy good bits and some that… I hate the ending but I wrote it five different ways and this is just word vomit now. We will be back with more GOH after the new year but until then, I hope everyone has a good festive period <;3]

Down The Rabbit Hole

White walls. Red blood. Green Eyes.

The same nightmare crept up on you again, raising your heart rate and jolting you awake. This time hadn’t been any clearer than the last, no matter how hard you tried to look for more clues, to escape. But it ended the same it always did; with those glowing green eyes.

You blink against the darkness, hearing soft snores and breathing in the space around you. Everyone else was sleeping, only Joyce and Hopper not to be seen. They must be on patrol.

When you look to your right, you notice a familiar head of hair in the cot beside you, facing the wall with steady breaths. Part of you wanted to wake him then, pull him into all of your spiraling thoughts. But that was selfish.

Holding your breath, you make as little sound as possible as you slip out of the bed, containing a wince when a pain shoots up your ankle. An unfriendly reminder of your fate. You hadn’t bothered taking your sneakers off when you slept, part of you worrying that something would have you rushing out of bed at a moment’s notice.

Thankfully, the door was quiet as you closed it behind you, taking a deep breath in an empty room. New maps were sprawled across the table now, different markings. Places Hopper was going to search in a dangerous setting all because you had a theory.

It was all too much to be thinking about now. Rather than stay, you head up a few measly steps and exit the ‘bunker’, finding yourself back in what you assumed to be a control room. The room was cast in a red light, the source held behind a long panel of glass.

The gate, while terrifying, was also strangely beautiful. It looked alive, if anything, thrumming in calm bursts of crimson lights, a few white particles scattering the air in front of it. You thought it almost looked peaceful as you leaned with your arms against a metal railing, noting the door that would lead you to the gate on a lower level.

What would be the last thing you saw? It was useless pretending like the virus wasn’t constantly in your mind. If you were to turn, where would it be? Would it hurt? Would you hurt someone? How would you avoid that?

You remembered how Holloway was barely human. You also recalled his momentary lapse of weakness, a glimmer of the man you once called a teacher. Did that mean he was still in there, in no control of his own body? And, if that were to happen to you, could you really live with yourself if you killed the ones you loved?

A heavy thought for an April morning.

The creak of the door caught your attention. You glance over to see the boy you survived four days with closing the door behind him, running a hand through his hair. Even with a bed-head, he might be the most godly guy you’ve seen.

“Sorry. Was I loud?” You wince but he’s quick to dismiss it.

“No, no. I… I tried falling asleep but, uh, haven’t managed to do that in a while, you know?”

You merely nod, returning your attention back to the gate as he joins you, mirroring your own stance.

Steve takes a long look at the gate in front of him. This was the very thing that started all his problems, ruined his life. Although, he supposed he was already doing that himself before he could redeem that part he had kept hidden away. And that wasn’t until the gate had spewed out a grey faceless monster. Funny, how he could be grateful for an alternate dimension when it was the birth of an apocalypse on the town he called home.

His eyes eventually shift to yours, his gaze softening. You looked tired, worn from everything you’ve been through over the past four days. He can tell you didn’t sleep much either. He could also tell you were overthinking something in the way your tongue was pressed against your bottom lip.

“Are you okay?”

You meet his stare and he almost feels himself melting. He had followed you out here for a reason, and now he was paying the price of nerves attacking him. He really hoped you couldn’t notice the red he felt creeping up his neck against the already rouge light.

“I wish someone would have dragged me into this sooner.” You sigh and he looks surprised. “I get my dad was just trying to protect me but… I can’t help thinking how different everything would be if someone just told me. Maybe… maybe I wouldn’t have been in detention in the first place.”

“Maybe.” He agrees quietly, fidgeting with his hands, “I’m glad you were, though.”

Your eyes flash towards his with a confused scrunch of your brows. “Why?”

“I don’t know what I would have done if I had to go through this alone.” He admits, avoiding your eyes by turning back to face the window. “It was nice, having someone there. Even if we, uh, hate eachother.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m kinda glad you were there, too. Even, yeah, even if we are sworn enemies.”

“Y/n.”

He finally looks at you and you patiently wait for whatever he has to say. The longer it takes, the stranger you feel, like a growing pit of anticipation, both good and bad. You watch as he struggles with the words, like he couldn’t choose or he genuinely didn’t know what to say, his lips forming them in small twitches but never speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

You didn’t realise how close you were until you felt his shoulder brush against yours as he shifted to lean on one arm, looking at you, expecting a response.

“I…” You try, searching his eyes for some kind of hint that this was all a joke. But it was genuine. So genuine, you found yourself lost in his gaze, fighting the idea that you never wanted to leave it. “You don’t?”

“I thought I did.” He says, his voice merely a whisper. “But I meant what I said. I’m glad you were there at the beginning of all this. And… and I’m glad it was you.”

The sudden flutter in your chest was crumpled by the hand of anxiety, pulling you back down to earth, burning the incriminating evidence on your ankle as to why that hope you felt would never be. Timing was a cruel mistress.

“Steve…” You start, but he is already closer now, close enough to make you look at him.

“I don’t want us to hate eachother.” He says, and he meant it with every heartbeat in his chest, “I don’t… I don’t even know why it’s like this. The last four days just proved that I don’t have a single reason to hate you, Y/n. And… and I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

“I…” You hoped if you started talking, the words would just follow. But instead, they stay stuck in your throat in the same way your eyes never wavered from his brown ones. Those little gold flecks shone bright at you. You couldn’t do this to him.

“Do you hate me?” He asks, rearing himself closer. You catch his eyes dart to your lips and you hold your breath, your fingers unintentionally moving to his hand.

That delicious tingle of contact brushed against him, racing his heart across his body until he felt like it was over the moon, that painfully sweet anticipation of your lips against his…

But you pull your head away from his, your eyes squeezed shut.

“We can’t.” You whisper out, so quiet he thought he misheard you. He hoped he had, but he was so focused on your lips he knew each word as they left your mouth.

“Why?” Steve frowns softly, reaching out to take your hand in his, and you don’t snatch it away.

“Y/n… we don’t have to keep playing that stupid game high school made up for us. Okay? High school practically doesn’t even exist anymore-”

“There’s too many complications.” Your voice is strained, like you didn’t want to say it.

“Like what?” He looks at you for an answer, but you can’t meet his eyes. “Give me one good reason why, and I’ll go. Just don’t lie to me.”

“We haven’t spoken in years, Steve.” You finally look up at him and he can see the tears already pooling. “Not as friends, at least. I’m glad I got to see the real Steve Harrington, even if it was just a few days, but… but that’s not enough time to really know eachother. You don’t know me.”

“It doesn’t change how I feel.” He says and you so badly wanted to grab him and kiss him until all the pain went away, all your issues and burdens, the entire world if nothing at all. But you can’t. What if you committed to this and it all blew up in your face? What if it ended quicker than it began?

“I’m sorry.” You finally say, stepping back and wiping a tear. He doesn’t let you go. “Steve-”

“You claim I don’t know you. That I haven’t had enough time to.” He starts, concern marking his eyes. “But right now, I know you’re hiding something from me.”

Steve can’t believe that his past self was so adamant on hating you, returning your unkind favours with his own, battling out who could make the other’s life a living hell. It took an actual living hell to realise he was wrong. Without the distraction of high school, he was forced to admit his feelings. To himself. To you. The whole world was burning, but his biggest fear was that you wouldn’t like him the same way he has liked you all this time.

“Just tell me.” He pleads. “Y/n-”

“One of those things got me.” You finally blurt and he blinks, shaking his head.

“I don’t-”

“The demodog. At school.” You begin, gulping back the fear. It was time you admitted it to yourself. “When it was dragging me away… I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“What are you trying to say?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. He wants you to prove him wrong, tell a different fate.

“It bit me.” The words were heavy as they tumbled from your lips, hitting the air with a cold smack. “And I’m pretty sure I’m gonna turn into one of those things out there.”

Steve doesn’t speak, doesn’t move- breathe. It would have been funny to see Steve buffering if you hadn’t just admitted your death sentence.

“No.” He says plainly and you shut your eyes. “No, that’s not- no.”

Rather than speak, you slowly reach down and pull up the leg of your jeans, revealing the damned mark to him once and for all. His skin was getting paler as he followed the black veins snaking along your skin, like growing vines.

“No, that’s not poss-” He stops himself with a deep breath, stepping back and resting his hands on his head. “If it was- you would have turned by now if it was true. The others didn’t take that long, right? It’s not…”

“I don’t know how it works. I thought… maybe, it wasn’t affecting me. But the veins… look just like the ones they have. I… I don’t know how long I have left.”

“We’ll find something.” He suddenly says with a hardened face and posture. “A cure. There’s gotta be a way out of it.”

“I don’t think there is one.” You say, cutting him off when he tries to speak. “We don’t even know how long this virus takes, or if it affects people differently- we don’t have the time.”

“Maybe El knows something.” He suggests, but even he knew it was a long shot. He just couldn’t believe he had been laying in that bed figuring out how to tell you his feelings, thinking the worst you could say was that you didn’t feel the same way.

“You can’t tell anyone.” You’re quiet, shifting on your leg with your head low. Steve can’t believe what he’s hearing.

“What- you… you expect me to just pretend like everything’s fine?” He exasperates, scrunching his face when you don’t respond. “No, Y/n, don’t- don’t just spring that on me and expect me not to help you.”

