#now they get someone worse than both of them combined

[chaoswarfare]

dp x dc prompt #54

When Danny was first given the opportunity to make a public persona when he came to live in Gotham, he was a little bit concerned. How was he supposed to come up with an entire elaborate character to act as all the time. Then he remembered the time that Vlad called him a rabid badger when he got especially angry and a genius idea came into existence.

When the press gathered around to interview and write about the newest Wayne adoption, they thought they had seen it all already. The last new child had tried to skewer one of the unsuspecting interns after all. When the teenager didn’t even get all the way out of the car before punching someone standing too close and snarling at him, several considered filing their resignation letters on the spot. The pay wasn’t worth this.

[nahoney22]

Now or Never***

Hunter X F!Reader

word count: 2.5k

When Hunter spontaneously kisses you before he goes camping with the others whilst you look after the ship, your mind is set aflame. Both of you think about it and it's either now or never to see if there is a spark there.

warnings: warnings: Not exactly NSFW but is very steamy so 17+ only please. Spontaneous and accidental kiss, making out, brief breast touching, touchy touchy, non established relationship, female reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, one curse word.

authors note: a request for my lovely friend 🤍

"Have you made sure you've packed your canteen, sleeping bag, and comm device?" You stood observing Omega meticulously arranging her belongings in preparation for a camping excursion with her brothers, ensuring she's equipped for the night ahead.

The idea was originally proposed by Wrecker, who eagerly suggested taking Omega on a camping adventure in the wilderness, a proposition unanimously agreed upon by the others—except for you. Camping wasn't exactly your preferred activity.

"Yes, yes, and yes again," Omega confirms, playfully rolling her eyes before turning to you with a smile. "You're worse than Hunter AND Crosshair combined."

You chuckle and kneel down to Omega's level. "I'm not that bad," you tease, tousling her hair affectionately before rising to your feet. "But do be cautious, alright? Don't go picking berries unless you're certain about them."

"I'm not about to repeat Wrecker's mistake," Omega giggles, both of you sharing a fond recollection of the time his hunger led him to inadvertently consume toxic berries, resulting in a nasty rash.

"Are you absolutely certain you can't be persuaded to join us?" Hunter speaks and as you turn to him, you watch as he adjusts his backpack in readiness for the night ahead.

"I'll be fine. Besides, someone needs to stay behind to look after Gonky and the ship," you reply, giving the droid a reassuring pat as it waddles past. "I'll also tidy up around here. I wanna make sure it's neat and tidy for when you return."

A warm smile spreads across Hunter's face as he looks at you, a gesture that has become increasingly frequent lately. "Well, if you insist. Feel free to contact me if you require assistance."

'Me'? Not 'us'?’ you silently ponder, feeling a slight warmth tint your cheeks. "And the same goes for you. Stay safe out there and don't wander off."

"Can we get going before we lose light?" Crosshair interjects with a snarl, positioning himself between you and Hunter with an almost knowing look, as if he's aware of your burgeoning feelings for a particular Sergeant.

Hunter clears his throat, shooting a warning glare at his brother, who momentarily smirks before disembarking the ship, followed by the others. However, Hunter lingers back for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Why the sudden protectiveness?" You raise a brow, accompanied by a smirk, though you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation in your chest.

"Just making sure," he reassures, offering another soft smile. "The others seem excited. It's been a while since we've done something like this."

Your heart swells at the sight of him finding peace, even if just for a moment. No empire, no war—just rest. "Well, stop lingering and get going before you lose the others," you prompt, playfully nudging his side with your arm, your touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Alright, alright. I'll see you tomorrow," he responds, but as he turns to leave, a brief moment of unexpected stillness descends. Without warning, Hunter reaches out and holds your waist, pulling you gently toward him, and kisses you.

You don’t even have time to react because he pulls back abruptly, eyes wide with shock, and you find yourself mirroring his astonishment.

He quickly releases you, running a clammy hand over the back of his neck. "I... I don't know why I did that."

"O-okay," you breathe shakily, trying to steady your racing heart as you nervously fiddle with your fingers, your mind reeling from the unexpected intimacy.

"Sorry, I..." he trails off, meeting your gaze once more, his expression a mix of anxiousness and apology.

You gaze back at him, feeling the rapid rhythm of your heart almost deafening in the silence between you. "No, it's okay," you manage to exhale shakily, taking a small step back, needing the space to collect your thoughts. "Y-you should really get going."

He nods in understanding, but you can't shake the feeling of uncertainty clouding his expression. Better yet, you’re certain he takes a longing gaze at your lips before snapping out of his trance. "Yeah. Alright. Are… Stars, are we okay?” He asks, a little exasperated. “I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Go, Hunter," you say just above a whisper, a mixture of confusion and longing tugging at your emotions. "I'll still be here when you get back." Your smile feels forced, genuine bewilderment at how to navigate the spiral of emotions inside you. It all feels like a dream, yet you're not entirely sure if you want to wake up. Or perhaps you do?

Hunter gives you one last lingering look before he turns and leaves, leaving you alone with your tangled thoughts.

Watching him go, you can't help but dread the inevitable awkwardness that awaits you in the morning.

Hours had slipped by since the departure of the others, and you had kept yourself occupied as best as possible, channeling your energy into cleaning the Marauder. Discarded bolts, half-eaten ration bars, and an array of dust and weapon gear cluttered the interior, making it a challenge to find even a patch of floor. Wiping your brow, you stand back to admire your handiwork, but now what?

"What do you think, Gonky? Nice and clean?"

GONK.

"Yeah, I know," you sigh, sinking into the pilot's seat and propping your legs up on the control dash as you gaze out at the night sky. But try as you might to divert your thoughts, they stubbornly refuse to stray far from the unexpected encounter with Hunter.

There's a lingering tingle on your lips, prompting you to idly lick them as you recall the sensation of his kiss. Your stomach flutters, and you run a hand through your hair in frustration. "It's just a crush... just a crush."

At least, that's what it had started as. Sure, you had found Hunter attractive from the moment you joined the team, but it had been nothing more than a passing admiration. Yet, as the months passed and you grew closer to him, undeniable feelings—on your part, at least—had begun to emerge.

So, the question lingered: why had he kissed you? Was it merely a spontaneous impulse, or was there something more to it? Of course, you couldn't help but hope for the latter, but his immediate apology had left you questioning his intentions.

Suddenly, a rhythmic beeping emanates from one sector of the control panel, jolting you into alertness. You sit forward, inspecting the display, and your blood turns cold as you spot a heat signature approaching. Rising to your feet, you arm yourself and position yourself at the gangplank, ready for whatever may come, your heart pounding with apprehension.

But your fears begin to dissipate as you discern the familiar colors of clone armor in the distance. "Hunter? What are you doing back? Are the others alright?" you call out, relief flooding your voice as you watch him approach.

"Everything's alright, don't worry," Hunter reassures you, his chuckle softening the panic in your voice, though it leaves you feeling more puzzled than reassured.

"What are you doing back then?" you inquire, your stomach fluttering once more as he takes a step closer.

"I came to see you," he says softly, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that sends a shiver down your spine. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. It was driving me mad."

You swallow hard, feeling the nervous flutter in your stomach as your hands instinctively tuck behind your back. "Oh, Hunter, I told you I'd be fine," you manage to say, though your voice betrays a hint of uncertainty.

"I'm not referring to that," he replies quickly, closing the distance between you with each deliberate step. Your heart races, anticipation and apprehension mingling in equal measure as you realise the true reason for his return. "Your heart's beating so fast for me," he murmurs, his voice a quiet rasp that sends a shiver down your spine.

With each step bringing him closer, the tension between you becomes palpable, and you can feel the electricity crackling in the air.

"Hunter..." you begin, taking a step back to welcome him onto the ship, but your voice trails off as he enters and seals the door to the Marauder shut behind him with a button on his wrist.

"Did you mean to kiss me?" you finally manage to ask, your heart pounding in anticipation.

"No," he admits, his gaze unwavering, but a flicker of excitement dances in your chest as he continues, "but I can't deny that I haven't thought about doing it. Many times."

You're too stunned to respond, the weight of his words leaving you speechless, and you can only watch in disbelief as he closes the distance between you. His hand reaches up, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me... if I hadn't pulled away, would you have kissed me back?" he whispers, his voice barely audible but filled with a raw vulnerability that leaves you breathless.

You stare into his eyes, all your uncertainties melting away in the intensity of the moment. Unable to resist any longer, you lean in and press a gentle, swift kiss to his lips, pulling back with a coy smile. "Does that answer your question?"

Hunter's chest rises and falls with a mixture of surprise and longing at your kiss, his hands finding a comfortable place on your hips. "Maybe," he teases in response, a playful glint in his eyes. "I think I need to just..." he leans in closer, his lips barely brushing against yours before trailing agonisingly slowly across your cheek and up to your ear.

"Hunter," you gasp silently, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips brush over your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes?" he asks innocently, his warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin as it fans over you, sending a rush of heat coursing through your veins.

"It's now or never," you whisper breathlessly, your voice barely above a murmur. "Kiss me... kiss me properly."

With a surge of desire, his lips leave your ear and find yours, his hand cupping your jaw as you both surrender to the heated passion between you. Your back presses against the wall of the ship as you eagerly reciprocate, your fingers tangling in his hair with a firm grip as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of each other's touch.

Gone are the smiles and lingering glances, replaced by the urgency of the moment that ignites a fiery passion between you. Both of you are breathless, yet neither of you wants to break away. The kiss is messy, with teeth occasionally clanging together, but it only adds to the raw intensity of the moment.

In a bold move, he lifts your leg and hooks it around his waist, drawing you closer until his body is pressed against yours. Your hands roam over his armor, desperate to remove every barrier between you.

He obliges, a small smirk playing on his lips as he swiftly removes his armor, his lips only briefly parting from yours before he's swallowing your moans once more. "I can't stop kissing you," he grunts, his breathing heavy and intoxicating, sending shivers down your spine.

"Good thing I haven't told you to stop," you growl against his lips, earning a deep groan in response before he deftly maneuvers you onto the floor, crawling over you and enveloping you in his arms.

His tongue dances along your lower lip, seeking entrance that you're willing to grant, but you can't resist the urge to tease him, to show him what he's been missing for so long. Ignoring his plea, you gently bite down on his lip, eliciting a gasp of surprise from him, and seizing the opportunity, you take the lead.

He meets your passion with equal fervor, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated dance. Both of you are panting, and you're grateful that you had cleaned the floor beforehand. "Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs between kisses, his words sending a rush of warmth to your core.

Lips locked, one of his hands slips under your shirt, sending a tingling sensation racing along your skin as his fingers trail along your stomach and up the side of your ribs. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues his exploration, his touch gentle yet electric, until he ever so softly caresses your breast.

A soft gasp escapes your lips at the intimate contact, your body arching instinctively toward his touch as desire courses through you. With each delicate caress, the heat between you intensifies, and you find yourself completely lost in the sensation of his touch.

"More... please," you gasp into his mouth, your body ablaze with desire. He listens to your plea, his hand reluctantly leaving your breast before sliding back down your body. His fingers dance along your skin, teasing along the hem of your waistband, igniting a primal need within you.

Naturally, arousal courses through you, transforming this fleeting moment of passion into something deeper. "I've dreamt about touching you down here," he whispers against your lips, swollen and flushed with desire.

He's on the verge of breaking the barrier, your body eagerly anticipating his touch, when the shrill noise of his comm device, scattered on the floor next to your head, shatters the moment.

He looks at you, then at his comm, and back to you with an apologetic smile. "It's best I get that. Just in case."

You nod in understanding, suddenly feeling shy and bashful. But he doesn't move from above you, instead swiping up his comm and answering the call. "What's the problem?"

"We're heading back. Crosshair ate some of those berries that gave Wrecker a rash last time," Echo's voice echoes loudly in the cabin, interrupting the intimate moment.

"Fantastic. We'll see you soon," Hunter replies, cutting off the call with a sigh of frustration.

Despite the interruption, you can't help but stifle a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Hey," you say softly, reaching up to cup his cheek, "we could do this another time... if you'd like that?"

He chuckles, meeting your gaze with a mixture of longing and gratitude. "I want nothing more than that," he admits, sealing the moment with the gentlest kiss on your lips. "I, uh, I liked this. A lot."

As he helps you sit up, Hunter's movements are gentle yet purposeful, his attention focused on reassembling his gear. Meanwhile, you take a moment to smooth out your hair and adjust your clothing before standing up.

"Hunter?"

Turning to face you, Hunter's gaze is warm yet curious. "Yeah?" he responds, his brow furrowing slightly in anticipation of your next words.

"Thank you," you say softly, sincerity lacing every syllable.

His confusion deepens, prompting him to take a step closer to you, his hand finding its way to your waist as he draws you near. "What for?" he inquires, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Your heart swells at his proximity, and you meet his gaze with a mixture of affection and appreciation.

"For feeling the same way I do."

There were many, many sneaky kisses from then on.

More Hunter Works

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[luveline]

baby blurb of sirius looking after sick shy!reader pleaseeee. I miss him and my throat is killing me today :((

thank u for ur request! feel better soon<3 fem!reader

"Let me see," Sirius says. 

You stare at him. 

"Open up. I wanna see if you have ulcers." 

"Sirius," you say, your voice shaking with the hoarseness that accompanies a bad throat intertwined with the nervousness of having someone so handsome this close to your face, "we both know I'm not going to let you look in my mouth." 

"But you'd let me put my tongue in there?" 

You flush with a heat that has nothing to do with your flu. "We all make mistakes." 

Sirius smirks at you. It's a very charming expression on him, as is the quirk of a slender brow as he pulls his legs onto the bed and crosses them. 

Elbows on his knees, face in his palms, he looks out of place on your white sheets. Black jeans, black t-shirt with a tasteful rip from shoulder to pec, black hair a glossy, messy siren call, and all his dull black piercings. He has a stray wave splayed against his cheek that you want to push behind his ear. His stubble would scratch your thumb. 

"If that's how you feel," he murmurs, though he makes no effort to move. 

"Do you think I'll be ill forever?" you ask. 

"Likely. Don't worry, gorgeous. I'll take care of you forever." 

You bite your tongue where it's pushed against the inside of your bottom lip, your eyes softening at his promise. He's joking, sure, but he leans forward to rub your knee and inner thigh, startling you despite the layers of blankets between your bare skin and his. 

His head remains in his palm, propped up casually, so your shock swiftly fades. This is just Sirius being Sirius.

"What will I do with you?" he asks sympathetically. 

"Not much." 

He scratches a hand through his hair. "Now, why are you talking about my girl like that? Being poorly is no excuse." 

You're laying back in a mountain of Sirius-sanctioned pillows and cushions, Sirius to your left, a box of things he'd brought for you to your right. The necessities: super soft aloe vera tissues, decongestants, paracetamol and ibuprofen (an ultimate combination). The treats: new fluffy socks, chocolates you can't yet eat, a blanket one thousand times softer than the tissues, and a teddy bear that 'looks like you', apparently. 

"You're probably too good to me," you say softly. 

"Or I'm the right amount." Sirius straightens, groans, and drops into the cushions beside you. "You're very, very lovely, even when you're as sick as a dog. I think you should know that," he says, his tone ringing with a sincerity that makes your eyes ache worse than they already do. "And you're like, insane levels of gorgeous. I'm not kidding when I say–" 

He pauses as you raise your hand. You settle it sluggishly over his pretty mouth, feeling it curl upward. "Sh," you say, too tired to fluster at his praises. 

"You're beautiful," he says quietly into your hand. 

Sirius' fingertips trace the slopes of your body. Not sexual but inherently intimate, he draws a path from the fat of your upper thigh to your ribs where your blankets end. He pulls them higher. 

"You really won't let me look at your throat?" he asks. 

"No, but… maybe you can make us a cup of tea?" you suggest shyly. 

Sirius leans forward, pressing a short, firm kiss to your chapped lips. "For you? A-ny-thing." Two more quick kisses. "Don't go anywhere." 

Sirius is jogging down the stairs by the time you find the energy to call, albeit weakly, "I can't stand up!" 

"I was joking! Christ, it's worse than I thought. I havta get you to a doctor." 

That time, you catch the sarcasm. 

[awooghan]

fall in love with me (this christmas) ✧.* h.hj

➳ PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, hyunjin is tipsy in one part (he and reader are ‘00 or ‘01 tho so they’re legal), UNEDITED (will be fully edited by new years) UPDATE: fully edited as of jan. 19, 2024

➳ WORD COUNT: 22.9k (final wc after editing)

➳ SUMMARY: hyunjin has one last chance to have a college christmas romance and he’ll do anything to have it—even if it means fake-dating his best friend. (inspired by "cold december night" by michael buble)

➳ NOTES: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! 🎄❄️ i hope you have/had an amazing day with love ones and good food! this fic is my christmas collab with my bestie @ujimoo :3 some parts r kind of rough bc we didn't fully edit yet but i hope y'all enjoy <3

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld

prologue.

– halloween.

You didn’t think the night could get any worse.

The night started from the moment you caught a whiff of beer, sweat, and Dior Sauvage as Hyunjin dragged you by the hand to ‘Jackson’s 2023 Annual Hallo-Wang Party’. You could think of a thousand other ways you wanted to spend your Halloween that didn’t involve being stuck here, but you lost a bet with Chan, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

So here you are, sitting in the kitchen with your now-ruined costume sticking to your skin, thanks to someone (Jeongin) spilling his tequila on you when you were playing beer pong. Now, not only is your head throbbing from the smell of frat party, but you have an ugly pink blotch on the costume you took weeks to put together.

You nurse whatever the concoction of alcohol is the punch when Hyunjin, too tipsy for his own good, slides up next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y/NNN~…” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “There you are!” 

Fighting against his hold on you, you’re finally able to get his hands away from your waist, only for him to wrap his arms around your arm like a lost child. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he mumbles, hiccuping at the end of his sentence. “Do you hate me?” 

A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look at your best friend. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares at you. “Of course.” 

His nose scrunches in disgust and he shakes his head as your laughter surrounds him. It somehow makes him feel lighter than all of the alcohol he’s drunk combined. 

“You’re so mean, why would you say that?” he whines. He grabs your arm tighter and shoves his head on your shoulder. 

Exhaling, you pat his head lightly before resting your head on his. It’s like the world goes silent for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.

You’re both like that for an uncertain amount of time before Hyunjin jumps back up, his arms still around your arm. A large tipsy smile creeps on his face and he suddenly begins to giggle. The way his eyes light up almost makes you do the same.

“I think Jisoo is going to ask me out~” He sighs dreamily.  “I feel the vibes, you can feel it too, right?” 

You catch the way two of your friends, Changbin and Jisung, are watching you from the kitchen door. Sticking your tongue out at them, they return it with winks, eyeing up both you and Hyunjin. 

You turn back to the giggly blond clinging to your arm and shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see her around campus.”

You’re not trying to sound like you’re completely disinterested in what Hyunjin’s saying, but when you already know where it’s heading, you can’t help it. You’re not really sure Hyunjin is even listening though when he sighs to himself and tugs on your arm again. 

“This is—” tug. “My chance—” tug. “For my Christmas romance, Y/Nie.” A harder tug.  “I can feel it in the air!” Aggressive shaking.

Breaking your arm away from him, you huff. Can’t you have one night before Hyunjin’s constant babbling about Christmas and Christmas romances?

“Can we wait till after Halloween to talk about Christmas, please?” you groan, causing Hyunjin to sneer at you. 

“Why do you have to be such a Grinch?” he attempts to whisper—but his intoxicated brain has other ideas. 

You attempt to ignore the feeling of his arms sneakily slipping around your waist again and the way his head seems to fit into the dip of your shoulder as you sigh.

“Ask me about it again tomorrow.” 

…

You really didn’t think the night could get any worse. But after corralling Hyunjin, who could barely stand on his own, back to his dorm, you were proven wrong. So, so wrong.

When you finally untangle yourself from his hold and hand him off to his poor roommate, Felix, it’s 11:58pm. Normally, you wouldn’t care to watch the clock for something so mundane, but you had a feeling he was going to text you the minute you look away.

And sure enough, the second you leave Hyunjin’s dorm building, you feel your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket.

Hyunnie : it’s november 1st Hyunnie : it’s christmas time bitch!! Hyunnie : ah Hyunnie : sorry for calling you a bitch… Hyunnie : i got excited TT

You can only roll your eyes fondly. At least it’s November now.

one.

– november 1st.

Hyunjin feels sticky. 

Every year he rejoices at the start of the Christmas season, but every year he also forgets that the start is the one part he hates. The morning is so nice and icy-cold, everything sweater weather should be. But by midday… the sweater has to come off. Then he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t be, he’s itching all over, and he’s all grumpy and gross and he just wants to shower twenty times to try and rid himself of the feeling of his clothes clinging to his skin. 

He can see his breath just past his nose as he tries to rid his shoes of the mush that is the remains of fallen leaves. He knows he shouldn’t have worn his pristine white sneakers that you had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year (ones that he, not to mention, cleans frantically after every use). But they go so well with his dark grey jeans that he had to! The things he does for his passion for fashion…

When Jisoo first messaged him asking to meet up by the trees, it felt like a dream come true, one he’s been waiting for for so long. But now that he’s here, he’s not sure how long he’s been waiting, but he feels like he’s a Sim with stink lines coming off of him and he wants to scream. His controller must hate him because nothing is going as he planned. 

So when he finally sees Jisoo in the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief. He sees her try and keep her bag on her shoulder as she rushes over. When she’s finally in front of him, with strands of hair stuck to her face, her mouth slightly open as she tries to catch her breath… all Hyunjin does is blink. 

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have found this adorable. He would have screamed in her face and pinched her cheeks, before running to his dorm and spamming your texts about how Jisoo is the cutest girl he’s ever seen and how his heart has never beaten as fast as it does around her. 

But now he’s standing there, with the love of his life right in front of him, and he feels… wrong. There’s murky puddles and soggy leaves surrounding his and Jisoo’s feet, an angry draft blows past his ears as he tries to read Jisoo’s lips, and a stifling blanket that’s the same dirty shade of grey as his dryer lint trap smothers him from overhead. Nothing feels right, he feels icky, and his heart is fluttering for all the wrong reasons. All he wants to do is run off into the sunset, and not with her.

He barely even hears her as the whole world moves in fast forward while he stands there completely still. And he doesn’t even remember what he says before he walks away, his shoulder brushing against Jisoo’s in the process. He doesn’t even turn back when he hears her call out to him multiple times. 

He’s sure that when he tells you his over-dramatised version of what he assumes was Jisoo’s confession, you’ll do your exaggerated laugh that makes you snort and then complain that you snorted. You’ll look at him in a way that screams ‘I told you so,’ and he hates it so much that he considers not telling you at all.

But even he knows he’s a blabbermouth and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, the words will fall out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think. 

So he goes to the nearest pizza place by your dorm, and he orders your usual: half cheese, half pepperoni. You’re too indecisive to pick just one, so you get both. He orders his own pizza too and he sits and waits, stripping himself of his scarf and his hat before shoving it into his backpack and playing around with his hair, trying to get it to look right before his order is called. 

When he’s finally outside your door, he doesn’t bother to knock—he walks straight in and calls out for you. You rush out of your room, an oversized hoodie covering your frame with your hood up. 

“Damn it, Hyun, can’t you call before you show up uninvited?” you huff, instantly eyeing up the pizzas. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” 

Hyunjin shrugs. He knows there’s no way you’d be anywhere else. Your friends are his friends and they’re all in class or with their own significant others… not that that matters…

He hands you your own pizza and smiles at the way you smile when you fall onto the couch and stuff the first slice into your mouth. A muffled ‘thank you’ somehow escapes your lips. Gulping it down, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, causing Hyunjin to curl his lip in disgust.

“Why are you here, anyway?” you ask before tearing off another bite of pizza.

“No reason.” He’s trying his best to do a Mary-Kate and Ashley and keep his lips sealed, but it’s no use. 

You just blink at him until the dam finally bursts. 

“Jisoo confessed to me and I turned her down.”

Still blinking, you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him in confusion. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on the pizza slice he’s playing with aimlessly instead of actually eating. He can’t even explain how he’s feeling. He wanted, no, dreamed of the perfect confession, and he blew his chance. Because of… bad vibes? How do you even explain that?

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles. He sighs, dropping the pizza box on his lap as he throws his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. “It just…” He pauses. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” 

“Is a confession ever going to be perfect, though?”

Hyunjin sits up instantly at the question. The way he moves so suddenly makes you jump, but he doesn’t mean to scare you. He’s just very… passionate…  about the subject. ‘Passionate’ may not be enough to describe it.

“Of course it can be!” He has to stop himself from blabbing too much. He’s sure you’re tired of hearing his speeches about this, so he just gives you the short version. “It’s the biggest moment of any relationship! With the right person, it’s always going to be perfect. Like, you know in your heart when it’s right, and…” he sighs, “I didn’t feel that.” 

He looks at you, and you nod. “Then… maybe you didn’t like her as much as you thought you did?” 

Hyunjin falls against the couch again. His voice comes out as a whine this time, “But that was my last chance at a Christmas romance!” 

Is he being dramatic? Maybe a little, Hyunjin figures. He’s just lucky it’s you he’s ranting to, because the most you do in response to this is huff and give him a look. If it was one of mutual friends, they would have slapped some sense into him by now. Metaphorically, at least… hopefully.

“This isn’t your last chance at a Christmas romance, you know that right?” you say. “You’re acting like this is your last Christmas, period.” 

He sinks somehow further into the couch. “Okay, fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My last college Christmas romance.” 

“You didn’t have one last year? Why does it matter now?” you ask, reaching once more for your pizza. 

“Because it’s our final year!! That’s kind of the point of it being the final chance, Y/N.” 

Hyunjin knows you mean well, but you rolling your eyes at him as you shove another bite into your mouth isn’t helping his plight. He can’t help but frown at you, though, not only because of your reaction, but now because you’re talking with your mouth full.

“Here’s an idea,” you gulp down some of the pizza stuffed in your cheeks, “just fake it till you make it. Get someone to fake date you.” 

It takes a second for Hyunjin to process what you say. But when he does, he gasps loudly and sits up even faster than last time. He turns and grabs hold of your shoulders so fast that it takes all of your force not to fall backwards.

“You’re a genius!”

You smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I know. No need to remind me.” 

The look of disgust returns and Hyunjin slowly moves his hands away from your shoulders like you just infected him with something. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“We both know it’s true, though.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I hate me too.” 

He ignores your self-degrading comment and sighs. His arms find their way to cross themselves over his chest once more and he thinks to himself for a minute. He has a world of possibilities at his fingertips, but he knows exactly what he wants to do. Just… he doesn’t know how to say it. Might as well just rip the bandaid.

“So when’s our first fake date?”

You cough out whatever pizza you had left in your mouth and it takes you a moment to catch your breath again. When you finally have a moment to breathe, you look at Hyunjin. “Our what?!” 

Hyunjin simply blinks at you. He just asked the most obvious question in the world, and you’re looking at him like you just asked him to solve a derivative. He doesn’t even remember what that is.

You motion for him to continue, but he’s still blinking. “What?” he says.

“When I suggested fake dating someone, I didn’t mean me!”

“Of course it has to be you!” he frantically tries to explain.  “I-I can’t just ask a random person to fake date me when I have no idea who they are!” 

“So you just assume I’d say ‘yes’?!” 

“Oh, come on, please!” he begs, actually getting down on the floor in front of you. He links his hands together as he whips out his best puppy dog eyes. 

He waits and goes still and keeps giving you that cartoonish pleading stare. Then, you sigh.

“I feel like I get nothing out of this. You get your fake Christmas romance and what do I get? A fake boyfriend I didn’t ask for?” 

He goes still again. He thinks hard about anything that will get you to agree. He’ll pull out the big guns, if he has to. And that’s what he does, and based on the terrified look on your face, he’s sure he has a crazed gleam in his eyes when he says it.

“I’ll never complain about not having or finding a Christmas romance again!” 

Hyunjin can’t believe he said that. You stare at him, he’s staring at you. He’s sure you don’t believe him.

“Come on!” he huffs. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You can’t keep anything to yourself, you really believe you’d be able to keep that?” 

Hyunjin nods frantically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he hears you mutter before looking him in the eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Hyunjin’s up in another flash, pushing you with all his weight against the couch as he hugs you even tighter. 

“THANK YOU!! You’re the best!!” 

And in the next moment, he’s standing, his hand out for you to take. “Let's go!” A confident beam is plastered on his face. He can’t say the same for you.

“Huh?”

You just keep staring at his outstretched hand. Knowing you’re not going to move, Hyunjin just huffs and grabs your hand, pulling you to the front door.

“On our first date, decorating your dorm!!” 

“HUH?!”

—

As you walk through the store, Hyunjin has his fingers entwined with yours so tightly that you almost think he’s cutting off blood flow. It’s almost as if he was afraid you’d change your mind and disappear if he let go. 

He beelines towards the Christmas decorations. You don’t know why he insisted on buying more when you still have the stuff that he made you get last year—you just forgot where you put it. But you live in a tiny college dorm, so it’s not like you had many places to look.

It’s whatever, you guess. You don't bother to question what’s going through his mind right now. It won’t end well if you do.

Hyunjin’s other hand is pushing an extra large cart you're sure you don’t need, but he got it anyway. He can’t possibly be thinking of filling up the whole cart, can he? You live in a college dormitory. Only so much can fit.

After what seems like a lifetime, you’re both in front of the Christmas decorations. With his hand still stuck to yours like glue, he starts to examine each set of decorations with his other hand, holding it up close to his eyes as if he doesn’t have perfect vision. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Checking,” he mutters, placing a box of lights back down on the shelf before picking up another one.

“Checking for…?” 

He huffs, drops his shoulders, and stares at you with nothing behind his eyes. “The perfect lights. They shouldn’t be broken and we need to know they’ll shine bright enough.” 

“They’re lights, Hyun,” you respond simply. “It doesn’t matter if they’re perfect or not.” 

Pushing your lips into a line, you stare at each other in silence for a moment or two—honestly, you’re not too sure how long the moment actually is. Hyunjin just looks away, placing the box of lights back onto the shelf. 

“You’re relying too much on everything being perfect.” 

You feel the way his grip tightens around your hand. He stays silent, picking up another box of lights before placing them in the shopping cart. “These are perfect,” he says, ignoring your words. “We should get these.” 

He pushes the cart further down whilst dragging you along in the process. Picks up another set of lights, checks them, and puts them down, before repeating this a few times before he’s happy with the one he’s decided on. He does this for many of the tinsel, for some random ornaments, and for random chocolates and candy canes to hang on the tree. 

You’re fiddling on your phone when he tugs on your hand, causing you to look up at him. In his free hand are two mini stuffed animal ornaments. He’s gazing at them with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“It’s us.” His eyes find yours. There’s a softness to his voice that compliments the warm smile he gives you. “We should get them… they’re perfect.” 

This time, you squeeze his hand back. His smile infects you, and you’re unable to do anything but return it. Nodding, you return your gaze back to the two little stuffed ornaments. “They are perfect… like us.” 

“There’s that smile I missed so much!” he says sarcastically.

“Aaaand moment ruined.”

You tug at his hand, trying to get them to finally unlink. The sweat forming in between them is getting a bit much. 

“You can’t escape from me that easily,” Hyunjin says with a smoulder.

“Ew,” you fake gag. “You’ve been hanging out with Jisung too much. Only he makes the fuckboy thing work, bestie.” 

“Bestie- zoned?” Hyunjin gasps, his over-dramatic look you’re so accustomed to taking over his features. “I thought I was your boyfriend?” 

Your smile drops and you want to smack him and his teasing into next week. “FAKE boyfriend.” 

He turns from you as he hisses to you or himself—you’re not really sure which—before he pulls you further down the aisle. 

“You’re no fun.”

two.

– november 3rd.

Looking around your dorm makes you want to throw up. 

After Hyunjin took you (read: dragged you) shopping the other day, the boy immediately took the bags of stuff to your dorm and started plastering the stuff everywhere. Now, the room is filled to the brim with golden lights and colourful tinsel, and your little desk tree was just as flashy. Considering that your space is a tiny college dorm, it makes the space feel a bit suffocating, but not unenjoyable.

You fear Hyunjin took “deck the halls” a little too far and that your dorm will catch on fire because of it, not just because of the three separate Christmas candles Hyunjin insisted on buying, but also because of how dangerously close they were to the tinsel. You wonder what your roommate, Yeri, would say about this. Actually, you’re not entirely sure when you last saw her.

You aren’t able to dwell much longer on the thought as a knock followed by a crash and yelp pulls you out of your own head. You hurry to the door and open it to find none other than your Christmas menace, Hyunjin, sprawled on his butt in front of you. Bags with what appear to be baking ingredients are spread all over the ground around him. 

“Hey~” is the only thing he says, a sheepish smile on his face, as you stare at him incredulously. 

“What’s all this?”

“It’s…” he starts as you help him up, then trails off once he’s upright. He bends down to pick up a bag of chocolate chips by his feet, then he looks at you and holds them out proudly. “…Our next date!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the boy. Of course, he already thought up a second date idea so soon. Knowing him, he’s probably been planning this since he got home after the first date.

But still, you can’t help but crack a smile. Baking cookies seems like a fun little fake date—after all, it’s hard to make Christmas cookies into some sappy Hallmark scene. Plus, you get to keep half the batch at the end.

What could go wrong?

As you help pick up the rest of the ingredients off the floor, you notice a neatly folded piece of paper fall out of Hyunjin’s pocket. You stick it in your pocket before placing a milk carton and a brown sugar pack on the kitchen island, then you take out and unfold the paper, squinting as you read it.

“Is this… Felix’s recipe?” you say. The distinct way he loops his ‘Y’s gives it away for you.

“N… No…” Hyunjin tries to convince you, but his statement comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.

You give him another incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, it is!” he huffs, throwing his head back dramatically. “I begged him for the recipe so we could try to make it together. His cookies always come out great, so it can’t be that hard!” He grins confidently, but that facade quickly fades. “…Right?”

A smile returns to your lips. “Right! Yeah!” You’re afraid your smile looks more nervous than confident, though. “Totally…”

“We can do it! I think…”

Hyunjin laughs a little, and you follow too, even if it feels somewhat forced.

“And if we fail, we’ll just get the store-bought ones!” he adds. “Easy as pie.” A small smile dances on his lips. “Anything for my favourite girlfriend~” he sings, winking at you playfully.

Any hint of your smile, real or not, drops at the sentence.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Potayto, potahto. Now help me with the batter.”

…

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?” you say.

Instead of jumping into baking right away, you and Hyunjin have spent the past ten minutes overwhelmed over the instructions Felix provided. It’s not that they’re difficult or anything—fifteen steps to make some cookies just feels like a lot. 

Especially to two beginners, one of which is struggling to cut a one-pound stick of butter in half with a cleaver. You’re left to watch Hyunjin nearly slice his fingers as he tries, a near-grimace twisted on your face.

“I got it, I got it!” Hyunjin grunts as he tries to push the cleaver down.  “Almost… there…”

The way his fingers are so dangerously close to the blade makes you wince. After another moment, you can’t take watching him anymore.

“Oh my god, give me the knife.”

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to shoo Hyunjin away from the cleaver while he’s holding it for dear life. Knowing him, he could’ve found a way to cut himself even after he let go. Luckily, you both remain unscathed and you successfully cut the butter in half.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asks as he watches you cut one of the halves. He peeks at the recipe over your shoulder.

You scan the paper for the next step, moving it quickly so he can see, too. “Looks like the… dry ingredients? We can start with the flour, I guess.”

“Flour…”

Hyunjin hums along with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande as he digs through the ingredient pile on the island. You glance up and find yourself giggling at the silly hand gestures he makes.

“Flour coming right…” he announces, letting out a grunt as he lifts the giant bag, “…up!”

You set the cleaver aside and rush to help him carry the bag. “Why’d you buy the ten kilogram bag?!”

“I didn’t know how much we needed!” He lets out a dramatic huff once you both get the bag on a stool.

“I’m pretty sure a normal-sized bag would have been enough, Hyun.”

“Look,” Hyunjin huffs again and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve learned from Felix, alright? This is serious cookie and movie date business and we can’t make mistakes.” 

Fake cookie date.

“But there’s going to be mistakes, that’s just how it is.” You shrug, carefully opening the bag, then letting out a sigh as a lump of flour falls out onto the floor. “Just think, Felix’s recipes weren’t perfect straight away—” 

Hyunjin cuts you off with a gasp. A hand flies over his heart as he stares at you with betrayal. “Excuse you, they’ve always been great. You’re lucky I wouldn’t tell him you said that.”

You decide not to say anything else, but get the flour ready to sieve into the mixture. “Do you want to do this or I?” 

Even though he still has too much energy, he gently pushes you out of the way and takes the sieve from your hands. “Me, me, me.” 

Without bothering to do anything else, he takes a handful of flour and dumps it into a sieve and starts tapping at the side of it. 

“Hyunjin!” you gasp, “We could at least measure it first!” 

“Live a little, Y/N!” Hyunjin sways to the music. “You said nothing has to be perfect right away! I’m trying to follow your advice.” 

You blink, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “I didn’t mean to not follow the recipe! We still have to, you know.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anymore, he just continues to sieve the flour into the bowl. However, by the bridge of the song, he’s so into it that he’s nearly forgotten what he’s doing. While he goes on autopilot, the flour soon enough misses the bowl entirely and lands on the kitchen counter and over his shoes. 

“Oops,” he giggles. 

“I’m baking with a child,” you mutter to yourself, arms crossed over your chest. 

He picks up another handful of the flour and looks down at the mixture before looking over at you. He stares at you, you stare at him. It’s like a silent battle. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He does dare. However, instead of throwing it at you, he throws it up; and instead of landing on you directly, it falls lightly to the floor, just barely falling into your socks. He grins and a giggle escapes his lips. 

Whatever self-control you have leaves you at that moment and you grab your own handful of flour. As you step forward, he steps back, causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re not scared… are you?” you question.

He scoffs. “Me? Scared?” He fakes a cackle. “Never!” 

You take another step forward. He takes another back. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I—” 

Rushing forward, you push your hand into his cheek, letting the flour fall from your hand and over him. Some of the remnants left on his cheek fall as he huffs. 

“That’s it.” He grabs another scoop. “You’re on.” 

You have exactly two seconds to decide what to do before Hyunjin stalks toward you, a mischievous grin on his face and handful of flour held high. You turn and start to scramble away from him right as he pounces, trying to grab you so he can dump the flour on your head.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He giggles tauntingly. “Don’t you want a hug from your loving boyfriend~?” 

“Fake boyfriend!” you call over your shoulder.

Trying desperately not to trip, you make a mad dash for the living room, Hyunjin’s cackles ring in your ears as he bounds closer. You get two more big steps in and just as you’re about to leap for the couch, a strong arm wraps itself around your middle and pulls you back. 

“Got you~” Hyunjin’s voice is right next to your ear and you can practically hear him smirking in victory. You wriggle around, trying to free yourself but it’s to no avail. 

You’re able to turn just enough to face him and send him the glare he deserves. He just faces you, narrowing his eyes for a second, then that look falls to a more disapproving one.

“Are you ready to follow the recipe now?” the boy asks sassily.

You want to smack his pretty face so bad.

“I hate you.”

…

Surprisingly, Hyunjin keeps his word and actually follows Felix’s recipe, word-for-word. You’re happy with how the balls of cookie dough turned out, even though you just placed them in the oven—and don’t tell Hyunjin, but you ate a bit of the dough. It’s too good.

“And now we wait twelve minutes,” you declare as you start a timer on your phone. You leave it on the island and head over to the living room.

You watch, baffled, as Hyunjin spreads out tattered-looking physical copies of a bunch of Christmas movies over your coffee table. Once they’ve landed in a heap, he turns back and looks at you, the same way a dog does when it thinks it's done something incredible. 

To say you’re confused as to why he brought over DVDs when you could just rent the movies online is an understatement. Especially when he knew full well that you somehow had access to Chan’s Netflix account—you hacked it, but is it really hacking when his password is ilovefelix143?

Hyunjin’s eyebrows basically merge. Instead of being a little happy puppy, he’s now like a puppy with his tail stuck between his legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your eyes shift from him to the movies and back.

“You…” sigh. “You know we have Netflix, right?” 

“That’s not the same thing,” he whines. “And you know it! The vibe will be totally off if we watch them all on Netflix!”

You might as well be a fan of BlackPink because all you can do is blink. “And it won’t be if we watch them on DVD?” 

Rising his fist, Hyunjin grabs your shoulder to shake you lightly. As you attempt to push him away, his grip somehow gets tighter. 

“Just pick,” shake. “one to,” he tugs your arm. “ start with!” 

“Alright!” You huff, flailing your arms around to finally get him to drop his grip. You point in a random direction. “That one!” 

It’s his turn to blink. “You’re not pointing at shit and you know it.” 

…

With a movie finally picked out, the title screen theme of The Muppets’ Christmas Carol begins to repeat as Hyunjin is in the kitchen getting the cookies out of the oven. However, after the fifth repeat, you’re ready to pull your hair strand by strand from your head. 

“Are you almost ready?!” you call out to him. “This music is driving me insane!”

Part of you wants to complain more, but you bite your tongue. It could’ve been worse—it could’ve been the theme of When Harry Met Sally on repeat.

Hyunjin appears at the door, tray in hand. “You can’t really go mad if you’re already there.” 

If it wasn’t a threat to the precious cookies currently residing in the tray in his hands, you would have thrown every pillow on this couch at him. 

“You say I’m mean to you, but then this is how you treat me!” You gasp, watching as he rolls his eyes.

You catch the way his lip turns up into a smirk when he sets down the tray of cookies on the coffee table. 

“I’m so sorry my precious girlfriend, whom I care so deeply about, how can I ever repay you?”  

It’s go time. Grabbing the pillow, you aim and whack him over and over as he falls onto the couch, his arms up in protest, but his laughter is still loud enough to seep into your ears. “Not the face! I’m too beautiful to die this young!” 

“I,” whack. “hate,” you huff and raise the pillow above your head. “you,” whack. “so much!” 

He somehow grabs the pillow, pulling it towards him. But with his strength, he accidentally pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto his chest. Like on instinct, his arms wrap around you tightly to stop you from falling off of the couch. 

You feel his breath on your ear as he lets out a chuckle and it makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I know you love me.” 

You’re up in a flash, using all of your strength to push him off of the couch and onto the floor. 

“AHH!!!”

You snicker at the loud shriek Hyunjin makes. Plopping your bum on the couch, you shoot your fake boyfriend a petty stare as you reach for a cookie and, very slowly, take a huge bite.

Holy shit. You’ve never tasted a cookie so good before. The way the gooey, melty goodness dances in your mouth is so addictive, you barely notice Hyunjin giving you a death glare from the floor.

“What?” you say with your mouth full, reaching for the remote.

“That’s supposed to be our batch,” he sneers nasally, as if he’s Squidward himself. You try not to spit out the food in your mouth.

“Not anymore.” You point the remote at the TV and hit ‘play’. “You can get the next batch.”

three.

– november 10th.

“Can we let go for a bit?” you mumble, causing Hyunjin to look at you. “My hand is getting sweaty.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Hyjnjin gasps, looking down at your hands. He lets go and rubs his palm against his jeans to wipe off the stickiness that has formed.

“Why are we holding hands so early, anyway?” you ask. “I know we’re telling the guys we’re ‘dating’ today, but they’re not even here yet.” 

Hyunjin blinks at you, takes your hand again, and entwines your fingers. “Because we have to make it look believable from a distance.” 

You try not to laugh. “You think they’ll even notice if we’re holding hands?”

He shrugs, locking eyes with the student worker that’s staring in your general direction. He attempts to follow their gaze. It seems like they’re looking at his and your hands. They could also just be waiting for the microwave oven to ding so they can serve someone their bagel. You never know, though.

“I mean,” he gestures to the cafe worker, “if that person notices, then our friends probably will.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that person cares.”

“For Hyunjin?” another cafe worker calls.

With your hand still in his, Hyunjin gently pulls you with him to pick up a freshly-made sandwich for you, and bagel for him. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before grabbing some napkins and heading for the seating area, scooting past students to the table for four he set his backpack on to call dibs. When the college cafe is always packed for lunch, claiming a table was more than necessary.

Hyunjin presses a finger to his chin as he thinks of where to sit, which chair will allow him optimal coupley vibes. After a moment of contemplation, he chooses one of the seats right by the window.

This prompts you to move to the one opposite of him. But before you can sit down, Hyunjin reaches across the table to grab your wrist.

“No! Sit on this side,” he says, gently tugging your arm.

“Why?”

“I told you, we have to make it believable! Remember?”

It’s a perfect plan. If Hyunjin acts as utterly sappy as possible, his and your friends will surely fall for it. What better way to scream ‘lovesick college couple’ than to sit on the same side of the table together? 

Also, how do you hold hands with someone who’s sitting across from you? Spoiler: you don’t.

But for now, you both eat. You plop down on the chair next to Hyunjin, albeit begrudgingly at first, and you end up finishing your sandwich fairly quickly. Hyunjin, however, takes his time. Not because he’s not hungry—he’s starving. But having half a bagel to work his way through is good in case things get awkward later on.

See? Perfect.

Soon enough, Hyunjin catches two familiar heads enter the cafe. He reaches for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours when you take his hand with a sigh. He even considers subtly scooting his chair over to be even closer to you. Something in the dark crevices of his mind keeps begging him to do it. He’s not even sure why, but he scolds at that voice to wait a moment.

His eyes carefully follow Changbin and Jisung as they get out of line. They both wave at him, and he awkwardly waves back before they turn to each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Changbin steps up to the counter to grab two bagels. Then he follows Jisung to your table.

“What’s up, sweetcheeks?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin glances at you and when you look back, you make an expression as if to tell him ‘go on then’. Hyunjin however, decides against that, turning his attention back to the two boys sitting across from them. 

Changbin’s already stuck half of the bagel in his mouth to the point he’s struggling to chew. It’s disgusting, but for some reason it keeps Hyunjin in a trance. When that trance is broken by you swiftly jabbing him in the rib, he winces, glares at you, and looks back over the table. 

“About that,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly. If he wasn’t already holding your hand, he would have gone for it to try and calm his nerves. 

“What is it?” Jisung asks, ripping a piece of his bagel off and chucking it into his mouth. “You two finally shacking up?” 

Hyunjin sits there stunned, only listening as you groan in disgust. 

“What is wrong with you?” you say.

Jisung smiles and sends a wink to you before leaning back in his seat. “It’s just my talent, baby.” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on his bag. This is fake, he repeats in his mind after the word ‘baby’ is uttered from Jisung’s lips. Why does it bother him so much? It shouldn’t bother him—it never has before. This isn’t real. It’s just a simple word Jisung has used to refer to literally everyone in your friend group. Hyunjin’s heard worse come from the boy’s mouth. ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘’bubby wubby’, schmoopy poopy poo’... all Jisung said this time was ‘baby.’

This is fake.

Hyunjin feels you squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back as he finally looks up. You’re looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed, silently asking him what’s wrong.

This isn’t real…

Now his heart burns. He decides to blame it on too much cream cheese on his bagel. 

“What did you want to tell us?” Changbin tries to say as he gulps down his bagel before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Hyunjin glances over at you, and then back to his friends. He raises your enjoined hands. 

“So… we’re dating!” 

Changbin nearly chokes on his bagel at Hyunjin’s words. He looks up slowly, following your and Hyunjin’s arms up to where your hands meet, and he nods once. “Oh. Well, damn.”

Jisung, on the other hand, takes a moment longer to process the news. But when he does, his jaw slowly drops and he takes in a sharp breath. “Oh. My. GO—”

“Yah, shut up!” Hyunjin leans over across the table to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth.

“…God,” the younger boy finishes his sentence quietly, his voice muffled.

Hyunjin maintains his stare at the younger boy as he slowly begins to pull back. No more screaming, he begs. He’s had enough of it for the rest of the year.

A tension hangs in the air around the four of them. Changbin goes back to carelessly munching on his bagel, and Jisung is gazing at Hyunjin and you, his very fake girlfriend, with an almost-maniacal smile.

“Soooo…” Jisung starts after a minute. Hyunjin can literally feel him gleefully kicking his legs under the table. “Who confessed first?”

Hyunjin pales at the question. He forgot to go over a cover story with you.

Luckily, before he can struggle to give an answer, Changbin swoops in and unknowingly buys him some time.

“Why are you the one who’s happy?” he questions. “I’m the one who won the bet!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “You guys bet on us?!”

“We all did,” Changbin says. “Now Jisung owes half our group ten dollars each.”

“Wait, but we still don’t know who confessed first!” Jisung says.

“Why is that important?” Hyunjin says.

“‘Cause it was part of the bet, too!” 

Hyunjin stills again and looks at you helplessly. He squeezes your hand as if to signal that he needs you to come up with something, and fast. Something about how he had the most magical confession to end all confessions during the first snow that didn’t even happen yet this year.

“I-It was me,” you finally say.

Hyunjin has to stop himself from looking at you in surprise.

Jisung gasps loudly again. He’s so wholly entranced, Hyunjin doesn’t know how lucky he should consider himself for it. “Really?” 

Hyunjin watches as you clear your throat before nodding. You smile in a way that he swears he’s never seen before. You tilt your head and break your eye contact with Jisung to look over at him, then you look back at Jisung. 

“You expect him to confess?” You giggle lightly, gesturing to Hyunjin. “All he talks about is how he wants someone to confess to him.”

The two boys across from them are just nodding in agreement. That is true, Hyunjin thinks. He’s probably been talking about that since he started college, maybe even before. He can’t really describe the feelings that come from somebody confessing their feelings to you. 

“And…” you continue, “after the failed confession with Jisoo, I realised I should take it as a sign to confess.” 

You’re smiling to yourself as you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes down on the table. Hyunjin has never seen you act—and act this well. Jisung and Changbin are totally hooked, nodding along to everything you’re saying. They’re like two little children listening to a bedtime story doing everything they can to stay awake. You’ve got them wrapped around your pinky finger.

Hyunjin’s gaze focuses on your hand in his. He brings them to his lap and begins to play with your fingers, letting your words between the boys fade into the background. His mind is still lingering around the thoughts of Jisoo and the failed confession. 

He still isn’t completely sure what happened there. Why his crush, whom he was sure he was in love with, faded so quickly and so suddenly. He never thought falling out of like—or love—with someone could be that easy… but if he thought about it too much, he’d probably worry about the possibility of love. He decides that’s not a thought for now. 

“Woah,” Jisung says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s crazy.”

“That means you owe us another five dollars, genius,” Changbin says.

Jisung quickly turns to Changbin. “Let me grieve for my wallet first!” Hyunjin watches as Jisung rests his head in his hands in despair. 

“Why would you even bet on Hyunjin confessing first?” You can’t help but laugh. “You set yourself up for failure.” 

“Because maybe I had faith in him!!” Jisung exclaims, looking up at you. “I thought he’d have it in him!”

You glance at Hyunjin, smile sheepishly, and look back at the two boys that sit across the table from you.

“Well you should have known him better.”

“Ooookay,” Hyunjin says, suddenly moving to stand. “We, um, we gotta get going.” He turns to you, hoping you get the message. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod quickly and stand up too. “Yeah, we were gonna have a study date together,” you say as you gather your things.

“Okay, have fun,” Changbin says coolly.

“But we were just getting started!” Jisung counters.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh. “We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow, okay?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he raises an eyebrow. The way he’s staring Hyunjin down is making him want to shrink up and hide. 

After a moment of awkwardness on Hyunjin’s part, Jisung opens his mouth to speak. 

“Tell us everything?” 

“Define ‘everything’, Ji,” you respond before Hyunjin has the chance to. 

“Everything means everything,” Jisung drawls out. “Like, come on guys, give us the details! The nitty gritty of it all!” He’s now leaning over the table as he pleads. “I just wanna know all about my two best friends’ relationship! Is that so weird?!” 

You share a look with Hyunjin. You’re giggling, rolling your eyes as you look back over at the boy. “Find your own girlfriend, Ji, don’t live through our relationship.” 

Jisung huffs, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. “You guys are no fun.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, and you both wave at the two boys. Changbin happily responds and Jisung, still grumpy, begrudgingly waves back. 

Luckily, this seems to be enough for you and Hyunjin to leave. Hyunjin swings your hands lightly, fingers still entwined, as the cafe door shuts behind you with a small squeak. 

There is no study date. There wasn’t really any regular ‘date’ planned—not unless the confessing? lying? to your friends counts. 

Regardless, you and Hyunjin look at each other and silently agree. You both deserve a sweet treat after that.

four.

– november 17th.

You wouldn’t dare tell Hyunjin, but once he told you about his “fantastical Friday date idea” earlier this afternoon, you’ve been feeling like a bottle of Coke about to explode.