“They’re leaving today.” You finally speak, looking up at him with sad eyes. “They’ll head out to the school, go through a gate and try to survive while finding unknown evidence of my theory. If I’m wrong, then it was all for nothing. They could get hurt, or- or worse. And if I’m right… then what? How do we know they’ll be able to fight it? All of this while the kids are going to be listening in on every breath and every step, Joyce is gonna be wondering what to do if Hop never comes back, Jonathan- Mike is going to be scared for his life knowing his sister is down there. And then El… everyone already has so much weighing them down, so many things to be afraid of. I don’t even know if this bite is gonna do anything but I want them going in with clear heads, not constantly worrying about me.”

“Not even Robin?” He challenges, coming closer again. “Your dad?”

“Robin will be fine.” You say, convincing yourself. “And Hop… I can’t think about that right now.”

“Y/n-”

“No.” You snap, taking a deep breath when you realise how loud the word had slipped from your mouth. “Sorry. I just… even if I did tell him… what is he gonna do? What the hell are any of us gonna do? There isn’t a cure, or- or a way out. Either it’s fine and it doesn’t happen, or I’m gonna become one of those things. And… and I can’t become one of them. I can’t let my dad, you, anyone, watch me become one of those things.”

When you blink, a single tear catches and trails down your face. Steve places his hand on your cheek, gently wiping it away with his hand and you’re surprised by the contact, but you don’t pull away. He brings his other hand up until he’s cupping your face, a pained expression painting his own.

“I’m not letting that happen to you.” He whispers and you instinctively hold on to his arms.

Before you could utter another word, the startling creak of the lab door on the other side of the room catches your attention just as it’s thrown open, revealing wide eyes of the adults catching you in a moment.

Steve practically jumps away from you, assuming what he hoped was a casual pose and you tighten your lips.

Joyce is suppressing a smile, clocking Hopper’s hardened stare as his eyes flicker between you both.

“Hi, kids.” She smiles.

“Hey.” You respond, ignoring Steve’s flushed look. “How was the patrol?”

“I’m moving your beds.” Hopper states and Joyce rolls her eyes.

“He’s kidding.” She says as she steers him away from you both and towards the bunker door.

“He’s not.” Hopper grumbles but eventually gives in with a sigh. “We’re about to get everyone up and ready, we’ll need you both for this meeting.”

“We’ll be there.” You nod and he lets out another sigh.

“Come on.” Joyce teases, opening the door and stepping through.

Before Hopper followed, he paused with one hand holding the metal door open. “Oh, and Steve?”

“Yes, sir?” Steve suddenly straightens and your eyes widen in amusement.

“Three feet away from my daughter.”

“Yes, sir.” He takes a big step back away from you and Hopper hums in approval, finally shutting the door behind him.

Despite the tension still lingering in the air, almost-kisses and heartbreaking-declarations, you started to laugh.

“What?” Steve frowns, the tips of his ears bright red.

“Nothing.” You giggle still, shaking your head in disbelief. “Never thought my dad would ever be worried about me and Steve Harrington. It’s… god, it’s funny.”

“He’s scary when he’s like that.” Steve mutters and you have to walk away before you laugh any harder. “Where are you going?”

“To this meeting before Hop comes back and asks for your head on a stick.”

With that, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, nodding viciously.

“Yep, yep, one hundred percent with you there.” And he steps forward before pausing.

“What is it?” You raise your eyebrow and he scans the floor between you, making you groan. “Are you seriously staying three feet away from me right now?”

“He could be watching.” He whispers and you roll your eyes.

“God, you’re such a coward.”

“Better a coward than thrown in jail for the rest of my life.”

“He can’t do that- oh for god’s sake.” You move quicker than he can react and place your hand on his shoulders. He tenses and you smile. “See? No one’s coming to arrest you.”

He lets out a chuckle, looking down at you like you were water in the Sahara, before his face drops to a serious tone.

“You have to tell him, Y/n.”

You let your hands fall back by your side and bite your bottom lip. “I know. But I can’t. Not yet.”

“What on god’s horribly disfigured earth were you doing this morning with Harrington?” Robin persists with a low voice and you shoot her a warning look.

You and Steve had returned to the sleepy gazes of your friends, some still trailing in while rubbing their eyes, others didn’t even look like they had woken up yet. Regardless, Hopper’s voice was demanding, and you had shuffled your way over to Robin so you could focus. If you were standing beside Steve, the apocalypse wouldn’t be the first thing on your mind.

“Can we not talk about it here?” You hiss, aware of the ears around you that could pick up on the conversation.

“Fine.” Robin widens her eyes mockingly. “You wanna keep it on the down low, got it. Tell your boyfriend that first.”

She nods her head in Steve’s direction and when you look over, a blush creeps across his cheeks and he’s averting his eyes, making your heart flutter.

“Not my boyfriend.” You almost forget to correct, folding your arms and redirecting your gaze back to Joyce.

“El will be by the gate, ready to connect with Hopper and try to find whatever is causing these gates to open.” Joyce smiles at the young girl beside her. “As for everyone else, we’ll need people on radios at all times. Patrol will be done periodically as usual.”

“I got the radios sorted.” Dustin smiles, motioning to the pile on the table.

Steve takes a glance down before his stomach twists. How many times had he tried contacting Dustin before his heart couldn’t take it anymore? Too many.

“The plan is for us to be down there an hour at most. It will let us cover the area surrounding the school and if we don’t find anything when our time is up, we’re getting out and we’re coming back here for a new course of action.” Hopper states and Nancy nods beside him, mentally capturing the map in her mind with the intention of scripting their movements in the limited time period.

“And if you do find something?” Mike asks and Hopper furrows his brows.

“We’re not planning on getting close enough to say hello.” He replies lowly, “But I know El will have eyes on us the whole time.”

The girl in question is nodding her head, face stoic and ready for her duties.

“We’ll head off in two hours. Until then, let’s make sure we have everything we need and take some time to prepare.”

And by that, he meant to prepare mentally. Nancy looked ready but her eyes kept darting to where Jonathan sat, already staring back at her. You supposed there must have been some friction when she decided to follow Hopper into the Upside Down. And in a mere two hours, a lovers quarrel would be the last thing to worry about.

“Y/n.” Hopper calls and you snap out of your thoughts, looking up. “You okay to do the patrol shift?”

“Yeah.” You nod, turning to Robin.

She was already walking away, her hands held up in silent protest and you understood her decision.

You absent-mindedly start looking to where Steve was standing, his arms crossed, back against a wall as Dustin chatted his ear off. The idea of being alone with him before all of this was excruciating, a thought that would never have crossed your mind. Now you were willing, and very happily so, to be spending time with him. He’s changed a lot from the King Steve you’ve grown to hate. He’s much more like that boy you met in middle school.

Hopper clears his throat and you realise you’ve been staring too long, returning your attention back to your father.

“I could-” You start but he’s already got other plans.

“Billy.” He calls over, summoning the boy by his side. “I need you and Y/n to patrol. Nothing long, just a quick check around the lab to make sure nothing has gotten in before we head out.”

“Sounds like fun.” Billy shrugs, throwing a smirk your way and you almost roll your eyes.

Content with his decision, Hopper gave a smile that said ‘that should keep you occupied’ and headed back to Joyce, probably to boast about how well he handled the Steve situation.

“Shall we?” Billy gestures to the weapons and you let out a sigh.

“Why not.” You say, throwing a look over your shoulder to where Robin was stifling a laugh. You pull a face at her before reaching the table, grabbing a knife.

“Last I remember, you were a pretty great shot.” Billy suggested, eyeing the shotgun. You knew he was genuine in his suggestion, but the thought of holding one again sent a chill down your spine. The shotgun didn’t save you last time.

“Like Hopper said, it’s just a quick tour of the lab.” You dismiss, smiling. “We better get it over with so you can prepare.”

“Right.” He chuckles, slinging the shotgun strap onto his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Steve watches in disdain as you leave with Billy, falling into easy conversation like the guy wasn’t a horrible human being. Part of him wanted to walk over and smack that smug look off his face but he was also fully aware of Hopper’s stare on him.

With a sigh, he re-immerses himself back into Dustin’s explanation on the notebooks he discovered in the control room upstairs.

“Most of it was pretty unintelligible. People need to learn how to write, or what’s the point?” He rambles, waving the book in the air. “I mean, the only words I could figure out were ‘green’ and numbers attached to experiments. Will’s much better at reading cursive than I am, so he’s getting information whenever he has time. Do you think they were doing other experiments here?”

“Are your radios gonna work?” Steve questions and Dustin looks in exasperation.

“You’re not even gonna attempt to be interested?” He complains and Steve pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We need to be focusing on this mission, not what some whack-job scientist scribbled in his diary.” He sighs. “So, radios. Are we sure they’ll even reach them?”

“Uh… duh. Or we wouldn’t be doing it.”

Steve resists the groan bubbling in his throat. “Well, it hasn’t been very useful so far.”

“What do you mean?” He looks up at him inquisitively, clutching his radio in his right hand.

Shifting uncomfortably, Steve lowers his head and purses his lips.

“Nothing, man, I’m just… I’m not convinced the radios work properly.”

“Why?” He pesters once more and Steve sighs.

“I tried reaching you.” He admits and the young boy’s eyes widen. “Like five times. And I know you’ve got that thing on you all the damn time. There’s gotta be a reason why it wasn’t reaching, or maybe you were just ignoring me.”

“I would never ignore you.” Dustin states matter-of-factly, shrugging. “And it wouldn’t have worked because I’ve been stuck in this bunker for hours on end, the frequency doesn’t reach this far down. I don’t think it’s built for stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Is all Steve can say.

“I would’ve answered if not.” Dustin assures and Steve slowly nods, swiping the bottle from the table beside him. “Plus, you should be thankful it never reached.”

“I should?” Steve raises an eyebrow, taking a sip of water.