Sure, he’s been a little crazy about hitting all the stereotypical Christmas romance activities, but this is ice skating! It’s fun and it’s romantic enough to scratch Hyunjin’s itch, but not too romantic. You’re only fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, after all.

“Y/N?”

Hyunjin waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you out of your daze. You must have been staring at the fake icicles for too long.

“Huh? Yeah?” you say, blinking a few times.

He holds up two pairs of rental ice skates, one for you and one for him. “I already paid, let’s go put these on.”

You wander over to the benches where other skaters are lacing up. They make it look so effortless, but you and Hyunjin keep getting your fingers tangled in the long laces. And every time you attempt to stand up, your ankles feel so wobbly that you have to sit back down and tighten them. 

Eventually, your skates feel secure enough that you don’t wobble too much when you do make it to your feet. You look over at Hyunjin, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better than you. 

“Do you think you can get up?” you ask. You’re starting to figure out how to balance, but you hold on to the edge of a table just in case.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums confidently. However, the deer-in-headlights look on his face as he slowly lifts his bum off the bench says otherwise. You’d laugh at him more than you already are if you didn’t do the same.

“Are you sure you can get up?”

“Totally!”

As if to prove you wrong, Hyunjin slowly begins to stand up. When he’s upright, he lifts one hand off the bench, then the other. Then he slowly shuffles one foot after the other in the direction of the rink, until he loses balance and nearly falls into the splits.

You try not to snort at his cry that echoes throughout the rink. Of course, you do the same as you try to follow him and your dear best friend returns the favour.

“HAH! Karma!” Hyunjin points and laughs at you before slipping and falling on his back.

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, shuffling over to help him up.

“I’m fine!” he tries to reassure you once he’s upright again. He reaches for your hand as he waddles his way to the rink, this time successfully, and with you in tow.

You let out the breath you’re holding once your other hand finds the edge of the wall. Maybe you came into the rink too cocky, or maybe the old couple doing laps around you and Hyunjin made this look easy.

After you recenter yourself—well, after trying to—you look at Hyunjin, who has a death grip on your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” The boy smiles. “Very fine!” He slowly lets go of your hand, attempting to get away from the wall. He’s successful for a few seconds, then he finds himself wobbling again and he quickly grabs onto your arm.

Giggling, you try to shake him off. “Hyun, you’re gonna make me fall, too!”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. When you turn to look back at him, his legs are shaking, but he’s got a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Even when he’s visibly struggling, of course he has to do this.

“Oh, am I?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

You try to free your hand again. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter, and he manages to slide his hand down your arm and thread his fingers with yours.

“You’re gonna be wishing you’re holding my hand soon enough,” Hyunjin muses.

“Whatever you say, fake boyfriend,” you sigh sarcastically.

The old couple passes you by again; they seem to be out-skating every couple on the ice by this point. As they go in circles together, they show off their best disco moves as if they were on roller skates instead. The old man, as he swings past you two a second time, makes a heart with his hands behind the old woman, pumping it in the air to the beat of “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber as his wife continues to dance.

You don’t look back at Hyunjin, but you can imagine the stars in his eyes as he watches them. Instead, you pay attention to the way they move their feet. Push out with your right foot, then with your left. Right, left, right, left. With Hyunjin still gripping on tightly to your hand, you attempt to copy it.

“H-Hey!” Hyunjin squeaks from behind you. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get off the wall!” you say. You turn your head to look at him briefly. “You want to be a cute fake couple like those two,” you gesture to the old couple, “right?”

He stumbles over a ‘maybe’, but there’s no denying the way he wistfully watches the old man carefully spin the old woman.

You smile fondly. “Then come on. Watch how they move and try to do the same.”

It takes several laps and several more minutes to get into a rhythm. You can’t say that you’re gliding across the ice, but you’re holding your own without clinging to the wall. Barely. Hyunjin, on the other hand, suddenly seems like a natural. His graceful strides make you question if he was feigning clumsiness half an hour ago, or if he was just that good.

You try to catch up to him as you both make a turn and he looks back to check on you. He smiles at you and holds up a peace sign, flashing you a wink—and you freeze. You were already using all your brainpower to remember to keep moving your feet, and just like that, you forget everything you’re doing.

By the time you snap out of your daze, you’re about to crash into Hyunjin. You yelp, flailing as you try to brake. Hyunjin tries to catch you before you fall flat on your face, but you end up pulling him down with you and falling backwards.

Then you realise the position you’re both in. You’re on your back, and Hyunjin is half on top of you. You’re trying to catch your breath, but the way he tries to prop himself up with his elbows somehow sucks the air out of your lungs all over again.

“Hyun, slow down,” you say as he almost slips again. You catch his arms in yours and lose your breath for a third time. “One foot at a time, okay?”

You swear Hyunjin spaces out as you speak—there’s a gleam in his eyes you can’t quite place. But the gleam goes away just as quickly as it came, and he begins to regain his balance enough to stand up.

He holds out his hands for you and you grab on. He then slowly pulls, allowing you to find a way to get up with a pair of blades on your feet.

When you’re nearly upright, you take a wrong step and feel yourself flying backwards. You flail your arms as you try to prepare to land, but you feel Hyunjin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you in just in time.

For a second, you feel like you’re in a cheesy Disney movie. The moment happened so fast, but feels so slow in hindsight. Now you’re here, your jaw dropped open in surprise, as your hands find their way to Hyunjin’s shoulders. Is this how Cinderella or something felt—

Wait, what the fuck?

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin says. His eyes search yours for any sign of hurt.

You take a beat to respond, nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Hyunjin nods once. “Oookay. Do you wanna keep going?”

Right there, you contemplate just packing up and going back to your dorm. Even though the only one staring at you is Hyunjin, it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are boring into your soul.

However, something in your heart, or maybe your brain, begs you to stay. So you nod.

five.

– november 20th.

Hyunjin stands and leans against the stairrail by the front of the university library. He’s too busy fiddling with his perfectly curated Christmas playlist, fall in love with me (this christmas), to even notice you pull up in your car. So when you honk the horn, he yelps and falls on his butt, then down a couple stairs, before sending daggers your way.

He watches as your passenger side window rolls down slowly and your shit-eating grin becomes clear from behind it. 

“You ready to go?” you ask.

Hyunjin, still glaring at you, slowly nods his head in response. 

“Then get off your ass!” you say. “You’re the one that wanted to go to this!”

He gets up with a dramatic huff and drags himself to the passenger seat of the car. The second he hops in, he leans forward and grabs your aux cord, plugging it into his phone and unlocks his phone, once again showing the Christmas playlist.

Meanwhile, you watch him in amusement. “You want aux?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. But he answers regardless, too excited about the idea of a Christmas tree farm date. Another thing from his bucket list of Christmas dates to check off.

“Of course I want aux!” 

Clicking shuffle, he cheers to himself when the mystical violin intro of “Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift begins to play. Clicking twice to make the song repeat, he locks his phone before placing it in one of the free cup holders. 

“This is perfect!” He claps to himself, swaying the best he can to the music as he fastens his seat belt. “🎶And I’m somewhere else… just like magic… 🎶”  he sings along.

He looks over at you and you’re watching him again. This time he can’t tell if it’s in amusement or bafflement. “Can we go now?” 

Hyunjin nods, leaning back into his seat with a content smile. “You could’ve started when I got into the car.”

He lets his gaze linger on you for a second. When you look at him, he quickly looks away. Maybe he’s too impatient, but when he looks back at you a moment later to see if you have finally turned your focus to the road in front of you, you’re still staring right at him.

His cheeks begin to feel warm. Your gaze is practically peering into his soul, and you have your heater on full blast—it feels like a sauna in here. It’s not his fault you get cold so easily. It’s also not his fault a little voice in his head is telling him to use it as an excuse to be near you…

No. Bad Hyunjin.

He quickly shoves the thought away into a neat little box, something future Hyunjin will have to deal with. Right now, all present-day Hyunjin cares about is Miss Swift playing through the speakers.

And so he starts humming, which soon turns to quiet singing. Soon enough, the quiet singing soon turns into full-blown yelling of the lyrics. He’s here for the vibe, and the vibe is immaculate. 

“🎶AND YOU WOULD BE THERE TOOOO~!!🎶”

Good Hyunjin!

“Hyun, shut up! I can’t see the road!” you shout, your voice carrying over the music.

Hyunjin throws his head back in feigned agony. “Okayyy, okay!” he groans before bringing it down to quiet singing for the rest of the song.

When the music fades out, it’s silent for a moment. Hyunjin feels his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling. When it starts again, he bounces in his seat.

“Again?” you question, bringing his attention back to you. “Can’t we go to the next song?” 

He gasps and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! It’s for the vibe, Y/N!” He nods slowly to emphasise his point. “The vibe!” 

You nod, your face full of confusion. “And the vibe is…?”

“That we’re literally going to a Christmas tree farm! Do you know how exciting that is?!” Hyunjin turns right to you as you pull up to a stop sign. He almost gets lost in your eyes when you look back at him. “It’s one of the key Christmas dates in the movies! And there’s a whole song about it!” He lets himself ramble on for a minute, trying not to get too lost in his fantasies. Despite his efforts, he soon feels himself about to spiral…

Then you look away.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh as he glances over at you. You’re focused on the road, your eyes flickering around as you wait for a good time to merge lanes. He knows that you only looked away to continue driving, but deep down, he fears that he pushed you away with his babbling.

He just looks down at his lap before he speaks, his voice trembling slightly. “Look, I… I know you hate Christmas, but—” 

“I don’t hate Christmas…” 

Hyunjin is surprised he can hear you with how quietly you’re talking.

“I…” You sigh. “I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ‘Christmas romance’ thing. Like, what makes it more special than a romance-romance?” 

“Because…” He takes a breath before releasing it. “Christmas is magical.” 

The song ends. He reaches for his phone and his finger hovers over the pause button.

“Hyunnie, you don’t need to stop the—”

He stops the music, ignoring the sigh you let out when you do.

“It’s just…” he starts, then trails off. “I…”

A beat of silence.

“You…?”

Hyunjin looks at you, trying to read your reaction. It’s hard to tell if your furrowed brow is from concentration or confusion.

“Like…” he starts again, then he sighs.

How would he even begin to explain that the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets from Christmas, is one he’s only ever experienced secondhand? How is he supposed to tell you that he hopelessly projects onto an array of chiselled brunet men in cheesy holiday movies without sounding insane? That he dreams of taking walks in the snow and under the Christmas lights and in Christmas tree farms with someone, like all the male leads on the Hallmark channel seem to do? Will it seem naive? Or childish?

At the same time, though, if all these ordinary guys can find love without even trying… who’s to say he can’t, too?

“It’s… like… why wouldn’t you want that, you know?”

But of course, Hyunjin’s feelings are so grand that he can’t find the words to explain it.

You let out a sigh again, a more sympathetic one this time. “I… I guess? I…”

Hyunjin watches you carefully as you find your words. He realises, a few moments later, that he’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath? It’s as if this is a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just you.

You shrug, and something in him twists. “I– I don’t know. I just… I can’t see it for myself.”

A thick silence hangs in the air. It seems to taunt Hyunjin, pointing and laughing at him like the playground bully for even daring to open his mouth. He bites his tongue for another moment or two, thinking of a way to lessen the tension. But after that, he can’t bear the silence anymore. 

The song begins again. Maybe he was right to feel like a child.

…

By the time you park, the mood inside the car is much colder than the weather outside it. Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and lets it slam, even though he knows you’ll be annoyed about it. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets and hides himself the best he can in the collar of his coat. 

In a moment, you’re next to him. Your own hands in your pockets as you silently glaze over the mass of trees that seem to go on for miles. You both stand there for an uncertain amount of time, just utterly blown away by the amount of Christmas trees.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin notices you hold out your hand in front of him and leave it there. He stares at it wordlessly, and after a moment or two of nothing, you make grabby hand motions at him like a small child.

“What?” he questions quietly. When he finally looks over at you, you’re too busy staring at the lights beyond the entrance to look back.

“Just come on. We’ve got a date to enjoy…” You pause and take a breath.  “Boyfriend.”

A breath hitches in the back of his throat. You merely mumbled that last word, but Hyunjin heard it loud and clear. You begin to bring your hand closer to his again, motioning silently for him to take it, and he mentally curses at himself for how quickly his lips twitch up into a small smile.

Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, linking your fingers together. He uses every fibre of his being not to beam like an idiot.

“Where do we start?” you say, not really aiming the question at anyone.

Hyunjin shrugs. “I mean, we can start with the Christmas trees…”

His comment earns a chuckle from you, then a light punch to the arm. It’s a pity chuckle, but he’ll take what he can get. “No shit.”

Chuckling too, he gently tugs at your hand. “Come on, the Christmas tree farm awaits.”

Hyunjin squeezes your hand lightly as he leads you to the counter. He slips a five-dollar bill in the donation jar before walking in the farm with you. The golden lights of the welcome arch surround him with warmth, just like the feeling of your hand in his, as he makes a beeline for the rows of Christmas trees.

To Hyunjin, you seem content with him guiding you around all of the large Christmas trees, even when he takes longer than necessary to take in the waft of fresh pine coming from a few of them. He tries to hold back at first, but eventually he stops at a tree and comments on how much prettier it would look with a string of colourful lights and candy canes lining its needles. Then you two stop at the next tree, and he babbles about how fun it would be to have a real tree one year.

He’s sure he has stars in his eyes much brighter than the one he’d put on top of a real Christmas tree. And he’s lucky that it’s just you with him and you allow him to ramble on, nodding along as he does so. Every once in a while, he looks at you for your reaction to something he said, and he catches the small smile on your face. Whether it’s at him or the children who chase each other through the gaps between the trees, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy that you’re happy, and indulging in his silly fantasies.

There’s a relaxing aura about being at a Christmas tree farm that Hyunjin never expected. Well, maybe he should’ve expected this from the movies he’s watched, but experiencing the warm atmosphere himself is different than seeing it on a screen. The trees around you two seem to lift the tension from the car off your shoulders. He feels lighter, more at peace. And, more importantly, so do you.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, making way for strings of lights towards the centre of the farm. Lines of a purple hue dip upward to a point that stands taller than all the pine trees that seem to go on for miles. Maybe there’s something there that Hyunjin missed.

The light glow catches your attention, too, and you start walking closer to it, keeping a hold on his hand. You two weave through the rows of Christmas trees until you happen to pass the last row, and you find a spectacle of sparkling lights. Lines of red and white make a tent shape and meet the purple lights at the top. Beneath them, two reindeer made of wire and golden lights greet you. They almost look like they’re cuddling under the tent of red and white—something about it makes Hyunjin’s heart sing.

“Wow…” he whispers to himself.

And somehow, without realising it, words leave your lips softly. Hyunjin is so in awe of the lights, he barely notices.  “🎶Under the mistletoe…🎶”

He almost doesn’t feel your head lightly rest against his shoulder. The reindeer… why is it reminding him of you two?

“🎶Watching the fire glow…🎶”

The faint melody makes Hyunjin’s ear perk up, causing him to turn and gaze at you. You’re too immersed in the trees and the occasional giggling child running through to even notice you’re quietly singing “Christmas Tree Farm'' to yourself. 

It makes Hyunjin’s heart race just like it did back in the car. However, now, he doesn’t have the car heaters to blame his red cheeks on. He’s thankful you're too absorbed in your own little world to even notice anything going on around you. 

“🎶And telling me, ‘I love you’ …🎶”

It’s like whatever is above is blessing him, letting him in on a little secret, in the form of light snowdrops falling from the sky. They land so delicately on your hair and shoulders and there’s a little flicker in your eyes that Hyunjin can’t ignore.

Never once in his life did he think he would see the first snow with someone. But now that he is, the hopeless romantic in him is screaming at him what he should have known all along.

“🎶Just being in your arms…🎶”

There is no big realisation. There is no big freak-out. There’s nothing to unpack or be scared about when his heart swells just that little bit more than usual. As he’s looking at you—still too oblivious to notice—everything just makes sense. There is no need for perfect, there is no need for the unattainable. 

All he needs is you.

“🎶Takes me back to that little farm…🎶”

He doesn’t need to second guess himself, or try to convince himself of anything. He just knows. All the stories he was told by his parents, the ones he watched in the movies, every little fairytale that he’s held onto his whole life is true.

Maybe it’s not childish, and maybe he didn’t need to chase his fairytale moment at all.

He already has it.

“🎶Where every wish comes true…🎶” 

As you continue to mumble the lyrics to yourself, Hyunjin squeezes your hand, finally bringing your attention back to him. 

“Thank you for being here with me.” He smiles sweetly.

Your returning smile makes his heart do laps. “No, thank you.” 

He squeezes your hand again. You squeeze his back.

six.

– november 23rd.

It’s only when the mass of people leaving your class dissipates that you notice Hyunjin standing out in the hallway waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the wall, focused on his phone. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile grows and he pockets his phone, holding a hand out to you.

You raise your eyebrow and glance at his hand for a second too long before he makes grabby hands at you. A giggle escapes your lips. “Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?” You take his hand before he can answer.

“Because my dearest and best girlfriend in the world, it’s time for another date,” he muses, skipping slightly and rocking your entwined hands in a more exaggerated fashion. 

Humming and nodding your head, you lean into him slightly. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking we go to the park close to campus? Since the snow has settled and everything, we can just walk around for a couple hours until I have to go to class.”

It’s then that you register that Hyunjin called you his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend, just his girlfriend. You don’t do anything to correct him right now.

Instead, you look up at him, a pout gracing your lips. “But I was going to studyyyy.”

Hyunjin just shoots you a doubtful look back. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” you whine. The professor of the class you just got out of kept hinting at a pop quiz next session—considering that you failed the last pop quiz, you really didn’t want to fail a second one.

Nodding slowly, Hyunjin still looks sceptical. “Riiiight, okay.”

“I’m serious! We’re graduating soon, I can’t flunk out now!”

Hyunjin nods again. “Okaaaay, but you have…” he counts with his fingers on his free hand, “five days until then!” He stops in the middle of the walkway, stepping in front of you and taking not one, but both your hands in his. “Come onnnn, please? It’s just one day! And it snowed! It’s the perfect day to not study!”

When you respond with a blank stare, it seems like Hyunjin is forced to take drastic measures. So he tries one more very convincing line. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate when we get home! I know how much you love hot chocolate. Pleeeease?”

Something about the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes twinkle with hope makes you want to cup his cheeks in your hands and… punch him. Yes, exactly, punch him right in the face. Hit him where it hurts.

But alas, despite your growing urge to lovingly ki…ck him off the fifth floor of the university library, you know even that won’t stop him begging you to ditch studying. So you sigh.

“Make it with milk, not water; whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. Don’t forget the marshmallows.” That quiz will have to wait another day, but seeing the wave of happiness and relief wash over Hyunjin’s face right before he crushes you in a hug makes it worth it.

“Deal!”

…

The park is less crowded than you thought it would be. In your experience as a college student, you thought more of you would use the snow as a way to escape the stress of upcoming deadlines. Yes, you had to be bribed with hot chocolate to be here, but still. If you know, you know.

Regardless, you’re not complaining that you and Hyunjin basically have the whole park to yourselves.

“We should sit under there,” Hyunjin says, pointing to a cedar tree. Never mind the blanket of snow covering its needles that could fall on your heads.

You look up at him, your face sour. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Oh… right,” he says sheepishly, then points to a bench several feet away from it. “How about there?”

You nod and let him drag you there, ignoring the pathways and cutting through the grass. You take it as an excuse to hear the snow crunch underneath your shoes.

As you both approach the bench, Hyunjin slowly lets go of your hand to scurry ahead of you and wipe the thin layer of snow from its surface. It earns a cry from him at how cold it is, causing you to shake your head fondly. 

“Why not get your gloves out?” you ask.

“I forgot I had them!” He plops down on the bench with a frown and pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You take a seat, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto your lap. Reaching in the front pocket, you blindly search for his and your gloves. When your fingers graze the soft fabric, you pull both pairs out and hand Hyunjin’s pair to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hurrying to slip his gloves on his hands. Once you do the same, he holds his hand out to you.

You furrow your brow at him. “We just held hands earlier?”

Hyunjin pouts. “But my hands are cold.”

“Is that not what the gloves are for?”

“Y/N…” he pulls out the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes again. Oh no…

Your eyes guiltily flicker between his outstretched hand and his face. His stupid, pouty face that is making your heart feel things you don’t want to think about. God..

“It’s coooold,” Hyunjin whines. “And it’s a coupley thing to snuggle when it’s cold, right?”

Fake couple. But you don’t correct him out loud.

“Okay, okay,” you huff, taking his hand in yours. He smiles and entwines your fingers together.

You and Hyunjin sit in silence for a while hand-in-hand as you take in the serenity. Sounds of children giggling faintly ring from the other side of the small park, and the blanket of powdery snow in front of you is still fresh and untouched. You feel so at peace here, you don’t notice you’re scooting closer to Hyunjin.

Wait. You’re scooting closer to Hyunjin. And you’re leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s because it’s cold. Yeah. Your bum is freezing and you could use the body heat of a fellow human. It’s like how penguins huddle for warmth in the winter, except you’re not in Antarctica; you’re in a quaint little park on a snowy day with your best friend—fake boyfriend.

And as a good fake boyfriend does, Hyunjin lets go of your hand in response and slips his arm around your shoulders. You feel his cheek gently rest on top of your head. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist—instinctively? How did you know to do that? What are you doing?

Right, you’re snuggling. Snuggling like any ordinary couple would do. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fake couple; this is how you fake it till you make it, as they say. So you just stay like this for a few minutes. Hyunjin’s making for a great cuddler, anyway. Is he worried about not being as good as the guys in whatever movies he watches? He shouldn’t. Because he’s gentle and warm and sweet and now he’s kissing the top of your head.

Wait, what are you doing?

Your eyes fly wide open. You don’t move, but suddenly Hyunjin’s too warm and you feel suffocated in his arms. Now, all you can think of is any excuse to get up.

As if the universe was answering your prayers, a small tennis ball rolls by your feet. You look at the light green ball, then the dog leaping through the snow to chase it, then a kid you assume is its owner, far away but visibly out of breath. Letting go of Hyunjin, you bend down to grab the ball, running a few feet away before chucking the ball in the kid’s direction.

After watching the dog dash after the ball for a moment, you feel something cold splat against your back. You gasp in surprise and turn to see a frowning Hyunjin.

“You left me for a dog!” he whines childishly. He tries not to smile, but lets out a giggle at the end of his sentence.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “He’s cuter than you!”

He gasps loudly in offence and chucks another snowball at you.

“Who’s cuter now?!”

You scoop up some snow and toss it at his chest. “Still the dog!”

He gets up and runs straight for you. You squeak and run away, looping around the cedar tree close to the bench to try and slow him down. He quickly catches up with you, and you soon feel his arms wrap around you and pull you back. You let out a squeal at the move.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?!” he says in between giggles. You’re just as giggly.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you say I’m cuter than that dog!”

He looks at you and you look up at him. He’s trying to pout at you, but you’re both laughing too much to take him seriously. But there’s something in his eyes, or maybe in his silly back-hug, that feels different… but you don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead, you smile and poke his cheek with one finger.

“Okay, fine. But only just a little.”

seven.

– december 1st.

Hyunjin feels himself buzzing from excitement as he guides you, hand-in-hand, through the busy streets of downtown. He would never admit it outright, but ever since you came up with the idea of fake Christmas dates, watching the switching on of the Christmas lights was high on his list. He’s dreamt of counting down the seconds until holiday lights illuminate the city, and has watched them alone. Just… not with someone. Not with someone who means as much to him as you do. 

He can’t tell what’s louder: his heart thumping when your hand squeezes his as you both tuck and swerve through the busy crowd, or the crowd itself. After his realisation a few weeks prior,  there’s something new and addicting about how your hand feels in his—like they were pieces of a puzzle, like they were destined to fit each other. He can’t get enough of it.  He wonders if Christmas romance movie characters feel their heart beating as fast as his when he’s around you. And he wonders if it makes your heart race just as much, if there’s even a slight possibility that you look at him the same way he’s grown to look at you. 

A slight tug on his hand pulls him out of his daze for just a moment. He looks back at you, who points excitedly at the giant Christmas tree in the heart of the plaza you two had just walked past. Smiling fondly, he follows you to get a closer look.

Hyunjin stops next to you, looking up at the huge, sparkling tree in front of you. He takes a moment to marvel at the bright lights strung across the expanse of the tree, the tinsel hanging from each branch,  and red and gold ornaments sprinkled throughout. The tree stands at such a great height, Hyunjin can barely see the shining gold star perched atop it. 

As his gaze drifts downward, across the tree again, his eyes fall on you standing by his side. In that moment, under the glittering lights bouncing off the small ornaments, Hyunjin thinks you’ve never looked prettier. You’re looking up at the tree in wonder, twinkles in your eyes as you take in the sights. You’re unaware of the way Hyunjin beholds you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. All the glowing lights surrounding you go dim in comparison every time you smile. 

To Hyunjin, you’re the sun, and he’s just a star in your orbit, circling around you and living for every moment your warm light shines on him. Without you, his world would be cold and dark, just as it was before you came into his life. 

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from you, focusing once again on the tree. Between the strings of bulbs, he sees flashes of a future he can picture with you: your first kiss, waking up to you in the morning every day, your wedding day and carrying you over the threshold of your home when you’re back from your honeymoon. He can see it all. Three kids, two dogs, and a hamster, family vacations, their friends being honorary uncles. 

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but when he’s with you, he can’t help it. You are his forever and a day. 

Every time he steals a glance at you, you’re in a world of your own. You’re so focused on looking up at the pre-hanging lights that you let him drag you along without much thought. Not that he minds much, himself. The little sparkle in your eyes as you look around in awe is utterly adorable. Not to mention that you’re willingly out with him in matching Christmas sweaters—maybe reluctantly at first, but willingly nonetheless. He never thought he’d get you to agree, but now that you did, the oversized tacky sweater somehow makes you look even cuter than he imagined.  

He can’t decide whether or not to scream to the world about how precious you are, or if he wants to wrap you up in a blanket and keep you all to himself. He thoroughly believes the world deserves to see your brightness, but at the same time, he only wants you to smile at him. He wants to be the reason you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, he wants to be the reason to laugh so hard you fall off your seat. 

Hyunjin’s focus returns to in front of him, a small content smile playing at his lips. Not because of you (mostly), but because he already knows the perfect place to watch the switch on. He’s had this planned for weeks now—another thing he will never admit.

Ever since the announcement of the light switch on came on social media a few weeks back, Hyunjin has been on a special mission. Every weekend since then, he’s sneaked off to the city to find the best spot possible to see the lights in all their glory. (He had told you that he had been helping Changbin with some stuff; whether or not you believed him was another story). Somewhere not too crowded, somewhere not too far away. Something perfect—something you deserve. 