“You would never have a girlfriend right now if I answered.”

Steve almost spat out his water, choking when the minimal requirement of swallowing said water went horribly awry.

“Knew it.” Dustin laughs.

“She’s not- we’re not-” Steve stumbles over his words, thankful everyone is too consumed in their own tasks to take notice. “Shut up, Henderson.”

The boy just laughs, content in his observation just as Nancy wanders over, picking up one of Dustin’s radios.

“Hey, this gonna work?” She asks and Dustin’s face drops.

“Why must everybody question me?” He grumbles, walking away without answering her question.

Nancy looks dumbfounded, turning to Steve. “Something I said?”

“I don’t know, that kid’s a ticking time bomb, anything could set him off.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “But, I wouldn’t worry about the radios. Henderson knows what he’s doing.”

She slowly nods, looking down at the object in question and Steve is unsure of what to say to her. They hadn’t talked since… well, not since they broke up. He wasn’t even sure if he was fully over her, or their relationship to be specific. It was the first time he really felt connected to someone. Until she started pulling away and leaving him to stare at himself for hours on end in that mirror of conscience.

“You guys are pretty close now, huh?” She queries, raising her head to meet his eyes and he clears his throat.

“Uh, yeah.” He nods, moving away from the wall and straightening up, wondering what to do with his hands. How did he used to stand? “He’s a little shit, but he’s pretty cool. Like having a little brother.”

“Right.” She chuckles under her breath. “But, um… that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you…” Steve began before it finally clicked and he tightens his lips, wincing. “Did everyone see us come in together?”

“I think most of them saw you follow her outside, actually.” She offers a smile and he starts to laugh awkwardly.

“It’s not- we’re… we’re just friends. I think. I actually don’t know if we’re even that right now. We’re not- that’s not…” He rambles, wiping his hands on his jeans. Was it always hot in here, why did he feel so hot? “Acquaintances.”

“Sure.” Nancy says knowingly, setting the radio back down. “I’m just… surprised. Last I knew, you hated her.”

Her smile drops when his face does, avoiding her eyes. She starts to shake her head.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no. You’re right, I… I did hate her.” Steve shrugs, “The more I think about it, though… the more I wonder if I ever had any reason to.”

“You mean other than freshman year?” She asks and his eyes shoot up. “I don’t remember anything else-”

“What about freshman year?” Steve interjects and her brows scrunch.

“You don’t remember?” Her eyes widen when he shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Wow. Sorry, I didn’t realise- it was the biggest gossip. I wasn’t even in high school yet but everyone in my class talked about it.”

“About what?”

“The date.” She says it was a historic event. “All I heard was you guys went to Lover’s Lake, she tried… well, she tried something, and then got all upset because you turned her down. I remember Carol saying that Y/n took it so bad she tried turning everyone on you, using it to get closer to guys?”

Steve wasn’t sure if his memory was truly terrible, or if he shouldn’t be believing any of it. He couldn’t recall ‘the date’, or Lover’s Lake. Not even the part where you apparently came onto him and he rejected you? That made no sense.

“That didn’t happen.” He frowns, mostly muttering to himself.

“I wasn’t there.” Nancy tightens her lips sympathetically, “And I know now that anything Carol says can be a complete lie. But it’s the only thing I can think of. You guys never fought in middle school.”

“Nancy!” Mike’s voice carries across the room and she looks over her shoulder.

“Look, I should…” She motions to her brother, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He dismisses with a forced smile. Nancy knows him better than that, but she also knows she’s on borrowed time to see Mike before she leaves, so she starts moving away from him. “Hey.”

She looks back expectantly.

“Good luck. Just in case I don’t get a chance to say it later.”

With a smile, she finally turns away and joins her brother and his friends, leaving Steve to stand with his thoughts, and wonder just how much of his life he had lost in those battles.

Everything was pretty quiet in the lab. There hadn’t been one ominous sound, not even an echo of a snarl. The only noise came from the soft thumps of footsteps between friends.

You wondered what Steve was doing now.

No, you tell yourself, stop it.

Whenever your thoughts drifted to Steve, they were automatically met with a wake up call from the sore curse on your ankle, feeding into the long list of reasons you couldn’t be closer to him. Your life had gotten spectacularly more complicated and, as a result, shorter than anticipated. You hoped you would at least feel when it was happening. Maybe then you’d have a chance to stop yourself before it was too late.

Billy lets out a yawn beside you, peering through a door that was slightly ajar before returning with no evidence of a monster in sight.

“So.” You look up to the boy beside you, welcoming a distraction. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

You can see his eyes retract from you, looking almost… sheepish. He must have been expecting this conversation.

“Yeah…” Billy coughs, rolling his shoulders. “Sorry about that. I was busy.”

“Hm.” You nod with a smile, tilting your head. “I can imagine how busy it must have been. How many missed calls was it? 7?”

“9.” He responds quickly before immediately clocking the trap you sent for him. “Shit.”

“Not too busy to see them, then?” You comment with a smirk. You weren’t upset about it.

Truthfully, you weren’t really close friends. More… friendly acquaintances. But he did just suddenly drop off the face of your earth and never explained himself. Avoiding you wherever possible, watching your calls ring through with no intention of picking up. You gave up after 9 days. That was enough to be satisfied you had tried your best.

“Okay, yeah, you got me.” He chuckles, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have a good reason for it, either.”

“It’s whatever.” You shrug when he raises an eyebrow. “Come on, we were just partners on a project, you didn’t stand me up at our wedding or anything.”

“Always figured you wanted something more.” He jokes with that smirk of his. You simply roll your eyes.

“In your dreams.”

“Every night, princess.”

“God.” You grimace, laughing. “You’re such a creep when you call me that. My dad’s the chief of police. And it definitely doesn’t suit me.”

“That’s what makes it so funny.”

“Whatever.” You roll your eyes and he chuckles to himself.

“How about I make it up to you later?” Billy nudges your shoulder and you laugh.

“Not necessary.”

“Nah, come on. We’ll go wherever you want.”

“If I recall, aren’t you about to go on a dangerous mission?” You try to keep it light-hearted and he shrugs.

“When I get back.”

“Okay,” You nod slowly, curious. “And where in Hawkins are we gonna go? Considering everything is a pile of rubble.”

“The chief said something about Illinois.” He recalls as he holds a door open for you, “How about I buy you a drink there?”

You laugh. “No specific place. Just Illinois.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re barely 19.”

“That’s not what it says on my ID.” He pretends to act shocked and you laugh, shaking your head. “So, what’d you say?”

“You get back from the Upside Down… and I’ll think about it.”

He clicks his tongue with a grin, shaking his head. “That’s fair. I deserve that.”

“Just focus on finding monsters.” You playfully push him away from you, ignoring that jolt of anxiety you feel when you notice a flickering lightbulb in a passing corridor.

“So, when we go for drinks.” Billy smirks, “Is Harrington gonna mind?”

You almost trip up. “Why would Steve care?”

“Look, I don’t wanna get in the middle of stuff.” Billy says and you’re slightly surprised. After all, he wasn’t known for his quiet and respectful nature at school. Your hesitancy must have shown on your face because he shrugs. “High school’s almost over, and I’m not looking for those assholes to be my ‘glory days’ or whatever. We all gotta grow up sometime.”

“And the thing that happened last year?” You suggest, “I don’t know what happened, but everyone seems pretty pissed with you.”

“It was a mistake.” His eyes darken, jaw tight and set as he looks ahead. “I was just sick of people ordering me around all the fucking time, you know?”

You go to answer when something starts echoing your way. It sounded like… scratches?

“The hell is that?” Billy frowns, shotgun slipping off his shoulder and into his hands. Your heart starts to race.

“Probably nothing.” You shake your head, and then the noise starts up again. Except this time, it’s a pounding of noises, harsh banging that had you stumbling back.

“Nothing is making a shit ton of noise right now.” Billy breathes out harshly, stepping in front of you.

He’s already moving toward the noise before you could offer any more dismissals and you have to follow, your knuckles paler from the tightened grip of the knife in your fist.

Your heart leaps into your throat, choking a gasp from your mouth when you reach a set of double doors, leading down the very hallway that you had discovered yesterday. The one that apparently wasn’t just in your nightmares.

“Billy.” You hold a hand out, stopping him from charging forward. “We should get back-up.”

“It’s fine, probably just another demodog.” He raises his shotgun, ignoring your protests.

Something suddenly snarls behind you and you both spin around, finding nothing under the furiously flickering lights. The banging noise starts again, in the same space you both stared at.

“Shit, it’s following us.” Billy curses, grabbing your arm and pulling you behind him. “That hallway leads to the other side of the lab. It’ll get us closer to the bunker.”

“Are you sure?” You glance over your shoulder, an unsettling feeling burying into your gut.

“Trust me, we’ve been using it for days now.”

His retreating footsteps weren’t giving you much choice as another snarl bites the air, forcing you to bump open one of the double doors and back yourself into the hallway.

And then the banging starts again. Except it’s behind you.

You both freeze, turning once again to the singular door at the end of the hallway, a snarl vibrating through the wood of it.

The door you had walked through swung itself closed with a loud bang.

Spinning around with no intention of being here any longer, you reach out and pull the handle towards you.

It didn’t budge.

You grab the other handle in your spare hand and pull harder, the doors rattling under your force, but never opening.

“Billy!” You yell, but he’s already pushing against the doors, eyes wide. “It’s locked! How is it locked?!”

“Shit!” He hisses, turning to ram his shoulder against it for extra strength, but he couldn’t keep it up forever.

And then the pounding against the door gets louder, more violent. He is using every bit of his strength to break through, but it’s not working.