That’s when he discovered a small cafe, its entrance hidden in a small alleyway wedged between two buildings. He was surprised at first that it was open since there were no signs on the street to indicate its existence, apart from the small menu board at the bottom of the metal staircase. 

As he guides you into the alleyway, he hears you hum in confusion. Feeling your hand tense up slightly in his, he stops and turns around. 

You’re looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, concern drawn all over your face. With a light squeeze of his hand, Hyunjin sends you a smile. 

“Do you trust me?” he says barely above a whisper, squeezing your hand once more. 

Hyunjin’s smile widens as you don’t even hesitate to nod your head at him.

“Always.” 

Before you get the chance to speak, you’re already up on the roof of the small coffee shop. It’s surprisingly empty with how busy the streets are down below. It makes Hyunjin wonder why there aren’t more people up there, not that he’s complaining.

Even though you’re both out of the crowd, Hyunjin still doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. He’s too content in the way it feels right now, and he wants to soak up every moment of it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to again. He could play the clingy card to buy himself more time—it’s something he’s done before when he was sick, and it’s worked—but it doesn’t feel quite right this time. This was different from his usual antics somehow. It feels natural, it feels right. But at the same time, he wants to jump around and do some somersaults, much like his heart in his chest is.

He quickly hides the way his smile drops when you let go of his hand and runs over to the metal railings, gasping at the better view of the hung-up lights. 

When you turn back to him, it’s like everything has disappeared around him and all he can see is you and your smile. He forgets how to breathe, he feels faint, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and to kiss you all over your pretty face. He can’t do that, of course, but will he do it in his dreams later that night? Probably. Most definitely. 

He almost misses it when you speak to him, your smile growing by the second. 

“This is great Hyun!” You’re bouncing in place. “How did you find this place?” 

He shrugs and looks everywhere except in your eyes to try and calm his heating cheeks. 

“Oh you know, I just stumbled upon it.”

He can’t help himself when you hold your hand out to him. “Let’s watch the lights together.” 

So he takes it, letting your warmth dance around his hand in a mix of comfort and giddiness. He’s sure you haven’t noticed the new effect you’ve had on him, too oblivious to the world around you to know when someone is falling head over heels for you. 

There’s a part of Hyunjin’s brain that tries to remind him of the deal. A reminder that all of these events are not real, just as he wanted. However, Hyunjin decides to push these thoughts down into a little box, lock them up with a lock and key, and bury it in his mind.

The countdown is like a faint blur in his ears, the chanting taking a backseat to the person right in front of him. All he can hear is your soft counting, all he can feel is his pulse racing in his fingertips.

“Five, four, three,” Hyunjin squeezes your hand.  “Two…” You squeeze it back. “One.” 

At the flip of a switch, a blaze of colourful lights brighten up the town. But to Hyunjin, even they don’t compare to the awestruck sparkle in your eyes that sets his heart aflame.

eight.

– december 7th.

Since it’s the week before finals, Hyunjin insisted this past weekend that you two have dates every day this week. One, you suggested to stop the dates so you could study and he said no. That’s an understatement, actually—he practically got on his knees and begged you not to do that. Like, shook-you-by-the-shoulders, one-step-away-from-giving-up-his-americano begged.

It’s funnier now that it’s over, but you’ve never seen him more desperate for anything. Weird. Maybe he ate too many of Felix’s brownies that day.

When Hyunjin arrives at your dorm for your daily date today, the first thing he tells you is, and you quote, “Sit your ass down and wait until I finish setting up.” So, not wanting to deal with his whining today, you do exactly as you’re told for once.

You let yourself sink into your couch as your eyes lazily follow Hyunjin around. He goes in and out of your kitchen, places his laptop on the coffee table in front of you, and opens it. The screen lights up, prompting him to input his password, but instead of doing so, he heads straight back into the kitchen without a word. 

Huffing silently, you lean forward and type in his password: the month and day of both of your birthdays. It takes a second, but when the screen loads into an already-opened, paused, full-screen video of a fireplace, you furrow your brows.

“Hyun? What's this?” you call out to him. 

Almost instantly, you hear him groan in response. Then he appears at the kitchen door and stares at you with his arms crossed. “I told you to sit down.”

“Oops?” You smile at him sheepishly. “I’m a rule-breaker.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen. “A freak is what you are,” he grumbles.

You gasp. “HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” he yells back from the kitchen.

Getting up from your seat, you make your way over to the kitchen, shivering slightly from the light chill in the air. You stay at the doorway, not wanting to sacrifice your feet to the cold tiles of your kitchen floor. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s frame faster than you’d like to admit, and he’s standing over two mugs as he places  tiny marshmallows into each of them. 

“I thought I said sit down,” he says, not looking in your direction. You don’t want to know how he knows you’re there; you didn’t even move from the doorway. Maybe he saw you staring, maybe he just knows you that well… you hope it’s the second one.

“I couldn’t sit still,” you huff, bringing your arms across your chest. 

He picks up the two mugs, takes a few steps towards you, and gestures to them with his head. 

“Take these,” Hyunjin says as he hands them over. “Go sit back down, I’ll get some blankets.” 

“M’kay.” Your voice comes out higher than usual. Praying he doesn’t notice, you quickly cover it up with a cough. “I mean, yep. Mhm.”

You hold your breath as you shuffle back over to the couch, exhaling deeply as you place the two mugs on the coffee table next to Hyunjin’s laptop. It’s when you sit down that you notice the whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate syrup he added to top both of your drinks. As your gaze follows the steam lightly swirling out of the mugs, you can’t help but smile. He remembered your favourite.

Not even a minute later, he’s back, your duvet in his arms. Before you can ask why, he throws it down on top of you. 

“ACK!” you shriek. “I thought—” you attempt to speak as you wrestle your way out the duvet, “you were getting blankets!” 

“I got a blanket, didn’t I?” 

“But why the big one?!”

You feel the couch dip as Hyunjin sits down beside you. He helps free you from the duvet before he straightens it out, waving it once and letting it drape down across your laps. 

“So we can do this.” 

You just keep your eyes down on the duvet for a moment. It’s more than enough to cover both your and his legs, which you guess a throw blanket wouldn’t have been able to accomplish.

When you finally look up, though, Hyunjin is smiling at you tenderly. You catch yourself holding your breath again as his soft gaze finds yours. For a second, the brown hue in his eyes reminds you of the chocolate drizzle in your hot chocolate—comforting, sweet—maybe too sweet for some, but just the right amount for you. Has the brown in his eyes always sparkled like it is now?

Wait… what are you doing?

“Oh, u-um…” You blink a few times to try to bring yourself back down to earth. “Then this works, thanks, Hyun.” You take a mug from Hyunjin when he hands one over to you. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re going to cuddle and drink hot cocoa by the fireplace,” Hyunjin hums, nodding proudly before taking a long sip of his drink.

You take a second to process his words, then you glance at Hyunjin’s laptop screen. “But that’s YouTube?” 

He turns to look at you and blinks. If you could reverse time, this would be the perfect time to do it. 

“Well, I know that, but we don’t have a fireplace.” He sighs. “This is the best we got.” 

He leans over, clicks ‘play’ on the video, and the delicate crackling of fire emanating from his laptop begins to fill the room. Maybe it’s not a real fireplace, but the heat you’re feeling from him sitting so close and the comforting sounds make you feel plenty warm.

Hyunjin settles back into his spot on the couch, picking up his mug with one hand. You lift up your mug, too, and softly clink it with his, taking a sip together as well. You’re so engrossed in the sweet, creamy drink melting in your mouth, that you don’t notice Hyunjin has casually slipped his arm around your shoulders until another few sips later. You lean your head against him and do nothing to shake his arm off, even though a tiny part of your brain screams at you to make it stop.

You’ve lost track of how much time has passed, but when the hot chocolates are finished, the crackling has faded into the background and the sound of Hyunjin’s faint snoring fills your ears. It’s enough time and space to let your brain wander. Iit wanders to the way Hyunjin’s cologne is a constant in your life, the way you always know where he is and where he’s been. It wanders to how every piece of clothing you own, and your whole life, is in some way infused with the essence of Hyunjin. 

Moving your head ever-so-slightly so you don’t wake him, you let your eyes gaze at the blond-headed boy for a moment too long. You can’t understand why he tries so hard to chase after perfection, when that’s already what he is. The way his eyelashes lay across his cheeks and the way his nose scrunches up at something in his dream—you can’t help but smile at the boy who has you wrapped up in his arms. 

It made you wonder when the feeling of his arms around you began to feel different. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your best friend and nothing more than that. This fake dating thing is just that—fake. It’s a made-up relationship, a scheme to give Hyunjin what he’s always wanted: a college Christmas romance. One that started to feel a little too real to you.

There shouldn’t be feelings involved when it comes to fake dating. Everyone knows that. You can count all the romcoms you’ve ever seen on only one hand, but even you know that rule. But the way Hyunjin hugs you tighter in his sleep causes not only your heart, but your head to race as well. You’re suddenly too warm, the laptop is too loud, and you feel like the weight of the world has just fallen on your shoulders. 

Your breathing begins to pick up, but you’re pulled back out of it when you feel Hyunjin move beside you. Your eyes find his half-opened ones; he looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment. 

“Are you okay?” he mumbles before letting out a yawn, his arms still secure around you. 

You hum, pretty much shoving your head into his chest, your eyes focused on his laptop. “I’m okay, Hyunnie.” 

Luckily, the sleepy Hyunjin doesn't question it. He just pulls you closer and places a kiss on your hairline, sending your mind into another spiral. 

“Just take a nap.” You feel him yawn again. “Just enjoy this time.” 

When Hyunjin’s snore fills your ears once more, you let out a breath and do your best to blink away the tears swelling up in your eyes. 

This was a big realisation for your brain to handle on a Tuesday night. And you're not sure what to do about it apart from what you do best—ignore it and hope it goes away. 

nine.

– december 14th.

Before anyone can even say anything, Hyunjin knows he should be focusing on his art theory class. However, as he’s laying down across his desk with his head resting on his arm, he can’t help but stare at his phone in despair. 

It had been seven days—one week—since the magical movie night at your dorm. Since then, all of his messages had gone unresponded—actually, you responded exactly one time: the morning after when Hyunjin had asked about getting breakfast. You were busy. 

He mindlessly unlocks his phone, opening his message chain with you. Still no response or even a ‘read’ alert from you at the bottom. Deep down, he knows you haven’t even clicked on his messages if there is no ‘read’ alert, just like how his fridge won’t magically fill up with food if he doesn’t restock it… unless you turned read receipts off entirely, but that’s too much effort for you to do. 

He lost count of how many times he told you in high school to turn it off when you were in fights with your friends. You’d keep opening their messages and the fights would only continue when they saw you were ignoring them. You always brushed him off saying that there was no point, that they’d still know anyway. 

But here he is, staring at his phone, wishing for something, anything from you. At this point, he would take a ‘read at 3:25pm’ over the vacancy his inbox seems to taunt him with.

He only realises that class is over when the mass of people in the lecture hall scramble around him to leave. Hyunjin picks up his head from his table and sits there a moment longer. 

The other students make a beeline for the door, the professor glances at Hyunjin still sitting there and shakes their head, before following the students out the semi-open door, closing it behind them. Even with everyone’s presence in the room gone, it still feels just as empty as it did twenty minutes before. 

His phone lights up and a little bit of joy enters his heart, only for it to be smashed into pieces when the words become clear. 

Binnie : YO !! 

Binnie : free to get lunch or you with y/n? 

Hyunjin responds with a simple ‘i’m free.’ He locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket before throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder, dragging himself out of the lecture hall to wherever Changbin and the gang are. 

…

Hyunjin can hear them before he sees them. 

Jisung’s incessant screams and Changbin’s laughter are both way too loud for Hyunjin to put up with in that moment. But still, he wonders, following the sounds as they grow closer and closer and the two clowns (said with affection) become clear. 

Jisung’s too busy running around the picnic table, screaming about something with Changbin laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face. Next to him is a silent-as-ever Chan, watching in amusement with a dopey smile present on his lips. 

It goes silent when Hyunjin drops his bag with a thud on the table. It makes him wince and the stares from three of his friends makes him wish the world would swallow him whole. It’s still silent when he throws one leg over the bench and sits himself down, bringing the other leg in before using his bag as a pillow.

Three, two, one… he thinks.

“What’s up with you?”

There it is. Hyunjin ignores the question as he tries to push his head further into his bag.

“Hyun?” Chan’s voice is softer than the other two boys. Whilst he knows the other two mean well, it’s a lot more comforting when it’s coming from Chan. “Are you okay?” 

It takes all of his strength to pick his head up off of the table and look at the eldest of the four boys. Hyunjin feels as if his default look is to frown and when the other two boys clock on, Jisung is sat down next to him in a flash. 

“Bro,” Changbin starts. “You look as if your mum told you you’d never see Kkami again.” 

This clown (again said with affection) really did not have the slightest indication of how to comfort someone. There was something unique about Changbin, he had heart, but brains? That and reading the room wasn’t always his strong suit. 

“I think what he means is,” Chan rephrases, “you look really down in the dumps. What’s up, buddy?” There he goes, talking as if he’s seventy when he’s barely twenty-six.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken to me in a week…” Hyunjin mumbles, letting his head fall back onto his bag. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, but to the trio it comes out more like, ‘o u inks smates me?’ 

He isn’t sure who places a hand on his back—he assumes it’s Jisung with the angle. All he knows is he can feel a cold hand just barely pressing through his hoodie. 

“Maybe she’s busy?” Jisung says, patting Hyunjin’s back lightly. “She’ll send her usual emoji update when she’s ready.” 

Hyunjin only picks up his head again so his friends can hear him. “She hasn’t even read any of my messages.” 

It’s quiet, too quiet. When he sits up to look at them and Jisung’s hand falls from his back, Hyunjin’s frown just enhances. The boys look at each other, frowns present on their own faces. Hyunjin doesn’t think they completely understand the situation. But then again, neither can he.

“What do I do?” he says. 

“She’s probably busy with exams…” Jisung blurts out, looking at the two boys sitting across from them before looking back at Hyunjin. 

“Yeah!” Changbin pipes in. “Plus her internship! That’s probably keeping her busy too, especially since it’s close to Christmas!” 

Hyunjin looks over at Chan, he’s silent like usual. He has a sad smile on his face, like he wants to say something to calm Hyunjin’s worries, but he’s just not exactly sure what those words are. 

“Thanks guys…” Hyunjin does his best to smile.

Jisung brings him in for a tight hug. Even though he normally would have, Hyunjin doesn’t try to push him away. The coos from the two other boys make his heart feel just a bit warmer. 

…

– december 15th.

Hyunjin should have called first. But with how silent you’ve been over the past eight days, he knew you wouldn’t have picked up. So here he stands, two pizza boxes in one hand as he tries to pluck up the courage to finally knock on your door after standing outside it for god knows how long. 

He wonders if you’ll smell the pizza from inside and open the door yourself so he wouldn’t have to knock. A boy can dream. 

He clenches his fist so hard it turns white. Takes a deep breath, releases it. Takes another one. He thinks about how he’ll knock on the count of three—but then procrastinates even more by thinking about if he means he’d do it on three or after three. 

In actuality, he doesn’t need to do anything when the sound of your door unlocking makes him smile slightly. He knew you’d smell the pizza. 

When the door opens up wide enough, you jump back slightly in surprise. Hyunjin can barely believe himself either. He’s actually here… in all his anxious glory.

“Hyunjin…” 

Your face visibly pales, causing Hyunjin to frown. Did you really not want to see him that badly? Over a week of nothing and this is how you react when you see him again? 

He looks down at your outfit. You’ve got your puffer coat on and your bag draped across your chest, sending the puffiness out in awkward directions. “Where are you going?” 

“I– I’ve got class,” you stutter. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s shoulders drop. 

He motions to the pizza boxes in his hand and smiles sheepishly. He watches how your eyes glance at them before darting off in another direction.

“I thought we could chill and have pizza, like normal,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I forgot you had class today and…” Hyunjin pauses. He takes another deep breath as he watches you, waiting to see if you’d finally look at him. “I was just wondering if we could talk… it’s been a while you know?” 

One of your hands comes up to fiddle with the hair behind your left ear. Hyunjin takes note of how you bite at your bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

Hyunjin blinks. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Can we at least talk quickly?” he asks. He can’t tell if he’s grateful or not when you open the door wider for him to enter. 

“Okay. Just make it quick.”

He shuffles inside, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table that once held his laptop as their makeshift fireplace. Turning back to you, Hyunjin now sees how your hands are shoved into your pockets. Your coat is zipped all the way up so you can hide your face in your collar. 

“Where have you been?” The question escapes his lips before he can even register it. 

He’s watching you for every single change in your body language, every little muscle movement. Anything that will clue him into what the heck is happening. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and my internship is piling more on me because Christmas is coming up.” Just like Changbin had thought. But even then, it didn’t feel enough. 

“You could have said something,” Hyunjin sighs. “Anything. Even just an emoji like you usually do when you’re cramming.” 

He’s surprised when you have nothing to say. You’re just hiding in your coat collar and he can see the distressed look on your face. Hyunjin has never felt more confused in his life, and here you are, doing nothing to help. He feels as if he’s questioning every life choice he’s made up to this point. 

“Are you okay?” he speaks again after another moment. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Hyunjin feels like tiny needles are being pricked into his heart, and your silence is pushing them deeper. The more seconds that tick by, the more his heart crumbles in his chest.

He watches as you take a deep breath in. He watches you as you exhale. 

“About that…” You gulp and take another breath. “We should stop this… we should break up.” 

Hyunjin can hear the glass house around him break into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. He’s sure that in all that rubble is his heart—pierced and splinted, bleeding out from each wound. Yet all that he can do is blink. 

“...What?”

For the first time in his life, he cannot read a single expression or feeling on your face. It’s like he’s been placed in the middle of the desert; no map, no compass, nothing. He’s lost, afraid, and so, so alone. And you’re just standing there, a mere few feet away from him, unable to even look him in the eye.

“We should end our agreement.” You’re fiddling with the strap on your bag as if to keep your mind from spiralling or wondering. “Look, everything with class and my internship is getting busier, and you wanted Christmas dates, right?”

You gulp again. Hyunjin is just silent. He can’t even nod.

“You got what you wanted. You got the dates and to experience a Christmas romance.” You finally look him in the eye, and it’s like one final stab to his heart. “So we should end this now, so we can both focus on the things we need to.” 

You’re finally staring at each other, battling it out silently for who can keep their hold the longest. It’s torture and Hyunjin’s never felt pain like this… it pierces into his stomach so bad that he wants to throw up. 

“Hyunjin—” 

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re cut off by the sound of the door unlocking. Your eyes widen in surprise as Yeri, your usually missing roommate, walks through the door. She has a suitcase behind her, probably back from whatever adventure she’s been on with her girlfriend. 

You seem glad to see her back in one piece, but god, did she have the worst timing. It makes Hyunjin want to scream. Why now, of all times, did she have to decide to come home? Right when Hyunjin’s in the middle of being ‘dumped’ by the person he’s in love with?

Yeri looks up in shock, takes one of her airpods out of her ear, and grins sheepishly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Her eyes flicker between you and Hyunjin. She’s not sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere, but Hyunjin doesn’t blame her. “I’ll…” She motions to her bedroom door to insinuate the end of her sentence, before dragging her suitcase behind her. 

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to Hyunjin. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head. 

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin. 

He wants to scream and cry out, not only in confusion, but in what Hyunjin can’t tell is anger or just pure sadness. He doesn’t, partly because he knows Yeri is within earshot, but also because he doesn’t know if he has the energy. His mind is making so many laps and leaps trying to figure out everything that he just wants to lie down.

He gasps for air. His eyes feel misty and he wants to do nothing but run. 

“I get it,” he mutters, looking away. “You can have what you want.”

Hyunjin says no more, leaving the discarded pizzas on the coffee table. He ignores the way his heart stings when you don’t call after him. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the elevator, choosing to rush down the stairs to get out of the building as fast as possible whilst wiping his cheeks haphazardly with the back of his sleeve. 

He once again wants the world to swallow him whole—or for him to sleep for the rest of the Christmas season. Because, honestly, none of it seems worth it anymore.

ten.

– december 18th.

How is it possible that three days can feel like an eternity? 

‘We should end this.’ Your voice repeats in Hyunjin’s brain in a constant loop. It torments him when he’s awake and stays to haunt him in his dreams. ‘We should break up.’ 

The first day felt like torture. All he wanted to was rant about you, to you. Sure, he could go to his other friends, but when you’re his first choice… what could he do? He couldn’t call or text you now that he wants to more than over. He wanted to cry at the sound of your voice and beg you to reconsider—to go on real dates with him—to have a real Christmas romance. 

‘You got what you wanted.’

Day two was just as hard. When he hadn’t blown up the group chat over some random thing in over twenty-four hours, this was when his friends got worried. So they blew up his phone instead with a mixture of concern and heartfelt care, and whatever you call Jisung’s messages. Hyunjin decided to ignore them, but kept checking his phone on the off-chance he’d get a text from you. Eventually, he turned over his phone and rolled over in his bed, shutting his eyes and hoping the world would disappear for a bit. 

‘You got the dates, you got to experience a Christmas romance.’

Now here he sits, on day three, in the trio’s shared off-campus apartment. He only begrudgingly got out of bed when Jisung threatened to start screaming outside his door. He’s lying sideways across the couch, his feet propped up against the armchair. He hasn’t washed his hair in too long, he vaguely thinks a family of birds might nest in it someday, and his grey sweats have a big blotch of brown on one leg. He spilled hot Americano on himself when he got home after your breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to change out of them.

He knows he shouldn’t be calling it a breakup when you two were never really together. But when his feelings are completely and utterly real, it really feels like one. He feels his eyes start to become misty again, and he shoves his head into his sweater paws as he tries to bury himself in the sofa more. 

‘So we should end this now.’

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are all watching from the barely-used dining table. They are at a loss for words, they hadn’t thought about the possibility of you and Hyunjin ever breaking up. To everyone in the friend group, you two were set for life, ride-or-dies, the sunshine to the flowers. To them, there was never any possibility of a break up. They just didn’t get it. 

Changbin takes a sip of his protein shake through a bright pink curly straw, and huffs. “This is weird, dudes.” He looks over at the two other boys, who still have their eyes on Hyunjin. “He’s never been like this with anyone.” 

“Y/N isn’t just anyone, though,” Chan responds.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes still bore into Hyunjin. “They’re, like, totally made for each other.”  

Hyunjin brings his hands away slightly, sending the best glare he could manage. To the boys, however, it was more pitiful than scary, like a kicked puppy. All they want to do is scoop him up and never let him go until his heart is unbroken.  

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hyunjin asks. “And to be honest, I really don’t like all this mumbling.” 

The boys don’t hold his bad mood against him. He’s upset, frustrated, and they know he’ll apologise when he’s feeling better. Chan takes the lead, opening his mouth to speak before the other two dummies could say anything to make Hyunjin more upset. 

“We’re sorry, we’re just confused on why you guys broke up,” he explains. The other two boys nod their heads as the eldest speaks. “You two have always seemed so perfect for each other.” 

They notice how Hyunjin’s shoulders drop and he goes to hide his face in his sweater paws again. His words come out all muffled and Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all glance at each other to see if any of them understood what he said.

“What was that?” Chan asks. Hyunjin yanks his sweater paws away from his face, turning his head sharply at the boys.

“We never broke up, okay?!”

The trio can now really see how glassy Hyunjin’s eyes have become. They exchange concerned glances with each other, frowns of their own also covering their faces.

“W-Wait. What do you m—” 

Hyunjin cuts Chan off with a hiccup. 

“We— we were never really together... So w-we never really broke up.” 

The boys are stunned, confused and so completely stunned. They don’t know where to even begin to wrap their heads around the confession. But it also leads them to the next question, if it was all fake… why was Hyunjin so distraught now that it was over? 

Now it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it was better to hear it from Hyunjin himself.

“Okay,” Chan gulps, “do you want to start from the beginning?” 

So Hyunjin starts from the beginning. He starts off with the confession from Jisoo that was totally not the vibe. He talks about how he went to you to whine about how he was losing his chance for a college christmas romance, to how you suggested he should fake date someone to get the experiences he wanted. To how he had decided you were his perfect person for the task. 

“Why didn’t you just tell us it was fake, man?” Changbin asks, “it wouldn’t have been that much of a deal.” 

Hyunjin sighs, falling back into the chair and letting his head fall backwards so he can look up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know, just wanted it to seem more realistic I guess.” He sighs. 

“Well…” Jisung continues, “what happened next?” 

So Hyunjin continues with his story. He talks about the decorating of your dorm, he ignores the comment from Jisung about that’s how your apartment got that way. He goes on to talk about the movie night and the cookies to the ice skating, and he talks about the Christmas tree farm. 

“From there…” Hyunjin slows down and pauses. 

The trio is silent, waiting for the blond to admit what they all know. They’re not sure how long he’s silent for, it could have been only a second, but in that moment it could have also been a lifetime. 

“From there… It was different.” 

He looks over to the three boys at the dining table. He felt like his heart was cracking in a whole new different way. When he was keeping it to himself, he could shove it into a little box and act as if it was something future-Hyunjin had to deal with. But now this present version of him hated past him for even thinking about putting the emotions aside to begin with. 

“I don’t know when it happened, or if it happened long before I even realised it, but she’s different. She’s her version of perfect and now it’s blown up in my face.” Hyunjin’s frown is contagious. “I– I love her and now she wants nothing to do with me anymore.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Changbin tries to sympathise, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. 

“You should have seen her, she would barely look at me.” Hyunjin begins to hiccup again. “She’s the love of my life and it ended before it even started.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but Chan quickly nudges him in the side to be quiet. When Jisung looks at the older boy, all Chan does is shake his head. A look on his face saying let him get this out. 

“Ever since the Christmas tree farm, she’s been different, she’s amazing and kind–” Hyunjin hiccups, blinking away the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “She has this sparkle about her and even though I know it annoyed her, she still let me go on and on about how I wanted a perfect college Christmas romance when with her… I don’t need perfection.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Hyunjin feels like curling up into a ball. He wishes for his friends to stop staring at him. He wants to hide, he wants to cry, and he wants to eat his body weight in a food that isn’t going to remind him of you– not that there were many types of those things. 

“I need to give her the space she wanted,” Hyunjin states. “She can do the things she needs to: focus on work and her internship. And I'll wait…” 

“Wait for her?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin nods. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” 

eleven.

– december 14th.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to him. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He gasps for air and you can see him blinking rapidly. You feel your heart tear in two.

“I get it,” he mutters. “You can have what you want.”

Before you can utter another word, he’s out the door. You’re sure the pizza he leaves behind is cold by now, but even if you were hungry a few minutes ago, you’re not anymore. What you want more is for him to turn around, to come back when you call out to him.

But he’s gone. It’s too late.

“Okay, so what was that all about?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your trance. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Hyunjin left your dorm, your door is still wide open, and you haven’t even moved a muscle. Even though you have class in twenty minutes—that part you didn’t lie about—you want nothing but to run into your room and hide there for the rest of the year.

You clear your throat and your hands go back to the strap of your bag to keep them entertained. “I… I don’t know what you’re on about.”

You haven’t even turned to look at her and you know that she knows you’re lying through your teeth.  

“Uh huh,” Yeri tuts. 

You hear her footsteps get closer to you before she’s come up beside you and is now in eye view. 

“So no trouble going on with Mr Blond Best Friend, then?” she continues to question. 

You stay silent in response, not trusting your own voice. Your eyes start to feel wet. You were able to keep up an act in front of Hyunjin, but now that he’s gone and the vision of his teary eyes keeps repeating in your mind, it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend. 

“Nothing’s going on,” you clear your throat again. Tugging on your crossbody bag, you look at her once before rushing to the door. “I need to go to class, glad to see you back.” 

Yeri can’t even get another word out as you rush out the door, slamming it behind you. You unknowingly take the same route as Hyunjin, rushing down the stairs to get out of the building as quickly as possible. 

Once the cold air hits you, you take a deep breath and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands. 

You had to, it was the only option.

“Hyunjin!” you call out, looking all around you. Several students push by you, some wearing holiday pyjamas or Santa hats. You don’t understand how they can feel even an ounce of Christmas spirit right now.

You try running somewhere, anywhere, ducking and weaving through the pack of students making their way to wherever they want to go. There are hundreds of students out, yet you can pick out one blond head from the crowd.

“Hyunjin!”

You run faster. Before you’re able to process it, someone on an electric scooter whizzes by, knocking you off your feet. You yelp and stretch your arms out to catch yourself.

And now you’re on the ground. Groaning, you slowly move to get up. Hundreds of students pass by where you lie, but not one stops to help you. Until…

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

You light up for a second at the familiar voice. Once you realise who it is, you roll over, deflated.

Jisung gasps. “You look like death! What happened to you?!”

You blink once. “Gee, thanks,” you say flatly.

The boy stares at you for a second before finally reaching a hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

“O-Okay, but seriously, what happened?” he says. “Are you okay?”

You search his eyes for a moment before shrugging. What are you supposed to say to Jisung? That you just ruined your friendship with the love of your life?

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Jisung says, his voice softer. The way he’s watching you makes you tear up all over again. He seems to let you process for another moment before reaching over, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Look,” he sighs, “I… I know you two weren’t real. I honestly thought you were, though.” He then mutters something along the lines of, “So I didn’t owe our friend group sixty dollars after all.”

“That’s your first thought right now?”

“Wait, nonono!” Jisung’s stance changes in a snap and begins frantically smoothing out your outfit, ruffling your messy hair and making it even messier. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything will beeee okaaayyy.”

You groan and roll your eyes fondly, but you let him continue.

“Okay, but for real now…” He rubs your shoulder again. “I think you should tell him.”

A breath hitches in the back of your throat. “Tell him… what exactly?”

He sighs deeply. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to sigh, and you look down at your shoes as your eyes well up again. Jisung smiles sadly at you and pulls you into a hug.

“He misses you, you know that?” he says. You nod, shoving your face in his shoulder before he can see you cry. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him you miss him, too. That’s your job.”

In between sobs, you nod.

“And once you two get together, I can get my damn money back,” Jisung grumbles.

You let out a wet chuckle and hold onto him for another minute. You’re terrified of what may happen, but no amount of fear in your body is worth the heartbreak you feel right now.

twelve.

– december 24th.

Hyunjin feels… something. 

Every year on Christmas Eve, the boy would scramble to get to bed early, so he could be asleep by the time Santa comes. Obviously, though, he’s since outgrown that tradition, but now he stays up till midnight like every other teenager and college student, counting down the seconds to Christmas Day. It’s as if Christmas is Hyunjin’s pre-New Year of sorts. He may not believe in Santa anymore, but the childlike wonder and excitement he gets during this time of year has never changed. He’s all jumpy and hyper and jittery like a kid who ate too much candy, eagerly awaiting the day that the movies and the lights and the snow have made so magical.

And this year, for the first time ever, he might not be counting down alone.

Going the past week without hearing the sound of your voice felt like walking barefoot through a pit full of Legos—doubly so because he saw you on campus during finals week talking to Jisung once. Jisung! Out of everyone in your friend circle, of course you were still talking to the one who flirts with everyone for fun. At least he didn’t wink at you this time…

But after what felt like aeons of being sent to voicemail, you finally called him back six days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago. You said something about meeting up for lunch the day after or something; he barely remembers anything from that call other than that you called. That lunch at the university cafe wasn’t much different. He was so relieved that you were in front of him talking to him again that he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were actually saying.

…Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You rearranged the Christmas decorations he had thrown all over your dorm on your first date, you got all your Christmas shopping done, and you have a super-duper special date planned for Christmas Eve. Dress warm. You’ll pick him up at 8 for dinner. And you’ll both be getting home late.

Hyunjin can see his breath just past his nose as he checks out his reflection in the glass window panes of the university library. He picked out his best winter coat for tonight—the one that goes with almost any outfit he could put together, but also doesn’t take the limelight off of yours. He also broke out the pristine white sneakers—you know, the ones he cleans frantically after every use. Were they going to get dirty in the snow? Maybe a little. But it’s you, and they go so well with his sweater and jeans. You deserve his best fit.

He knows nothing about what your plan is for tonight. All he knows is that you’ll be here in five minutes, his stomach is doing flips inside him, and he’s got shivers going up his spine.

Hyunjin feels something—he just can’t name what that something is. All the adjectives he can think of don’t feel quite right. The closest he can get is ‘tingly’, and even then, he can’t explain why he landed on that particular word. But when you pull up at the library and roll down your window, all the words he’s ever learned fly out the door.

No combination of letters could capture how beautiful you are to him.

…

Hyunjin is surprised to find himself back in the heart of downtown. This time, it’s after a lovely meal and hours-long conversation with you, and you’re the one guiding him around now.

He swivels his head around as he lets you lead, taking in all the glittery Christmas lights the same way you are. Quickly, he recognizes you’re taking the same path he once did to the cafe where you two watched the light switch. He feels like he’s on the Polar Express to the North Pole—yes, of course he was watching the movie before your date tonight. It’s a Christmas must.

Wait… fake date. He nearly forgot these dates aren’t real.

He’s not sure why he let himself get away with calling all these real dates. Clearly, it made you uncomfortable to the point where you felt the need to fake-break up with him. He’s also not sure if he should consider himself lucky that the breakup wasn’t real.

Does this mean the fake Christmas romance thing is back on? You two never actually discussed it, but you did also ask him on a… fake date.

Despite this, there’s still something in the air that’s giving him that tingly feeling. He’s still not sure if that’s the right word. He just knows that standing right next to you on the balcony of an abandoned cafe to witness the arrival of Christmas Day… it feels so, so right. Almost like everything is falling into place.

“Hyunnie… can we talk?”

—

Hyunjin turns to you, his gaze soft, and you freeze in place. Did you really just say that? Now?  What if you ruin Christmas Eve and Christmas because you didn’t wait?

You sigh to yourself, a small puff of air escaping your mouth. You know that this was something you needed to do, both for yourself and your peace of mind. Maybe Jisung, too, and whatever lost money he was moping about that one time. But there’s still ten minutes to midnight. Is that too soon?

No. It’s not. If anything, it’s long overdue. No more running. Plus, if he’s truly your best friend and he doesn’t like you back, nothing should change… right? At least, not for the long term.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyunjin’s honey voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Hyunnie, sweet like honey… wait, Y/N, don’t get distracted. It’s almost midnight.

Take a deep breath.

“Hyunnie, um…” You fiddle with a small object in your pocket as you try to think.

When you look up, he’s nodding. “Yeah?”

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I'm sorry for ghosting you and stopping this so suddenly.” You’re blinking and Hyunjin watches as you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. Like the words are at the tip of your tongue, but the courage just hasn’t bubbled up enough. “I…” You take a breath, looking up at anywhere but him as you mumble to yourself, “God, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You take a little shuffle forward.

“I… I think I realised too late, and by the time I realised, I freaked out and just… I shut down.” You look at him, your eyes boring into each other like you’re both trying to find the centre of each other’s soul. It's too much for you to stomach while you struggle to pull words out of your throat, so you let your gaze fall.

“Realised what?” Hyunjin whispers. You somehow hear it over the crowd of people forming below you.

You shuffle forward unconsciously again, keeping your eyes down. 

“Do— do you hate me?” Hyunjin says.

Eyes wide, you snap your head up and shake your head quickly. “N-No! Of course not.” “Then what—”

Your gaze shoots down and your hand goes for Hyunjin’s. A small gasp leaves his mouth before your brain catches up with the rest of you.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, it’s like everything has blurred into the background. Everything except the boy in front of you, who looks about as shocked as you are at yourself. Is this it? Is this going to be your Hallmark moment?

Deep breath.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wider, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a couple times. He probably thinks someone took over your body, that this isn’t really you.

“You… love me?”

You nod and smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s still in disbelief, but honestly, you can barely believe you’re saying these words. But you mean every single one of them.

“I do… and there’s no one else I’d rather have a Christmas romance with.”

There’s a feverish look grazing Hyunjin’s face, his mouth opened just slightly as he gasps quietly. You swear you can see little stars adorning his pretty brown eyes.

“Well,” you clarify quickly, “a college Christmas romance. But I don’t think I want this to end after we graduate.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are crinkling at the edges, his nose scrunching just slightly with the force of his joy. You’re sure of two things in that moment. One, your own expression must look just as lovesick as his. And two, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyunjin under the glow of the lights surrounding the plaza. 

“Y/N, I… can I kiss you?”

From somewhere in the streets below, you recognize the gathered crowd beginning the countdown to midnight. You barely pay it half a mind as you pull the object from your pocket. Hyunjin’s eyes follow you as you hold it up over your heads. It’s a small sprig of mistletoe, and you can’t help the proud smile that sweeps across your face.

“You know, you wanted to hit all the Christmas traditions and you forgot one of the best ones.” 

“God, I love you.”

You practically jump into his arms when he presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode in your chest as the clock rings twelve and cheers erupt from the streets below. It’s all a buzz in your head, though, as you cup Hyunjin’s cheeks in your hands and melt into his arms and lips and just him. 

You hope he never tries to chase perfection again, because you’re sure that this moment, right now, is the definition of it. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so right, and nothing else will ever come close.

As if on cue, when you two slowly break the kiss, you feel something wet land on your head. You and your not fake boyfriend?—you’ll have to talk to him about that later—look up to see fluffy, white snowdrops falling all around you two.

“Merry Christmas, Hyunnie,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin has the biggest smile on his face as you pull away. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You let out a joyful giggle. It looks like Hyunjin got the cheesy Christmas romance he’s been searching his whole life for. It might not have gone the exact way he’d dreamed of, but you hope he is as happy as he has always made you.

And maybe, just maybe, you also got the ending you’d been dreaming of all along.

[youremyonepiece]

salty afflictions

sanji x gn!reader (no pronouns used), reader's pov

your powers come with unique dietary restrictions, but sanji's not one to back down from a challenge (especially not if it's you).

warnings: none, light fluff (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 1.9k

"okay," sanji says, tone verging on exasperation, "let me get this straight." he peers at you through his furrowed curly eyebrows, but there is no malice in his stare-- only disbelief. "you can't eat salt?"

you laugh uncomfortably at the question. the rest of the straw hats have their eyes fixed on you as well, waiting earnestly for your answer. most of their plates lie forgotten in front of them; only luffy is moving, shoveling food into his mouth with both hands, but he too is staring directly at you. sanji is standing in front of you, a matching plate balancing on one of his hands. your own grip tightens around your carrot as you shift and shrink under the weight of everyone's combined gazes before taking a small chomp to hopefully diffuse some of the tension.

it doesn't work.

it makes things worse.

the carrot feels like dry mulch as you chew and swallow it loudly. everyone else simply continues to stare, the moment dragging on as they wait for you to respond.

you let out another uncomfortable laugh once your mouth is empty before clearing your throat. "um, yeah," you finally manage to say. you resist the urge to slam your head into the dinner table at your eloquence and continue, "the salt content in my body would get too high. i'd be no different than a puddle of sea water. which would, um-- which would be bad."

you can't stop another laugh from defensively bubbling through your lips. sanji notices and moves away to put your plate in front of luffy (with him around, no food would ever go to waste). "well," he says, pointedly nonchalant as he takes his seat and leans back to take a drag from his cigarette. "i love a good challenge, and you certainly are a lovely one." a smirk forms around his cigarette and just like that, the tension in the room shatters. you throw a grateful look in his direction as the crew's attention turns away from you and back to their dinners.

"typical sanji," usopp says with a playful roll of his eyes before shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. "still, that must suck."

"yeah," you say in response. "i mean, i'm used to it, but i definitely miss some foods. it saved my life, though," you say with a shrug, "so it is what it is." you take another bite of your carrot, larger than the last in hopes of deterring anyone from asking you any more questions.

you feel someone's eyes on you again and turn your head to see sanji staring at you. there's still a smile on his face and in his eyes-- you can't help but hold your breath as you meet his gaze. he's looking at you as though he’s just discovered a new type of fish, you think to yourself. like he can't wait to experiment and discover the best ways to filet, bake, fry you up.

unlike with the others, being under sanji’s gaze doesn’t make you squirm in your seat. instead, you find yourself feeling comfortably warm-- you’re always comfortable with sanji. he’s been nothing but considerate and thoughtful from the start, and you knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

well, he would never do anything to hurt any woman, not just you.

you ignore the turning of your stomach-- get real, he would never feel the same way about you-- and instead avert your eyes to take great interest in your carrot. wow, it sure is orange--

"you'll have to allow me to borrow some of your time later, sweetheart," sanji says, interrupting your riveting thoughts. "we'll figure out what i can cook for you. can't have you going hungry, now can we?" he winks at you and you feel the heat creep up your neck and into your cheeks.

“um-- sure,” you say, and you're sure your face is bright red. gosh, did you have to be so awkward?

to your relief, though, franky starts talking excitedly about his ideas for new upgrades on the sunny, and with that the flow of the conversation is thankfully diverted away from you and the side effects of your hydro-hydro logia devil fruit. you finish your carrot as quickly as you can before quietly excusing yourself from the group and scurrying out onto the deck.

and though you don’t dare look up to confirm it, you swear you feel sanji’s eyes on you the entire time until you’ve left the room. but no-- there’s no way. you’re imagining it, letting your fantasies get the better of you. he wouldn’t have watched you leave, not when nami and robin were still in the room with him.

(if you had looked up, though, you would have found you were right.)

you’re sitting on a bench by nami’s tangerine trees the next morning after breakfast, absentmindedly flipping through a novel you borrowed from robin. it’s an unusually calm, placid day, the weather perfect and the soft breeze refreshing. the kind of day you want to spend outside and doing nothing. it’s easy to zone out the various noises from your crewmates: luffy’s joyful yelling followed closely by chopper’s worried shouts, zoro’s rumbling snores, nami’s playful teasing at usopp’s desperate rambling, sanji’s... footsteps?

you look up from the book to find the blond man walking calmly towards you with his blazer slung over his shoulder, an easy smile gracing his lips. it grows as your eyes meet, but he doesn’t speak until he comes to a stop a few feet away from you. “hello, gorgeous. got a minute? i wanted to get your thoughts on a few dishes i whipped up earlier for you.”

be cool, you tell yourself. be calm, casual-- “yeah, of course! i’d love to!” great job.

but you can’t feel upset for too long, not when sanji’s face lights up at your response. not when he’s holding a hand out for you to take. your cheeks grow warm (surprise, surprise) as you pause, taking in the sight of the kind man in front of you and his breathtaking smile, before reaching out to take his hand.

you’re hyper-aware of his fingers against yours as he gently guides you to the kitchen and can’t help the wave of disappointment that washes over you when he pulls away to drape his jacket over a bar chair and roll up his shirt sleeves. he motions you over to the table before turning away to grab a couple plates from the kitchen counter.

“so,” he begins as he places various dishes in front of you, “i normally use salt in just about every dish i make. it’s a flavor enhancer-- without it, most foods would taste flat and bland.” he places the last dish in front of you before straightening and flashing one of his brilliant smiles at you. (if you were in a cartoon, your heart would have just doki-doki-ed out of your chest.) “but there’s other ways to bring flavor into food, and there’s beauty in simple foods, too.”

you take in the various foods in front of you; each plate contains no more than maybe five spoonfuls of food, but there are so many. salads and soups and stews and snacks-- so many foods you hadn’t eaten since getting your powers. sanji pushes one of the plates closer to you-- a colorful pile of leafy greens and veggies, topped with what looks like olive oil and a freshly squeezed lemon wedge-- and takes the seat across from you. “salads, of course, are an easy answer. the best salads use fresh vegetables and high quality oil, and as long as you balance the flavors well, you won’t even miss the saltier ingredients like cheese.”

intrigued, you bring a forkful to your mouth, and-- wow. you never had been a huge fan of salads, especially since they now consisted of the majority of your meals, but this is easily the best salad you’ve ever had. you clean the plate within a couple seconds, much to sanji’s apparent delight.

and so he continues, explaining his reasoning behind each dish and watching intently as you practically inhale the food. “sanji,” you say in between dishes after what must have been over half an hour of food tasting, “this is amazing. i don’t think i’ve had food that tastes this good ever-- not even before i ate my devil fruit. i can’t believe you did all this for me.”

it’s his turn to blush at your words, and for some reason his bashfulness makes you feel embarrassed as well. you shut your mouth and look back down at the plate in front of you: cauliflower chunks he had coated in a spiced batter before frying and coating in a sauce made from nami’s tangerines. it’s true, though-- every single dish you had tasted had been phenomenal, so clearly made with kindness. you had resigned yourself to eating raw veggies for the rest of your life, and the fact that sanji had come up with a whole slew of meals that you could eat despite your power-induced diet, that too within a day of learning about it... no one had ever done something so thoughtful for you before.

your thoughts are interrupted by an unexpectedly acrid scent-- is something... burning? you look up from the plate, frowning, and almost immediately spot the smoking pan on the stove. “sanji! the pan!”

sanji, who had been staring at you with a dazed look in his eyes, seems to come to his senses with a few blinks. he glances backwards towards the stove and does a double-take in shock before leaping to his feet and rushing over to the burning pan. “merde! so sorry, love-- i must have forgotten to turn it off-- i was so excited to see your reaction--” he hisses suddenly, pulling his hand back with a jerk.

“sanji! did you burn yourself?” you’re on your feet, too, reaching his side within a blink of an eye. you take his hand in yours without hesitation, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“darling, you should stay back, the fire--”

within seconds, you’ve doused the stove in water using your free hand. you then turn your eyes back to sanji’s burn, frowning in concentration as you coat the reddening skin with your cold water. “it doesn’t look too bad,” you murmur, eyes locked on his wound, “but you should still have chopper check it out.”

“will do,” he responds softly, and you freeze-- his voice is so close. you were so close.

you look up, throat dry as you meet his eyes. you feel your cheeks heat up yet again, but you can’t bring yourself to step away-- you can’t bring yourself to move. “you should--” you stop to clear your throat-- “you should be more careful.”

“i always am, but something about you makes me forget where i am.” he must see the question in your eyes, because he quickly adds, “in a good way, of course.”

“yeah, um-- same,” you say intelligently.

he laughs at your response, eyes full of affection as they remain on you. “c’mon,” he says, softly tapping your cheek with his uninjured hand before stepping slightly away from you, “we still have a few dishes to go.”

gosh, you think, stunned in place as you watch him move back towards the table. this man is truly going to be the death of you.

[buckyalpine]

Missing 2

Here is a silly part 2 to the silly first fic here 

Fluff, Mob Bucky is an adorable goof, this is worse than the first fic okay. I’m openly acknowledging this is ridiculous and stupid but I’m posting it anyway. 

“Why the fuck is he still here” 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, watching him carefully, hating the way he moved with such suave. Who the fuck does he think he is?! It had been days of him coming around, pretending his intentions were innocent but Bucky knew better. He had been in the game long enough to be able to read someone's character. 

No.

There was nothing innocent about this. 

He was after his pretty baby and that wasn’t okay. 

“If you have such a problem with him, go do something about it” Sam snorted, watching the mob boss huff, shaking his head.

“I can’t just tell him to fuck off” Bucky grumbled, ready to give him the finger. “Even though he should, I don’t want him 10 feet near my princess” 

“I’m sure if you stare at him long enough, he’ll take the hint”

Bucky glared at him once more for good measure before smiling down at the purring ball of fur that pawed at his leg, demanding to be picked up. She had dragged your sweater into the room, dropping it by his feet, giving him a pointed look. 

“Hi baby” He picked up his sassy little fur baby, giving her a few kisses and scratching her head, cocking an eyebrow at her seeing the sweater she brought with her. “You miss her huh, maybe I should ask her out soon?”

“Merp” Alpine nudged her head against his chest while Sam shook his head, running a hand over his face. 

“For fucks sake, at least listen to the cat and ask her out” 

“He’s right” Steve smirked at his friend, snorting at the ridiculous sight of Bucky cooing at his cat, “Stop worrying about him and actually go ask her out”

Bucky thought for a moment, he had to do it right. You were sweet. Kind. Summer and flowers. His mind was all over the place, he couldn't stop thinking about you but would you even want to go out with someone like him? 

You sipped your tea, cozy in an oversized t-shirt and some fuzzy socks, snuggled under a blanket with your favorite tv show pulled up. You smiled sadly at the empty corner Alpine liked to snuggle in; even if she was with you for a few days, you missed her purrs and silky fur nuzzled against you. Then there was her owner. It shouldn’t have been legal for someone that attractive to have a cute white fluffy kitten, the combination of the two overloaded all your senses. Your mind continuously bounced between the both of them, not sure who you wanted to snuggle with more. Both with the same mischievous blue eyes and sassy attitude to match. You blinked hearing the doorbell ring; no one ever visited you at this hour. Then it rang again. 

You ran to your door, abandoning your tea and Netflix, squealing when you saw your sweet little fur baby sitting in a basket of red roses, a small note tucked onto the side. She hopped out of the basket and into your arms, nudging her nose onto yours. 

“Now how did you get here baby” you giggled, looking up to see a flustered Bucky on your drive way, waiting hopefully for you to read the note. You pulled the note out, smiling at the beautiful handwriting, biting back a smile as you read. 

Thank you for taking such good care of me, I missed you. I sleep in your sweater every single night. I wanted to see you again. 

-Alp 

PS: Will you go out on a date with my daddy?

You grinned, feeling your face heat up, looking up at the blushing mob boss. He made his way over while you kept Alpine tucked in your arms; the ball of fur making a show of snuggling in your hold. Bucky shook his head at his cat’s antics; if only he was as adorable as she was. 

“Sorry” Bucky blushed sheepishly, his heart racing when you took the basket of flowers and invited him inside. “I-I didn’t get to properly thank you for taking care of Alpine” 

“I was happy just to look after her” You smiled, feeling giddy over the fact that he was in your house again. “But I’d love to go out with you” 

That was all he needed to hear, kissing your cheek before leaving, his mind already thinking about where to take you. 

“I’ll see you soon doll” 

*****

Bucky made sure he gave you the sweetest date possible, taking you out to a quiet diner where he spent the evening looking at you with heart eyes. His heart fluttered over your sweetness and he had to mentally restrain himself from cupping your cheeks and kissing you every time you looked at him. What the hell was wrong with him. 

The first date turned into a second date. Then a third. Most recently, he invited you over so he could make you brunch and eat in the large patio in his garden. Bucky’s heart started tp leap again, looking at his pretty doll set out strawberries on a plate and carrying a jug of lemonade.  He didn’t know what to do with himself when you brought him flowers from your flower shop to brighten his home, he already knew he was going to keep that bouquet preserved forever. 

You both finished eating, curled up on Bucky’s couch for some cuddles, his hand softly stroking your hair, stopping abruptly when he saw movement by the window. You sat up when you felt his body stiffen, looking up to see him staring at someone through the window. 

“Fuck, he’s back again” His chest rumbled against you, moving you over as he stalked to the window, frowning. 

“Who” You couldn’t see anyone from where you were sitting, nearly collapsing on the floor when you joined Bucky’s side. Now you knew exactly where Alpine learned her dramatics. 

“Him” Bucky growled at a stray black cat that slinked around his garden, purring as soon as his green eyes landed on Alpine who was basking near the windowsill. 

“It’s a cat Bucky”

“That’s not a cat, that’s a punk” He narrowed his eyes at the cat while he sauntered over, his tail swishing about, gracefully hopping on the ledge, his nose nudging against the glass, right where Alpine sat. “She’s too good for you”

“Oh my god” You wheezed, shaking your head while Steve walked by, stopping when he saw Bucky by the window. It had become a weekly occurrence, he was used to the scene before him, not that it was ever any less ridiculous. 

“Is he beefing with the cat again” Steve snorted while you burst out laughing, looking at Bucky staring off with the cat, his precious baby tucked in his arms. 

“Does this happen often?”

“Mhm, has he given him the finger yet?” 

“Shut up Steve” 

“He just wants a home, I think it’s sort of sweet” You nudged Bucky while he shook his head. Your heart melted, looking at Alpine trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s hold, inching towards the black cat that sat outside who was peering into the warm house. 

“I don’t trust him” 

“C’mon, he’s a little like you” Bucky frowned at you while you giggled, cupping his  face, pulling him down to kiss his lips, smiling when you felt him melt into your hold, his hands coming down to hold your waist. “He’s just a little misunderstood. Handsome on the outside and sweet on the inside”

Bucky’s ears perked up, a smirk dancing on his lips, pulling you closer. 

“You think I’m handsome and sweet?” 

“Bucky!” You rolled your eyes, “That’s what you got from what I just said?” You squeaked when he lifted you in his arms, carrying you off to his room, deciding he’d deal with the punk outside later. There were more important things that required his attention. 