“Shit, shit, shit!” He yells out, driving his boot down on the doors hard. It was just as successful as before.

The air is cut silent and you freeze, breathing heavy as you raise your head, meeting Billy’s eyes. He’s looking behind you, trying to figure out what was going on. But you knew. You’ve been here before.

“Billy.” You divert his attention with pleading eyes. “Go back to the bunker.”

“The fuck I will.” He protests, frowning.

Knowing you needed a solid reason, you put on your best front and nod at him. “Get back-up.”

His eyes keep darting between you and the door, a scowl masking whatever fear swam in his gaze.

“You don’t have any other choice.” You say and he lets out a frustrated sigh, nodding.

“Do not die.” Billy warns, jogging backwards before breaking out into a run, back through the winding hallways.

And you were left alone, slowly turning back to the door, waiting for your nightmare to begin again.

Steve was brooding. There wasn’t any other way to put it. Pouting, maybe. Like a child that had been left behind.

Right now, you were roaming the halls with Billy Hargrove, probably discussing that ‘moment’ you apparently had. He wondered if you would tell him about the bite, trust Billy like you trusted Steve. Part of him felt bitter about that thought.

He feels a shadow approach him and turns around from where he was standing at the window to the gate.

“Does something perplex thee?” Robin mocks with a posh British accent, earning a glare. She drops the act. “Damn, you do be perplexing.”

“No, I’m not.” He scrunches his face, glancing back at the portal to hell. “Wait, what does perplex mean?”

“The American education system has failed you, my friend.” She rests a hand on his shoulder, curving her head to meet his eyes. “There something you wanna tell me?”

“I mean, I did miss a lot of school.” He admits with a shrug and she whacks his arm. “Ow!”

“I meant about her, dingus!” She flails an arm out, her voice louder than anticipated.

“Shh! Jesus Christ.” His eyes are wide and Robin is resisting the grin ever-growing dimples on her face. “No. No, I’m not…”

She raises an eyebrow and he feels a blush creeping up his neck.

“Y/n and I are just friends.” He states sternly and she smirks.

“I never said I was talking about Y/n.” She points out and by this point, he’s beetroot red.

“Fine.” He whispers out. It was admit it or forever be haunted by it. “I… mightlikeher.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Robin prompts, holding a hand to her ear.

Steve grits his teeth. “I… might… likeher.”

“One more time.”

“Robin!”

“Okay, jeez.” Robin laughs, shaking her head. “You didn’t even need to say it out loud, you’re so obvious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve seen monkeys act more normal than you.”

“Yeah well, maybe monkeys can act normal because the monkeys they like actually like them back.”

Robin stares blankly. “You lost me.”

“I… I told her this morning. Kind of. Well…”

She raises a brow. “You either did or you didn’t.”

“There was a…” He waves his hand in the air, eyes squinting. “Moment.”

“And was this, uh… moment, inside or outside of your head?” Robin accuses and he slumps against the metal railing.

“Why am I even talking to you?” Steve mutters and Robin snorts.

“Because your only other friend is a child.” She laughs, quietening when she catches his glare. “Okay, okay, sorry. I’m just curious, that’s all. One minute you guys are literally yelling at eachother across a cafeteria and the next you’re sneaking off and sneaking glances and being all… mushy.”

“Horrible word choice.” Steve cringes.

“And Y/n won’t spill anything. In fact, she’s been distracted and kind of distant so naturally, I’ve come to the source.”

“She…” He isn’t sure how to finish his explanation. It wasn’t his place to tell her. If anyone should, it should be you. But he knew you would avoid the topic forever if you could. “I don’t know. Nothing’s happening between us, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She detects that tone of disappointment in his voice and her entire demeanour changes.

“It’s really hard liking someone when you don’t even know if you can be together.” She says quietly and Steve turns his head to her. She rests her hands against the railing, staring down at them. “Especially when it’s literally only one thing. And that thing is usually the most crucial part.”

Steve thinks about this for a moment, catching his reflection against the glass. The most crucial part to your relationship was, as it has been for the last four days, survival in its simplest form. But you might have this virus and Steve can’t change that. You might not survive.

“You just have to figure out if it’s worth trying anyway.” Robin smiles sadly at him. “Jump into the deep end. Sink or swim.”

Steve couldn’t decide. Was it better for him to lay it all out on the table, tell you how he really feels, give it a shot? Or is it going to be easier for him to just forget this ever happened? It was a horrible thing, to decide how you could live best after someone was sentenced to death.

“What do you think I should do?” He asks and she looks a little surprised, her mouth parting. And then she smiles.

“Well, it should really be your decision. But... if you really want my opinion...” She meets his eyes and tilts her head. “I happen to remember you’re a really good swimmer.”

Steve couldn't help but smile at that, standing beside a girl who might have the potential to be the friend he always needed.

A loud echo drums against the control room walls, snapping their heads to the sound. Steve frowns while Robin’s eyes widen.

“What was that?” She whispers out.

Steve’s arms begin to trail goosebumps along the skin as he pushes away from the window.

“I don’t know.” He replies truthfully, straining his ears for another clue.

“Maybe they’re on their way back and dropped something.” Robin suggests, and Steve wants to believe it’s true.

Until a hot blare of screeching sirens suddenly rings out above them, red lights spinning around the room in crimson shadows. They immediately clamp their hands over their ears, groaning at the ear-piercing sound.

Hopper finds his way out of the bunker, holding two shotguns and a hard stare. He had snapped into action as soon as he heard the distant warning bells.

“What happened?!” He shouts over the noise, but the duo shake their heads.

The door bursts open and a red-faced Billy stumbles in, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

Steve’s heart drops when he sees he’s alone, and Hopper immediately strides over to him.

“Where’s Y/n?!” He demands, and Billy stumbles over his words. “I can’t hear you!”

“She’s trapped and something’s in there with her!” Billy yells, and Steve’s blood runs cold.

Hopper immediately turns, chucking a shotgun toward Steve and the boy luckily manages to catch it.

“You two, with me!” He orders, turning to Robin. “Grab the others and figure out what’s going on with the sirens!”

She quickly nods and scrambles to get into the bunker as Steve and Hopper follow Billy out, wasting no time.

They didn’t know what to expect, and they didn’t care. Steve prayed they made it in time.

You stand there, pressed up against your locked exit as the door shudders from the impact behind, rattling the hinges with each force of a beating.

You weren’t going to wake up this time.

You scan the floor for what you remember seeing, Robin’s bracelet. It was different this time, like it hadn’t happened yet.

The door shatters into splinters and you almost stop breathing, a loud piercing sound of nails against the chalkboard.

Claws.

It was the first you saw in the darkness, and then a fog of breath.

Everything plunged into chaos.

The sirens start blaring and you wince against the sudden noise, clamping your hands over your ears. The lights were flickering out of control, leaving you dazed and disoriented. You struggled to keep your eyes on the door, knowing one moment of distraction would be your demise.

Something was breathing heavy, a dim silhouette growing until its head almost struggled to fit inside the doorframe. Then you saw it.

Green glowing eyes.

And it finally stepped forward, knocking the air out of your lungs as your eyes pricked with tears.

“Y/n?” A voice calls out, and for a mere second you thought you were free.

Until you realise that voice was echoing from the wrong direction.

The monster stops moving and you can just see a figure behind it at the end of the hallway, their soft features looking around with a frown. And then she sees it.

Robin finally sees the monster.

Her eyes widen in terror as the thing turns towards her, snarling, flexing its claws.

“NO!” You scream, and your best friend tries to run.

She doesn’t make it.

The monster hooks its claws into her back and she lets out a blood-curdling scream. You cry out, raising your knife and charging forward. One swift hand throws you back and you thump onto the floor, coughing for oxygen.

You try to scramble to your feet again, save her, kill it. But you’re too late.

Her screams suddenly stop and you watch as it rips into her, slicing through flesh like it was paper, your knife slipping from your grip as everything around you feels like it has stopped. You couldn’t even feel your own heartbeat anymore.

One motion from the creature’s claw and something is flung from the vicious actions, landing at your feet.

A glint of metal in a woven circle.

Her bracelet.

You let out a strangled cry, falling back to the ground. It stops, breathing heavily, and slowly turning back towards you.

It was similar to a demogorgon’s body, pale and unnatural. But much bigger. And this one had a face.

Two green eyes that stretched along each side, like they had been pulled back.

A long, gaping mouth, slots of sharp teeth slowly pushing through the gums.

Its arms were long and lanky, sharp claws scratching against the walls as it creeps closer to you, smearing red against the white. Robin’s blood. Robin’s blood.

Tears are streaming down your face as you try to scramble away, knowing there was no escape. It had murdered Robin- god - in cold blood right in front of you, and now it was going to kill you. Part of you didn’t have the fight left.

One terrifyingly high pitched roar escapes its mouth as it raises an ugly claw.

Your eyes squeeze shut, trying to imagine your family, Sara. Robin. Steve. You couldn’t let your last memory be that ugly face.

The sound of smashing glass had your eyes flying open in an instant, rattling sounds of a shotgun fire above you. You look with tear stained cheeks at the monster stumbling away from you into a run, startled by the attack.

Not before it sent another cold shiver down your spine with one look in its endless green eyes, clicking its tongue.

It had vanished down the hallway by the time Steve had managed to break through one of the doors. It was almost like it had opened by itself, never been locked. Nothing like how Billy had described it to be.

“Y/n?!” He yells, fear coating his entire body when he notices something further down the hallway. So much blood.

“Steve?”

Your small voice turns him to where you’re curled up in the corner, eyes wide and gleaming with the tears that hadn’t already fallen.