“We have all night, tell me more my pretty doll” 

A few years later *

“I told you Alp would be with the groomsmen” Sam grinned, holding the white ball of fluff while Steve stood by Bucky. Alpine purred, a large silky bow replacing her collar. 

“That’s only because y/n has Bucky jr. on her side” The black cat purred in your best friends arms, his green eyes blinking at Alpine and then at Bucky, a little bowtie around his neck. 

“She named him Toothless, not Bucky Jr” Bucky groaned, shaking his head at the green eyes that blinked at him, he may have given into you adopting him but he still didn’t fully trust his intentions. 

“You love him” You giggled at your soon to be husband, waiting for his lips to press onto yours, ready to start a new chapter together along with your fur babies. 

“Hm, not as much as I love you” He whispered, pulling you into his arms as soon as he’s told he can kiss the bride, pouring every ounce of his love into the kiss. 

Who would have thought his little fur baby going on an adventure would bring him the greatest love of his life. 

****

*Of course when he does propose to you, there’s basically two proposals. One is perfect, romantic, intimate. Just the two of you, his sweet words, soft kisses. It was beautiful and you loved it but he already had your heart when you first feel 4 little paws on the bed earlier that day, a wet nose nudging you awake. There’s a new note attached to her collar, not a whole lot written on it but the few words bring tears to your eyes. 

Will you be my mama? 

To which you immediately say yes and gasp when you see a little ring on Alpine’s collar. Bucky smiles by the door, striding over to pull you into his lap, his heart filling with warmth when you attack him with 100′s of kisses. 

Alpine purrs proudly; she always knew you’d be the perfect mommy for her daddy. 

Tags:

@glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury   @peaches1958   @spiderman-stilinski   @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut    @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl    @batprincess1013 @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant

[yuck-pfaugh]

Note: I'm writing this only because I haven't seen anyone else touch on these specific points. I'm not Māori, so my understanding may be mistaken; if so I would be very grateful for correction and elaboration from tangata whenua. (And I've only read Nona once so far, and we all know that's a scratch upon the surface of it.)

Tazmuir has received fandom flack for saying in interviews that Gideon and Harrow are both Māori without mentioning it in the text — which understandably reminds sf/f readers of a certain other author's tendency to dispose of the difficult bits outside the actual work. I think it is clear by now that the reason it wasn't dealt with explicitly earlier on is that Tazmuir sticks religiously (ahem) to the flawed and limited knowledge of her point-of-view characters, and in the Nine Houses they have no concept of pre-Resurrection races and ethnicities, because Jod has not allowed them knowledge of any world but his. (Besides, explaining Gideon's lineage in a Doylist aside would have been rather tricky without revealing, before their proper time in the narrative, juicy details about Jod himself.)

My prediction is that we will find out Anastasia was also Māori. Maybe, probably, from the same iwi as Jod and/or G1deon.

Which makes Harrow, her last descendent, Māori as well.

No matter how many generations separate them. No matter how much other blood.

"Mixed Māori" or "[percentage] Māori" is kind of a pākehā concept. The more important question is, do you whakapapa? Do you know who you are? Do you know where you come from? All it takes is one verified ancestor and you're in the club, no matter how long it's been or what brand of egg carton your skin looks like on the book cover. I think Harrow is descended not just from a line of Tomb-keepers but a line of kaitiaki, guardians of the land, who through Anastasia's private pact with Alecto are sworn to protect her — Papatūānuku, the earth mother born from salt water — and who have been holding on for ten thousand years to right Jod's wrongs. We know salt water is sacred to the line of the Ninth House; we know that Alecto was called "the saltwater creature"; we know that it's Nona's natural element, which calms and renews her; all this links Alecto/Earth specifically with Māori creation myths, more than any others. And we know that preserving the ancient bloodline of the Ninth, Anastasia's bloodline, in Harrow's own improbable and desperately yearned-for person (that Alecto can recognise at a taste), was the goal Pelleamena and Priamhark pursued at the cost of the Ninth House's entire future.

Yes, this series is portraying an indigenous man as the destroyer of Earth. We know that Earth chose him as her saviour and he betrayed her, imprisoned her, set himself up as master of an empire that was her antithesis, then imprisoned her again — arguably worse sins for someone who was born into that special relationship with the land, whom the Earth loved and trusted so much and still loves even now because love past understanding is her gift.

But here's the answer to that. Here's his opposite number. Harrow, who fell in love at first sight with the Earth, who found in that love her reason and her drive to continue living and to hold to her goals through intolerable trauma, who has a unique combination of bloodline and genius and Jod-and-Alecto-derived power (through her Lyctorhood with Kiriona Gaia, wherever that ends up going) with which to fulfill this sacred pact entered into by her tipuna Anastasia.

Harrow being Māori is not a trendy convenient afterthought. It's an integral point.

Harrow knows who she is. She knows where she comes from. She knows where she's going: Hell itself, to get to the bottom of all this shit. So I think we will be hearing more along these lines.

[novasintheroom]

A home for you and me

Combining these two asks since they both ask for the same line! Hope you don't mind <3

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 0.9k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: It's a new chapter in your lives.

Now part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3

It’s a hot day. Most people are avoiding the worst of it by staying indoors, where some have cooling vents from the Plant, and others just have shade.

Vash feels sweat drip down his back, his knuckles lightly cramping around the cloth handles for bags laden with food stuffs. He’s happy with the haul from the market. Fresh fruit and vegetables, with synthetic meat that didn’t look too grey. This town really was a good place to settle down. He’ll have to tell you again when he gets home.

Home.

What a strange concept. Over one-hundred and fifty years on No Man’s Land, and Vash could hardly call any place truly home. Sure, there’s the ship, Home. Luida and Brad are wonderful. But he never wanted to overstay his welcome there, always leaving within a few days to hoof it once again across the deserts and try to repent for his wrongs. And always being on the run as either an outlaw or just an unwanted or unwelcome stranger made it impossible to settle down anywhere.

Until now.

Home comes into view as he rounds a corner. Sitting along a row of similar houses, it’s small, built of metal and rock and precious few beams of wood to bend in the desert winds. Three painted pots sit near the door – a craft you’d insisted on doing to help brighten the outside with more than oranges and browns. The string lights sway in the slight breeze over the doorway, waiting to turn on once the suns dip lower and the shadows come.

Someone might say it’s not much. But give them a century of travel, and it’ll become the best thing a man has seen.

His left hand turns the handle of the door – unlocked, you probably saw him coming through the window – and goes inside.

He only has a moment to hear your squeal and drop the groceries before you launch yourself at him. He catches you, feels your legs wrap around his waist to keep yourself locked in place. He is pummeled by your lips on his jaw, his neck, his cheeks. “Mayfly – !” He’s already overheated, but this is making it worse. “What are you – “

“I’m so happy we have a house!” You exclaim, planting a big kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m so happy you get to get groceries!”

Ah, zoomies. You’d been doing this lately, just too happy to have a house to do anything but run around or kiss him. He lets out a laugh, pulling you into a hug to stop your onslaught. “Can I at least shut the door before you decide to pounce on me the moment I come home?” He walks into the hallway, gently kicking the door closed behind.

You snort and pull back with a look. “You know you love it.”

He hums. “I’m sure the neighbors love it too,” he says. Still, he leans forward and catches your lips in a full kiss.

When you pull back, you finally put your feet back to the floor and stoop down to gather the grocery bags. “C’mon, I’ve been rearranging the furniture and I need to get your opinion. Oh, also, one of the neighbors came by and gave us a casserole! Isn’t that weird? She was super nice, though. I think she said she lives a few doors down, but I’ll have to check again. I think she has those two teenage boys that we saw walking earlier. Looked a lot like her!”

You wander down the hall, expecting him to follow at your heels, just like when you travelled. But Vash has to take a moment. You’re carrying groceries instead of supplies for camp. There’s food in the house, a place to safely lay your heads. You cut a beautiful figure, knocking into the corner as you go to the kitchen with what he brought home. Already trusting he got the right supplies, that this is going to work. You want him to look at the furniture.

You pop your head back in the hall when he doesn’t immediately show up. Your face falls, and you’re rushing to him. “Birdie, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” You reach up, and Vash is surprised to feel tears being wiped away. He hadn’t known he was crying. “Did something happen at the market?”

Vash takes a moment to rein it in. Then he pulls you into a tight hug, a watery laugh spilling out. “I’m just…really glad we have a home.”

You coo and rub his back. It still has all the scars and metal plates under the shirt. All the reminders of where he’s been, what he’s gone through. You feel your own tears prick in your eyes. What you would give to make that go away. But it’s what made him the man he is today, and you wouldn’t have him any other way. Your sweet man. You rock him side to side with your feet and whisper, “Me too, sweetheart.”

Vash sniffles into your shoulder, glasses pressed into the crook of your neck. Then he pulls away, sighing and wiping his eyes. “Alright, alright, I’m done.” He laughs. Then, looking down, he asks, “One more kiss? Please?”

With a smile, you say, “See? I knew you loved it.” You go to your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

[lover-of-mine]

Me? Wanting to talk about the locker room scene in comparison to the cemetery scene to make a point no one asked about? Raise your hand if you saw this is coming 🙋‍♀️

Anyway, this is madness written by a gifmaker/video editor who hates coloring the cemetery scene with a burning passion and who spent the better part of the past 2 days trying to make a coloring work for the locker room scene, who also did some asking around with other editors who also seem to be having issues with the scene, and who spends way too much time thinking about Buck and death (someone drown that man, please).

I'm gonna start this off by saying that I don't really believe the cemetery scene will be directly addressed on the show no matter how much I wish it would. But something about the cemetery scene besides the actual content of the scene that keeps me up at night and had me writing multiple fics dealing with it, is the fact that the sky is only blue behind Eddie.

Why is that relevant in any way, shape, or form? The colors when the focus is on Buck or both of them have this almost yellowish tone that the focus on Eddie doesn't have. The sky and colors strongly imply that they added a filter to it in post-production to ensure the colors looked like that, along with the fact that it is a scene that's really weird to color something that happens when they go too hard on the filters *cough* crossover *cough* pilot *cough*. What does that have to do with the locker room? The locker room also has this almost yellowish tone that makes it hell to color. But based on my 2 days of testing different colorings and techniques, it seems to be a hell of a lot worse when the shot has that wall over there where the sun is hitting as a background.

That suggests that they wanted the scenes to have a specific lighting that they achieved later. Considering the way that the tendency of the cemetery is that the colors get muted or weirdly blended together and that the locker room goes YELLOW, I am assuming that they messed with the colors on the cemetery to make the colors look faded, giving it that gloomy feeling, which in turn made the sky almost white, and that they needed that sunlight reflecting on the wall to look that bright, which made the scene look a lot more yellow than it should. Seriously, trying to work this out I legit make it look like Buck is a Simpsons character.

Okay, but Anna, why did you make this particular connection? Well, the word is muted when Buck is talking about starting to date Natalia and then the sun gets brighter when he talks about them breaking up? COME ON. He's calling the relationship boring and the word literally gets brighter as he says it, madness.

Buck talking about dating Natalia -> Buck talking about breaking up with Natalia (please don't judge the gifs I don't want the stress of coloring them combined right now lol)

But that's the same reaction. Dude is smiling going in, he's smiling going out.

And considering Buck's relationship with his own death and the way I strongly believe that what drew him to Natalia was the fact that she didn't think his death was a tragedy and he wasn't ready to deal with the reality of had happened to him yet, to get him to the point where death is boring is progress. Makes me fear for my Buck breakdown wishes, but it is progress for that particular aspect of Buck, considering he has a very intricate relationship with death down to the fact he was born as a hail mary to prevent it. We have multiple near-death experiences, we have him saving the lives of people loves multiple times, the first time we see him he's saving a kid who drowned, his first big conflict is the fact that he's not handling not being able to save someone's life all that well, I can keep going, but you see my point, right?

The arc with Natalia, even though we didn't see the originally planned conclusion since the actress couldn't come back, had this point of Buck looking at what happened to him through the eyes of someone who didn't know him before and was actually excited about that happening, so he could distance himself from what happened and look at it from a "safe" distance. That distance also allowed him to ignore the very important "I need to do this for myself" thing from the coma dream because Buck is terrified of being alone, and that definitely includes the fear of finding out who he is by himself. Buck is bad at being alone, from meaningless sex, to hanging on to Abby too long, to hanging on to Taylor too long, to jumping in with Natalia, the first pretty girl who looked his way, it all makes this part of him very clear (parenthesis because I just had a thought, yes, Buck latches on to Taylor out of fear of being alone triggered by Eddie almost dying, but he thought he could have died himself considering the crane and everything about it and also the way he could very much have been shot at the same time as Eddie, he latched on to Natalia because he did die, he also almost died on his first date with Abby and Abby actually reached out to him when he was feeling all sorts of bad over someone dying, and he is held at gunpoint and watched a death that deeply affected him before he started dating Ali, so we have death as a connection here too, if that makes sense, I might have to come back to this thought later).

But the thing is, when you look at 6a for Buck considering the fact that Buck is passively suicidal, in a very I'm not trying to get killed but I don't think I don't care if I do die way, and how he probably thought he was going to die in a blaze of glory saving someone, and how he actually died in a pretty run-of-the-mill call, by something no one has any control over it, Buck's relationship with what he thought death was and would be for him changed. For one, Buck was not ready for how much it affected everyone around him, he never considered what the grief of losing him would do to the people he loves, but also, Buck's main excuse for his near-death experiences/impulsive behavior that puts him in mortal danger was "but I didn't actually die" like with the blood clots or "I didn't get the worst of it" like with the shooting, I think even the tsunami a little bit with how he felt about losing Chris. But he did actually die, and considering the fact that he went up that ladder when Chimney was ready to go up and Eddie also got hit by the lightning, he also got the worst of it. So he lost his own coping mechanism.

So he arrived at a point where death is boring and he is smiling like an idiot at Eddie welcoming him "back to the world of the living" and that could have fun implications going forward. Because, one, he still hasn't dealt with a big emotion in a healthy way, and two, Bobby is in mortal danger. Considering his reaction to Bobby being dead in his coma world and the fact that he has no coping mechanism left when it comes to death anymore along with his own relationship with water and danger we could have some fun reactions to these types of triggers for him there.

And thinking about the way Oliver keeps talking about Buck learning more about himself and also about Buck leaning on Eddie, someone who had his own journey dealing with multiple layers of his relationship with death, they have a fun space to play with there, with Buck's relationship with death, Eddie's relationship with Buck's death, and everything else that could happen with Eddie fully dealing with Shannon's death, and Buck dealing with anything really, Daniel, his own death, his fear of being alone, all as someone who actually wants to live, who's not just moving because he's alive and has no other alternative.

That's it for today, as always, if you reached this I love you 💜

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Lost son of catbat au where Danny learns who his bio parents are and freaks out. Batman was notoriously observant and would find him out in a heartbeat. Not to mention if it came to a custody battle he would win against the Fentons easily, or worse, someone would get overshadowed and the situation could get messy.

Batman might also seek ways to control or contain him which was terrifying. He spent his entire life feeling like he was in a cage, trapped by his adoptive parents. He didn't have many friends because his parents would scare people off with thier high tech weapons and neon jumpsuits and the ones that did stay...well they did more than look down the barrel of the sci-fi guns they touted, even if they were only covered in goo, getting shot at must be a traumatic experience. The rest of the time he felt like he was trying to creep across landmines without setting them off.

No one wanted his parents undivided attention not even thier children. That combined with the fact his house was mixed with a lab resulted in it being a giant cluster of Osha violations. Opening the fridge was dangerous long before the portal opened and the food inside it would come to life, this was because they often stored dangerous and volatile chemicals inside of it and something as small as the light bulb flicking on inside could cause something to explode.

Danny had never felt safe in his house. Tuckers place had always been his safe haven and his parents had practically raised him as thier own. Thank the Ancients for Mr and Mrs Foley. He didn't know where he would be without them. This, of course, changed after the accident. Now he didn't feel safe anywhere.

After six months with his powers he began making contingency plans for everything. His friends called him paranoid but were forced to eat thier words not even a three days later when one stopped a new ghost from taking over the city.

Danny had always been good at making plans when he actually had time to sit down and think things through. He was also excellent at sneaking around and stealing. Now he knew why.

He might not want anything to do with his parents but he very much wanted more siblings. Jazz was great but she helped raise him since she was a baby. She felt way more like a mom than a sister. Dani was self explanatory. It hurt him to know that his siblings didn't know about him-couldn't know about him.

That is, until Red Hood appeared on the scene. At this point Danny had given up on his human life and found he had so much more free time. Sure he was technically still going to school, but that was to fight ghosts, he didn't attend classes. He set up alliances with other ghosts in the zone to help defend his territory and now Amity Park had a thiving ghostly undercity that few of the living knew about.

Danny finally had time to himself, even though Sam hated it. She kept telling him it was wrong. This was a hot topic of debate between him, Sam and Tucker with the boys both against her. Sure, watching the people who took him in and -well, not raise him exactly but fed and clothed him for years- drive around the city desperatly calling his name did make him feel kinda crappy.

Red Hood gave him hope. He was estranged from Bruce but was still his brother. Jackpot! Plus he was older than him and a known killer, so he wasn't likely to tattle on him to the big bad bat about Danny making Vlad "disappear" a few months ago. Hood made people disappear all the time so who was he to judge anyway?

Still, he could admit just showing up unannounced in his apartment was kinda dangerous. There was no garentee Hood would shoot him, brother or not. I mean, he's been violent with Robin lately and no one knows why, and he's thier brother.

Just as he was about to talk himself out of this and go back to his own city he heard the tell tale click of a gun. Crap.

"So, who are you?" Hood asked, seemingly aloof even while being confronted with a stranger breaking into his home.

Danny nervously gestured to the cookies he had made for them, "If i tell you will you promise not to tell Batman?"

[m00nsbaby]

Heartbreak feels so good.

Jake Lockley + Khonshu x F! Reader.

Tags & warnings. Mentions of violence and being hurt, angst, mentions of kidnapping, cursing.

Word count. 4.7

Summary. He left as quickly as he appeared in your life.

No, in fact, you took it upon yourself to remove him from it, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of him.

You never regretted it; your love was never above your morals, and you could live with that even on days when it felt like your heart had been ripped out of your chest. But there was something about the nights that made you miss him more.

The way the moonlight bathed you through the window was a constant reminder that it wasn't just your imagination trying to save you from your impending loneliness. He had cradled you in his arms, or perhaps, you had cradled him in yours, who knows.

Now, you were left with a life without them.

Without him.

Not waking up to the sound of your alarm was a strange way to start the day, not as strange as the rest was going to be, but it was quite fitting for the situation.

The headache came in stabbing waves, and opening your eyes was the icing on the cake, although fortunately, everything was dark. Had your nap gotten out of hand? It wouldn't be the first time you slept for 24 hours straight.

Everything was relatively calm, with one tiny detail you noticed after a few seconds. You weren't in your room.

In fact, you had no idea where you were.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit." you whispered as you pushed the sheets over your body. A sharp pain ran through your entire leg, combined with one on the opposite side, at the level of your ribs. "Shit!" you said again, this time with a slightly louder tone.

This should be the part where you cried; your mind immediately went to the most logical conclusion at the moment: years of walking around the city at night with your headphones on had led to this, a kidnapping.

A pretty stupid kidnapping if you thought about it because many of your things were still in your pocket – your phone, headphones, some crumpled dollars. On the bureau across the room, some of your belongings were resting too; you recognized your purple folder decorated with stickers, but it seemed to have barely survived as it looked more damaged than usual.

You also took a moment to look at yourself. You were wearing only a long T-shirt that wasn't yours, way too big for your body, but it gave you the freedom to notice that your ankle and leg were bandaged, and you could also feel the slight pressure of the fabric around your ribs.

"You woke up." You almost screamed in fear when a figure that you could barely distinguish appeared at the door, speaking with a curious accent.

Of course, your first reaction was to grab the first thing you could find and throw it with all the force you could muster, considering your broken leg and ribs. He barely managed to raise his hands to shield himself from the glass of water that shattered into a thousand pieces on the floor.

Jake had forgotten how much things hurt when he wasn't wearing the suit.

"Ouch! Okay, okay, okay, I understand!" He raised both hands in a gesture of innocence, taking a step back but staying close to the door frame. "I get it, really! You're scared, it's weird, I know, I know, just let me… No!"

There went his favorite lamp. And worse, it didn't even serve as defense because you ended up groaning in pain, clutching your ribs.

"Please, stop throwing things!" Jake looked sadly at the broken lamp for a few seconds before looking at the empty space in the room. He stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he were listening to someone.

He nodded silently to nothing and then sighed.

Great, you got kidnapped by a crazy person.

"Just let me explain, okay?" He didn't want to intimidate you further, although he doubted it was even possible. He crouched down to pick up the three pieces into which the object had shattered; the last thing he needed now in his apartment was this mess. "Please."

You had seen enough movies to know that sometimes the best option for survival was to be kind.

"Okay." It was the only thing you said as you tried your best to sit on the bed in a more comfortable position.

"Have you heard of that strange vigilante with the white suit and ridiculous cape…"

If only you had heard Khonshu's reaction as he cursed Jake from the corner of the room.

"Well, not so ridiculous cape, who's been on the streets for a few months?"

You pursed your lips and had to force yourself to continue the conversation. Of course, you knew him; you sometimes shared photos of him on the internet, the few that were available and of poor quality. You even remembered commenting "He's so fucking cool!!!" on some fan page.

Those with at least 15 followers.

"Yeah, the one who looks like a mummy on steroids."

"Wow, that's new."

"What does he have to do with you kidnapping me?"

"You're not kidnapped."

"I can't leave."

"Technically, no."

"Then I am kidnapped."

Jake sighed, giving up.

"It was an accident; you ended up in the middle of one of his missions by mistake. You got injured, although you probably already felt that."

"And that's why you kidnapped me?"

"Ay por dios." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You have a broken leg, you twisted your ankle, and you have some broken ribs. I couldn't leave you like that; you lost consciousness quickly."

You nodded slowly; it was clear you weren't convinced yet.

"So you just decided to be a good Samaritan? You could have taken me to the hospital, you know, instead of kidnapping me."

"They'll ask questions at the hospital, and that will lead to the police. I couldn't take you there."

"Plus, I don't have medical insurance."

"Well, I didn't know that, but it's one more point in my favor."

"It's still not a good enough excuse to…"

"You're not kidnapped!" His accent became more noticeable as he lost his patience; that was interesting.

"So, the masked guy is an idiot who leaves the injured because of him to their fate."

You didn't have the strength or energy to argue anymore; this whole situation was a joke without humor, although it didn't sound so impossible.

You once read about someone who wanted to sue Spider-Man for the same thing. Or had it been Daredevil? Too much pain in your body and too many superheroes with red suits.

"Technically, no."

"Technically, yes."

"He's taking responsibility for what he did."

Your eyes met his, and he cleared his throat.

"You're lying; you just don't want me to scream or call the police."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Prove it."

The last thing you saw before losing consciousness for the second time in 24 hours was the shining white ceremonial suit in the darkness, with a faint glow that seemed to emanate from it.

The good side was that technically, you weren't kidnapped.

The second time you woke up wasn't as difficult as the first. The headache had almost completely faded, and at least now you had a clearer context of where you were, partially, but less lost than before.

"Hello again." Jake looked at you from a chair next to the bed, holding a book that he was frowning at. He looked like a child who had discovered that not all books have pictures.

"I feel like I've been run over by a steamroller," you whispered without moving from your spot.

Jake thought about how lucky you were not to see Khonshu; otherwise, you would have woken up with a giant beak in front of your face and two empty eye sockets examining you.

"You'll feel better someday," he joked, flipping a page.

"So, this is your fault?"

"Technically," that damn word again, "it's your fault for not watching where you walk."

"You're an idiot," you said, eyes closed, not raising your voice.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." It wasn't fine; you were in the most bizarre situation you had ever experienced. "At least did you stop the bad guy?"

"I killed him, actually."

You opened one eye and looked at him. He looked back at you.

"I was kidding."

"To joke, you have to be funny."

Khonshu laughed, and Jake wished he could rip his own ears off; it was a sound he hadn't liked for some time now.

"I'm Jake Lockley." The boy leaned slightly to offer his hand in greeting. "You don't have to tell me your name; I read all your papers. The ones that survived."

"My backpack?"

"Didn't make it."

"That hurts more than my leg." You confessed, bringing both hands to your face. "Or my ribs."

"I'll get you another one."

"I don't want another, Jake Lockley." You still had your face covered with your hands. "I want to cry."

"You can do it, I won't judge you."

"It's me who's judging you." Your voice broke within seconds; the fatigue was finally starting to hit. "Why couldn't Spider-Man rescue me?" The sob you let out was ridiculous to Jake, who had to contain himself from laughing.

"I'll get you an aspirin." He placed the book on the bed, getting up from his chair. "Do you like juice?"

"Pineapple," you replied between sobs.

Jake left the room with a smile on his face, while Khonshu, in complete silence, continued to watch you.

By the third day, you had already assimilated many things. The main one was that, according to the internet, broken ribs take approximately 6 weeks to heal, a sprained ankle takes 12 weeks, and the legs, if lucky, take less than 8 weeks. So, you were looking at a minimum of 6 weeks there before Jake would agree to let you go.

The logical part of you eventually accepted the deal; you knew you didn't have family or close friends who could take care of you now that you could barely move.

"Are you comfortable?" He placed you on the individual sofa in his small living room and arranged the cushions around you to avoid any discomfort.

That was something you had gotten used to, being carried by him, having his hand around your waist while he helped you walk to the bathroom, and his scolding in Spanish when you tried to move on your own.

"Maybe if you had done it shirtless, it would have been more fun."

"Que graciosa." He rolled his eyes as he handed you the TV remote. It was rare for him to be home at this hour, but you didn't mind the company.

He sat on the larger sofa, ready to watch whatever you chose. Of course, you didn't stay quiet for long.

"How does your suit work?"

"Nanotech."

"Bullshit. Why would you have a nanotechnology cape?"

"It's a complicated explanation."

"I have time. About 1,008 hours."

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Sometimes more."

"There's a God involved. Khonshu, the Egyptian god of the moon."

You nodded in silence, watching him attentively. At this point, it was probably impossible for any regular citizen dealing with superhero stuff all week to be surprised by any kind of story.

"He saved me." Thankfully, Marc couldn't hear this, or he would beat up his own body to hear such nonsense. "I work for him, he granted me the healing suit and all that." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"So, you can see him?"

"More than I'd like, yes." He didn't let you ask more; he spoke quickly when he noticed your intentions to dig further into the story. "Do you like instant noodles?"