“Thank god.” He breathes in relief, meeting you on the floor and capturing you in a hug, wincing at the way you were shaking. “Are you okay? Did it hurt you?”

“No-“ A sob is caught in your throat and he pulls back, searching your eyes. “It… it got her. She’s-“

“Who?” Steve asks, his brows furrowed as bile rises in his throat.

Your eyes drift back down that hallway. He turns his head to see Hopper already walking over to the body, kneeling beside it. You suddenly scramble to your feet, startling him.

“Y/n-“

“It killed Robin.” You finally say and he starts to shake his head.

“No.” He frowns, placing himself in front of you. “Y/n, look at me. That’s impossible. I was just with her. She’s safe.”

“She came looking for me.” Your mind was distracted, a heavy weight pushing against your chest as you avoided his eyes, “I didn’t get there fast enough, I could’ve- it killed her right in front of me…”

Steve looks at Hopper in exasperation as the man raises his head, shaking it. Steve looks down at the body, actually taking time to take in what remained.

“Why didn’t I stop it…” You’re still whispering to yourself, searching the ground for the weapon you abandoned. “I have to kill it. I have to-“

“Wait, stop.” Steve’s hand flies out to grab your arm, but you yank it away.

“She’s dead, and it’s my fault.” You still mutter, swiping the knife from the floor again. This wasn’t normal, the reaction you were heaving. Where was the screaming, the crying? Your best friend is dead.

“No, look-“

You ignore him, gripping the knife and trying to charge forward, but Steve grabs both of your arms now and you start to struggle. “Get off me! I have to-“

“Hey! Hey, it’s not her! Look, it’s not her!” Steve yells at you and you stop to finally look at the body, breathing hard and frowning.

There was so much blood splattered around, gashes of flesh against the cold floor. But none of it belonged to Robin. Because it had never been Robin.

The same dark and bony figure you had seen take your form days ago was led there, its hands a dead giveaway. A shapeshifter.

“It's not…” You blink back tears, shoulders dropping in defeat, and you feel someone gently taking the knife out of your hand.

“Just another shapeshifter. Y/n, look at me…” Steve gently places a hand on your check, guiding your eyes to look at him. “She’s okay. Robin’s okay. You’re okay.”

A tear trickles down and he pulls you into a hug again. Except this time, you surrender to it completely and hold onto him like a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder with all the tears that were physically causing you pain to hold back.

Steve can’t believe this happened again. He left you, again. Anytime you weren’t in his sights, the universe had to find some way to mock him.

“You’re okay.” He whispers, into your hair, his own eyes falling shut.

Alarms were still blaring out of control when you finally left those hallways, the repetitive noise drilling a headache into your mind.

When the door bursts open, Dustin gasps and Robin turns from where she had been hitting random buttons in an attempt to get the noise to stop.

“Oh, thank god, you’re-”

Her words were cut off when you almost flew at her, pulling her into an unexpected hug.

“You’re alive.” You whisper quietly and she frowns.

“Of course I am.” She shakes her head as you pull away, noticing the trails tears had left down your cheeks. “What happened?”

“A shapeshifter.” You sigh and her face drops.

“And… it looked like me?” She theorised, her lips tightening when you nod. Wordless, she pulls you in for another hug, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You found a way to get this thing to shut off?” Hopper asks, his raised voice sounding like a normal volume over the shrill sounds of sirens.

“I’ve looked everywhere, there’s no instructions or even a manual for this thing!” Dustin exasperates, flinging a bunch of notebooks everywhere. “All I got is this weird countdown!”

Hopper frowns, gently moving him aside to stare down at a screen implanted into the control room panels, staring at red numbers that were counting down from 7:00, assuming it had started much earlier before he arrived.

They had already lost 10 seconds before he finally turned back around, and you noticed the pale look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” You question, stepping forward.

“It's not safe here anymore. We need to leave.” He says, looking between the confused expressions in the room. “Now!”

“It's a lockdown.” Dustin whispers out in realisation, mouth dropping open.

“What does that mean?” He frowns, finding himself looking at where Billy was peering down at the ticking clock.

“It means if we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll all be dog food.” He grunts, quickly moving to where Hopper was flinging open the bunker door, already shouting for everyone to abort the mission.

“Shit.” Steve spits, making sure you were already descending the stairs before he grabbed Dustin’s arm. “Come on, go, go.”

Everything was chaos. Groups were scrambling to collect different items, hastily shoving them into backpacks. Hopper didn’t need to say much to get them motivated, just his horrified look and a mention of an explosion to have them scrambling around to pack as much as they could before the time was up.

You hadn’t come with much, just one of Steve’s old backpacks still filled with various supplies. So, you make sure the kids are moving as quickly as they could, taking on different tasks, afraid of what will happen if you’re not out of the building when that clock hits zero.

“We need to go, now!” Hopper shouts and everyone drops whatever was in their hands, knowing if it wasn’t packed, it wouldn’t be coming with them. “Kids, follow Joyce! Billy, Nancy, Jonathan, go ahead!”

The trio in question nod their heads, arming their weapons and running up the stairs, Joyce just behind them. Hopper directs Mike and Will to follow, his head darting around for the other four.

“Guys!” You yell at Lucas and Max, pointing. “Go, quick!”

“Where’s El?!” Max worries out loud and you’re spinning around.

“I saw her head up already!” Dustin shouts as he runs past. You and Hopper share a similar nod of relief and you slip your backpack on.

“Let’s go!” Hopper yells again and you grab Robin's arm, knowing Steve would be following.

The increase of volume was as if you had walked into a room filled with high-pitched shrieking, wincing as Robin clamps her hands over her ears. She’s running through the door, Dustin and Steve beside her when you sneak a glance at the clock.

4:54

You were gonna make it.

As you turn on your heel to begin running, your eyes catch the window, processing something that almost tripped you over. The gate wasn’t as red as it had once been.

Dust was pouring out, flooding the railings with a sea of black. You shivered, deciding to run and leave it. It would simply be a pile of rubble in a few minutes.

But the distant screaming struck your spine and you found a girl struggling against its pull, taking shape to wrap around her body and tug her back towards the gate. Your eyes drift to where the door below the railing you stood on was wide open, like someone had run out. Someone who spent more time with the gate than anyone else.

El.

Steve glances over his shoulder and skids to a stop, steadying the shotgun that threatened to slip from his shoulder. The others kept charging ahead and he barely waited for you to appear before he began running back the way he came, one hand on the doorframe when he reached the control room.

“Y/n-”

You weren’t there. Shit. Why weren’t you there?

“Steve! Where are you guys?! Over!” Dustin’s voice blared through the radio strapped to his hip and his hand hovered over it, debating.

He couldn’t leave you behind again.

The first time he let you go, you were bitten by a demodog which could now be the very reason you wouldn’t survive. The second had you kidnapped and traumatised, a distant look in your eye that made him worry a hell of a lot more than he should be. The third you just disappeared, battling some unbeatable creature he had thought killed you. And now, a fourth time, that ungodly creature with glowing green eyes..

He wouldn’t let that happen a fifth.

“Henderson, listen to me. Get out of the building. Make sure everyone is out, don’t let anyone turn back.” He says into the radio, a hit of silence before Dustin’s voice comes blaring through again.

“And you’ll be out soon, right?”

Steve lowers his head, looking over at the countdown.

4:32.

“Yeah, we’ll be out soon.” He says, but his heart wasn’t in it, no vindication of truth in his words.

He straps the radio back on his hip, knowing if he talks too much he might feel the guilt of leaving Dustin. He could get you out in 2 minutes. Right? He checks his watch, making a mental note of the time. He wanted to track how long it took to find you. It was 9:28am right now.

If he could find you. Steve’s eyes scan the window of the gate, squinting at a blurry black shape. He’s been wondering if he needs glasses for a while now.

And then he sees you, leaning over the railing, screaming. His eyes dart to where he can just see El being dragged through the gate, heart leaping into his throat.

He didn’t expect you to push away and start running further down, closer to the entrance, further from him.

“Y/n!” He shouts out as he almost flies down the steps and out the door before his conscience could convince him otherwise.

He keeps shouting your name, and you keep ignoring it, trailing further and further down, your footsteps harsh against the metal staircase.

You didn’t have a weapon, no chance for survival. But you couldn’t leave her. You couldn’t watch her die. Not another sister. Not your sister. Not again.

It was stupid, reckless, suicidal what you were doing. No doubt as to why your friends were screaming for you to stop. But was it really a risk when you’re already so close to death?

It wasn’t just the bite, it was the veins, a black substance stretching around the wound. It was already too late for you, just like the other townsfolk plagued by the creatures ripping you all apart. You could have just sat and cried about it, helplessly ranted to your friends, to Hopper. To Steve. But what good would that do?

You hated yourself, but even that small miniscule part of you that still had faith was powering you to do something right for once.

To run into the wonderland of your nightmares alone.

Because who would ever follow you down the rabbit hole?

The difference between metal and rocky ground almost threw you off, ignoring that hiss of pain in your ankle. It was loud down here for a different reason, a thrumming of sound emitting from the gate in front of you. It was huge, taking up entirely too much space. And the dust was retreating through it, your sister already vanished.

How long has it been since the countdown? Probably too long for you to turn back, find another way. There were other gates, but this one was right here. El needed you.

Charging forward, you reach your hands out and pull apart the seams of the gate, pushing through what felt like some sort of unpleasant membrane. You tried not to think too much of it, driving yourself forward with what little will you had left.

The air felt thicker, white specks floating aimlessly around you as you drag yourself through the gate, wondering if it ever ended. Your foot catches on something and you fall forward, letting out a groan when you barely manage to bring your hands out in front of you in time.