"I love them." You watched him closely as he stood up from the sofa.

As he passed by you on his way to the kitchen, you stretched a bit to take Jake's hand and stop him.

Your request for a glass of pineapple juice was completely silenced by Khonshu's voice.

Hathor. It resonated in his ears.

It lasted a few seconds, but Jake felt suffocated. At least 3 different images, and in all of them, you were there. Or so it seemed; your clothes didn't match anything he had seen before, and the only clue he got about what was happening were the angles from which he saw you.

In the last one, you were underneath him, or so it seemed.

Then, an overwhelming feeling of sadness flooded his chest.

"Jake?"

"Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"Deja vu," he said, blinking a couple of times. He let go of your hand and hurried to the kitchen, trying to distance himself from you as much as his small apartment allowed him.

You were sitting on the neatly made bed, wearing a dress you didn't love, especially when it revealed the bandages decorating your leg. But it had been Jake's choice, who decided after a week that maybe you couldn't live solely in his shirts.

However much he liked how petite it made you look.

He seemed so excited about the idea of getting clothes for you that you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You hummed softly as you browsed through your music library when the bedroom door opened. You didn't expect Jake back so early.

"You came back quickly. What were you—" When you looked up, you fell completely silent.

That was Jake, but he wasn't?

His expression was tenser, so was his posture, but more importantly, his iris had a bright white color, except for the outer circle.

Something in your mind clicked immediately. Was this what he meant when he told you that Khonshu wanted to meet you? If it wasn't for the obvious, you'd think this was some kind of prank. You were never a person sensitive to the supernatural, but you could swear that the entire energy of the place changed as soon as he appeared.

"Is that you?" You whispered as he took steps closer to the bed. He was examining you, just as he had been doing since you arrived, but this was the first time you could feel it.

He nodded silently.

"Thank you for saving me." You smiled, which sent a shiver down the god's spine. "Jake told me it was you who asked him to do it, so thank you."

He sat on the bed, right by your side, and you moved your phone aside to show that he had your full attention.

"What were you doing?" Just when you thought Jake's voice couldn't get any deeper, Khonshu managed to surprise you. His voice sounded like it had an extra layer of depth.

"Listening to music, waiting for Jake to come." Your eyes were focused on his, and no matter how much you wanted to look away, it was physically impossible, as if they had a magnet that instantly drew you back to them.

"There?" He was aware of the technological advancements of humans, but both Steven and Marc had the most basic phones one could find nowadays.

You nodded, chuckling softly as you took your earphones to carefully put one in his ear and the other in yours.

"Wanna try?"

He nodded, silently.

"I'm going to press play, okay? So you won't be caught off guard." For a moment, he felt stupid because someone… No, not someone, a human was treating him like he was made of glass.

He didn't complain, especially when the music began to play.

The cable of the earphones kept you close, and you stared as he closed his eyes. His brow furrowed unconsciously; there was something new and intense about listening to music that way.

It felt so intimate and sounded so clear that Khonshu was reminded of the wonders humans were capable of.

Flashbacks, just like the ones Jake had experienced a few days earlier, flooded him. In these flashbacks, a beautiful young woman spun around him, dancing with complete joy, making him laugh and follow her clumsily.

"Hathor, that's enough." He didn't recognize his own voice inside his head. The girl took his hand, and he held it steady so she could twirl around on her own axis, her hair going everywhere as the music filled both of their ears. "Isn't it wonderful, Khonshu?" It was like listening to you. "The music?" "You are wonderful, my dear." His human body responded in amusing ways to the girl, blushing his cheeks and feeling what some called butterflies in his stomach.

The memory disappeared before he could receive a kiss from his beloved.

He blinked rapidly when he opened his eyes, trying to bring himself back to the reality where you were looking at him, with a million questions in your head.

"Dear?" He murmured one last time before his daydream vanished. In a matter of seconds, he stood up, causing you to startle in surprise.

"Khonshu?" Your voice mixed with hers in his mind, sounding almost identical. The corporeal being increased the intensity of everything by 200%, and it almost made the human body he had borrowed faint.

He fled from you, fled from the house.

And Jake never told you that accepting Khonshu into his body to let him get close to you felt like having his bones broken one by one, making him feel claustrophobic and disgusted.

In the second week, there was a moment when you momentarily thought you were in the presence of Khonshu because of the expression on Jake's face.

He looked upset, scared, and anxious, all bundled up together. It was 3 in the morning, and you were on your second glass of water while leaning against the kitchen counter, still sore but becoming easier to bear.

"I thought you wouldn't come today," you whispered with a faint smile as he got rid of his cap, letting it fall anywhere in the living room. He didn't respond, following you into the kitchen and looking at you intently for a few seconds.

Up close, you could see that his eyes were red and irritated.

You didn't say anything when he hugged you. Not even when he squeezed you in his arms, causing your ribs to ache. You just raised a hand and gently ran your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort.

It was only then that you noticed Jake was trembling.

"And is your job to be a vigilante?"

"My job is to obey Khonshu." He rolled his eyes, certain that you had had this conversation on previous occasions. He could hear the cereal crunching in your mouth as he waited for his to soften with the milk.

Steven deprived him of the few pleasures in life he could have, without even knowing it. Unfortunately, real milk was one of them.

"And what do you do for him?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"How can you eat the cereal like that? Doesn't it feel like it's scraping your palate?"

"How can you eat it when it turns into a thick, disgusting soup?"

"Good point." He took a spoonful of his cereal. It was just right.

"In the daylight, you look completely different."

"How so?"

"I don't know, you just do."

Jake didn't say it out loud, but it was quite funny considering that he was, in fact, someone quite different, or something quite similar.

"How's your leg doing? Do you think it's getting better?" An expert at changing the subject.

"I think so. Some days it hurts a lot, but it's only been two weeks and a few days."

"Are you counting the days to leave?"

"Yes." You pursed your lips, and Jake looked away before you could correct yourself. "Because I don't want to leave."

Since you arrived, you took over Jake's bed against your will. He insisted on sleeping on a sad inflatable mattress that squeaked every time he moved.

One early morning, you felt the mattress sink beside you, and you didn't even have time to be startled because the scent of your temporary roommate's cologne filled your lungs in a matter of seconds.

"Are you okay?" You whispered without turning to look at him, keeping your eyes closed even when you felt him wrap an arm around your waist. "Okay, you can sleep here then," you continued when you received no response to your first question.

He pulled you closer to his body, and you didn't protest; instead, you turned to bury yourself in his chest, seeking more of his warmth. It seemed the pain was more bearable when your muscles warmed up.

Jake moved away from you, just enough to see your face.

You opened your eyes as he held your chin and gently pulled it to bring you closer to him. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes again were those enormous white irises fixed on you.

He kissed you. He kissed you until your lips hurt, and your chin from the firmness of his grip. But you didn't want to pull away; there was something so familiar about his lips that you wondered if it was because they were actually Jake's lips or if there was something more that you weren't understanding.

You could swear he caressed and kissed you for hours, although the next day you had no evidence to confirm whether it was a memory or a strange dream.

"Have you ever considered quitting?" You stirred your cereal in your plate, refusing to look up at him.

By week number 4, your encounters with Jake had become increasingly rare. He was quiet, distant, never with you, but more aggressive than usual, and his shirts filled the washing machine with blood, making you feel nauseous from time to time.

Wasn't the suit supposed to be worn during his missions? What kind of missions was he taking?

"Quit?" he echoed.

"To stop working for him." You felt uncomfortable mentioning his name after countless nights spent kissing, of which you weren't even sure if Jake was aware because he never brought it up.

He was aware. How could he not be when every night he felt physically and emotionally crushed?

"I can't do that." And he was right. If it were up to him, he would flee without caring about the consequences, but Jake was there for the sake of Marc and Steven. He had no problem with his efforts going unrecognized by them; he knew they were better off not knowing he existed.

"Why?" You gently lifted his chin with your fingers, making him look at you. It was a way to remind him that he wasn't alone, that you were there.

"I can't," he repeated softly. He closed his eyes, resting his chin against your hand as a puppy would.

You leaned in and, this time, when the edge of the table pressed against your ribs, it didn't hurt as much. You kissed the boy's lips.

"It's killing you." It was the last thing you said before getting up to collect the almost full plates from the table.

Jake had a kind of day off as your stay was coming to an end. Your body was hardly hurting anymore, and for several days, you could walk on your own. Now, all that was left was to enjoy your last time there, and you were doing just that.

Your legs were resting on top of Jake's while you both watched a silly program about people addicted to eating strange things.

"You should be on there for eating softened cereal," you said, trying not to laugh as your cheek was pressed against his chest, his arm around your shoulders.

"And you should be there for drinking pineapple juice like it's water; that stuff is going to kill you," he retorted, rolling his eyes but laughing.

"I'll die happy," you clarified, clearing your throat after a moment of silence to get his attention. "Jake?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want to go."

"Then don't go."

"You know I can't do that." And yes, he knew. He knew you couldn't stay in his apartment forever and that even if you continued whatever you had, there was no guarantee you would still be interested in him from a different perspective.

How would you react to knowing about Marc and Steven? Or about the things he did at night when his hands were stained with blood?

"You won't push me away, will you?" Jake had never heard himself so vulnerable, but a few days ago, he had realized that it was worth lowering his guard when it came to you. "I don't want to be alone."

"I won't, Jake." You whispered with a small smile, extending your pinkie finger to him.

He intertwined his pinkie with yours, trying not to laugh.

"Pinkie promise," you said, squeezing his pinkie with yours.

You didn't find out what happened on the show beyond that person who ate dressing with everything. You were too distracted by Jake's lips to pay attention to anything else.

For the fourth mental breakdown of Jake that you had to witness, you were fed up. Not with him, not with the repeated breakdowns, but with knowing that it was Khonshu who was tearing him apart. Sometimes physically, always mentally.

"You have to let him go," you said as soon as you saw him enter through the door, his white irises betraying that you were speaking to whom you wanted to talk.

"I can't," his voice echoed in your head, you were so used to hearing him whisper or not speak at all that it took you by surprise, indeed.

"Set him free, Khonshu." Your tone was threatening. Poor foolish girl, just because the deity never showed you what he was capable of didn't mean you were an exception. His rules were always fulfilled, for better or worse.

To him, your voice also merged with that of his former beloved.

"You're killing him." Your hands pushed him in the chest, you couldn't remember ever feeling so angry before, it burned inside you.

He didn't flinch.

"Dear…"

"I'm not her!" You exploded after a few seconds. "I'm not Hathor!"

"I'm not going to free Jake, we have a deal."

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid deal. He deserves to be free."

"You know nothing about him." His body leaned slightly to look at you, he tapped your nose. It was a condescending gesture, making you feel like a little child. "He's a broken man, my dear," he continued before you could correct him. "Even if I set him free, he would never be happy with that. He is created to protect other lives, not to live his own, do you understand?"

His tone was so calm that it scared you, but you didn't back down.

"And what do you know about being happy, huh?"

Oh, you were going to hit below the belt.

"You lost the one you loved, and you will never get her back." You spat the words without looking away. "No one will ever care about you again."

Lie. Lie. In fact, he had managed to convince you that you could be devoted to him in a short time, but Jake had become your priority even faster.

"You are free to leave." He swallowed hard, but the carefree expression on his face didn't vanish. There was still something more painful about it, as if it were Jake himself telling you this. "You're just a weakness for him, it's better if you go now before it's too late."

The eighth week was spent in your home, your empty and cold apartment that suddenly felt so unfamiliar to you.

Every morning, you would watch your cereal soften with the milk until it became repulsive. Apparently, your appetite had vanished without warning.

You avoided touching your phone because every time it was on, you would find missed messages and calls from Jake. Did you miss him? With every bone in your body, but you couldn't live knowing that Jake was slowly being torn apart, it wouldn't be good for you.

You simply hoped that he had found your note saying goodbye and thanking him, and every night you prayed to the moon that he was okay. That he wasn't hurt, that he would find a way out of where he was.

Perhaps that way, both of you could be happy together.

The truth was that you left him shattered. He questioned himself a million times about what he had done wrong and why you had suddenly fled without letting him know. Every night, his heart ached, and coming back to his apartment was the worst part of the day. He had never noticed how lonely and dark it was until you were gone. Whenever possible, he tried to locate you with his phone, and sometimes he read your old messages where you asked him to bring something special for dinner or simply more of the pineapple juice on different occasions. Although he supposed, based on your words in the letter, that you had left thinking you were doing him a favor, the truth was that he had never felt so lost.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 35

PREV

"Andrew, wake up." Andrew felt a hand on his shoulder and he lashed out as he always did. He found himself rocketing towards consciousness as he heard Neil's pained grunt. Panic lances through him as he realizes what he had hit instead of the intruder and he's glad they compromised when he and Neil had started to sleep in the same bed.

Andrew pulls Neil in closer to protect him even as Neil groans at the sudden jolting movement.

He needs to get-

"I already moved your secret pillow knife Andrew." The intruder says as Andrew's hand grasps at nothing. He has a second one but the intruder is now armed and Neil-

"Erik and the Hans Moretti Sword Box are the only combination of me, another guy, and blades being stabbed at me that I will accept. Now, wake up." The familiar sounding intruder says.

Andrew blinks awake.

Nicky's frowning face is staring down at him.

"I need to borrow the Maserati, or you need to drive me to Abby's house. Right now." Nicky says without a hint of the fear.

Or, at least, not fear of Andrew.

"What's wrong with Smith?" he asks holding out his hand for his pilfered knife as he rubs Neil's side where he had lashed out instinctively.

Nicky looks at him for a long moment before handing the knife back to Andrew, "There's...I just feel like something isn't right. I want to be there with him, I shouldn't have left him there." Nicky says.

Andrew didn't disagree.

FF had been relaxed and at ease, drinking the disgusting smoothie that Kevin had forced on him, and Andrew had noticed a hint of a smile on his friend's face.

Then that fuckface showed up and FF had looked worse than when Andrew had stabbed him. He still remembered the garbage that piece of shit had spewed and Andrew hated knowing things about his friend that his friend hadn't told him.

Hated that his brain could piece moments that made a horrible amount of sense now. FF staring at his car the first time before climbing in, how he had requested that Andrew focus on the road, Nicky looking at all of them exasperated "Smithy was going to walk back", and-

“See, you’re still upset over what that guy did. Why are you clinging to the last name of the guy that did this to you?” Fuckface asks from behind them, “He almost killed mom and you. He did kill our two-“

"Stop."

Andrew makes himself stop thinking about it. It wasn't something FF wanted to talk about.

"The keys are where I always put them." he says because he thinks if he gets out of bed he might go hunt fuckface for sport. The thought of seeing fuckface's well fucking face as he hits him with the Maserati is not a bad one.

"Thank you Andrew. Sorry Neil." Nicky says and Neil waves it off having mostly drifted back to sleep as Andrew had rubbed his back mindlessly.

Nicky leaves without another word. Andrew settled back into bed hand still mindlessly rubbing Neil's back. He closes his eyes. He thinks about how FF had looked at those two kids a few weeks back.

He'd looked like a good older brother.

He holds Neil tight, focuses on the feeling of his even breathing on his neck, and listens to Kevin's snoring to think about a monster consuming Daniel whole.

******

Sometimes Matt feels like he misses out on things with his friends. It didn't happen that often and he doesn't regret the Thanksgiving he spent with his Mom and Dan. Not a single atom regrets making hand turkeys with Dan or holding Dan and his Mom's bags during their Black Friday spree.

He still felt ice in his stomach when he heard that some of Nathan's men had come for Neil and that FF had gotten hurt. FF hadn't seemed overly bothered by the injury and Matt was looking forward to having the freshman as a roommate once he was fully cleared by Abby.

FF was a good kid and Matt had a hard time disliking someone who so obviously looked up to and liked his best friend. He'd told Dan about the 'Captain Neil' title and the two of them had just about died talking about how sweet they both found it.

Which is why he feels a certain kind of way when he finds out his Skype date with Dan had him miss out on a face that, based on what he heard from an incensed Aaron, was in desperate need of a punch.

"Where's Nicky?" Matt asks.

"He couldn't stop worrying about Smiths, he doesn't have Friday classes so he mentioned something about sticking with Smiths." Aaron explains over his oatmeal and Matt turns his head towards the wall they shared with Neil, Andrew, and Kevin's room as he hears the blender going. Aaron shovels the remainder of his oatmeal into his mouth, "I gotta go. I'll see you later." he says.

Matt waves his roommate off and wonders what the sudden rush was but it was hardly three minutes later that Kevin Day was bursting into their room without knocking. "Aaron, I need your-" Kevin stops gaze settling on Matt. "Where's Aaron?" he asks.

Matt looks at him, "He just left." he says. Kevin looks to the ceiling in obvious frustration, "Anything I can help with?" Matt asks while at the same time cursing himself for asking.

"Have you had breakfast?" Kevin asks immediately.

"Uh...no?" Matt says.

"Perfect. Drink this." Kevin says shoving a smoothie into Matt's hand. Matt looked at the blue-ish smoothie in his hands and then back up to Kevin. "You asked if there was anything you could help with. Tell me how that tastes." he points at the beverage and Matt recognizes the distinct smell of one of Kevin's health shakes.

"I don't want to do this." Matt says setting the smoothie to the side.

"I'm trying to improve the flavor." Kevin says, "It was brought to my attention that it isn't very...good tasting." Kevin adds sounding like the admission costs him something.

"Just now? You just figured out they taste like butt, just now?" Matt asks incredulously.

Kevin flushes, "Smiths drank it without complaint!" he exclaims.

"Yeah, 'cuz Smithster is nice! Also I think his face is just stuck like that." Matt says.

"There was no way I could have known they were gross!" Kevin argues.

"Kevin, most people TASTE the things they're giving to others." Matt points out and Kevin only grows redder.

"Are you going to help me improve the taste or not?!" Kevin demands pointing at the smoothie, "that's phase one right there." he points at the beverage.

Matt considers it, "This is to make these god awful smoothies taste better for Smithster?" he asks finally feeling like there was something he could offer his friend.

"Yes." Kevin says.

"And you can't just taste them yourself....because?" Matt asks.

"I need multiple datapoints, it can't just be me." Kevin answers immediately.

Matt rolls his eyes but he was not one to deny the scientific process, "Fine." he agrees and grabs the smoothie, "You said this was phase one of improving the flavor?" he asks.

"Yes." Kevin says.

Matt nods and brings the smoothie to his lips.

Bitter. Slimey. Why is it spicy? So Bitter. It's liquid how is it chalky?

He immediately spits it out, "Why does it taste like that?!" Matt demands immediately. "You said it was phase one?!" he hisses.

"That's the control. I needed your opinion on where I was starting." Kevin jerks his head to the side towards the entrance of Matt's dorm, "C'mon, we've got work to do." he says leaving the room without taking his godforsaken smoothie with him.

Matt looks to the ceiling like Kevin had earlier. Honestly, the world had been a darker place since Kevin had to take the required science course last year.

****** There was no singular more 'freshman' thing that FF had done, in Nicky's opinion, than the fact that the kid had early Friday classes. Nicky had gotten to Abby's place late and hadn't slept before, too caught up in a conversation with Aaron.

FF had been awake when he'd gotten to Abby's, staring blankly into the fridge and based on how cold his friend's pajamas were he couldn't help but wonder how long FF had been there. So he herded FF back to bed and FF had pressed his face into Nicky's shoulder and hadn't let go. So Nicky had crawled into bed after FF had nodded his consent.

Nicky had slept terribly.

Still, he woke up with FF's alarm. FF's gaze was about a thousand miles away but he got ready for his two early Friday classes robotically. Nicky shot a text to Aaron and Andrew to let them know that he'd stick with FF for the day to make sure that if Daniel showed up he wouldn't bother FF.

FF walked into a wall as he was texting. "Aw, bud." he says and sets him on a new course.

Andrew texted to tell him that Neil was going to talk with Wymack about not giving Daniel a chance.

He heard another thud, "Oh, Smith don't run into that." he hears Abby say worriedly.

Nicky puts his phone away.

Focus.

He gets FF through breakfast and through the walk to campus. He takes a seat next to FF in his Math class and ignores the narrowed eyes of the person who's usual seat he has obviously taken. He turns in FF's homework, pays attention, takes some notes, answers the clicker questions for FF, and guides him out and over towards his next class.

He sees Daniel being shown around campus by Jack.

He texts Aaron for back-up. The two of them manhandle FF across campus just in time for his Japanese class and Nicky and Aaron swear up and down that they are just there to look in on the class. Nicky hands the clicker off to Aaron since the future doctor's handwriting left a lot to be desired.

Eventually it was done and Nicky and Aaron had to maneuver FF through a truly STARTLING amount of people who wanted to 'have a word' with FF. Nicky remembers that kid from months back. 'The Adonis of the Foreign Language Department'

Eventually through a combination of Nicky's polite declinations, Aaron glowering, and FF walking into another wall they managed to escape the Foreign Language department of Palmetto State University.

"I think we deserve a treat." Nicky says, "Everyone who agrees raise your hand." he adds and raises his own hand before lifting FF's hand up and looking to see Aaron lift his own hand up.

"Are we sure he's okay in there?" Aaron asks waving a hand in front of FF's face as they made their way to an ice cream shop that had excellent waffle cones and was the place that sold FF's favorite triple berry milkshake.

"Yeah, this happens sometimes." Nicky says even if it had never gone on this long with FF having to reboot his system. It feels like his friend may have blue-screened but Nicky's willing to wait it out.

"If you're sure." Aaron says expression giving away how unconvinced he is but he moves along, "Did you do what we talked about last night?" he asks.

"Yeup." Nicky says popping the 'p' at the end.

"Good." Aaron says as he opens the door to the ice cream shop.

****** Andrew is walking to Abby's with Neil, Kevin, and Matt to pick up his car. Nicky had texted Andrew that he and Aaron were hanging out at Abby's trying to get FF to snap out of whatever daze he had fallen into.

"We have to let him tryout and there will be someone from the university there making sure it's all fair." Neil spits the word out with obvious disgust. "Like any of this shit is fair!" Neil kicks a pebble on the sidewalk.

Andrew keeps his thoughts to himself that if Daniel just doesn't make it to the tryouts then there's no issue. This whole mess kicked off because he stabbed FF and Andrew wanted to make it right. FF may not blame Andrew and may still reflexively tell anyone who asks that Romero did it, but Andrew can't forget the moment he looked over and saw his knife in FF's stomach and realized that the blood on his hands was his friend's.

"He might be a good addition to the team." Kevin says.

"Kevin, if you say that one more time I'm going to dump phase 3 down your throat." Matt hisses.

Kevin recoils in visible disgust and notably keeps his mouth shut. Andrew will have to get the recipe off of Matt if it's that effective at shutting Kevin up.

They make the final turn onto Abby's street and Andrew's eyes narrow as he looks at Abby's driveway where there was only one car.

"Where the fuck is my car?" he asks.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[viewlumia]

Nothing will be more weirder than the Ninjago fandom acting like Cole was in love with Nya throughout Rebooted.

Through the entire Love Triangle ordeal, he never actually acts for Nya, instead only reacting to Jay. Observe:

Blackout

In the previous episode, The Art of the Silent Fist, there was a scene between Cole and Nya. Throughout that episode, Nya was struggling with her newfound feelings towards Cole (given to her by a machine I might add but that's a conversation for another day). Nya talks to Cole in that scene and it ends with them holding hands and Cole jokingly saying "Don't tell Jay."

Why am I bringing this up? Because I honestly have trouble looking at that through a romantic lense. I often see people use this as evidence even though it doesn't match up with how the show would later indicate romance (they looked at each other so they're in love now! Chemistry, what's that!) More importantly, Nya never actually articulates her feelings for Cole in this scene. This is crucial when getting to Blackout. In Blackout, after Pixal blurts out that Cole is a perfect match for Nya, not Jay, who entered the room at the time, his first instinct is to attack Cole as soon as he saw him! From the POV of Cole, this looks like his friend calling him names and a whole lot of other things seemingly out of nowhere, he never actually heard about the "Perfect Match" results and that combined with the previously mentioned scene leaves us with a Cole who isn't in love with Nya and is only focused on Jay.

The Curse of The Golden Master

In this clip, after the ninja head into the sewer like a certain other group of color coded ninja, Jay gets into another spat with Cole after Cole dared to *checks note* look out for Nya's safety. This causes the two to get into an argument and ignore Nya falling from the broken ladder.

Now this scene on it's own doesn't mean much, but when paired with the other episodes mentioned, it starts to paint a bigger picture. This scene is a tipping point for Cole, going from someone clueless about his situation and fighting with Jay to letting this petty, near one-sided rivalry get in the way of the task at hand.

This scene is honestly the perfect representation of the Love Triangle in Rebooted: it was never really about Nya, she was just a stepping stone to get to Jay yelling at Cole over a situation he has no idea he's even in. Cole isn't out of the woodwork either as he begins to ignore Nya solely so he can insult Jay, but hey, it can't get any worse right?

Codename: Arcturus

It got worse.

In Codename: Arcturus, we see Jay, Cole, and Nya at the movie theater to "prove who Nya should go out with." Now, you may ask "doesn't that sequence end with both Jay and Cole asking who Nya will date and her kidnapping a cleaning robot?" yes, it does! But the important thing here is that it wasn't even Nya's idea in the first place ("Hey, it wasn't my idea to go on a double date to decide between you two.") Interesting thing of note, this is the only episode in the entire season where it's actually shown Cole fighting for Nya's affection, but even then it's not really about her, it's about getting back at Jay more than anything.

I know someone will come in wondering about "authorial intent," the intent in question being that Cole could be a potential love interest for Nya moving forward, but while I can see the intent, I can also acknowledge that what actually landed on the page and later the screen does not match the intent at all. Instead of Cole falling in love with Nya and getting into a spat with Jay that way, we got Cole treating Nya like a stepping stone to get back at Jay, disregarding her feelings in the process.