You take in a breath, reaching out for the walls of the gate. Your eyes slowly open.

Everything was so dark in here. The sky, the ground, even the flashes of red lightning through the dark clouds. You push yourself to your feet, frowning as you take in your surroundings. If this version of Hawkins was meant to reflect your own, why were you outside?

“El?” You call out, frowning. You didn’t see any dust.

Something spits behind you and you spin around in a stumble, face dropping. The gate was towering over you once again, plastered to a wall of vines the same size as the lab you were just in. You look at your feet, gasping.

This was a flipped version of Hawkins. Except, somehow, you were standing in the ruins of a lab that once was. Like something destroyed it.

“El?!” You yell out, searching the dim blue for a girl, or at least a sign. You turn back around, feeling helpless.

The gate starts physically breathing, beaming a brighter red and casting your shadow behind you. You slowly back away. The humming of it grew louder, the vines it lay on slithering around it in unchoreographed patterns.

Something breaks through and you search the ground for a weapon, panicking. When it almost reaches you, you grab a rock and get ready to swing.

“Hey, woah, hey! Stop!” Steve yells out and you drop it, eyes widening, “Jesus, you could kill somebody with that!”

You blink, slowly shaking your head. “No, no, no, no, no…”

He frowns at you, quickly looking down at his watch. It just turned 9:30am, “Fuck, okay, we have just over two minutes to get the hell out before god knows what happens.”

“You’re not meant to be here.” You say, still shaking your head. “Steve! Why the hell did you follow me?!”

“Like I was gonna leave you?!” He gawks, gesturing to the gate. “What else was I meant to do?!”

“Get the hell out of the lab!” You exasperate. He shouldn’t have come with you. This was a death trap, he had to know it.

“We still have time-”

“I need to find El, you should leave before you run out of time.” You point to the gate but he’s much more stubborn than you think.

“I’m not leaving unless you’re coming with me.” He says sternly and you could almost scream.

“Steve, you’re literally wasting one of those minutes arguing with me, we can’t-”

“It’s fine, it’s still two…” Steve frowns, glaring at his watch. The hand hadn’t budged from the six. He looks a little closer, holding it to his ear. It wasn’t ticking. “What the…”

“What?”

“My watch stopped working.” He says and you scrunch your face. “No, I only just replaced the batteries, Dustin borrowed it and fixed it while we were gone, I…”

You stare at him. “So you don’t know how much time is left?”

He shakes his head vigorously. “I-“

A loud rumble shakes the floor and you automatically reach out to Steve, his hands grabbing your waist as you try to balance.

“What the hell was that?” You breathe out, and you both turn to the gate, something behind it growing brighter and brighter. “Steve…”

He squints against it. It looked like something was getting closer. Then, as he stares down at his suspiciously broken watch, his stomach drops. You were out of time.

“Run.” He breathes helplessly, not bothering to wait for your response before grabbing your hand and pulling you with him.

Steve desperately searches the area for some shelter, any kind of cover. He was standing in what looked like debris, a giant piece of… the lab? Whatever it was, it looked sturdy enough for him to pull you behind it.

He ducked his head down just as a giant blast of fire spat out of the gate, feeling the heat of it in the air as he held you tight. The shock left a ringing in his ear, his only reminder that he was still alive being the way you grasped his hand tight.

You move first, peering out over the slab of concrete and hissing when your hand accidentally makes contact with the burning stone. Everything around you was either burnt or burning, small flames dancing along the ground and chasing after screeching vines.

The lab had exploded, you realise, shoulders dropping. It was gone. And it took the gate with it, only a large crack against the surface left in its demise.

You turn to see Steve already standing beside you, taking in the scene just as you had, his hard stare softening into defeat. There was no going back.

“What now?” You whisper, afraid if you say it any louder the realisation of what you had done would come crashing down, taking away that last remaining piece of sanity with its tide.

“I…” Steve frowns, slowly meeting your eyes. He didn’t have a plan this time, no positives to share. You were both stuck in an alternate dimension, your exit blown to smithereens. “I don’t know.”

Four days ago, you had both survived the beginning of the apocalypse despite mutual hatred in every bone. It was purely a strategic pairing, unbeknownst to how much you’d learn.

Four days later, and there was a new beginning lurking in the air, staring at one another and holding hands like it was the only salvation.

This is it, Steve thinks, his eyes searching your own worried glaze of hue, sink or swim.

Chapter Thirteen: Three Weeks Later ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav .

[onmyyan]

Okay okay okay I swear to the moon and back this is gonna be my final and 3rd addition to the neglected! reader idea.

I was considering the Lex Luthor path for after the reader, after years of vying for the batfamily, leaves the manor.

But no, you've got to think big. Think back to how organized crime even starts- in impoverished areas and places with low law enforcement. A lot of organized crime begins as a way to protect these poor neighborhoods from more significant threats and corruption- before they're inevitably corrupted themselves.

Reader, however, is different. A special case. Even if not directly raised by Bruce, they still have that desire for order and good in them. It can turn them into a brilliant, peerless vigilante, no doubt.

But an even better villain. After all, who better to keep all the villains in the city in line than a bigger, scarier villain. Reader might work alone on their own, at least in the beginning, but it's not long before they amass resources and connections of their own.

It starts the moment they leave the manor at 18- maybe even 16 who knows. They're forced to fend for themselves in the poorest and most destitute part of Gotham, but they survive under the radar.

They're still Bruce's kid at the end of the day after all.

Over the span of months they go from vigilante to slowly working with others and gathering up influence and control. It starts off with owning one building. Then another, then the whole street- then the whole neighborhood.

They aren't some new protege under Lex Luther, no no no, Lex is an investor in their plans. Any villain with half a brain and the intention of surviving under the new power shift in gotham is already bowing their heads.

It takes a couple years, but now another faction, another sector of gotham is born. It's crime rates are low, surprisingly so. Any and all crime no longer pointed at defenseless civilians but at corrupt businesses and people who haven't bowed down to reader's reign.

Too distracted by the reader's disappearance, the bat family doesn't even notice the near crime-free area until it's advertised on the news.

Once again, the reader's presence or lack thereof, robs them of something they had grown so familiar with.

Bruce, with the hero and savior complex of his, sees that beautiful potential for good in reader, sees how even when they deal drugs in the neighborhoods of gotham- the needles, the drugs themselves are clean.

It doesn't stop the addiction, but it minimizes the damage.

Jason bumps into reader all masked up, failing to stop a break in at city hall but noticing the way no citizen seems to flinch from your presence. Sure, they turn from your goons and their guns but not you. Never you.

There's a new, darker symbol of hope in the city now.

Tim, investigating your new crime ring sees a shipment from lex corp and notices how you build your guns for your goons. Nonlethal rounds, rounds made to stun and incapacitate. He sees your kindness and your mercy in the bullets and each time one of the bat family comes back from a run-in with your goons they are reminded of that fact.

It's a mercy they know they don't deserve

Dick wanted to break out of gotham and make an impact in another city- and he does. But there's something about the way your mere word can now send ripples through gotham that has even him shuddering a little. You're good. Very good. Efficient even. A part of him wants to be at your side, taking you by the hand and pulling you away from the darker parts of yourself that have formed. He only wonders if he'll ever get close enough to do it.

The best part or worst part about becoming a rich and wealthy individual with a crime ring at your back is that it pushes reader back into the limelight in a way that makes them untouchable to the ones they called once called "family".

Even when the sources of reader's money are... dubious, hospitals and schools are opened because their influence. Just imagine them being there for an opening event or a charity gala, brushing the shoulders of bruce wayne and dick grayson like its nothing. Maybe they change their last name, going by their mother's. Something to add distance between the two. Or even better, reader actually politely smiles when seeing them. It's sweet and serene to anyone watching but they know better. They know reader. Or at least they knew enough about reader to know there's no warm behind those eyes. Not for them. The way your eyes would crinkle when it was genuine- gone- that is, until you turn to someone else, then they see that they've been deprived of for months, years.

And they can't help but crave it.

Just imagine how independent reader is, the bat-shaped void in their heart now filled with all their work and accomplishments. They're shady, but a benevolent force to gotham, one that may rival even the wayne family so says the whispers on the street... (little did they know lol)

The press eats it up, the people eat it up, and the rest of the bat family are forced to their portion as well.

God, the bat family just being in pain at the darkness that rests in reader's hard, their desperate attempts to appeal to a reader that is now in a higher position, a higher position in comparison to some of the members- it's got to drive them all insane.

ANd oH, should they ever face reader in battle, all masked up and suited, every part of them breaks. They try to go soft, go easy, but you now have people by your side that aren't gonna let that happen. People they so desperately wish to replace.