TL;DR: Kai should've knocked Jay and Cole upside the head for being weird about his sister

[lizardsfromspace]

On the note of early creepypasta, shout out to the Holders, the proto-SCP Foundation in that it was the first thing to fill the niche of "big collaborative horror story about weird artifacts". The set up was always "In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the [word]" instead of containment procedures

Reading over it now you kinda get why the SCP Foundation became bigger, though. Both have set formats, but SCPs are more freeform. A statue that kills you when you aren't looking, a vending machine vending interdimensional snacks, living Origami dragons in a magic box, a infinite IKEA, and a humanphobic Lovecraftian terror writing messages on a window are all equally SCPs. But every Holder is more or less the same. You go to the same place to go find a cursed artifact. If you bring them together the world will end. I once tried to read them all in a row and got bored since so many are essentially the same, and there's not really room to imagine something weirder given the strict format (though there are format-breaking ones here and there, my fave was one from the POV of the person at the desk who tells them where the Holder is). So many are basically "this one you read before, but edgier" and it's way more repetitive than reading over even the earliest SCPs

The other thing with the Holders lore-wise is like. Why are people seeking them. Almost every artifact gives you a fate worse than death but a lot of them don't have like...a benefit, any kind of Faustian boon you get at the cost of the horrible fate. How do they even know what's in each one if they're unavoidably fatal

Also I first experienced The Holders via this old website that combines it with a list of "Easter eggs" & excerpts from "Myths Over Miami" and that's their ideal form tbh

[purplekiwis]

You've got a new professor, and an obsession with his hands...

Genre: Sculptor!Harry | Professor!Harry x Student!Y/N

Warnings: +18 (smut... but not yet)

Wordcount: 3.7k

A/N: i'm not the best at photomontages so please don't roast me, I tried 😅

THIS IS A MULTI-PART SERIES. YOU CAN CHECK THE SERIES MASTERPOST : HERE AND PART 2 HERE

•·················•·················•

Hands.

His were artful,

Perhaps even an art form in and of themselves: smooth, veiny, with steady joints and capable and patient fingertips.

The hands of a craftsman - suitable for creating planets, galaxies, and even entire universes if they so desired. Both harsh and gentle, they tore, kneaded, and poked… only to stroke softly in the end.

The hands of a lover,

Those were my ceramics professor’s hands.

I bit the hidden part of my lip as I watched them move with conviction. Across the slickness, bare and sticky as they pried deeper and deeper, widening as they went and doing as they pleased.

I felt the urge to push my thighs together as I seemingly always did whenever my professor came closer, but I couldn’t because of the potter's wheel blocking my way - the one where he was fixing the crooked clay pot I had tried to make. “Next time, try using a little less water, okay? Your clay has gotten too soft… that’s why you're having trouble getting it even.”

“So less water than this time, but more than last time?” My struggle to get it right made me feel a little embarrassed, but I wanted him to know that I was listening and trying my best. He nodded in response to my question. “Okay, um- I'll try to do it correctly next time. Thanks for resurrecting my project and making it right again.”

My professor smiled warmly at me, noticing I was becoming discouraged by making so many mistakes. “No worries, I’m happy to help.” I watched him as he stood up, washed his hands in my water bowl and dried them on the rag he kept in his pottery apron. “Don't be afraid to muck around with what I've made. You're supposed to take it apart and rebuild it.”

“If I touch it, I'll ruin it and you'll need to come back for assistance again.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he shook his head. “I don't want you worrying about that. That’s why I’m here, to fix up your messes.” He sat on the stool next to me again for a moment, and when he spoke, he kept his voice low. “I want you to take it less seriously. Have fun with it — work it ‘til your wreck it. Don’t beat yourself up about it. That’s common blunder for someone who’s starting. We’ve all been there.”

“Thanks,” I smiled a little more assuredly. “I'll try to keep that in mind.”

He smiled back as he stood up from the stool. “No problem, just ask if you need anything.”

While I wasn’t sure how I got into the habit of fantasizing about my professor's hands, I did know how I ended up in his class.

I was a Product Design student.

Frankly, only because I didn’t have the grades to enroll in Interior Design like I’d always aspired to. Product Design was the second-best option that would still give me a chance of breaking into the field if I chose my classes wisely.

In order to achieve that goal, I had been planning to take a class on inclusive design this year. However, as I was about to submit my application, my computer crashed, forcing me to reenter all of my information again. Because of this, by the time I made it back to the page, most of the students had already chosen, leaving only statistical literacy and ceramics as open options.

None of those options had even the slightest appeal to me, which naturally made me incredibly frustrated at the time but, at least the choice was clear between them. Anything with the word statistics in it sounded absolutely dreadful and combining it with the word literacy somehow made it sound even worse… so I chose ceramics, despite the fact that I had never tried my hand at it.

That was why I was now behind all of my classmates, which didn't make me feel great, even though no one had made me feel inferior about my lack of skill yet… not even our professor. He was very sweet and attentive, without always being on top of me, which I appreciated. He gave me the freedom to try things on my own, but as soon as he noticed my eyes searching for him, he'd come over to check things out and lend a helping hand.

This wasn't always a positive thing because sometimes the only reason I was looking was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. It wasn't just his hands that I kept staring at; I found him captivating in all aspects.

His hair was cool. I liked how he kept it in a messy bun and tucked flyaways behind his ears when they landed on his face. He dressed really cute too, I thought — creative yet casual, and the stubble he occasionally sported when he neglected to shave was sexy as hell.

I wasn’t fully aware of his age, but he couldn't have been much older than me when he had finished his Ph.D. in Fine Arts the previous year. In the rumor mill, he had been invited to teach shortly after earning his degree due to his extraordinary talent for clay sculpting, that had made him stand out at our university ever since he started studying there.

He hadn't shown much of his personal work outside of what he did during his school years, but I had heard through the grapevine that erotic themes were his specialty. Another thing I had heard was that because he made art under a pseudonym that he kept as a secret from most people, his work was very difficult to find online.

That bothered me a little because I was interested and wanted to see it, especially after learning that pleasure was the subject he enjoyed exploring the most. Among my classmates, I knew some made jokes about him being a pervert who had only wanted to come teach to score with the female students. My gut told me that wasn't the case, and I was miffed by those people who couldn’t comprehend that someone could find sex fascinating enough to want to depict it in most of their art without being sleazy. Fortunately, I wasn't one of them. I found sex to be an intriguing topic as well… I enjoyed having it, looking at it, and having thoughtful conversations about it.

“Professor,” I called as we finished class. I was still sat by my wheel, while everyone was cleaning and washing up. Being completely honest, I wanted to leave as well… but I made myself stay so I could make my pot look more presentable. “If you're leaving, could you please leave the room key with me? I was planning to stay a little longer.”

He seemed surprised that I wanted to stay.

I noticed his gaze fall on the collapsing walls of my pot as he handed me the key, but he was merciful enough not to comment. “Feel free to stay as long as you like. I'm taking a coffee break, but I'll be back as well.”

Finding that my professor was coming back made the prospect of staying more enticing. I wasn't expecting a lot of interaction with him, though… I didn't want to be a bother, so I would avoid requesting his assistance. It was already embarrassing enough to ask for it in class, even if he kept assuring me it was perfectly okay to do so…

Professor Harry returned to the classroom after about 10 minutes, seeming happy to find me still there. As he walked inside, he cracked a lighthearted joke about how surprised he was that I hadn't destroyed anything yet. I snorted a laugh and said that I was surprised too.

I observed him carefully as he re-tied his apron around his waist. It seemed like everything the man did attracted me. The way his triceps flexed with movement, the contours of his back, the ease with which his fingers tied the knot. None of these things escaped my attention.

“Would it be okay if I turned on some music?” Due to my dry mouth, it took me longer than it should have to answer his question. “I'm not a big fan of working in silence, but it’s okay if you are…”

“Oh, please, go ahead.” I was finally able to react, but my voice came out weird. “I don't particularly enjoy working in silence either...”

My professor smiled, then walked over to his desk and sat down at his laptop. “Have you got any special requests?”

I pretended to contemplate for a moment, but I didn't want to be the one picking the music. I wanted him to choose because I was nervous about accidentally having him listen to something he didn't like… and I was also curious about his musical tastes. “Not really, no. I'm not picky. I like most music.” That part was true, but he seemed skeptical. “Just pretend I'm not here and play whatever music you normally listen to.”

The look on his face was still skeptical, but he agreed. “Okay, I will. Just let me know if you don't like it so I can switch to something you like best.”

He put on Woodkid's Warm Core album and looked at me to see if I was keen on the choice. “This is cool. I like it.” It was the kind of alternative music I anticipated he would listen to, being an artist and all, and it made me happy because I also liked it.

“Alright, good. If at any point you decide that you no longer like it, feel free to request a change.” I was getting a little hot over how much he was focusing on making sure I liked his music. I’d always had this conviction that one of the ways to tell if a guy is good in bed is to look for signs that he is considerate and eager to please – and already, my professor was scoring points in that department. I glanced at him, and I believe he noticed because he asked, “Is there anything you need help with, or should I just let you do your thing and keep to myself?”

“Um…” I stammered, returning my attention to the horrible looking pot I was working on. I had been right the first time. I shouldn't have touched it after he fixed it for me. “I'm holding up for now. Thanks, professor.”

He smiled at me. “You can leave out the “professor” when we're outside of class. That term is still settling in for me… it's a bit off-putting to be addressed that way when I was also a student here just a year ago - especially when I can't be that much older than you, right?”

I joined him in his smile. “Yeah, I get what you mean. I suppose it's not weird for me because I don't remember seeing you at school last year. How old are you, though, just out of curiosity?”

“I’m 27, you?”

“Wow, you’re really old...” He wasn’t, really… especially since I had assumed he would be in his thirties, given that he was a professor and all. I snorted when he side-eyed me from across the room, where he’d been tidying up and organizing the equipment the students had left behind. “I was just kidding. I'm 22, so...”

His brows furrowed slightly in response to my reveal. “So you're a little older than the rest of the class. Makes sense, you seem a bit more grown-up in comparison to them.” I took that as a compliment because, while my classmates weren't much younger than me – they had to be around 19 – some still acted like teenagers in many ways. “Also, since you mentioned not seeing me at school last year… that’s because I went abroad for a few months to study, and then I had to wrap up my thesis, so I didn't come very often.”

“Oh, that's cool. Where did you go?”

“Norway, to Oslo more specifically. It's a city I think everyone should visit if they ever get the chance to. I had a wonderful time there.” He turned his head away from what he was doing to look at me. “Have you ever thought about going abroad for school?”

“I've thought about it, but I don’t know. It doesn't really call to me right now, to be honest... maybe next year.” I was really interested in hearing more about Harry's experience in Norway, so I shifted the focus of the conversation back to that. “What was the best part of it for you?”

I could tell he was excited to talk about it, as evidenced by the sparkle in his eye. “A difficult question, that. I loved the landscapes and food there, as well as the people. Oslo’s a beautiful city, and it has an amazing art scene that's definitely worth exploring.” He paused for a moment, laughed, and then spoke again, “But I guess I should say that meeting Astrid, my girlfriend, was probably the best part.”

“Wow, that's... something.” Something I'd rather he didn't have, I thought to myself despite my amenable expression. “Has she traveled all the way here with you?”

“Oh no, she stayed in Oslo. We've been doing long-distance and stuff… it isn't always easy, but we make it work.” I could tell by the look on his face that he had somewhat regretted sharing that with me. “Anyway, you should give the studying abroad thing some more thought... you seem like someone who would enjoy that kind of thing. You give off a good vibe.”

“Ha, thanks... so do you. I really like your style.”            

I saw his cheeks flush at my compliment. “I don’t put a lot of thought into my clothes, to be honest. Most of the time, I just throw on whatever.”

“Well, it works, so...” Seeing me shrug, he smiled, but said nothing further. I figured the conversation was over and got back to my work. Harry did the same thing; except he was no longer cleaning up and was instead using his laptop.  Even though I stayed another hour, he didn't leave until I did, which made me feel bad because it made me wonder if he had stayed on purpose to be there in case I needed anything. “Do you usually stay here until this late?” I inquired as he closed the classroom door.

“Um… it depends, sometimes I do, but if you weren't here I would’ve probably left earlier.”

His confession caused a small contraction in my heart. I now regretted staying for so long, especially since I had spent some of that time merely acting as though I was working. “Oh, I'm so sorry. You didn’t have to do that. I would have been fine by myself. I just wanted to practice.”

“Oh no, don't get me wrong. I stayed longer because I wanted to. I live alone, so… I am by myself a lot. It was nice to have company for a change.”

“Ah, I see...” That was something I hadn’t considered before, but it made sense. Most of Harry’s university friends were probably no longer around, or if they were, perhaps he'd lost touch with them after going away for so many months. That had happened to me with my high school friends, so I knew how it felt. “I was actually planning on doing this more frequently to see if I could improve my pottery skills, so… you're welcome to keep me company if that's something you'd like to do.”

He acknowledged my invitation with a courteous smile. “Ah, thanks. I appreciate that.” When he didn't respond right away, I assumed he wasn't interested, which made me feel stupid for having suggested it. Why would he want to spend time with a student five years his junior? He was probably cringing at the thought. That was what I was assuming, until he started speaking again after a pause. “I reckon as long as you really don't mind me being around, that could be something that works for me.”

•·················•·················•

Over the course of a couple of weeks, it became a habit for me and Harry to spend time together after class. Most times, more than once a week. The days when I didn’t have class until late, I would wander to the atelier after his class and spend the next few hours there. It was really easy to get along despite our slight age difference.

I didn't know Harry well enough to say that we had a lot in common, but we just clicked really well. Having a conversation with him was easy, and his presence was warm and reassuring.

We would sometimes work separately, but Harry had taken it upon himself to teach me the things I had been falling behind on. He taught me how to use a kiln to fire and glaze pottery, as well as a bunch of different building and decorating techniques. I liked the last one most because he got to sit next to me and help me paint and texturize. I was really proud of a mug we had made together. Harry had commented that the wavy handle I had made for it looked like the tail of a fish when we put it in, so we went on to decorate the rest of the mug to fit that concept.

“You’re a good painter…” He complimented me as I painted the fish’s fins. I wrinkled my nose at him. Painting had always been a fun activity for me, but I had never considered myself good at it. Harry, on the other hand, was a true artist, thanks to his Fine Arts training and skillful hands…

I looked at the fin I'd drawn and noticed that it was unmistakably more unsightly than the one on the picture I was taking inspiration from. Harry couldn't possibly believe I was talented as a painter. He was just trying to say something nice.

“What? I'm serious…” He assured me, appearing a little surprised by my doubtful demeanor. “And you have a great eye for color too.”

“Hmm, I find that last one is a little more believable; I'll take it.” I said before returning to straightening out my wonkiest brush strokes. I'd spent enough time designing pretty rooms in Intericad Lite to feel reasonably confident on my ability to mix and match colors so, accepting that compliment wasn't too difficult. Besides that isn’t really a talent, is it? It's something a lot of people have.                                         

“Hey,” Harry’s voice drew my attention back to him. “I meant both of the things I said. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t.”

The seriousness I was met with when I looked into Harry's eyes made me feel emotional and flustered at the same time. “Thanks,” I smiled a little before looking down at my mug. “I think I haven't gotten a compliment on my painting skills since I was a little kid…”

“You used to get compliments on it when you were little?”

“Sometimes, yeah… mainly from teachers because I always colored inside the lines.”

“I think it's really unfortunate that we stop getting compliments as we get older… I can't really complain because I've been lucky to grow up in a supportive environment, but I know that after a certain point in most people’s lives criticism becomes the norm, while praise for rightdoing is never given.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” I grabbed another brush and continued to color my mug because the topic we were discussing was now making me feel like I might actually start crying if I didn't keep my emotions under control, and I didn’t want Harry to see that. “My parents were never particularly supportive of me or my interests, so I haven’t felt much of a difference as I grew older… I think that’s why I find it a bit difficult to accept people’s compliments nowadays, though. I tend to doubt myself and others a lot.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I had a hunch that was the case with you.” Harry’s statement surprised me a bit. I knew professors could usually read their students well, but I wasn't aware of how see-through I was. “When we first started class, I was a little nervous because I could tell that you were lost at times and could use some help, but I wasn't sure of how to approach you. I was afraid that if I made it known that I could tell you were struggling, you would withdraw even further. I didn’t want that. I wanted you to feel comfortable and know that I wouldn't judge you.”

“You never made me feel uncomfortable… I just felt embarrassed to ask for help because everyone in your class comes from an arts background and knows more than me. I didn't want you to think I was dumb or that I was wasting your time with questions that I should have known the answers to.”

“You could never waste my time. I like teaching you a lot… you always listen and all the questions you ask are perfectly normal.” He gave me a reassuring smile and I felt my insecurities melt away with the rest of my body. “And on top of that, it's easier for me to teach you since you are a blank slate, as opposed to some of the art students who come with stubborn vices they won't get rid of. Experience isn’t always an advantage.”

“You're a really good professor, Harry.” I said truthfully. “I'm really glad I ended up in your class, even if it wasn’t my first choice.”

“It wasn't your first choice?” His face pretended to be shocked, but I knew he wasn't. Given that I had told him about my goal to pursue a career in Interior Design, I knew he had to have known by that point that there was no reason for me to be in his class other than by chance. “Okay, now I'm offended, and no amount of ego-puffing will help you remedy that…”

I shook my head and smiled at his antics as I dipped my brush back into the paint palette. “Not even if I admit you're really cool to talk to and have great musical taste?”

Following my brush dip, Harry dipped his as well. “Give me a little more detail on that and I might re-consider.”

•·················•·················•

I hope you guys liked this first part 💜

PART 2

[sp0o0kylights]

 armed your words with explosive devices and put the trigger on your tongue.

I never know if a kiss will kill me. 

It's a joke. 

Or at least, Eddie meant it as one. 

He was flicking his hand out with the intention of pretending to "push" the weight off Steve's shoulders, following a joke about how he looks like he's carrying the whole world on his back.

Beyond the general air of a frazzled single mother, Harrington had been down to clown. He'd laughed at Eddie's first few jokes, even made a poor attempt at making one back.

So it surprised both of them when Steve flinches back, hard, sucking in a noisy breath.

For a moment he holds it in and Eddie mimics him, hand frozen midair. 

They breathe out almost together as Eddie slowly lowers his hand.

"Steve." Eddie starts off, voice soft. 

Steve jams his hand in his hair, face flushing red. "Sorry man, jock reflexes."

He catches the second Steve forces a smile back on his face, the way his desperate attempt at tugging on his own hair changes into a move designed to fluff it up. A laugh makes its way out of Steve’s mouth and to his credit, it sounds natural. 

This, Eddie realizes with an abrupt clarity, is Steve caught wrong-footed in public. This is Steve being off and fixing it before he breaks down. 

It’s a good cover, excellent even, and if Eddie hadn’t been watching for the signs, if he hadn’t started looking closer and closer at Harrington after finding him drunk and bloody in Tina’s bathtub, he might have brushed it off. 

Thought of it as Steve being a jerk, a jock, a guy who didn’t want to touch the filth that was Eddie Munson and was now trying to hide it.The same way so many others did, because they’d learned the hard way that a pissed off dealer won’t sell you any drugs. 

Eddie could even see him spinning this as having an off day. Maybe Steve was sore, maybe he was annoyed, maybe he was six other million things that he’d lead you to believe. 

Worse than knowing that he’d have bought Steve’s cover though, is that Eddie recognizes this. 

Has seen it before. 

Or micro versions of it. 

In class, when Steve’s asked a question he doesn’t know. In the hallways when someone tells a joke about his parents. In the parking lot when those kids snap at him, rolling their eyes and throwing their hands around.

Even the one basketball game Eddie attended, during his ill-fated attempt at joining the yearbook club before he finally started Hellfire. 

There had been a moment where Tommy had briefly turned on Steve, got some of the other boys to snap and snarl at the King in the face of a bad score. 

Called him stupid. 

Spineless and gutless. 

(Steve hadn’t even been the captain, back then.

 They held him responsible anyway.)

Eddie had thought it well deserved--even funny at the time-- considering what made up a man like Steve Harrington. 

Get big movie star hair, combine with no parents, and add tons of money. Shaken and stirred with little bits of never-ending popularity and girls swooning left and right over him, and you got Hawkin High’s most popular guy.

 Good to buy you whatever you needed, with a famously sharp tongue that he used in place of his fists. 

Grant still had nightmares over some of the names Steve had nailed him with. 

He was the school’s most desired bachelor until Nancy Wheeler took him down, proved even kings could be cheated out of their kingdoms. 

(One of the teenagers at the famed Starcourt fire, a hero in the papers for saving half a dozen kids. The pictures the news still occasionally shows often pin up those pictures of Steve, wearing this exact smile. 

It’s the same one he’s wearing now, as Starcourt burns in the background of each and every photo..)

The realization comes with a flood of knowledge--that Steve knows how to hide his issues, that he’s had issues for far longer than whatever--or whoever--is beating him up. 

Longer than Eddie himself had caught onto too--and Eddie had prided himself on seeing through people’s bullshit. 

If he does what Steve wants, let’s this drop, Steve will go on acting like everything’s fine. 

Just like everyone else does.

Eddie can’t do that. Has never been able to do that. 

"We both know that's bullshit." Eddie says, and he knew calling it out would get a reaction, but he’s not expecting the sheer strength of it. 

How Steve looks like he’s taken a punch, mask breaking fast on his face to reveal the hurt underneath. 

"Don't--" He tries to start, tries to breathe again and Eddie's not sure what caused it, but he knows the beginning of a panic attack when he sees one. “Don’t, please--” 

It’s the please that gets Eddie, the word sounding bruised. Like it hurts Steve to say it, that he only uses it as a hail mary that it may somehow help ward off whatever is coming. 

Eddie fights not to put his arms around Steve.

Protect him from whatever the hell is happening. 

"Hey." Eddie says, softly but clearly. "I’m sorry. Tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.” 

They’re in the middle of the school parking lot and neither of them can afford to misstep here. Not in a town like Hawkins. Eddie has a choice to make--to sweep Steve to somewhere safer, or to give space, back off so the younger man can regain control of himself and pick this up later. 

Steve takes a shuddering breath, hugs himself and bows his head. 

Eddie wants to go to him, to touch and comfort, but instead just hovers ever so slightly closer. “I’m here.” He whispers, just loud enough for Steve to hear. 

Steve takes the moment he needs, and Eddie knows he can at least give him that. Shield him from any onlookers with his own body. Use himself as a distraction if anyone comes up. 

His cheeks are wet when Steve raises his head. He wipes his face, bites his lip. 

It takes far less time for him to return to normal than Eddie would have ever thought, but then Steve Harrington keeps surprising him. 

“Shit.” He says, voice in a sort of croak. He clears his throat once, harshly. “Sorry.”

“I set you off, this ones on me.” Eddie says, keeping his voice smooth and calm. “I don’t want to push you, but I need to know what I said to upset you, so I can prevent it from happening again as best I can.” 

Steve looks up for a moment, away from him. Eddie allows it, acknowledges the move as Steve gathers the strength to face whatever hurt him enough to send him spiraling. This isn’t an easy thing he’s asking, and they’re in the worst place to do it--a potential audience can appear at any time. 

Eddie doesn’t want to lose this thread, though. Knows instinctively, how important it is. 

“It’s stupid.” Steve’s struggling to sound more normal, but the real surprise is that he’s starting to manage it. “It’s so stupid, but it’s--the word.” 

Short-term memory recall isn’t exactly a talent of his, but Eddie’s had plenty of practice with D&D. He runs the conversation back, and there’s really only one option that makes any sense. He almost says it again, but catches himself.

Thinks quickly on his feet. 

“Adult male cow crap?” He says, and tries to make his tone a little light. This is a calculated risk, Steve may very well believe he’s being mocked or teased.

The younger man snorts a laugh and thankfully doesn’t appear to take offense. “Yeah.” He drawls out, a tinge of embarrassment flushing across his nose.

It’s fucking adorable, and Eddie has to bite his lip to keep interrupting, inappropriate thoughts at bay. 

“Nance--when we--” Steve huffs an annoyed sigh, arms having shifted long ago to more of a defensive cross, nails digging into his sleeves while he taps his foot, aggravated. “It’s fucking stupid man, but that word got tossed around.” 

“Got it.” Eddie nods his head. “It’s gone.” 

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” Steve says, and it's got an angry undertone to it. “I need to get over it anyway. It’s been long enough.” 

The anger, Eddie decides, is self directed. 

He cocks his head. “Do people tell you to do that a lot? To just get over it?” 

Steve finally looks at him and to his credit the guy’s managed to go from actively falling apart to merely appearing cold and annoyed, as if the redness in his face itself is trying to help hide his emotions. 

That hurt thing flickers in and out of his eyes though, covered by an edge of something else, something stubborn. 

Yet again, Eddie finds himself wondering if he’s found Steve’s limit. If this is when he finally gets pushed away and threatened over all the things that have been revealed to him. Steve hasn’t made that move yet, but Eddie thinks that's mostly because Eddie keeps catching him off guard. 

To be fair, his own reactions are, at times, catching him off guard. This defensiveness of Steve, the way he wants to go slam whoever has hurt the younger man into a wall, to try and make everything better for a guy he previously hated…

Eddie knows what’s gotten into him. It’s his own personality, combined with his own inner sense of someone lost and hurting. Someone who needs to be rescued. 

He just never expected to have it pointed at Harrington. 

“Maybe.” Steve admits finally. “Doesn’t mean they’re wrong though.” 

Eddie can’t help himself. It’s a puzzle in front of him, dangled in the form of Steve and his weird injuries. Steve and his odd reactions. 

Beautiful, gorgeous, straight Steve Harrington, who once pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hands and closed his eyes like he’d found a slice of heaven. 

“Why?” Eddie challenges. He’s still close. Close enough that they’re going to have to pretend to be fighting if anyone else starts making noise. Eddie’s lost track of time entirely, can’t recall what period this is. Where he’s even supposed to be.

Hell, he never even asked why Steve was here. 

Steve’s mouth opens and closes, like he had an answer but suddenly thought better of it. 

He’s still tapping his foot. 

“Why would they be wrong? ” And at first Eddie thinks Steve is turning the challenge back on him, until he clocks the confused crinkle in his forehead, right between his eyebrows. 

Like a dog who just wants to be a good boy, and doesn’t understand why he’s being shouted at. 

‘Eddie, for once in your fucking life, focus!’ He thinks furiously at himself. 

“Because it hurts you. Because all of us “get over” things in different ways, at different paces.” He makes the quotes with his fingers, putting on a fun voice just to try and make even a small smile appear on Steve’s face.

It works, and Eddie grins despite himself and the seriousness of the moment. 

“Doesn’t matter how stupid it is, Steve-O. Our brains don’t care.” He knocks on his own to make his point. 

“I guess.” Steve says, and it’s not an agreement but Eddie will take it. 

Will take anything Steve will give him, which just shows how badly he’s screwing himself.

Straight boys, even ones wrapped up in some kind of mystery and sprinkled with dozens of other things that catch Eddie’s attention like Steve’s his own personal brand of crack, typically don’t mean anything good for him.

This time, he just hopes it can mean something good for Steve.

Eddie might not know much, but he knows Steve deserves something good.