AND IF they see you the next day at some event or maybe just taking a stroll around the park, bruises on your knuckle from punching them or a small nick on the cheek from a stray batarang... They'll be more than destroyed at what they've done... maybe even unrepairable.

ngl having written all of this in like 25 min I realize I might continue ksajhfkj if i get any ideas

FREN....this is delectable!!! I reread it like four times cuz of how amazing it is!!! You're so talented omg thank you for sending this in!! If you do write more please send it in cuz this is perfection, These concepts you've been sending are so good I think I'll have to write something for all of them omg omg loved this like villain reader with a heart of gold?? Getting shit done for her city, not caring how dirty her hands get lawd it's so good! Especially if one or more of Gotham's big bad's go Yandere for her as well.. coughyandereroguesgallerycough

[thoughtfulfoxllama]

Mormon Hot Take-

Evolution and Mormonism are completely compatible

Arguments:

1.) "Bruce McKonkie said that's not true." He did, in a book that was so doctrinally inaccurate that the First Presidency told him he had to edit it

2.) "But so did Joseph F Smith." At that time, Creationism was still being taught in schools, so Evolution was not only a new idea, but also solely associated with Atheism. So of course he spoke out against it

3.) "Joseph Smith said that the Earth was only a few thousand years old." Except no, he didn't. It was revealed to him that the Earth was 2.555 Billion years old (7000 years of Kolob time)

4.) "We're all the Descendants of Adam & Eve." Ok, and... With the amount of time humanity has been around, that can still be the case. We just need to move back our timelines. Why can't God have planned life (including humans) to Evolve the way we do. Especially when you consider if Adam & Eve were the only humans, then there'd be some massive incest going on. And even if you're some super-human who can live nearly a millennium, I don't think Incest would be good for their descendants. Same issue with Noah

5.) "What about Noah's Ark?" Where in Scripture does it say it was a Global Flood. It seems to me more likely that the Flood happened around 12,900 years ago, at the end of the Younger Dryas period. Also, Cain survived (if you believe he is Bigfoot). Did Noah let him on, did he cling to the side of the ark, did he just swim for a year

Now I can be wrong. Maybe the Earth is only 6000 years old. But I'd drive myself crazy to try to live with cognitive dissonance like that. And it makes sense to me

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Alexei  navalny did not like tragedies. He preferred Hollywood films and fables in which heroes vanquish villains and good triumphs over evil. He had the looks and talent to be one of those heroes, but he was born in Russia and lived in dark times, spending his last days in a penal colony in the Arctic permafrost. A fan of “Star Wars”, he described his ordeal in lyrical terms. “Prison [exists] in one’s mind,” he wrote from his cell in 2021. “And if you think carefully, I am not in prison but on a space voyage…to a wonderful new world.” That voyage ended on February 16th.

Mr Navalny’s death was blamed by Russian prison authorities on a blood clot—though his doctor said he suffered from no condition which made that likely. Whatever ends up on his death certificate, he was killed by Vladimir Putin. Russia’s president locked him up; in his name Mr Navalny was subjected to a regime of forced labour and solitary confinement. Mr Navalny will be celebrated as a man of remarkable courage. His life will be remembered for what it says about Mr Putin, what it portends for Russia and what it demands of the world.

A man of formidable intelligence, Mr Navalny identified the two foundations on which Mr Putin has built his power: fear and greed. In Mr Putin’s world everyone can be bribed or threatened. Not only did Mr Navalny understand those impulses, he struck at them in devastating ways.

His insight was that corruption was not just a side hustle but the moral rot at the heart of Mr Putin’s state. His anti-corruption crusade formed a new genre of immaculately documented and thriller-like films that displayed the yachts, villas and planes of Russia’s rulers. These videos, posted on YouTube, culminated in an exposé of Mr Putin’s billion-dollar palace on the Black Sea coast that has been watched 130m times. Despite the palace’s iron gates, adorned with a two-headed imperial eagle, Mr Navalny portrayed its owner not as a tsar so much as a tasteless mafia boss.

Mr Navalny also understood fear and how to defeat it. Mr Putin’s first attempt to kill him was in 2020, when he was poisoned with the nerve agent Novichok smeared inside his underwear. By sheer good luck Mr Navalny survived, regained his strength in Germany and less than a year later flew back to Moscow to defy Mr Putin in a blast of publicity.

He returned in the full knowledge that he would probably be arrested. On the way back to confront the evil ruler who had tried to poison him he did not read Hamlet. He watched Rick and Morty, an American cartoon. By mocking Mr Putin, he diminished him. “I’ve mortally offended him by surviving,” he said from the dock during his trial in 2021. “He will enter history as a poisoner. We had Yaroslav the Wise and Alexander the Liberator. And now we will have Vladimir the Poisoner of Underpants.”

Mr Navalny was sentenced to 19 years in jail on extremism charges. He turned his sentence into an act of cheerful defiance. Every time he appeared in court hearings via video link from prison, his smile cut through the walls of his cell and beamed across Russia’s 11 time zones. On February 15th, on the eve of his death, he was in court again. Dressed in dark-grey prison uniform he laughed in the face of Mr Putin’s judges, suggesting they should put some money into his account as he was running short. In the end there was only one way Mr Putin could wipe the smile off his face.

In his essay “Live Not by Lies”, in 1974, Alexander Solzhenitsyn, a Nobel-prize-winning Soviet novelist, wrote that “when violence intrudes into peaceful life, its face glows with self-confidence, as if it were carrying a banner and shouting: ‘I am violence. Run away, make way for me—I will crush you’.” Mr Navalny understood, but instead of running he held his ground.

His great strength was to understand Mr Putin’s fear of other people’s courage. In one of his early communications from jail he wrote that: “it is not honest people who frighten the authorities…but those who are not afraid, or, to be more precise: those who may be afraid, but overcome their fear.”

That is why his death portends a deepening of repression inside Russia. Mr Navalny’s murder was not the first and it will not be the last. The next targets could be Ilya Yashin, a brave politician who followed Mr Navalny to prison, or Vladimir Kara-Murza, a historian, journalist and politician who has been sentenced to 25 years on treason charges for speaking against the war. The lawyers and activists who continue to defend these dissidents are also in danger. Since Mr Putin’s return to the presidency in 2012, the number of prisoners has increased 15 times. Even as the remnants of Stalin’s gulag fill with political prisoners, professional criminals are being recruited and released to fight in Ukraine.

Mr Navalny’s death also casts a shadow over ordinary Russians. In Moscow and across Russia, people flooded the streets at the news. Before the police started to arrest them, they covered memorials for previous victims of political repression in flowers. Yet that repression is intensifying. Since the start of the war in Ukraine, 1,305 men and women have been prosecuted for speaking out against it. A wave of repression is also swallowing up people who never before engaged in politics. The president will shoot into the crowds if he must.

For the West, Mr Navalny’s death contains a call to action. Mr Putin considers its leaders too weak and too decadent to resist him. And for many years Western politicians and businessmen did much to prove that fear and greed work in the West, too. When Mr Putin first bombed and shelled Chechnya in the early 2000s, Western politicians turned a blind eye and continued to do business with his cronies. When he murdered his opponents in Moscow and annexed Crimea in 2014, they slapped his wrist. Even after he had invaded Ukraine in 2022, they hesitated to provide enough weapons for Russia to be defeated. Every time the West stepped back, Mr Putin took a step forward. Every time Western politicians expressed their “grave concern”, he smirked.

The West needs to find the strength and courage that Mr Navalny showed. It should understand that Mr Navalny’s murder, the soaring number of political prisoners, the torture and beating of people across Russia, the assassination of Mr Putin’s opponents in Europe and the shelling of Ukrainian cities are all part of the same war. Without resolve, the West’s military and economic superiority will count for nothing.

Western governments should start by treating people like Mr Kara-Murza as prisoners of Mr Putin’s war who need to be exchanged with Russian prisoners in the West or prisoners of war in Ukraine. They should not stigmatise ordinary Russians living under a paranoid dictator and his goons, or put the onus on ordinary people to overthrow the dictator who is repressing them.

The best retort to Mr Putin is by arming Ukraine. Every time America’s Congress votes down aid, Russia takes comfort. The leaders assembled at the Munich Security Conference, who heard Mr Navalny’s wife, Yulia, speak of justice for her husband’s death, need to stiffen their resolve to see through the war. For their part Ukrainian politicians must see that standing up for Russian activists and prisoners is also a way of helping their own country—just as Mr Navalny called for peace, for rebuilding Ukraine and the prosecution of Russian war crimes. Liberating Ukraine would be the best way to liberate Russia, too.

The voyage ends

After he had been poisoned, Mr Navalny returned home because he believed that history was on his side and that Russia was freeing itself from the deadly grip of its own imperial past. “Putin is the last chord of the ussr,” he told The Economist a few months before he took that last fateful journey. “People in the Kremlin know there is a historic current that is moving against them.” Mr Putin invaded Ukraine to reverse that current. Now he has killed Mr Navalny.

Mr Navalny would not want Mr Putin’s message to prevail. “[If I get killed] the obvious thing is: don’t give up,” he once told American film-makers. “All it takes for evil to triumph is the inaction of good people. There’s no need for inaction.”

Mr Navalny’s death has seemed imminent for months. And yet there is something crushing about it. He was not alone in believing that good triumphs over evil, and that heroes vanquish villains. His courage was an inspiration. To see that moral order so brutally overturned is a terrible affront. ■

[sleepy-gee]

stay with me - finnick odair/gn!reader fluffmas ao3 link

The Victory Tour being conveniently placed in the holiday season leads to some lonely nights. Thankfully, you're not alone.

pre relationship/very beginning of relationship, mostly plotless just hurt/comfort, more winter themed than christmasy but shh, pre-canon, read on tumblr v or on ao3 (link above ^)

The Victory Tour being conveniently placed in the holiday season leads to some lonely nights. A lot, in fact. Sure, it's just twelve days, but those days conveniently cover both Christmas and New Years. New Year's Eve is funnily enough your last official night of the tour, spent in the Capitol with a glamorous party. Maybe it's supposed to remind you that in the end, you'll always be with them. You can never escape.

The dull hum of the train you're in aggravates you more than anything, spurring on the bitterness and resentment you feel. Being pulled away from all your families and loved ones to only spend it reliving the horrors of the games- The 23 innocent lives lost, rubbing it in their faces that you were alive to celebrate it all while the others were nothing but a pile of dirt and bones now. Some were a pile of ashes, if their family was rich enough for it. You definitely were. The thought made you sick.

Bitterness turned into anxiety, which made itself a nauseous nest in the pit already formed in your stomach. You couldn't stay still. Not for much longer. All you wanted was to go home and run away from it all, hide in your ridiculously fancy house under your ridiculously fancy bedsheets and pray for everything to stop.

But, of course, you couldn't. You had a show to put on. Smile and wave for the adoring crowd- Just be yourself!

The funny part was, you nearly made it out somewhat unscathed- 18 when you were reaped. You had survived 6 years, and had 1 more to go- But your luck ran out. The odds were never in your favor.

You'd puke if you thought about it any longer.

Not able to stay still any longer, you climbed out of your plush bed and grabbed your robe, wrapping the silky material around your shivering body as you crept down the hall into the main room. The resemblance to your own house was a little frightening- You swear you have a lamp in your living room just like the one on your right, lampshade covered in seashells with a soft green light coming from the bulb.

No one else seemed to be awake, which equally relieved and upset you. While you didn't have to explain your jittery demeanor, familiar human contact would've been nice. You plopped yourself down on one of the sofas in the main room and curled up into a small ball, staring into space as you tried to calm yourself down. Everything felt off. Nothing was right. 

The sound of a door opening caught your attention, and your heart skipped a beat. Footsteps followed, leading to your location.

".. What're you doing out here?" The low voice of your mentor asked. Finnick Odair. Capitol sweetheart. Everyone everywhere loved him, and he managed to guide you to victory. The two of you were.. Acquaintances before you ended up getting reaped, family friends if you will. "It's four in the morning, and we gotta get up unfortunately early for District Ten." He sat down beside you, patting your head sympathetically.

".. Can't sleep." You rolled over onto your back, head nudging his thigh as you looked up at him. "What're you doing up?"

"I fell asleep a little earlier than intended.. So I kinda screwed up my sleep schedule a bit." Finnick said with a small laugh, looking down at you. "I can see it in your eyes. Something else is up. Talk to me."

You bit your lip. ".. Just a little homesick, is all. I haven't spent the holidays away from my family before.. and technically, I won't see them until next year, so.."

Finnick nodded in understanding. "I get that. It's.. It's hard.." He was choosing his words carefully. You never knew who could be listening in. ".. Spending so much time away from your family. It was hard on me too, I definitely get it.."

".. How did you do it? Get through it all?" A question disguised as another. "How did you move on from the Games? How do you live your life after it's been flipped upside down? How do you move on when the old you is gone? How? How? How?"

"Well.." He ran his fingers through your hair. "I try and focus on the positives. They're hard to find, but they're there. I got to see the world, meet new people, eat a lot of different kinds of food.. Fish gets boring after a while." You chuckled. How did he always have such a way with words? "But the biggest thing I kept in mind was that I was safe, and I'd never have to go through anything like the Games ever again. I had my happily ever after."

You nodded, moving your head to rest on his lap. Finnick was the human equivalent of a space heater, always warm and ready to warm others. It was nice. ".. Thank you."

He smiled. "Don't thank me. Just get some rest, yeah? Got a big day tomorrow, and I need my victor well rested."

“I nearly forgot about that..” You yawned. “Mkay.. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Your eyes flickered shut, and you found yourself lulled to sleep by his fingers gently carding through your hair, keeping you safe for the night.

[changingplumbob]

Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 4

Time to investigate if my Chopra's need any extra support!

CW: Mean nanny, distressed infant

If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds Savannah aka Honeybee Mercedes aka Little Ladybug Viola aka Green Bean

I think Viola is about to unlock her sleep through the night milestone when-

Cluckton: *crows* Hear ye, hear ye! It is dawn, 5:10am with a chance of showers! Get up everyone! New Years eve!

Rahul gets up but it would appear Cluckton’s crows haven’t disturbed Cassandra. Rahul knows she only got up to pump a few hours ago so has likely slept less than two hours since. Best thing to do is let her sleep. He didn’t have to get up to tend to Viola in the night so he is happy to go and see her before the day gets underway.

Rahul: Good morning Viola! Did my big brave green bean survive the rain

Viola: ee ee ap (yes papa)

Rahul: Now mama is sleeping but I know she’ll be excited to see you. For now papa can give you breakfast and a change

As normal Viola is delighted to find the teet of a milk bottle pressed to her lips and greedily downs the milk. After burping Rahul changes her diaper and puts her in some day clothes.

Rahul: Now mama, papa, Savannah and Mercedes have to go out this morning so you’re going to get a very nice lady who will come look after you

Viola: *whimpers*

Rahul: Don’t worry, we’ll all be here for a bit yet. Now sit down here and I can get you a rattle. Look, it’s a cute little bunny! We have bunnies in the garden, I think you’ll love them green bean

New Years Eve is here and so are the clouds!

Mercedes: Mama, mama lift! Want snuggle

Cassandra scoops up Mercedes and gives her a snuggle and kiss before placing her in the high chair.

Savannah: Me next mama

Cassandra lifts Savannah and snuggles her. She blows a raspberry on her stomach making the toddler giggle before placing her in her chair. She looks around and lastly lifts Viola gently to her seat.

Rahul: What do we want for breakfast ladies

Twins: EGGS

Rahul: Scrambled eggs it is

Mercedes: NO PLEASE PAPA

Rahul: There is no need to yell. Now what do you mean ladybug

Savannah: We like folded egg

Mercedes: When papa make pretty

Rahul: Omlettes? Eggs with filling folded up?

Mercedes: YES PAPA

Rahul sets about making the breakfast while the twins babble to each other. Cassandra uses the lull to have a shower and Viola takes her time to see if she can see anything in the room. It looks like the only thing in focus apart from her siblings is the ice bucket on the counter. She doesn’t know what it is but she likes the shiny!

Rahul: Here we are team, folded eggs

Savannah: YAY!

Rahul: Now Mercedes, what must we remember

Mercedes: Food no fly

Rahul: That’s right, good memory. Now make sure you eat it before it gets cold. When we’re done we and mama have a special mission

Mercedes: *dubious* What

Savannah: *through food* Will it be fun

Rahul: What do you think darling

Cassandra: We’ll all show up with our good attitudes and make it fun

Mercedes: *still dubious* what

Rahul: You’ll see now eat up

The twins are delighted to learn Viola will not be coming on this adventure. They always prefer to have their parents to themselves. After a big hug they both notice Viola has drifted off to sleep in her chair. They look around then Savannah carefully tiptoes until she’s right beside the chair. On Mercedes signal she throws the biggest loudest tantrum she can, waking Viola up.

Rahul: Savannah! What have I told you about waking your sister up!

Mercedes: But Viola poopy face

The twins burst into laughter and Rahul mutters under his breath. After he gives them both a firm telling off Cassandra takes them to get ready.

Cassandra: It's probably a no but does anyone need a new diaper

Mercedes: Me mama!

Cassandra: I thought we had almost mastered the potty skill

Mercedes: I like mama time

Cassandra sighs and snuggles her cleaned up toddler.

Savannah: Mama where we go

Cassandra: You remember how we saw the doctor yesterday to make sure our bodies were healthy? Today we’re going to see another doctor who will make sure our brains are healthy

The twins share a conspiratory smirk. Of course this mission won’t include Viola. She doesn’t have a brain to check.

The previous default nanny passed away this week so the Chopra household is the first to meet Alana.

(I would like to state for the record here that she was angry and bitter before interacting with the children. My kids are not 100% responsible for this attitude. I just went with it. Okay, back to the story)

After some time playing with the blocks Viola realises she hasn’t seen any humans for a while. Feeling sad she begins to cry, hoping that mama or papa will appear to comfort her. Her wailing eventually brings in Alana.

Alana: What the f- What is your problem? I’m here now, calm down

Viola: *wails* ga nee do (I don't know you)

Alana: Should have known my first job would be with a rich spoiled brat. What do you want? Your parents said you were just fed and changed

Viola cries and stretches her little arms upwards. What she needs is a nice soothing cuddle.

Alana: The heck is that supposed to mean? Look I know you can’t be hungry or soiled so pull yourself together and stop crying

Viola sniffles and wipes her tears from under her glasses. Why won’t this lady just pick her up? She loves being carried and desperately wants a cuddle. Are her parents gone forever? Will she ever see them again?

Alana eventually scoops her up, still trying to shush her.

Alana: Now it can’t be that bad can it?

Viola: *through tears* ma pa ew na (Do mama and papa still love me)

Alana sighs and begins trying to cheer Viola up by tickling her tummy and every so often going, cochie coochie coo. Viola only gets more distressed however and begins trying to bat her hand away.

Alana: Oh you little stuck up ship, stop sulking

To the surprise of nobody with a brain this is not at all comforting to Viola. The next time Alana’s finger dances along her chin she grabs for it. She may not have teeth just yet but she can chomp down on it as hard as her gums allow.

Alana: Gah! That hurt!

Viola: ne da boo (Are my parents alive)

Alana: I have had enough of this nonsense. If you’re so grumpy you clearly need a nap. Where the heck are your sleep clothes

After rifling through drawers Alana finds the regular night onesie and gets Viola out of her day clothes. Laying Viola down in the crib she tries to soothe her to sleep and switches on the mobile. Seeing Viola relax with the lullaby she storms off, grabbing the dirty laundry to wash. Viola falls into a restful sleep filled with dreams featuring her beloved family, yes even her sisters are there.

The girls have their results. Eldest Savannah appears to have a motor delay so the psychiatrist recommends occupational therapy for her. Mercedes however has a speech language delay. Can I just say I LOVE that the mod gave her this because she didn’t say her first word until she was a toddler! It fits. Anyway speech therapy is recommended for her. Cassandra and Rahul take the girls to their first sessions and both twins feel optimistic afterwards.

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